Christmas Seduction: The Twelve Nights of Christmas / His Christmas Acquisition / Caroselli's Christmas Baby

Stunned that the door was still on its hinges, Evie gulped. ‘I—you—are you OK? I mean—I’ve seen people crash through doors in the movies but I always assumed the door is made out of cardboard or something. I’ve never seen anyone actually do it with a real door. That must have hurt.’ She looked at his powerful shoulders doubtfully, wondering whether all that muscle would act as a barrier to pain.

‘Sì, it hurt.’ He rolled his shoulder experimentally, checking for damage. ‘Which is why, next time, I’d appreciate it if you’d just do as I say and open the damn door.’

Evie gave a choked laugh, clutching the silk throw against her. ‘Why? So that you can fire me in person?’

‘Who says I’m going to fire you?’

‘You fired the tyrannosaurus.’

‘Tyrannosaurus?’ Still rubbing his shoulder, he frowned, his expression dark and menacing. ‘I presume you’re talking about that officious woman with the unfortunate hair. That’s what you all call her?’

Evie froze. ‘No, of course not,’ she lied. ‘We call her Tina.’ Or meat-eater, because she feasted on hotel staff for breakfast.

‘She didn’t seem too impressed with you.’

‘No.’ It was impossible to argue with that. Utterly defeated, Evie felt the last dregs of spirit drain out of her. What was the point in defending herself? It was over. ‘I think it’s fair to say I don’t have an enormous number of supporters in high places.’ Tina had demoted her. Carlos had tried to grope her and, when she’d rejected him and humiliated him, he’d set her up.

Thinking of her grandfather, Evie wondered whether it was worth begging Rio Zaccarelli to give her another chance. Gazing into those unsympathetic black eyes, she decided that it was a waste of breath. She doubted there was a gram of compassion anywhere in his muscle-packed frame.

‘I have a big problem.’ His deep voice slid over her nerve-endings like treacle and Evie snatched in a breath, shocked by the sudden heat that shot through her. Underneath the dangerously slippery silk throw, she was suddenly horribly conscious that she was still naked.

If ever there was a more uneven confrontation, this had to be it.

Everything about him suggested raw masculine power, from the dusky shadow of his jaw to the tiny scar that flawed the skin above his right eye.

A vision of Jeff’s baby-smooth face flew into her head but Evie realised that to make comparisons between the two men would be nothing short of ridiculous. They had nothing in common. Nothing at all.

Rio Zaccarelli might have been dressed for a formal dinner, but the external trappings of sophistication didn’t fool her for a moment. This man wasn’t tame or civilised. He was hard and unyielding and he’d do whatever he needed to do to achieve what he wanted.

A real man.

Suffocated by the heat in the air, her limbs suddenly felt heavy and her heart hammered against her ribs. Her instincts were telling her to run, but she couldn’t move.

She tried to conjure up an image of Jeff’s face again but found that she couldn’t. Instead, her mind was filled with a vision of burnished skin and eyes full of sexual promise.

To make matters worse, two walls of the opulent bathroom were mirrored, which meant that his iron-hard physique was reproduced several times over, dominating her vision.

Seriously unsettled, Evie clutched at the throw. ‘If you’d give me five minutes privacy, I’ll get dressed.’

‘You own clothes?’

‘Of course I own clothes! They’re drying on the—’ Evie turned her head and her eyes widened. ‘I left them right there—on the radiator. They’re gone.’ Her mind explored possible explanations and came up with only one. Feeling the panic rise again, she looked at him and he lifted an eyebrow in weary mockery.

‘They walked out of the room under their own steam?’

‘Forget it.’ Her voice choked, Evie lifted her hand like a stop sign. ‘I’ve had enough of this! There’s no point in me saying anything because you’re not going to believe me anyway.’

‘Strangely enough, you’re wrong.’ His tone was grim. ‘I’m guessing that Carlos had something to do with the mysterious disappearance of your clothes. Am I right?’

Evie lowered her hand slowly. ‘H-how do you know that?’

‘Because he invited you to stay in the Penthouse and I doubt he did that out of generosity of spirit.’

Relief spurted through her veins. ‘I didn’t think you believed me—’

‘I never thought you acted alone. Now it’s all slotting together—’ A muscle flickered in his cheek and he muttered something in Italian under his breath.

Evie was rigid with tension. ‘I didn’t know what was going on. I still don’t, but it doesn’t really matter. I just want to get out of here. If someone could lend me some clothes, I can go.’

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

Her heart rate increased. ‘If that whole naked photograph thing was a set up then the best thing is surely for me to get as far away from here as possible. I’ll go somewhere no one can find me.’

He started to laugh, but there was no trace of humour in the rich masculine sound. It was loaded with cynicism and derision. ‘Are you really that naive? The press can find anyone.’

That news shook Evie. ‘But why would they want to? I’m no one.’

‘Perhaps you were “no one” before you chose to lie naked on my bed with me, but now you’re a person of extreme interest.’

‘I wasn’t with you.’

‘Yes, you were.’

‘Well, that part was your fault. You were the one who kissed me and, quite frankly, I have no idea why you did that.’ And she wished he hadn’t because, in the midst of this crisis, those feelings kept rushing back to torture her.

His mouth, moving over hers with erotic purpose.

‘None of this is my responsibility. You were the one lying there naked.’ He issued that statement with such arrogance that Evie simply gaped at him, wondering how it was possible to be terrified of someone and turned on at the same time.

‘And that means what? That you kiss every naked woman you see?’

‘Normally, the woman gets naked after I kiss her,’ he drawled. ‘That’s the usual order of things. Despite the lengths some women go to attract my attention, no one has ever gone quite as far as stripping naked and lying on my bed. That was a first.’

‘I thought we’d established that I was set up!’ Evie’s voice rose. ‘If I’d known you were going to arrive early, do you honestly think I would have been lying there?’

‘Yes. That photograph will sell for a fortune.’

‘Maybe it will, but it won’t be me making the fortune,’ Evie snapped, stalking out of the bathroom with the throw trailing behind her like a wedding gown.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Out of here. I’m sick of seeing your reflection in the mirrors. One of you is bad enough. Ten is more than I can take. I’m going to ring Housekeeping and get them to send up a uniform and then I’m going to go and hide somewhere even the press can’t find me.’

‘Running is not the way to handle this.’

‘Well, if you can think of a different plan, I’d love to hear it. This is easy for you. You have bodyguards and you own tall buildings with fancy security. All you have to do is lock yourself in your gilded palace until the fuss dies down, but I have to live with the fact that photograph is out there. Everyone who wants a laugh can look at it. They’ll probably start a Facebook page for it—The biggest bottom in the world.’ Evie tripped on the throw and stumbled. Steadying herself, she blinked back tears. ‘I have to live with the fact that my eighty-six-year-old grandfather is going to see me with my naked bottom in the air, kissing a stranger! If he has another one of his turns it will be all your fault.’

‘Which is going to shock him most? Seeing your naked bottom, or the fact that you’re kissing a stranger?’

Evie snatched the phone up. ‘You’re not even funny.’

‘Do I look as though I’m laughing? You have no idea how serious this is for me. For you, it’s embarrassing; for me, it’s—’ He broke off, his voice unsteady and Evie paused with the handset in her hand, transfixed by the raw emotion she saw in his eyes.

‘For you it’s what? A deal you don’t want to lose? Is this an ego thing? It has to be because you clearly don’t care about the embarrassment and I can’t honestly believe you’d be making this much fuss about money. I mean, it’s not as if you don’t already have plenty!’ When he didn’t answer, she gave a humourless laugh. ‘Oh, forget it. I don’t know why I’m expecting you to care any more than Carlos cared. Why does it matter to you that one more woman’s reputation is shattered? I’m just another notch on your bedpost.’

‘I do not make notches on my bedpost,’ he said thickly. ‘I am very choosy about my relationships.’

And he wouldn’t be choosing a woman like her. Evie turned scarlet and stabbed the number for Housekeeping. ‘Hello? Margaret? I’m really sorry to bother you, but could you possibly deliver a fresh housekeeping uniform to the Penthouse, please. I’ve…spilled something…sorry?’ She blushed and turned her head away, lowering her voice. ‘Size twelve…I said size twelve…I’m not whispering—’ She gave a gasp as the phone was removed from her fingers.

‘She said size twelve,’ Rio drawled, ‘and, while you’re at it, send some underwear and shoes. She takes a—’ his gaze slid to her cleavage ‘—thirty-four DD and her feet are—’ He lifted an eyebrow in Evie’s direction.

‘Forty,’ she said faintly and he delivered that information in the same commanding tone and ended the call. Then he answered his mobile, which was buzzing in his pocket and spoke at length in Italian, leaving Evie standing with a scarlet face, still trying to work out how he’d been able to guess her bra size so accurately.

He was still in mid-conversation when there was another buzzing sound and he drew his BlackBerry out of a different pocket without breaking conversation.

Evie watched in disbelief as he talked into one phone while emailing from the other.

‘Sì—Sì—Ciao.’ He ended the conversation and frowned at her. ‘Why are you staring?’

‘How many phones do you have?’

‘Three. It makes me more efficient.’

‘What happens if they ring at the same time? Most men aren’t that good at multi-tasking.’

He gave a cool smile. ‘I’m not most men. And I’m excellent at multi-tasking.’ As if to test that theory, two of his three phones rang simultaneously and Evie moved to the window as he dealt swiftly with one call and then the other.

It was still dark outside, but the roads far beneath her were already busy as cars and taxis inched their way over snowy streets.

She leaned her cheek against the glass, watching people carrying on with their lives, wishing she could swap with them. Or put the clock back. She wished she’d never spent the night in the Penthouse.

Her eyes stung with tears and she blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. It was just because she was tired, she told herself fiercely.

What should she do? She couldn’t decide whether it was better to ring her grandfather and warn him that he might see some very embarrassing pictures of her in the press, or say nothing and just hope that he didn’t read that page in the paper.

But someone was bound to point it out, weren’t they? She never ceased to be depressed by the enjoyment some people took from watching another’s misfortune.

‘Move away from the windows. Your clothes have arrived—you can change in the bedroom.’

Evie turned, wondering how her colleagues in Housekeeping had managed to produce underwear and shoes so quickly. Then she looked at the elegant packaging on the boxes and realised they’d simply used the expensive store in the hotel foyer.

‘I can’t afford to pay for those.’

He looked at her with ill-disguised impatience. ‘The price tag on your bra is surely the least of our worries at the moment.’

‘To you, maybe, but that’s because you don’t have to worry about money,’ Evie said stubbornly. ‘I do. Particularly as I appear to have just lost my job.’

The phone rang in his pocket again but this time he ignored it. ‘Get dressed. Consider the clothes a gift.’

‘I can’t accept a gift of underwear from you. It wouldn’t be right.’

‘In that case, think of them as an essential part of our crisis management programme. The longer you continue to walk around naked, the more likely we are to find ourselves in even hotter water.’

He had a point.

Opening one of the boxes, Evie spotted a silky leopardprint bra and panties and crushed the lid back down, her face scarlet. ‘I can’t wear something like that.’ Hardly daring to look, she prised the lid off the other box and her eyes widened when she saw the contents. ‘I can’t wear those, either—’

‘Why not? They’re shoes. I realize they’re not strictly uniform, but they will do until we can get you something else.’

‘But—’ She stared down at the sexy shoe with the wicked heel. It was the most beautiful, extravagant, indulgent thing she’d ever seen. ‘I don’t wear heels. I can’t.’

‘You don’t have to walk far in them.’

‘It isn’t the walking.’ Her face was almost the same shade of scarlet as the sole of the famous shoes. ‘You may not have noticed, but I’m already taller than the average woman. If I wear heels, I look like a freak. Everyone will stare.’

‘After last night, they’re going to be staring anyway. They’ll stare harder and longer if you’re barefoot. Put them on.’ Without giving her the opportunity to argue, he turned back to the phone, leaving Evie to stare at him in exasperation, wondering what day it was. Had December nineteenth been designated Humiliate Evie Day and someone had forgotten to tell her?

Juggling the throw with the boxes, she struggled into the master bedroom and closed the doors. At least she wouldn’t be naked.

Feeling relieved to finally ditch the throw, Evie slung it back on the bed and slithered into the underwear. It fitted perfectly. Then she pushed her feet into the shoes, almost losing her balance as she teetered precariously on the vertiginous heels. She felt like a circus performer practising on stilts.

Risking a look in the mirror, she gave a moan of horror.

She looked like a circus performer.

She looked like a giant.

She was about to take them off when the door to the bedroom opened.

Rio’s gaze swept her from head to foot.

‘Maledizione—’ His eyes went dark with shock and Evie wanted to fall through the floor as she intercepted his look of stunned astonishment.

Embarrassment got her moving. ‘Get out,’ she shrieked, grabbing the throw again. ‘I’m getting changed.’

‘Does the phrase “shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted” mean anything to you? I’ve already seen you naked.’ Displaying not the slightest consideration for her feelings, he allowed his gaze to travel slowly down every centimetre of her body. ‘I’ve never seen a woman who looks like you.’

For Evie, already sensitive about her looks, his comment delivered the final blow to her crumbling self-esteem.

‘It’s your fault for getting me those stupid shoes when anyone with half a brain could have guessed they’d make me look ridiculous. And that’s before I put on the uniform. I always wear flats, OK? Ballet pumps. Court shoes with no heel. Get out of here! I’m fed up with being a laughing stock, although I suppose I ought to get used to it because it’s nothing to how I’m going to feel tomorrow when that photo is published—’ Pushed to the limit, she flopped onto the bed, buried her face in the pillow and sobbed her heart out.

Everyone was going to see her naked and her grandfather was going to be horribly, hideously ashamed of her. She’d wanted to make him proud, but the truth was all he really wanted was to bounce a great-grandchild on his knee and that was never going to happen.

She was a big, fat disappointment.

Lost in the nightmare of the moment, she gasped in shock as strong hands closed over her shoulders and Rio flipped her onto her back.

‘Stop crying!’ He sounded exasperated. ‘You’ll make your eyes red and that could ruin everything.’

‘Ruin what? Just go away. Stop mocking me.’

Astonishment lit his dark eyes. ‘When have I ever mocked you?’

‘You said you’d never seen anyone who l-looked like me,’ Evie hiccupped, ‘and I think it’s horribly mean of you to poke fun of me, even if it is partly my fault we’re in this mess. We’re not all supermodels and wearing supermodel labels doesn’t change that. I can push my feet into designer shoes just like Kate Moss but that doesn’t give me Kate Moss’s legs.’

‘Which is a good thing,’ he drawled, ‘because Kate would find it extremely hard to strut her stuff on the runway if you had her legs. For the record, I wasn’t mocking you. I was complimenting you.’

Evie, who had never been complimented on her looks in her life before, looked at him through eyelashes welded together with tears. ‘Pardon?’

His jaw tensed. ‘I find you attractive. Why the hell do you think I kissed you in the first place?’

‘Because you have an abnormal sex drive and you can’t resist anyone naked?’

‘I have a healthy sex drive.’ His dark gaze was unmistakably sexual. ‘I definitely don’t kiss women who try and pick me up. That’s a first for me.’

‘I wasn’t trying to pick you up—’ Still struggling to accept the unlikely fact that he actually did find her attractive, Evie sat up. ‘You don’t think I’m too tall?’

‘Too tall for what?’ That silky tone turned her insides into a quivering mass.

‘For…a woman.’ Evie licked her lips. ‘I make most men feel small and insignificant. They usually don’t want to stand next to me. But I guess you’re pretty tall yourself.’

‘Six four,’ he breathed, his eyes scanning the length of her legs. ‘And I’ve never had a problem with a woman’s height.’

That was because he was unlikely to meet a woman taller than him, Evie thought weakly. ‘Most people think I’m a freak.’

Without giving her a chance to argue, he scooped her off the bed and dumped her on her feet in front of the mirror. ‘Look at yourself. Tell me what you see.’

Evie closed her eyes. ‘I don’t see anything.’

‘Look!’

Evie flinched and opened one eye cautiously. ‘Evie the elephant,’ she said immediately and his brows met in an impatient frown.

‘If that title is a throwback to your childhood, then you’d better let it go now. You’re stunning and that gives us a major problem.’

Stunning?

Evie, who couldn’t even for a single moment think why being considered stunning would present a major problem to anyone, looked at him dizzily. ‘Even if that was true, which it isn’t, I don’t see how that could be a problem. How can being stunning be a problem? People judge by appearances. I’ve never been a member of the “oh, it’s such a bore to be beautiful” camp.’

‘It’s a problem because you need to look wholesome.’

Evie was about to say that she’d been trying to escape from the ‘wholesome’ image for most of her life, when he took her hair in his hands and twisted it, assessing the effect with narrowed eyes. ‘You have good skin.’

‘And freckles.’

‘Freckles are good. They suggest a healthy outdoor life. Wholesome.’

Why did he keep saying wholesome?

‘I’m not with you—’

‘Unfortunately, you are with me and that is why we have a problem.’

‘We wouldn’t have a problem if you hadn’t kissed me.’

‘I’m fully aware of that fact.’ He paced over to the window, keeping his back to her. ‘Get dressed.’

Wriggling into the housekeeper uniform, Evie stared at his broad shoulders. ‘I don’t understand why you’re so stressed about this. You celebrities are always in the newspapers. You may be the reason they want that photo, but it’s going to damage me far more than you.’

He turned, and the expression on his face was all it took to silence her. His eyes were haunted and there was a tension in his body that was unmistakably real.

‘The damage to me could be incalculable,’ he said coldly and Evie thought back to the exchange he’d had earlier with Carlos.

Whatever the ‘deal’ was, he was obviously prepared to stop at nothing to make sure it went through. It had to be about more than money, she thought. It had to be something to do with ego. Winning. The addictive quality of power.

‘And creepy Carlos did this to you on purpose and I got caught in the middle, is that right?’

‘So it would seem.’

She wondered what Carlos had against Rio Zaccarelli. What was he trying to achieve with that photograph? If it hadn’t been her, would he have used someone else? ‘If there is no way you can stop that photograph being published then I’d better make a phone call.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re calling a lover?’

Evie gave a hysterical laugh. ‘Oh, yes—I have loads of those—’ Catching the dangerous gleam in his eyes, her laughter faded. ‘Not a lover. I’m calling my grandfather, if you must know.’

Bold black eyebrows met in a fierce frown. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-three, but, like most people of his generation, he doesn’t believe in public displays of affection,’ Evie said wearily, ‘and he absolutely doesn’t believe in one-night stands. Neither do I, for that matter.’ She tried to sound casual, as if talking about sex was something she did all the time, rather than something she never did.

She stared at Rio Zaccarelli, the epitome of male sophistication, and felt her face grow scarlet.

Her grandfather definitely would have classed him as a real man.

It was the ultimate irony, she thought, to have been caught naked with him.

As if—

‘So you don’t have a lover at the moment.’ His slumberous gaze rested on her mouth. ‘That’s good.’

‘Well, that depends on where you’re standing,’ Evie muttered, wishing she wasn’t standing quite so close to him. She was getting hotter and hotter. ‘If you must know, I was supposed to be getting married yesterday but my fiancé dumped me. If that hadn’t happened I’d be in Bali now, not London. I wouldn’t have lost my job and my flat and generally had a completely awful six weeks and there might have been the smallest, remotest chance that my grandfather might be bouncing a baby on his knee next Christmas. As it is, there’s no chance. None. I don’t expect you to understand. You look like the sort of person whose life always goes according to plan.’

‘My plan,’ he said tightly, ‘wasn’t to find a strange woman lying naked in my bed. Fortunately, I’ve always considered adaptability to be an asset. I can turn this situation around.’

‘You can?’ Evie’s gaze drifted to the neck of his shirt. Dark hairs tangled at the base of his throat and disappeared inside the snowy-white shirt. She imagined the hair hazing his chest and narrowing over his abdomen, which was no doubt as muscular as the rest of him. Shocked by her own thoughts, she lifted her eyes back to his and discovered that he was watching her with an unsettling degree of sexual interest.

‘Why did he dump you?’

‘Why does it matter?’ Was she supposed to read him a list? Evie chewed the corner of her fingernail and then gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘Because he met someone more exciting. Because I’m the girl next door and he’s known me since I was three years old. Because I was taller than him and I made him feel less of a man—’ She stared at him with exasperation, wondering why she was having to spell this out. ‘Because I’m me. He sent me a text, dumping me.’

His lips thinned with disapproval. ‘That’s bad.’

‘Hypocrite. Are you seriously trying to tell me you’ve never dumped a woman?’

‘I wouldn’t use the word “dumped”. I’ve ended plenty of relationships, but always in person. I’ve never sent a text. That’s cowardly.’

‘I suppose it’s human nature to avoid a difficult conversation.’