by Nell Harding
Kate sighed and rearranged herself more comfortably against the sofa cushions. “I’m just being silly about this anyway. Nothing even happened.”
“There is no silly when it comes to romance,” Mimi reprimanded her.
At that moment, on the screen, Julie Andrews tipped out of a boat wearing clothes made out of curtains. The girls looked at each other in silence and then burst out laughing.
“Yes, there is,” Kate contradicted her, wiping her eyes. “Do you remember waiting for five hours outside a restaurant so that you could “accidentally” bump into that rugby guy? And only realising after the whole place had closed down that there was another exit?”
Mimi sniffed. “Fine, Katie, but if you’re going to bring up the past, do I have to remind you of when you turned your hair green trying to dye it black to make yourself more attractive for Paulo, who turned out to be gay anyway?”
Kate picked up a pillow from the sofa and turned to throw it at her friend. As she raised her arm, she caught sight of a figure stepping silently into the room behind Emily. A shriek of shock escaped her lips and the cushion flew high over Mimi’s head in the direction of the intruder.
Emily spun in terror and sprang to her feet just as the man caught the pillow deftly and turned on the living room light.
Sebastien Pichard stood by the switch, cushion in hand, looking amused.
“I’m glad to see that my home is so safely defended,” he observed with a merry twinkle in his eye. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you like this. I didn’t want to ring in case you were asleep, but then I heard voices…”
His own trailed off, looking at the two women. Emily looked wide-eyed at Kate, who was frozen in place, mortified. He caught the exchanged glances and raised his hand in a calming manner.
“Please, don’t get up. It was inconsiderate of me to arrive unannounced,” he said. “I was just on my way back from Torino and the traffic was bad so I thought I’d cut the trip in two by crashing here for the night.” He looked at the screen. “Get back to your girls’ night in.”
Kate stood uncertainly. “Should I get you something? A drink? Something to eat?”
Sebastien shook his head. “No, you’re off-duty tonight.” His gaze drifted to the two spoons sticking out of the half-finished tub of ice-cream on the table and he grinned. “I think I’ll pass on the “something to eat.” But I might open a bottle of red if anyone would care to join me. That is, if I’m not intruding.”
“Please do,” both said immediately, scrambling to clean up their mess.
“This is my friend Emily,” Kate said awkwardly, wondering about the social etiquette of introducing guests to the home owner in his own home. “I hope you don’t mind. She’s a very old friend working in Verbier as well.” She moved toward the screen to turn off the DVD but Sebastien stopped her.
“Really, carry on with your evening. I don’t wish to interrupt. Nice to meet you, Emily.” He moved toward the liqueur cabinet, returning with three glasses and a bottle of Burgandy. He looked at the scene unfolding on the screen and shook his head with exaggerated sorrow. “As if romantic comedies on their own aren’t bad enough, you had to go one further and get a musical. Just tell me, what is it with women and romantic comedies?”
“And how would you recognise it as a romance if you hadn’t seen it for yourself?” Emily asked pointedly, accepting the proffered glass and easing herself into a comfortable chair.
Sebastien looked at her and sighed as if he were a teacher correcting a particularly obtuse student. “Of course, the singing and dancing and falling into the lake could be part of a horror film. In fact, it probably is for some audiences. But I wouldn’t bet on it in this case.”
“It isn’t just a romance, it’s historical. Biographical. Drama. A bit of everything,” Kate said defensively, her eyes flicking back to the screen to reassure her characters. “And in this case, it also happens to be my French lesson.”
“I see,” Sebastien said dryly, with a forced cough. “Because being able to sing about climbing mountains will get you through the Alps. Good tactic. Now tell me, why does your friend call you Katie?”
Both women froze for a moment exchanging panicked looks before Mimi smiled broadly. “We used to act in musicals together, and Michelle here played the lead role in “Kiss Me Kate” and the name stuck. You’ll also catch me calling her “Annie” at times, if she gets too impulsive.”
Kate could feel her heart thumping against her ribs. What had her mother said about your first lie leading to a slippery slope? But Mimi’s smooth tone and calm manner made the lie seem natural, and Kate grudgingly admired her friend’s quick reflexes.
Besides, Sebastien’s question seemed to be based on genuine curiosity rather than suspicion. He seemed amused by something and Kate had the horrible feeling that he had overheard more of their conversation than he was letting on, maybe even their sing-along. She wondered which was worse.
There was something different about Sebastien this evening. He seemed relaxed, more approachable and less guarded, Kate decided, watching him from the corner of her eye.
And more attractive than ever, in his faded jeans and tee-shirt which showed his muscled build to advantage. It seemed to be his natural attire and she watched appreciatively as he interacted graciously with Emily, not seeming to be in the least put out at finding a stranger in his chalet.
“What sort of movie would you choose?” Kate asked curiously. She sat back down cautiously on the couch, sipping at her wine. “Action movies?”
Emily looked at him appraisingly. “I’d say cop flicks and thrillers.” Her gaze took in his heavy brows and strong build, his dark eyes. She winked approvingly at Kate.
“Nobody’s going to guess international award-winning documentaries and obscure artsy films? I could be offended,” Sebastien said mildly, settling himself comfortably at the other end of the sofa from Kate.
They watched the end of the movie together in companionable silence, with the occasional dry comment from Sebastien and defensive response on the part of Kate and Mimi.
Kate stared at the screen with the others but didn’t even try to follow the film. She was far too conscious of the man on the sofa next to her. Their bodies didn’t touch, but she could feel his masculine presence next to her and smell the slight fragrance of shampoo in his hair. In the corner of her field of vision she saw his handsome features and the flickering light of the movie reflecting in his eyes.
This awareness made her also conscious of her own body, the way her heart was beating faster than usual and how sensitive she was to each subtle movement in the sofa cushions which reflected a shift in his position.
Kate tucked her feet underneath her to hide her thick woollen socks. She was wearing a pair of loose dance trousers and a tight top, and her hair was spread all around her in a wild mess. At least it was time to give up pretending that she didn’t care, she reflected ruefully, judging by her body’s reaction to his physical proximity.
The movie ended far too soon, bringing them all back to the Alps. She had enjoyed this feeling of informal closeness, even if it left her senses wired up instead of relaxed. She wondered if something had brought about a true change in attitude in Sebastien or if his cold, guarded manner on weekends was simply a reaction to having to host clients.
Either way, this new version of her boss was undeniably attractive. When he was relaxed his face softened, and his smile spread up into his eyes which held a mischievous twinkle.
Emily hurriedly rose to her feet. “It’s late, I really must be off,” she said quickly, brushing off Sebastien’s offer of another drink. “I have to be at work early tomorrow,” she excused herself. “But thank you for the hospitality of your lovely chalet.” She practically fled to the door, after hugging Kate goodbye with a whispered “Good luck!”
Sebastien stretched and stood up to escort Mimi to the door. Kate unfolded herself to gather up the wine glasses and carry them to the kitchen.
“Lea
ve them for tomorrow,” he told her lazily, as she bent down to load the dishwasher.
He had come into the kitchen silently. She felt his eyes on her and stood up quickly, tugging her top down to cover her waist. Facing him, she suddenly found it hard to speak.
“I enjoyed this evening,” he said in an off-hand way, picking up an orange from the fruit bowl and tossing it absent-mindedly in the air. “I’ve been working too much lately. Well, for the last year, really.”
“For a good reason,” Kate said stoutly. “I heard about your “Simply Elegant” campaign for more ethical business practises.”
Sebastien shrugged, catching the fruit and putting it back in the bowl. Then he picked up an apple and stared at it as if he’d never seen one before. He twisted the stem until it finally broke off and he hastily placed it back with the others.
Finally he shoved his hands in his pockets, took a deep breath and faced Kate. “Look, Michelle, about the other night...”
“There’s nothing to say,” Kate interrupted him hurriedly, too mortified by her own behaviour on that occasion to want to discuss it. “An unnecessary plate of hors d’oeuvres never goes to waste. Well, maybe to my waist, ha ha ha.”
Oh shut up, girl, she told herself, cringing inwardly. In situations that made her nervous she had a painful habit of babbling inanely just to prevent the conversation from continuing and to avoid thinking. She turned back to loading the dishwasher, trying to hide her flaming cheeks from Sebastien’s gaze.
She could feel his dark eyes following her, waiting. Eventually she ran out of dishes to load and turned to face him reluctantly.
His thick brows were furrowed, giving him the look of a confused puppy. Despite the tension of the moment, Kate found herself marvelling that the cold, impersonal man she had met had such a sensitive side, although it obviously made him uncomfortable to show it. It also made him more attractive than ever.
He seemed to be searching for the right way to say something and Kate’s stomach filled with dread. She wondered how much her face would betray her if he announced his engagement to Axelle. Or maybe Axelle had convinced him that Kate was unnecessary. The fear of either situation made her realise just how much she cared and wanted to keep working in close proximity to this man.
“Axelle and I,” he finally blurted out, making Kate’s heart freeze. “It’s a business relationship. I work with quite a few models and actresses, you know.”
Kate stood stock-still, as if not moving could keep the conversation going where she hoped it was heading.
“These women can be prima donnas at times and a bit hard to handle,” he continued desperately and her heart waited in purgatory. “Which can make it hard for me to give you advanced warning if plans change. For that I apologise, and also if she was rude to you.”
Kate gaped like a fish while she digested this information. So there was no “he and Axelle”. And he had actually come to apologise. Or even to let her know that he was free? Her hopeful mind was leaping to conclusions and she tried to rein it in. It was enough to know that he wasn’t about to spend all his weekends with Axelle in the chalet.
Relief made her giddy and she knew that her voice was too loud as she waved away his apology. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all part and parcel of the job.”
He fixed his eyes on her. “I meant what I said before about you being a pro, Michelle. You really excel at putting my clients at ease. Now I want to ask you something above and beyond your duty, so please feel free to say no.”
Kate stared at him, waiting to hear what he had to say and wondering if anyone ever managed to say no to this man.
He hesitated a moment before continuing. “I have a few business partners and friends coming over from the UK next week to stay with me in Geneva for a few days. Actually, my friends might stay for the whole holidays. In any case, we’ll definitely come up to Verbier at some point to give my work associates a proper Swiss mountain experience. Probably a raclette on the mountain and a luge back down, and I’d like to ask you to join us. It’s a real Verbier experience and I think you’d enjoy it.”
Kate bit her lower lip, thinking. “Won’t they find it odd, you bringing the chalet girl?”
The dark eyes looked at her steadily. “I told you, it’s outside of duty, probably mid-week to avoid the crowds. You won’t be going as my chalet hostess. We could call you my partner, it’s a good ambiguous term, but basically you’d be my date.”
Kate’s heart seemed to stop. “Because I help put your guests at ease?” she asked falteringly.
Sebastien threw his hands open in an equivocal gesture. “Because you help put me at ease. Because you bring the fun back to this.” He leaned closer and his eyes seemed to bore into her, searching. “Because you want to.”
What she wanted to do was kiss him.
His face was so close, looking intently for her reaction. For a moment she felt as if he was thinking the same thing, and she felt her knees go weak, surrendering to the attraction between them.
Abruptly he stepped back. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot or put pressure on you,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “You can think about it and let me know your decision on the weekend.”
He turned to leave the room. He hadn’t even reached the doorway when she called after him. “The answer is yes!”
He half-turned toward her to shoot her a dazzling grin. His eyes lingered a moment on hers, burning her up with a look that was both satisfied and hungry, before he continued toward the stairs. “Good then, I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll be off ridiculously early tomorrow morning so I won’t see you then. Good night.”
Before she could say anything he was gone. She stared after him, a slow smile spreading across her face as “Just Kiss Da Girl” played in her head. People could scoff all they liked, but there was definitely some magic in a feel-good musical romance and even the frosty Monsieur Pichard was not immune.
Chapter Twelve
Kate tucked her mittens tightly over her ski jacket sleeves and looked around her happily. It was a perfectly clear night, cold and starry, with a glimmer of moonlight shining on the snow. Below them, down the long forest road, twinkled the lights of Verbier.
They were standing outside Chez Claude, a cosy little restaurant on the mountain which nestled one hour’s walk above the town. It was set in a converted alpage, a wooden summer home where a family used to stay and make cheese in summers, when the cows were brought up to eat fresh alpine grass and wildflowers.
Sebastien had led the little group up the mountain road as darkness fell. They had followed a snow-covered forest road that had been groomed for sledding, the precisely ribbed snow crunching crisply underfoot.
The English guests were a cheery lot, gamely donning their snowshoes and chatting amongst themselves on the way up. Simon Bell was a friend from Sebastien’s school days, while Nick and Carol Farnell were a young couple from London who seemed to be friends with both.
The three others, Jim and Susan Hall and Mike Hathaway, were a bit older and worked in the luxury watch sector in London. They seemed to be primarily interested in Sebastien’s Simply Elegant campaign, although they knew Simon as well. With everybody on such familiar footing, Kate found it hard to keep track of how they were all linked to her boss.
Sebastien himself was in fine form, giving inside stories about Verbier and making them all laugh. Kate had been relieved to find him as friendly and fun as he had been during his mid-week unexpected visit.
She had spent the preceding days alternating between anticipation and dread, excited to see him again but uneasy about the lie she was living. To silence her nagging conscience she had decided to tell him at the end of the evening, regardless of his reaction.
Dinner had been a roaring success. They had all ordered raclette, and the waiter had been kept busy bringing scrapings of melted cheese to everyone in turn to eat over small boiled potatoes.
The warmth from the fire after the exertion in the cold left everyone rosy-
cheeked and relaxed, and the white wine had flowed freely. They had finished the meal with a café d’amitié, a local specialty of mixed coffee and spirits which was served in a multi-spouted tea-pot and which sent a wave of warmth into the blood stream.
“For courage for your descent,” their host had told them with a wink.
Now in the biting cold they prepared their sleds for the long slide back down to the village. The restaurant provided them with old-fashioned luges, high sleighs with wooden runners.
“You can steer them by leaning and by dragging a foot,” Sebastien explained, adding with a laugh, “To some extent, that is.”
“If it’s about being a bit out of control, I’ll be a natural,” Simon said sportingly, selecting a one-man luge and lining it up in front of him. “In fact, I’ll have to show my true colours here, because you won’t see them when it comes to something more coordinated, like skiing.”
“It’s faster with two per sleigh,” Sebastien warned him, placing a gloved hand on Kate’s shoulder and steering her toward the sleds.
Even through the thickness of her ski jacket, Kate felt the warmth of his strong hand. She offered no resistance as he chose a longer, two-person luge and led her back to take her place beside the others.
“I’ll start in front,” he told her, seating himself on the sled with his feet tucked on the runners. “The person in front gets the most snow sprayed in the face. You just hang on and lean when I do. We can change places after the first crash if you like.”
Kate smiled self-consciously as she sat down carefully on the sled. She tried to mimic Sebastien’s way of sitting, with her knees bent in front of her and her feet hooked underneath. He turned back to flash her a boyish grin.
“That only works if your plan is to put your knees through my back,” he told her, grabbing both of her ankles and lifting her legs onto his lap. He pulled tightly and she found herself suddenly snuggled up against his back. To keep herself from falling backwards she had to throw her arms around his chest as well.
