My blood feels electrified and fizzy. A bone-deep throb has me fidgeting, trying to dislodge its hold over me because my body is tingling with recognition and interest.
Because my god,look at him. He is far too tempting with that black hair and those sparkling eyes, eyes that seem to be mildly amused, or quietly pleased. A blade-sharp, square jawline offsets deep-set eyes, his low brow evident but not dominating his face. His gaze falls to my outstretched hand. I’ve been trying to keep them warm, tucked in across my ribs as I waited for him, but he must notice they’re icy cold. His large hand in mine feels like a scorching hot water bottle does against your bare skin.
“Please, call me Luca.”
His voice straddles bass and baritone, deep and resonating. It has my pulse quickening, my womb tightening.
Oh god, this isverybad news.
Unable to withdraw my hand from his warm grasp, our eyes latch and hold, my breath catching.
When he releases my hand it feels like I can finally breathe again. Reaching for his suitcase, Luca practically hip-checks me out of the way. “Let me,” he responds, leaning in towards me, our faces barely a foot apart.
Something deep inside pangs, a response of such fierce longing I don’t think I can keep the reaction from my face. “If you’re sure,” I answer, straightening. “Come in and let me show you around the cabin.”
“Lead the way,” he tells me, his lips hitching.
Smiling brightly, I turn for the steps, my ponytail swishing against my back. Elias waits at the cabin porch like he’s the VIP, expectant, imperious. As we near, he makes one solitary step in our direction.
“Mr. Wolfford. I’m so pleased to welcome you to Stein Hotel. I’m Elias Hermann, owner, and manager.” He slips out a card from his pocket, before continuing. “If there is anything, anything at all I can help with, please don’t hesitate to reach me on my cell.”
Luca shakes his hand but dismisses him instantly by handing the card back. “Thanks,” he replies, his eyes coming to rest on me. “But I’m sure Winter will give me everything I need.”
CHAPTERTHREE
Castinga blank look my way (we’ve all been dismissed or disregarded at some stage), Elias walks briskly back to the hotel. Meanwhile, I push open the heavy front door. The wood burner has been going for over an hour now, the living space welcomingly toasty.
I’m sure Winter will give me everything I need.
What would I give the jaw-dropping Luca Wolfford? The answer is everything, anything he wants, several times over.
Except I can’t.
In the entranceway, I kick off my shoes and put on my cabin slippers as Luca unties his heavy-duty boots. There’s underfloor heating throughout, so the slippers aren’t necessary, but I love them.
My reaction to the guest is disorientating. I expected nerves—he’s a VIP—but I didn’t expect this mild terror running through my system. Contrary to my usual demeanor, I’m quiet, desperately trying to find my composure, my professionalism, to tamp down my badly-timed lust.
“There are some cabin slippers for guests too,” I offer. And when Luca slips his feet inside the woolly footwear, I find a reflexive, happy smile. “The boot and ski room is just here.” I open a door to a small, heated room. Picking up his boots and coat off the floor, I put them inside to thaw out. When I try and get out of the doorway, Luca is blocking my path. He moves to the side without missing a beat, but I wonder if he was checking out my ass as I bent over.
Hmm.
“I’ll pop your skis in there later,” I tell him. “Downstairs cloakroom is here.” I point to another door before moving on. I expect he’s familiar with the layout having studied it online, so I don’t want to labor the tour, but this is part of my role and I want to do it well.
The downstairs living space is big, but then it’s made to accommodate eight people. The cabin has exposed, wooden slats on the walls, moose antlers, and typically Swiss/American decorations lending the space a cozy, traditional feel. There are two sectional burgundy couches in front of the fire, a brown leather love seat by a far wall, with blankets and cushions in complimentary colors draped over the arms or backs. The wood burner dominates the corner space. On the far wall is a big TV.
Luca drops his laptop bag onto the couch.
“The deck is accessed over here.” I lead him to the patio doors and twist the key. “In the summer, you can fold these to one side. Out here is the best sunrise, and a hot tub to watch it from.”
Looking impressed as he steps out onto the deck, I let the incredible view speak for itself. Earlier, I swept this space clear of snow and ice, but fresh snow is already lying across the surface, blown from the surrounding piles and drifts. “I’m picturing it already,” he answers smoothly, his eyes resting on me.
I turn towards the kitchen, Luca closing the door behind him. There’s a bank of wall units and a long central island running parallel to the wall. The basket of baked goods sits on the top, next to a vase of fragrant flowers. “Although I will be on hand to cater to your every need,” I say, trying not to falter over the suggestive words, “there are short periods when I won’t be here, so I’ll just point out the items guests tend to need to know.”
I run through the basics of the kitchen layout before leading him towards the stairs. Out here is my little office-come-snug with a desk, hotel iPad, and the washing machine and dryer for emergency use. Mostly, the guests will have their things laundered with the next day service, but sometimes they want to wash their own underpants which I can understand.
“The master bedroom with ensuite is here.”
Luca walks inside, taking everything in. My heart drums in my chest as he casts a clinical gaze around the stylish bedroom. Aside from the big bed and nightstands, there’s an armchair by the doors leading to the balcony. I show him everything, including the ensuite and where all the towels and extra bedding are located.