The Italian's Christmas Secret

by Sharon Kendrick

  One night, one bed...one baby!

  When chauffeur Keira Ryan accidentally drives her car into a snowdrift, she and her devastatingly attractive passenger must find a hotel...only to discover they’ll be sharing a bed! Luckily, billionaire Matteo Valenti takes it upon himself to show virgin Keira just how to make the most of a bad situation—with the most sizzling experience of her life.

  It’s nearly Christmas again before Matteo uncovers Keira’s secret. He may have resisted commitment his whole life, but now it’s time to claim his son and heir...

  ‘Can’t sleep?’

  The Italian’s silky voice penetrated her spinning thoughts and Keira could tell from the shifting weight on the mattress that Matteo Valenti had turned his head to talk to her. She swallowed. Should she pretend to be asleep? But what would be the point of that? She suspected he would see through her ruse immediately—and wasn’t it a bit of a relief not to have to keep still any more?

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Can’t you?’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘I wasn’t expecting to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  His voice dipped. ‘I suspect you know exactly why not. It’s a somewhat unusual situation to be sharing a bed with an attractive woman and having to behave in such a chaste manner.’

  Keira was glad of the darkness which hid her sudden flush of pleasure. Had the gorgeous and arrogant Matteo Valenti actually called her attractive? And was he really implying that he was having difficulty keeping his hands off her? Of course he might only be saying it to be polite—but he hadn’t exactly been a model of politeness up until now, had he?

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t find me attractive?’

  ‘That’s what I was trying to convince myself.’

  In the darkness, she gave a smile of pleasure. ‘I could go downstairs and see if I could get us some more tea.’

  ‘Please.’ He groaned. ‘No more tea.’

  ‘Then I guess we’ll have to resign ourselves to a sleepless night.’ She plumped up her pillow and sighed as she collapsed back against it. ‘Unless you’ve got a better suggestion?’

  One Night With Consequences

  When one night...leads to pregnancy!

  When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!

  But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!

  Only one question remains:

  How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

  Find out in:

  Claiming His Christmas Consequence by Michelle Smart

  The Guardian’s Virgin Ward by Caitlin Crews

  A Child Claimed by Gold by Rachael Thomas

  The Consequence of His Vengeance by Jennie Lucas

  Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress by Sharon Kendrick

  The Boss’s Nine-Month Negotiation by Maya Blake

  The Pregnant Kavakos Bride by Sharon Kendrick

  A Ring for the Greek’s Baby by Melanie Milburne

  Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir by Kate Hewitt

  The Virgin’s Shock Baby by Heidi Rice

  Look for more One Night With Consequences stories coming soon!

  The Italian’s Christmas Secret

  Sharon Kendrick

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring often stubborn but always to die for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life…

  Books by Sharon Kendrick

  Mills & Boon Modern Romance

  A Royal Vow of Convenience

  The Ruthless Greek’s Return

  Christmas in Da Conti’s Bed

  One Night With Consequences

  The Pregnant Kavakos Bride

  Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress

  Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

  Carrying the Greek’s Heir

  Wedlocked!

  The Sheikh’s Bought Wife

  The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

  The Billionaire’s Legacy

  Di Sione’s Virgin Mistress

  The Bond of Billionaires

  Claimed for Makarov’s Baby

  The Sheikh’s Christmas Conquest

  At His Service

  The Housekeeper’s Awakening

  Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

  For the vivacious and beautiful Amelia Tuttiett—who is a great raconteur and always fun to be with. She is also a brilliant ceramic artist.

  Thanks for all the inspiration, Mimi!

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  Introduction

  One Night With Consequences

  Title Page

  About the Author

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  Extract

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘MR VALENTI?’

  The woman’s soft voice filtered into Matteo’s thoughts and he made no effort to hide his exasperation as he leaned back against the leather seat of the luxury car. He’d been thinking about his father. Wondering if he intended carrying out the blustering threat he’d made just before Matteo had left Rome—and if so, whether or not he could prevent it. He gave a heavy sigh, forcing himself to accept that the ties of blood went deeper than any others. They must do. He certainly wouldn’t have tolerated so much from one person if they hadn’t been related. But family were difficult to walk away from. Difficult to leave. He felt his heart clench. Unless, of course, they left you.

  ‘Mr Valenti?’ the soft voice repeated.

  Matteo gave a small click of irritation and not just because he loathed people talking to him when it was clear he didn’t want to be disturbed. It was more to do with the fact that this damned trip hadn’t gone according to plan, and not just because he hadn’t seen a single hotel he’d wanted to buy. It was as much to do with the small-boned female behind the steering wheel who was irritating the hell out of him.

  ‘Cos’ hai detto?’ he demanded until the ensuing silence reminded him that the woman didn’t speak Italian, that he was a long way from home—in fact, he was in the middle of the infernal English countryside with a woman driver.

  He frowned. Having a woman chauffeur was a first for him and when he’d first seen her slender build and startled blue eyes, Matteo had been tempted to demand a replacement of the more burly male variety. Until he reminded himself that the last thing he needed was to be accused of sexual prejudice. His aristocratic nostrils flared as he glanced into the driver’s mirror and met her eyes. ‘What did you say?’ he amended, in English.

  The woman cleared her throat, her slim shoulders shifting slightly—though the ridiculous peaked cap she insisted on wearing over her shorn hair stayed firmly in place. ‘I said that the weather seems to have taken a turn for the worse.’

  Matteo turned his head to glance out of the window where the deepe
ning dusk was almost obscured by the violent swirl of snowflakes. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d paid scant attention to the passing countryside but now he could see that the landscape was nothing but a bleached blur. He scowled. ‘But we’ll be able to get through?’

  ‘I certainly hope so.’

  ‘You hope so?’ he echoed, his voice growing harder. ‘What kind of an answer is that? You do realise that I have a flight all geared up and ready to go?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Valenti. But it’s a private jet and it will wait for you.’

  ‘I am perfectly aware that it’s a private jet since I happen to own it,’ he bit out impatiently. ‘But I’m due at a party in Rome tonight, and I don’t intend being late.’

  With a monumental effort Keira stifled a sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the snowy road ahead. She needed to act calm and stay calm because Matteo Valenti was the most important customer she’d ever driven, a fact her boss had drummed into her over and over again. Whatever happened, she mustn’t show the nerves she’d been experiencing for the past few days—because driving a client of this calibre was a whole new experience for her. Being the only woman and the more junior driver on the payroll, she usually got different sorts of jobs. She collected urgent packages and delivered them, or picked up spoilt children from their prep school and returned them to their nanny in one of the many exclusive mansions which were dotted around London. But even mega-rich London customers paled into insignificance when you compared them with the wealth of Matteo Valenti.

  Her boss had emphasised the fact that this was the first time the Italian billionaire had ever used their company and it was her duty to make sure he gave them plenty of repeat business. She thought it was great that such an influential tycoon had decided to give Luxury Limos his business, but she wasn’t stupid. It was obvious he was only using them because he’d decided on the trip at the last minute—just as it was obvious she’d only been given the job because none of the other drivers were available, this close to Christmas. According to her boss, he was an important hotelier looking to buy a development site in England, to expand his growing empire of hotels. So far they had visited Kent, Sussex and Dorset—though they’d left the most far-flung destination of Devon until last, which wouldn’t have been how she would have arranged it, especially not with the pre-holiday traffic being what it was. Still, she wasn’t being employed to sort out his schedule for him—she was here to get him safely from A to B.

  She stared straight ahead at the wild flurry of snowflakes. It was strange. She worked with men and for men and knew most of their foibles. She’d learnt that in order to be accepted it was better to act like one of the boys and not stand out. It was the reason she wore her hair short—though not the reason she’d cut it in the first place. It was why she didn’t usually bother with make-up, or wearing the kind of clothes which invited a second look. The tomboy look suited her just fine, because if a man forgot you were there, he tended to relax—though unfortunately the same rule didn’t seem to apply to Matteo Valenti. She’d never met a less relaxed individual.

  But that wasn’t the whole story, was it? She clutched the steering wheel tightly, unwilling to admit the real reason why she felt so self-conscious in his company. Because wasn’t the truth that he had blown her away the moment they’d met, with the most potent brand of charisma she’d ever encountered? It was disturbing and exciting and scary all at the same time and it had never happened to her before—that thing of looking into someone’s eyes and hearing a million violins start playing inside your head. She’d gazed into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen and felt as if she could drown in them. She’d found herself studying his thick black hair and wondering how it would feel to run her fingers through it. Failing that, having a half-friendly working relationship would have satisfied her, but that was never going to happen. Not with a man who was so abrupt, narrow-minded and judgmental.

  She’d seen his expression when she’d been assigned to him, his black gaze raking over her with a look of incredulity he hadn’t bothered to disguise. He’d actually had the nerve to ask whether she felt confident behind the wheel of such a powerful car and she had been tempted to coolly inform him that yes, she was, thank you very much. Just as she was confident about getting underneath the bonnet and taking the engine to pieces, should the need arise. And now he was snapping at her and making no attempt to hide his irritation—as if she had some kind of magical power over the weather conditions which had suddenly hit them from out of the blue!

  She shot a nervous glance towards the heavy sky and felt another tug of anxiety as she met his hooded dark eyes in the driver’s mirror.

  ‘Where are we?’ he demanded.

  Keira glanced at the sat-nav. ‘I think we’re on Dartmoor.’

  ‘You think?’ he said sarcastically.

  Keira licked her lips, glad he was now preoccupied with staring out of the window instead of glaring so intently at her. Glad he was ignorant of the sudden panicked pounding of her heart. ‘The sat-nav lost its signal a couple of times.’

  ‘But you didn’t think to tell me that?’

  She bit back her instinctive response that he was unlikely to be an expert on the more rural parts of the south-west since he’d told her he hardly ever visited England. Unless, of course, he was implying that his oozing masculinity was enough to compensate for a total lack of knowledge of the area.

  ‘You were busy with a phone call at the time and I didn’t like to interrupt,’ she said. ‘And you said...’

  ‘I said what?’

  She gave a little shrug. ‘You mentioned that you’d like to travel back by the scenic route.’

  Matteo frowned. Had he said that? It was true he’d been distracted by working out how he was going to deal with his father, but he didn’t remember agreeing to some guided tour of an area he’d already decided wasn’t for him, or his hotels. Hadn’t it simply been a case of agreeing to her hesitant suggestion of an alternative route, when she’d told him that the motorways were likely to be busy with everyone travelling home for the Christmas holiday? In which case, surely she should have had the sense and the knowledge to anticipate something like this might happen.

  ‘And this snowstorm seems to have come from out of nowhere,’ she said.

  With an effort Matteo controlled his temper, telling himself nothing would be achieved by snapping at her. He knew how erratic and emotional women could be—both in and out of the workplace—and had always loathed overblown displays of emotion. She would probably burst into tears if he reprimanded her, followed by an undignified scene while she blubbed into some crumpled piece of tissue and then looked at him with tragic, red-rimmed eyes. And scenes were something he was at pains to avoid. He liked a life free of drama and trauma. A life lived on his terms.

  Briefly, he thought about Donatella waiting for him at a party he wasn’t going to be able to make. At the disappointment in her green eyes when she realised that several weeks of dating weren’t going to end up in a swish Roman hotel bedroom, as they’d planned. His mouth hardened. He’d made her wait to have sex with him and he could tell it had frustrated the hell out of her. Well, she would just have to wait a little longer.

  ‘Why don’t you just get us there as safely as possible?’ he suggested, zipping shut his briefcase. ‘If I miss the party, it won’t be the end of the world—just so long as I get home for Christmas in one piece. You can manage that, can’t you?’

  Keira nodded, but inside her heart was still racing faster than it should have been considering her sedentary position behind the wheel. Because she was rapidly realising that they were in trouble. Real trouble. Her windscreen wipers were going like crazy but no sooner had they removed a thick mass of white flakes, there were loads more their place. She’d never known such awful visibility and found herself wondering why she hadn’t just risked the crowds and the traffic jams and gone by the most direct route. Because she hadn’t wanted to risk a displeasure she suspected was never very far from
the surface with her billionaire client. Matteo Valenti wasn’t the kind of person you could imagine sitting bumper to bumper on a road of stationary traffic while children in Santa hats pulled faces through the back windows. To be honest, she was surprised he didn’t travel round by helicopter until he’d informed her that you got to see a lot more of the natural lie of the land from a car.

  He seemed to have informed her about quite a lot of things. How he didn’t like coffee from service stations and would rather go without food than eat something ‘substandard’. How he preferred silence to the endless stream of Christmas songs on the car radio, though he didn’t object when once she changed the station to some classical music, which she found strangely unsettling—particularly when a glance in the mirror showed her that he had closed his eyes and briefly parted his lips. Her heartbeat had felt very erratic after that particular episode.

  Keira slowed down as they drove past a small house on which an illuminated Santa Claus was driving his sleigh above a garish sign proclaiming Best Bed & Breakfast on Dartmoor! The trouble was that she wasn’t used to men like Matteo Valenti—she didn’t imagine a lot of people were. She’d watched people’s reactions whenever he emerged from the limousine to cast his eye over yet another dingy hotel which was up for sale. She’d witnessed women’s gazes being drawn instinctively to his powerful physique. She’d watched their eyes widen—as if finding it hard to believe that one man could present such a perfect package, with those aristocratic features, hard jaw and sensual lips. But Keira had been up close to him for several days and she realised that, although he looked pretty perfect on the surface, there was a brooding quality underneath the surface which hinted at danger. And weren’t a lot of women turned on by danger? As she clamped her fingers around the steering wheel, she wondered if that was the secret of his undeniable charisma.

  But now wasn’t the time to get preoccupied about Matteo Valenti, or even to contemplate the holidays which were fast approaching and which she was dreading. It was time to acknowledge that the snowstorm was getting heavier by the second and she was losing control of the big car. She could feel the tyres pushing against the weight of the accumulating drifts as the road took on a slight incline. She could feel sweat suddenly beading her brow as the heavy vehicle began to lose power and she realised that if she wasn’t careful...