The Italian's Christmas Secret. Sharon Kendrick

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      ‘We’ve stopped,’ she said, turning the key again and praying for them to start moving but the car stayed exactly where it was.

      ‘I can see that for myself,’ he snapped. ‘The question is, why have we stopped?’

      Keira gulped. He must have realised why. Did he want her to spell it out for him so he could shovel yet more blame on her? ‘It’s a heavy car and the snow is much thicker than I thought. We’re on a slight hill, and...’

      ‘And?’

      Face facts, she told herself fiercely. You know how to do that. It’s a difficult situation, but it’s not the end of the world. She flicked the ignition and tried moving forward again but despite her silent prayers, the car stubbornly refused to budge. Her hands sliding reluctantly from the wheel, she turned round. ‘We’re stuck,’ she admitted.

      Matteo nodded, biting back the angry exclamation which was on the tip of his tongue, because he prided himself on being good in an emergency. God knew, there had been enough of those over the years to make him an expert in crisis management. Now was not the time to wonder why he hadn’t followed his instincts and demanded a male driver who would have known what he was doing, instead of some slip of a girl who didn’t look strong enough to control a pushbike, let alone a car this size. Recriminations could come later, he thought grimly—and they would. First and foremost they needed to get out of here—and to do that, they needed to keep their wits about them.

      ‘Where exactly are we?’ he said, speaking slowly as if to a very small child.

      She swivelled her head to look at the sat-nav for several silent seconds before turning to meet his gaze again.

      ‘The signal has cut out again. We’re on the edge of Dartmoor.’

      ‘How close to civilisation?’

      ‘That’s the trouble. We’re not. We’re miles from anywhere.’ He saw her teeth dig into her lower lip as if she were trying to draw blood from it. ‘And there’s no Wi-Fi connection,’ she finished.

      Matteo wanted to slam the flat of his hand against the snow-covered window but he sucked in an unsteady breath instead. He needed to take control.

      ‘Move over,’ he said roughly as he unclipped his seat belt.

      She blinked those great big eyes at him. ‘Move over where?’

      ‘Onto the passenger seat,’ he gritted out as he pushed open the car door to brace himself against a flurry of snowflakes. ‘I’m taking over.’

      He was pretty much covered in ice by the time he got into the car and slammed the door shut, and the bizarre thought which stuck in his mind was how deliciously warm the seat felt from where her bottom had been sitting.

      Furious for allowing himself to be distracted by something so basic and inappropriate at a time like this, Matteo reached for the ignition key.

      ‘You do know not to press down too hard on the accelerator, don’t you?’ she said nervously. ‘Or you’ll make the wheels spin.’

      ‘I don’t think I need any driving lessons from someone as incompetent as you,’ he retorted. He started the engine and tried moving forward. Nothing. He tried until he was forced to surrender to the inevitable, which deep down he’d known all along. They were well and truly stuck and the car wasn’t going anywhere. He turned to the woman sitting beside him who was staring at him nervously from beneath her peaked cap.

      ‘So. Bravo,’ he said, his words steeped in an anger he could no longer contain. ‘You’ve managed to get us stranded in one of the most inhospitable parts of the country on one of the most inhospitable nights of the year—just before Christmas. That’s some feat!’

      ‘I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Saying sorry isn’t going to help.’

      ‘I’ll probably get the sack,’ she whispered.

      ‘You will if I have anything to do with it—that’s if you don’t freeze to death first!’ he snapped. ‘If it were down to me, I would never have employed you in the first place. But the consequences to your career are the last thing on my mind right now. We need to start working out what we’re going to do next.’

      She reached into the glove compartment for her mobile phone but he wasn’t surprised to see her grimace as she glanced down at the small screen. ‘No signal,’ she said, looking up.

      ‘You don’t say?’ he said sarcastically, peering out of the window where the howling flakes showed no signs of abating. ‘I’m guessing there’s no nearby village?’

      She shook her head. ‘No. Well, we did pass a little B&B just a while back. You know, one of those places which offer bed and breakfast for the night.’

      ‘I’m in the hotel trade,’ he said silkily. ‘And I’m perfectly aware of what a B&B is. How far was it?’

      She shrugged. ‘Less than a mile, I’d guess—though it wouldn’t be easy to reach in this kind of conditions.’

      ‘No kidding?’ Matteo eyed the virtual white-out which was taking place outside the window and his heart thundered as he acknowledged the real danger of their situation. Because suddenly this was about more than just missing his flight or disappointing a woman who had been eager to make him her lover; this was about survival. Venturing outside in this kind of conditions would be challenging—and dangerous—and the alternative was to hunker down in the car for the night and wait for help to arrive tomorrow. Presumably she would have blankets in the boot and they could continue to run the heater. His lips curved into a grim smile. And wasn’t the traditional method of generating heat to huddle two bodies together? But he gave the idea no more than a few seconds’ thought before dismissing it—and not just because she didn’t look as if she had enough flesh on her bones to provide any degree of comfort. No. To take the risk of staying put while the snow came down this fast would be nothing short of madness, for there was no guarantee anyone would find them in the morning.

      He ran his gaze over her uniform of navy blue trousers and the sturdy jacket which matched her cap. The material curved over the faint swell of her breasts and brushed against her thighs and was hardly what you would call practical—certainly not appropriate to face the elements at their worst. He sighed. Which meant he would have to give her his overcoat and freeze to death himself. ‘I don’t suppose you have any warmer clothes with you?’

      For a few seconds, she seemed to brighten. ‘I’ve got an anorak in the boot.’

      ‘An anorak?’

      ‘It’s a waterproof jacket. With a hood.’ She removed her peaked chauffeur’s cap and raked her fingers through her short dark hair and Matteo felt inexplicably irritated by the brief smile which had lightened her pale face.

      Was she expecting praise for having had the foresight to pack a coat? he wondered acidly.

      ‘Just get it and put it on,’ he bit out. ‘And then let’s get the hell out of here.’

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