Page 43 of Ice To Meet You

My brain wandered to the old wardrobe in my room. It was still cluttered with Didier’s belongings. We’d parted on good terms, so he’d left a few items behind, promising to collect them eventually. That “eventually” had yet to arrive.

“I may have something you can wear.”

Matteo wiggled his eyebrows. “Nice. More knitwear? One of your pretty dresses? The one with the pink roses might show off my eyes. Or how about the green one that makes your hair shine?”

A breath stuttered in my throat. He’d noticed my dresses and my hair? I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Saint MaryMagdalene, patron saint of hairdressers, for my timely visit to the salon earlier.

I tipped my chin up and shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do. But I draw the line at sequins. I don’t think they’d suit your colouring. Too showy.”

A glorious grin spread over his lips. “Agreed.”

I showed Matteo to my bathroom and handed him a fluffy towel from the side. I nodded towards my cupboard. “You can borrow anything you need, but fair warning—the peony shower gel might not be your vibe.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but I shut the door in his face with the sweetest smile I could muster.

I stood with my back pressed against the wood, heart thundering in my chest. Matteo was in my bathroom—about to be naked in my bathroom—in the shower in my bathroom. The sound of his humming filtered through the door, and I slapped my palm to my forehead.

What the hell was I doing? How had an innocent pasta emergency escalated into … this?

Matteo and Didier werenotthe same size. There was no way anything in the wardrobe would fit him. But my only other option was to have him wear a towel. Averysmall towel. And what if someone walked in? What if Maurice or, God forbid, Lola showed up for a surprise visit? They’d assume Matteo and I were sleeping together. That I was after his grandfather’s money.

I exhaled slowly.

Calm down, Esmé. No one would see him.

14

MATTEO

The bathroom door shut behind Esmé, and I took a breath. What the hell just happened?

I was about to take a shower in my incredibly sexy boss’s apartment—and all because I took a detour by the gallery on my run. Had I hoped she’d be here, working on something downstairs? Yes. But when I heard shouts from above, an invisible fist had gripped my chest.

The last thing I expected to find was her holding a rolling pin, looking absolutely incredible. Her chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, making my chest pulse. But if anyone walked in and saw me here—in her bathroom, holding a towel and about to strip off—things would look suspicious.

Nobody would believe I was only here to help with her pasta.

I shook my head and peeled off my T-shirt, humming a tune. Looking around, everything was neat and clean—organised—just like Esmé.

The tiles were uniform and white with a subtle pink lily detail. She’d lined up matching pink flowers on the shelf in little vases. The bottles on the side of the bath were arranged inheight order. I lifted the corners of my lips. I kept my bottles in the shower, and mostly on their sides.

I opened the cupboard over the sink and picked up a scent bottle, lifting it to my nose. It was the same perfume she’d worn on the chairlift, and again in the booth at the bar when we’d been pressed close together. A subtle mix of summer and musk.

I caught myself in the mirror and huffed a tiny laugh, shaking my head. I was supposed to be in Turin with Antonio, going over the final plans for the chalet. Not smelling my boss’s perfume and wondering where she applied it.

Things were almost ready for our business launch. Though late in the snow season, there was still plenty of powder up on the glaciers. I should be locking in plans for our first guests and helicopter shuttles. Instead, I was standing half naked in Esmé’s bathroom about to take a shower. I put the bottle down on the counter.

A faint knock at the door broke my thoughts.

“Are you decent?”

“That depends on your definition.”

“Matteo,” she said, my name rolling off her tongue. I liked the way it sounded—smooth, and a little husky. Like burnt caramel. Should I tease her? Being sassy wasn’t entirely professional, but her blushes and the tiny eye rolls she gave were adorable.

“I’m decent,” I said.

“May I come in?”

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