Rebellion of a Chalet Girl: (A Novella) (Ski Season, Book 5)

by Lorraine Wilson

  “How do you know it’s the Nathaniel Campbell?” Tash stopped at the doorway and turned back towards Amelia.

  “How many Nathaniel Campbells do you think there are with the kind of money you need to invest in Verbier property?” Amelia asked. “Anyway I found his most recent interview online and when asked about new projects he said he was taking some time out in the Swiss Alps to write a companion book for the series. That would explain why he’s booked Chalet Repos for the whole month.”

  “Hmm. I need a caffeine fix.” Tash shrugged. “Coffee anyone?”

  It was irrational to dislike a man she’d never met but telling herself so didn’t stop the stirrings of resentment.

  Nathaniel Campbell was bringing change to Chalet Repos and that was a good enough reason for Tash.

  “I’ve seen him, I’ve seen him,” Rebecca squeaked, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Gone were her casual clothes, replaced by smart black wool trousers and a gorgeous aquamarine cashmere sweater. She even wore her tiny pearl earrings and a Tiffany pendant.

  Her clothes whispered wealth and style.

  “Great,” Tash replied without enthusiasm as she pulled a clean navy hoodie on over her vest top, her sole concession to dressing up for the guests. She might not have been so irritated if Rebecca hadn’t spent most of the previous evening talking about what she should wear and what Nathaniel Campbell would be like in real life.

  Tash’s mix of charity shop and cheap supermarket clothes felt like rags compared to the designer cashmere clothes Rebecca wore.

  I feel cheap. In pretty much every sense of the word.

  She wondered for the umpteenth time if she could last the whole season without cracking and pushing Rebecca down a black ski run.

  Minus the skis.

  It wasn’t as if Rebecca even had to work, her father was a judge, they were minted. She even had a pony back home in Surrey for frick’s sake.

  Something tightened in her chest at the thought of it. A proper home. A safety net. Rebecca had it with bells on and Tash…didn’t. Not that she expected life to be fair; she’d given up that hope long ago.

  The familiar tension crept into Tash’s jaw as she applied her eye shadow. Rebecca was doing the ‘chalet girl thing’ for fun because ‘Daddy says I need to get a job. It’s like, character forming, you know.’

  Tash stared at Rebecca now in much the same way as she’d stared at her when she’d explained why she was at Chalet Repos, as though Rebecca had flown in from another planet, another universe even. It often felt like they spoke a different language.

  “Do you really think some business mogul come TV star is going to take up with a poxy chalet girl?” Tash shook her head.

  “Maybe.” Rebecca grinned.

  Tash tutted. “You have been watching too many romantic comedies.”

  There was a certain childishness to Rebecca’s expression, a naïvety that stirred an unexpected protectiveness in Tash. She felt twenty years older than her, not the mere two years older she actually was. Rebecca was twenty-one but she seemed far younger than Tash had been at her age.

  From what Tash had gleaned, Rebecca had seen practically nothing of the world outside her Surrey pony club idyll, private school and holiday villas in Tuscany.

  She didn’t seem to have a clue just how cruel human beings could be to each other.

  Lucky her. Yet the lack of knowledge made her so vulnerable.

  How can I hate Rebecca one minute and want to protect her the next?

  Tash sighed. This was what dormitory living could do to you. Just the way someone else was breathing or humming along to their iPods could be enough to wind you up after two months of forced proximity.

  Mountain Cabin Fever, Holly called it.

  Rebecca rummaged in her make up bag for lipstick and applied it. When she smiled at Tash there was a pink smear on her front teeth.

  “Wait.” Tash touched Rebecca’s arm, the cashmere super-soft beneath her fingertips. “You’ve got lipstick on your teeth.”

  It’s not Rebecca’s fault she isn’t Sophie.

  “Oh, have I? Thanks.” Rebecca pulled out her compact mirror and a face wipe to remove the smear.

  “Where are Amelia and Lucy?” Tash asked, making her way to the door.

  “Already out there.” Rebecca pushed her make-up bag beneath her bunk. “Wait for me.”

  Tash rolled her eyes as she waited, but not so as Rebecca could see. Tash wasn’t a total bitch. Being friends with Sophie and Holly seemed to have sandpapered away some of her sharper edges.

  But prickles aren’t all bad. They keep you safe; just ask a hedgehog.

  Had staying in one place for so long turned her soft?

  In Chalet Repos’ living area Amelia and Lucy handed flutes of champagne to men wearing dark suits and expensive leather shoes. Champagne at eleven in the morning? These guests must be considered important. But suits in a ski resort? Looked like she’d been right. There were four in the group, all with their backs to her. On closer inspection one of them turned out to be a woman in an androgynous trouser suit and a very short pixie haircut.

  Tash lingered by the doorway, feeling out of place. Rebecca edged forward, fixed smile in place, trying to make her way to the front of the group. Tash cringed for her.

  Could she be more obvious?

  Tash decided to skulk at the back of the room, straightening a few faux-fur cushions on the sofas and hoping to be left alone if she looked busy. Delaying the inevitable and much dreaded small talk she’d doubtless have to engage in.

  When the cushions were plumped and the throws straightened Tash headed to the fireplace and threw another fresh log on the fire, even though it didn’t really need it.

  She scanned the room for any other unnecessary jobs and met Holly’s eye.

  “Tash,” Holly called out. “Come over here and meet Mr Campbell.”

  Chapter 2

  Why did you have to choose me to babysit this guy? I’m no good at this. No good at…suits. Give me a bar or a club and I can talk for England but not this…

  The summons gave Tash no choice but to move reluctantly forward.

  He’s only a man.

  Just a man.

  Holly met her halfway and linked her arm through Tash’s, as though afraid she was planning to leg it. Tash held her head high. No twat in a suit would intimidate her. Weren’t you supposed to imagine people naked to make it easier?

  Her stomach twisted over and her muscles tensed. Suits reminded her of officialdom, of all the adults who’d moved her around foster placements, who’d laid down the law and made decisions about her life without consulting her.

  “Mr Campbell, this is Natasha…er, I mean Tash.” Holly cleared her throat. Her nervousness somehow transmitted directly to Tash’s stomach. “She’ll be showing you round Verbier and getting you up to speed on all the experiences we offer guests.”

  Then Holly half shoved Tash towards the tall guy standing nearest them.

  Tash looked up, forcing herself to look him directly in the eyes, annoyed by the nerves coursing through her body and determined not to show them.

  Remember he’s no better than you, just because he’s wearing an expensive suit.

  She’d expected a plastic man with an inflated ego and a TV tango tan but Nathaniel Campbell couldn’t have been further from her imaginings. He had rugged features and was tall, powerfully built, like he’d been designed for the rugby field or maybe even a boxing ring, not an office.

  There was a sharp intelligence shining in his flinty blue-grey eyes. A spark of desire tinged with fear sent a shiver of electricity the length of Tash’s spine. She’d need to watch her step with this one.

  He’s nobody’s fool.

  Suddenly imagining him naked became a much more interesting proposition.

  And it did nothing to relax her.

  Worse still, as he focused all his attention on her it felt like he might be imagining her naked too.

  He had an a
ura of power, a supreme confidence that Tash had been trying to fake her whole life. The difference was Nathaniel Campbell wasn’t faking anything.

  Stop acting like a crazed fan and act normal for frick’s sake.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Tash held out her hand, pleased she’d finally remembered how to speak and co-ordinate her limbs. “By the way, nobody calls me Natasha, I’m Tash.”

  Amusement glinted in his eyes as he took her hand and shook it with a firm grip. Her hand looked tiny in his; she couldn’t help staring at his hands. She’d experienced instant sexual attraction before but this was crazy.

  Crazy stupid but sort of crazy good too.

  It felt like the air had been squeezed out of her lungs. Electricity buzzed through her again but this time it was more of a shudder than a shiver. It felt, bizarrely, like there was no one else in the room. No one who mattered anyway.

  It must be his famous charisma.

  I’m as bad as Rebecca, I need to get a grip.

  “Well lots of people call me Mr Campbell, or Nathaniel, but I prefer to be called Nate.” His mouth twitched at the corners into an almost smile.

  “And of course we have Mr Campbell’s team - Mr Benson, Mr Smith and Ms Miller.” Holly gestured to the rest of the group, her cheeks flushing pink as she sipped at her orange juice.

  This isn’t easy for Holly either.

  “Please do call me Nate, we don’t need to be formal.” Nate turned and smiled at Holly. She received the full wattage of his smile and a pang of jealousy pierced Tash.

  Watch it, you’ll be acting as bonkers as Rebecca if you’re not careful.

  Yet on closer inspection his smile was that of a politician’s; while genuinely warm and conveying that the recipient was the most important person in the room, there was a detachment in his eyes.

  “And you must meet Rebecca.” Scott stepped forward, resting one proprietorial hand on Holly’s shoulder and gesturing to Rebecca with the other.

  Rebecca shot forward eagerly, a pearly pink smile stretching widely across her face. She actually giggled when Nate took her hand.

  Tash bit her lip. This was stupid. It wasn’t like getting laid was a problem for her. Sex was…just sex. An urge, a bartering tool, an itch to scratch…She didn’t need to get to know this man, there were plenty of others out there.

  Ones who don’t come with a health warning - Caution, this man could seriously affect your ability to string a sentence together and keep your pants on!

  Hormones might be trying to hijack her body but she refused to act like a bitch on heat.

  “I believe you know my father? Justice Crawley?” Rebecca simpered. “I’m sure he mentioned he met you at a political fundraiser.”

  Of course he did.

  Tash resented Rebecca’s instant elevation to the ‘one of us club’ just because of an accident of birth. It happened all the time in the Verbier trustafarian set. If a social connection could be established, if you’d been to the right school or knew someone in common, then you ceased to be ‘below stairs.’

  Ridiculous.

  Even if I could afford the expensive clothes I’d still never fit in.

  It was like they were still in the Middle Ages. How could anyone in the twenty-first century still believe birth into a certain class determined your worth?

  It made Tash want to do very bad things.

  “I believe I may have met Justice Crawley, yes.” Nate replied gravely.

  Yeah right, clever answer. Like he has a clue who Rebecca’s talking about.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and as though he sensed her looking he turned and met her gaze. A sharp jolt of connection surprised and thrilled her. A current passed between them, Nate’s look so arrogant and knowing it made her insides squirm. When he looked away again she felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

  Get a grip girl.

  She’d never watched The Lion’s Den. Surely anyone who wanted to be on TV had to have an ego the size of a planet? Yet, much as she wanted to, she couldn’t dismiss him. He didn’t suit the label she’d written for him.

  Heart pounding, she stood back from the group, sipping at the flute of champagne Scott had handed her, bubbles dancing on her tongue. The champagne was expensive. Gaining favour obviously really mattered to Holly and Scott.

  She could do this - be polite, show them around, be professional and not kill Rebecca in the process…

  She stared at Rebecca who smiled coyly at Nate while touching him oh so casually on the arm.

  Really? Maybe I’ll have to revisit that ‘not killing’ part.

  Tash snorted, quietly she’d thought, but Nate looked up and met her gaze from across the room, his stare piercing. Was there a flicker of understanding there? A shared joke or connection? Before she could decipher the look he turned back to Rebecca, listening politely to her chatter as though he’d never looked away.

  Tash backed into a corner and decided to eat as many nibbles as she could; she’d felt too rough this morning to eat any breakfast. Best leave the boring small talk to the others. They were so much better at it than her and she was going to have to work up to a full on tour guide act. She couldn’t do it cold. Who knew what might come out of her mouth at the moment?

  Leaning against the back of a sofa she retreated into the unfocused, barely there look she’d perfected over the years to stop morons approaching her. She felt Nate’s presence next to her before she saw him, felt the embarrassing jerk of her body’s reaction to the warmth of him.

  She turned to face him. It was always better to face matters head on, to take control of situations, relationships, pretty much anything really. Better to be the one who acted than sitting around waiting for others to do things to you.

  “So, Holly tells me I’m going to be your guide for Verbier?” She said the only thing that came to mind while trying to solve the problem of where to look. Looking directly into his eyes, while kind of thrilling, felt dangerous. Like she might turn into Rebecca and involuntarily start touching him or something.

  Ick. I refuse to turn into a sappy girl.

  She settled for looking just past him, as though scanning the room. Then she realised how rude that was and reluctantly turned back to staring at the cool eyes assessing her and the thick eyebrows quirked into a question.

  It felt intense, intimate.

  Just a step away from a kiss…

  “You don’t want to ask me if I’m a keen snowboarder or if I’ve been to Verbier before?” His lips twitched into an almost smile. “They seem to be popular questions today.”

  “No.” Tash returned the half smile, tentatively. Whatever this was, this thing happening to her, she was losing control of it rapidly.

  Her heart pounded and she folded her arms across her chest, hugging her body.

  Because if I’m holding myself my fingers can’t stray to his arm to feel the muscles beneath that expensive suit. This is crazy. It’s just sexual attraction. It means precisely nothing.

  “Thank God, I hate wasting time on small talk.” Nate exhaled and appeared to relax. It was a compliment, this assumption of a shared attitude. Heat crept up Tash’s neck.

  He’s a suit Tash. Don’t fall for the charm. You and Nathaniel Campbell have nothing in common.

  “Because time is money?” Tash couldn’t help the hint of snark in her tone; it escaped before she could suppress it.

  “No,” he replied, expression unchanging, seemingly unbothered by the jibe. “Because bullshit bores me and I’ve got better things to do with my time. But sometimes needs must.”

  “I suppose so,” Tash replied doubtfully.

  If you want to take on world media domination that is. First a TV show and now a book? Working in television must involve a lot of bullshit.

  Nate’s mouth widened into a wide smile, as though he’d heard her thoughts and found her beyond funny. A warm glow radiated through Tash.

  How annoying to be so easily manipulated by the twitch of a few facial muscles. G
et over yourself Tash.

  “Could you show me my bedroom?” Nate asked.

  Heat spread from her neck to her cheeks.

  I’m blushing now?

  Tash cringed. She was blushing like a teenager. And she’d never even blushed when she actually was a teenager!

  It’s a simple request, not a come on, you idiot. And now he knows you fancy him. Oh crappity crap.

  “I’d like to get out of this suit,” he added, loosening the knot of his red silk tie. “We had a meeting in Geneva fresh from the plane but between you and me, ties are like small talk.”

  “Oh?” Tash’s mind felt curiously blank of words of more than one syllable.

  Between you and me. You and me.

  The words, combined with the idea of him getting out of his suit, stirred delicious possibilities in her mind. Perhaps this was Nate’s superpower - turning the minds of all females to goo?

  “They are both necessary evils.” Nate grinned again, a flicker of knowing in his eyes told her he knew exactly what effect he had on her. It made something flip low down in Tash’s stomach.

  “Right, well…If you follow me I’ll show you your bedroom,” Tash blurted and turned, leaving the room. She assumed he was following her down the corridor, someone certainly was. But she didn’t dare look back to check in case he was too close behind her. In case the bizarre connection he had straight to certain parts of her body made her do something really crazy like step even closer so she could inhale his masculine scent or nuzzle his neck.

  Grip Tash. As in get one.

  She walked down to the largest guest suite. She knew this room had been earmarked for him. There’d been enough fuss about what papers and magazines to leave for him on the small table in the corner - Le Monde, the Financial Times, Vanity Fair and GQ. Whether to leave an espresso machine in the room - no, too B&B. And whether orange blossom oil in the diffuser was too girly - at this point Scott had told Holly to stop fussing; Nathaniel Campbell was here to assess the business opportunities and write a book and being male meant he probably wouldn’t even notice there was an oil diffuser in the room, never mind care what scent was in it.

  Tash held the door open for Nate, surreptitiously inhaling his masculine, citrusy scent as he passed. Sod the orange blossom, she’d be happy to just to smell him all day. She walked into the room with him, embarrassed at her thoughts.