Page 39 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

‘You swim outdoors? At this time of year?’ she asked.

He braked the quad in front of a four-car garage. ‘Yeah, the water’s heated to twenty degrees, so I don’t freeze to death. Swimming is a good way to iron out the kinks after a day’s boarding, or a workout in the gym here if the weather’s not cooperating.’ He slung his arm across the steering wheel, his gaze roaming over her—and sending her pulse into overdrive. ‘I’ve always had a surplus of energy. I need to find ways to work it off during the day, or I’m ready to crawl out of my own skin by nightfall.’

‘I... I see,’ she stuttered.

He smiled, that slow sensual smile that had heat curling in her abdomen and made her feel as if she were about to crawl out of her own skin, too. Even though she hadneverhad a problem with hyperactivity.

‘Yeah, I guess you do now,’ he murmured, the suggestive look making her sure he wasn’t talking about swimming any more.

Apparently, their truce was over.

Before she could come up with a suitably non-confrontational response—and stop the heat from sinking any deeper into her sex—he had jumped out of the quad.

He slung his rucksack over a shoulder, then stacked a couple of her suitcases under his other arm. ‘Grab what you can, and I’ll come back for the rest.’

She lifted the biggest suitcase she could manage, not wanting to seem like a shirker, but wondering again where his staff were. Not that she minded carting her own luggage, but she was starting to become concerned about the silence... And that intense feeling of intimacy that had been so electrifying—and so problematic—the last time they’d been alone together.

‘Open up.’ He barked the command into the frosty air as they headed across the terrace. A glass panel slid open in the house’s façade.

The electric door slid closed behind them as they entered the indoor space. The double-height living area was stunning, the glass walls giving them an unencumbered view of the frozen landscape, while the flames from a granite fireplace in the far wall threw a warm glow over the luxurious furnishings.

Isabelle spotted a strikingly modern kitchen on the other side of the living area—with bespoke wooden cabinetry and state-of-the-art appliances—but then she stopped dead. In the other corner of the living room was a ten-foot freshly cut fir tree, decorated with red silk ribbons, gold baubles and white fairy lights.

Emotion wrapped around her ribs, like a suffocating blanket, threatening to yank her back into the past, as the memories she had suppressed for so long, and so diligently, slammed into her and the scent of pine resin got trapped in her lungs.

‘What’s wrong?’ The husky question from behind her—which was far too perceptive—made her jolt.

She blinked furiously, the twinkle of lights blurring, as she struggled to cut off the melancholy thoughts.

‘Hey, are you crying?’ he asked.

‘No, of course not,’ she said, but the denial sounded weak and unconvincing.

Biting into her cheek, she shoved the memories back into the box marked ‘ancient history’. ‘It’s just... The tree is a surprise. I didn’t think you would be the sort of person to have one,’ she managed, struggling to cover her reaction.

He stared at her, for the longest time, and she had the awful suspicion he could see through the lie. But then he glanced past her at the cause of her distress. ‘I guess Megan, my housekeeper, had it put up,’ he murmured. ‘I can take it down if it bugs you.’

Yes, please.

She swallowed the pathetic reply.

Pull yourself together, Isabelle. It’s just a tree, and a beautiful one.

There were Christmas trees all over Androvia at this time of year—even if she never had one in her private quarters. She was used to seeing them and immune to their charm. She was just stressed and jet-lagged and had not been prepared to see one here, that was all.

‘No, don’t take it down. I like it. It’s very festive. And I wouldn’t want to insult your staff,’ she managed. ‘After all their hard work.’ She pushed the words past the blockage in her throat.

He was still watching her, with that searing intensity, which made her feel transparent. But then his eyebrow quirked. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. They won’t know.’

‘But aren’t they here?’ Isabelle blurted out, the silence pressing down on her.

‘Nope,’ he said, but his gaze remained fixed on her face. ‘I always give my employees paid vacation from December twentieth until after New Year.’ He was looking at her now with that vague sense of judgment. ‘So they can enjoy some quality time with their families, instead of having to wait on me.’

‘Oh...’ Her lungs deflated, while emotion swelled in her throat and the fireball of need sank into her abdomen.

‘What’s the deal, Belle?’ he said, making no attempt to hide his mockery now. ‘Not used to cooking for yourself?’

She wanted to be indignant, insulted even, that he considered her position had made her spoilt and entitled. But all she could do was muster a vague embarrassment—beneath the wave of anxiety now holding her lungs in a death grip.

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