Fire and Ice Read online

  “Only a lifetime supply of catchy little show tunes with lyrics to fit all occasions,” Kate grumbled.

  “Well, that’s always stood us in good stead,” Mimi tried, grasping at straws. “Can be a useful life skill.”

  Kate glowered in response, pulling her hair back and twisting it to keep it out of her face. “The problem is the lying. You know how much I hate it. Or do lies not count if I sing them with a catchy show tune?”

  “Don’t consider it so much lying as allowing people to think things that aren’t quite true,” Emily suggested with her typically dodgy reasoning. “It isn’t really that different from embellishing your experience on a resumé, which I’m sure everyone does to some extent.”

  “To the extent of stealing someone else’s?” Kate threw up her hands in exasperation. Her mother had always accused her of being emotionally volatile, too easily excited and too quick to let her fiery temper rise. She had considered herself more stable in the past few years, but maybe her emotions had simply been dulled by living with Mickey. It was something she would have time to think about here. Or while she rotted in prison.

  Mimi was laughing at her dire expression. “I promise you you’ll be a natural for the job. It’s just like balancing all your brothers and sisters growing up, and you have always been responsible. Now get into character. You are Michelle, experienced and discrete chalet hostess. On that note, let’s find you something appropriate to wear for this meeting. I’m thinking conservative but practical.”

  “Your trousers will all be too long for me,” Kate grumbled warningly, taking a reluctant step towards Emily’s open wardrobe.

  Emily started whistling a hopeful “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly” but was silenced by a warning glare from Kate.

  “Oh Em, what have I let you talk me into?”

  “Only the winter of your life, Katie,” her friend promised with certainty “ I have saved you from feeling sorry for yourself in some dingy bedsit in gloomy old London by hauling you back into the sun and the real world. You’ll thank me for this.”

  “When you visit me in prison,” muttered Kate, while “Look Down” from les Miserables played uninvited in her mind. Suddenly she wasn’t looking forward to this winter after all.

  Chapter Two

  Early dusk was painting the snow a soft blue when Emily left Kate in front of a juniper-lined driveway. There was no gate, only a recent set of tire tracks in the fresh powder. Kate followed the tracks to where the hedge ended and she caught her first view of Chalet Gentiane.

  A snowy lawn ran up to a sprawling chalet of wood, stone and glass. The design was a perfect blend of old and new, the traditional chalet shape lightened by huge glass, old wood set off against a slate walkway that had just recently been shovelled. The welcoming smell of a wood fire drifted up through the chimney.

  Kate stood in front of the imposing chalet humming “I Have Confidence” to try to bolster her spirits. But not even Julie Andrew’s bravado could keep her courage from faltering.

  She stopped to rearrange the borrowed dress slacks which sat more snugly on her hips than on Emily’s and crumpled over her boots. Then, taking a deep breath, she climbed three steps onto a large patio that ran around the chalet and approached the front door. She rang the doorbell and was trying to gather her poise and rehearse what she was going to say when the front door was flung open.

  For a moment nobody moved.

  A jolt of electricity shot through her body and seemed to crackle in the air.

  All of Kate’s composure disintegrated in front of the most handsome man she had seen in years. Faded jeans and a black fleece sweater failed to hide a strong, athletic build and his square-jawed face was tanned despite the winter. Thick black hair stood up in slightly dishevelled spikes over dark, soulful eyes. They were eyes with an enticing depth a person could drown in.

  The man seemed as taken aback as she was. His heavy eyebrows shot up as if startled and his large eyes seemed to grow even larger for a moment before his face became impassive again, unreadable.

  Kate hadn’t been prepared for this. Mentally she cursed Emily for not having warned her that she would be facing someone whose looks turned her knees to butter. Even in normal circumstances she would have found herself self-conscious in front of this man; trying to pretend to be some discrete and experienced woman she had never met would be almost impossible.

  There was an awkward moment of silence as she groped for something to say. Her mind seemed to have gone blank and she could feel her cheeks burning crimson.

  Finally the man took a step back. “Madame Clark, I presume,” he said with a hint of irony, when it became apparent that she was not going to be the first to speak. “Welcome. Please come inside.” His voice was deep with just a trace of a French accent.

  “Excuse me, I wasn’t expecting… ” she blurted out unthinkingly, when she managed to find her voice, and then stopped herself in time.

  Instead she pinched her lips tightly together as she stepped inside and allowed him to take her borrowed green duffel coat and woollen beret. She was supposed to be discrete and professional, she reminded herself, trying to pull herself together. She was sure he could see her heart hammering in her chest.

  The mesmerising eyes smiled wryly. “You were expecting my brother, no doubt. Most people do.”

  “Actually, I was expecting someone… older,” she stuttered. “Your father, that is.” She bit her tongue to keep from babbling nervously.

  “So was I, for that matter,” replied the man coldly. His eyes seemed to bore a hole in her, scrutinizing her. “Somebody with many years of experience.”

  Kate was aghast. Had Emily checked the age of the woman she was meant to be impersonating? Was she meant to be forty? And she had assumed that Michelle was French or English, but maybe she was meant to be West African or Haitian. It was going to be hard to impersonate that. She felt panic building up again, sure that those dark eyes could see right through her.

  She could always turn and run if things got worse, she thought desperately, trying to sound cheerful and businesslike. She had to be a professional. “Forgive my rude behaviour, Monsieur Pichard. I am Michelle Clark, sent by the agency to be your new chalet hostess. ” She held out her hand.

  She saw a hint of cold amusement in his eyes as he took her proffered hand. “Sebastien Pichard. Welcome to the family chalet. We might as well use first names, since we will be sharing a living space for much of the winter.”

  His hand was strong and warm, but his eyes remained guarded. She forced her gaze away from his face and looked around her.

  A wooden staircase led up to an open mezzanine with rooms beyond. Behind Sebastian she could see a spacious living room with a welcoming fireplace. Although the spaces were large with high ceilings, the simple décor gave the chalet a warm, homey feeling.

  Which made a nice contrast to the feeling she was getting from the man in front of her. He kept looking at her intently without smiling, which added to her growing sense of disaster. He seemed to be studying her face, looking for something. Or maybe she was becoming paranoid.

  It was time to regain a modicum of control over things, she decided. The shorter she made this meeting, the more likely the odds that she would survive without giving herself away. She needed time to prepare herself mentally before they next met.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I’m not in very good form just now,” she said with an attempt at a smile, which died on her face when he failed to smile back. It was like trying to melt a glacier with a candle. “I’ve just arrived and I’m quite tired, so it might take me a day to find my feet again.”

  For a terrible instant she thought he was going to ask to see some sort of proof of identification. Then he seemed to come to a decision and turned abruptly toward the living room.

  “I will just give you a cursory tour of the chalet and then leave you to make yourself at home.” he said over his shoulder as he led the way. “I still have some business to take ca
re of today, but you will have a week to familiarise yourself with everything before your services are needed.”

  “What a beautiful living room!” Kate gushed, and then caught herself. If this was a test of her discretion and professionalism, she had already failed.

  Again the thick eyebrows rose slightly. “I’m sure you’ve seen much more grandiose chalets in your previous engagements,” he said in an off-hand manner, looking to her for a reaction.

  Kate froze and felt her colour begin to rise again. “I...I am not at liberty to discuss my previous employers,” she stammered, feeling flustered.

  For the first time Sebastien seemed pleased with her response, giving a cursory nod. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure that you are aware that we had a delicate situation last year because of indiscretion. We have many guests, business associates and occasionally various sorts of artists who don’t need the press following them around.”

  Kate felt a slight glimmer of hope and confidence return. The discretion clause might save her new role yet. She had no idea what she should or should not have heard, so she tried to keep her tone neutral. “Discretion is at the heart of this profession.”

  Again she saw an unreadable expression flicker across his face and wondered if she was going a bit over the top. She was uncomfortably aware of the way he was watching her.

  “This set-up is inherently imbalanced,” he said casually, leading her across the room to show the wide balcony that ran across the entire front of the chalet. “You know a lot more about my family and about me than I do about you. Tell me a bit about yourself, starting with that intriguing accent. Where are you from? “

  “Where would you guess?” she replied, desperately trying to stall. She would have to do some research on this Michelle character in case he knew a bit about her.

  The eyebrows arched again. Perhaps that was an unprofessional answer. She hastily tried to correct herself, still trying to avoid straight answers. “My accent’s a bit mixed from living in various places,” she ventured, wondering where she was supposed to have worked. “ But what you’re probably noticing is a hint of the Irish in me.”

  His dark eyes locked on hers. “Michelle is an unusual name for an Irish woman, no?”

  Was it polite conversation or the Spanish Inquisition? “But so much easier to spell than Ciobhan!” she laughed a little wildly, feeling her nerves starting to fray. “My father was a huge Beatles fan and loved the song, “Michelle, Ma Belle…”Out of desperation, she found herself singing a few lines before a glance from those dark eyes shut her up immediately.

  “In any case, you are evidently not a native French-speaker,” he said icily.

  “Good thing almost everyone in Verbier speaks English, then isn’t it?” Kate shot back defensively, regretting it instantly. “So does the tour end in this lovely living room or will I be permitted to see the kitchen at least?” she continued hurriedly, hoping to steer the conversation away from her uncalled-for singing and her level of French.

  She cringed and kicked herself inwardly. Either he knew that she was an imposter or he must think she was a babbling, incompetent fool. She wasn’t sure which was worse. In any case, she clearly wasn’t a discrete professional when it came to speaking. She would have to learn simply to shut up.

  Sebastien finally turned his searching eyes away and led the way to the central fireplace. He crouched down to explain the functioning of the wood pellet stove. Relief swept over Kate in a wave that made her want to sink into one of the comfortable sofas and collapse. Instead she squatted beside him, trying not to be distracted by the closeness of his strong body and a sudden urge to run her fingers through his unkempt hair. But she forced herself to pay attention to the details. If she couldn’t impress him with her polished social skills, she could at least start with the basics such as not burning the chalet to the ground.

  Sebastien became brisk and efficient as he continued the tour of the chalet. He showed her around the extensive modern kitchen and a bright study before leading her upstairs to show her a series of large bedrooms, each with its own bathroom and balcony. He kept conversation to a minimum and Kate replied in monosyllables, making an effort not to gape too openly at the luxurious rooms.

  “Your room is on the bottom floor,” he informed her after explaining how the shutters were to be fastened. “This should give you a bit of space for yourself when the chalet is full.”

  He brought her back down to the main floor, where a flight of stairs near the side door led down to a walk-out basement opening onto the slopes of the front lawn. Half of the space was taken up by a spacious games room with a billiard table, with the rest divided between a ski room, a laundry and a comfortable bedroom and bathroom. A box of Lindt chocolates had been laid out on top of several clean towels on the bedroom desk.

  “That would be the work of Chantal, the cleaning woman,” Sebastien told her, as if he needed to make sure that she didn’t think the little welcoming touches came from him. “She comes in on Thursdays to do the housekeeping and deal with bedding and with preparing the rooms for guests. She can help you if you need anything to make yourself comfortable here.”

  Kate looked around her new room with delight. After her dingy bedsit in North London it seemed huge.

  Sebastien handed her a mobile phone, bringing the tour officially to a close. “I will call on Wednesday evenings to let you know how many people will come up on the Friday and if there is anything special to pick up or arrange. Here is a debit card for anything I may ask you to buy or for any expenses regarding the chalet. There is a computer in the study which you may use for internet access. Any questions?”

  The obvious question of what she was actually supposed to do seemed inappropriate. She decided to save all questions for the cleaning woman and to keep this meeting as short as possible. “No, I think you’ve shown me the essentials.”

  He seemed as keen as she was to end this encounter. He looked at his watch and headed for the door. “In that case, please make yourself at home.” He handed her a set of keys, nodded briefly and was gone.

  Kate stood motionless in the middle of the room, keys in hand, until she heard his footsteps going up the stairs. Then she let out her breath in a mix of relief, elation and shattered nerves. At least she didn’t seem to be fired yet and she had a beautiful chalet to herself for a week.

  She waited to hear the front door close before venturing up to the main floor. She peered through the window to watch the headlights reversing down the driveway and then ran to the living room where she slapped her heels against the wooden floor singing “I Can Do That” before collapsing on the sofa. This winter was going to be interesting, if she survived it.

  Sebastien finished his third business call and pulled off his headset. The snowstorm reached right to the valley floor, slowing traffic on the motorway all the way to Geneva. He still had at least half an hour of driving ahead before he reached home.

  Half an hour to sort out his thoughts.

  He had been completely thrown off-balance by the unexpected meeting. Although her wild curls had been clipped in a tidy knot behind her head, there was no mistaking the woman he’d seen dancing in the snow. Up close, her wide-set green eyes were more expressive than he’d imagined and her lips were fuller, more sensual, above a pointed chin.

  Her effect on his emotions had been instantaneous. And his body had responded, every fibre straining to pull her to him, to make physical contact with this alluring creature.

  After all the stories from last year, he had expected the agency to send somebody matronly, not a winsome twenty-something. He was glad that Stefan hadn’t been the one to meet her. The idea flooded him with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify but didn’t like.

  As it was, he felt unsettled by the idea of having Michelle living in the chalet. Just knowing that she was there was enough of a distraction to leave him ill at ease in his own home. The air in the chalet had been charged tonight with a tension that put all his senses on edg
e.

  This evening he had fled the chalet as quickly as possible simply to have space to gather his thoughts. It was ridiculous behaviour for somebody who had lived with chalet girls in the house for as long as he could remember. But it was hard to focus in her presence.

  He hadn’t felt his emotions thrown off balance like this since Genevieve. The realisation made him grip the steering wheel tightly. He was not going to lose control like that again. He had learned that his usually sound judgement could be swept away by a pretty face and he was not going to let that happen here.

  Not that Michelle was anything like Genevieve, he reflected. His ex-wife had been dazzling and aloof, contained. Michelle seemed to be the opposite, impulsive, emotional and very real. She had obviously been nervous at the meeting, giving her a quirky charm which made him smile when he remembered it.

  The car in front of him suddenly fishtailed and he switched on his hazard lights and slowed down, swearing under his breath. That was what he had to do, just keep control of his emotions and stay focused on his job. He had no time for anything else anyway, especially not a scandalous affair with an employee.

  In spite of himself, he grinned. At least he wasn’t dreading his weekends now. It would be an interesting winter.

  Chapter Three

  “Who were you expecting to meet? Guipetto?” Mimi asked laughingly as she draped her long legs over the arms of a comfortable chair.

  Kate considered for a moment. “I actually think I did,” she admitted sheepishly. “An elderly man with spectacles half-way down his nose. You know, a watch-maker. In any case not a virile hottie.”

  It was Thursday night. Emily had come by the chalet after an afternoon spent helping Kate find the little things she needed to prepare for the weekend and showing her the shops. Now they were performing a post-mortem on the first meeting yet again.

  “Well, I don’t know what you’re complaining about.” Mimi stretched her feet towards the fire. “A luxury chalet and a choice bit of eye candy. You wouldn’t catch many women upset because they had to work for Stefan Pichard.”