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  He was still her boss, she told herself sternly. And she was lying to him. It was best to stop this little fantasy in its infancy. But when she thought of the feeling of complicity between them, the glances across the room, her heart skipped a beat. He was irresistible when he turned on the charm.

  As was Mickey the Rat, she reminded herself darkly. She was a fool for roguish charm and mischievous grins, particularly on such handsome features as those of Sebastien Pichard. According to Mimi, he had been a player in his twenties with a taste for models and actresses. No doubt he was well aware of the power he had over women’s emotions when he chose.

  She sighed and pulled herself out from under the cosy duvet to look through the window. The sun had not yet risen and the stars were still faintly visible in the lightening sky. The wonder of the view still struck her each day and she was sure that she would never tire of it, no matter how long she stayed.

  Across the valley, forested slopes ran up to open snow-covered meadows with higher peaks behind, their jagged edges, glaciers and cliffs looking cold and unforgiving. Here and there the bluish white was interrupted by the soft glow of chalet lights winking like an invitation to warmth and safety.

  She pulled on her jeans and a sweater and padded up the stairs. In the kitchen she put the coffee on before she laid the table for breakfast. The guests would be as grateful as she was for a bit of a jolt to wake up this morning. She yawned as she pulled on her jacket to fetch fresh croissants and bread from the bakery just down the road.

  Outside, the cold air helped to bring her to her senses. As she hurried down the driveway, she was surprised to hear a voice. She peered through the hedge to find Sebastien in the snowy garden, walking around a large snow-laden pine tree and speaking on his mobile phone.

  Just the unexpected sight of his strong form was enough to send a thrill through her. Watching him she thought of a leopard padding powerfully and purposely, his gaze intense and his voice calm but sure.

  He was frowning into the phone when he caught sight of her. He nodded briefly in her direction but kept talking, absorbed in his conversation as he paced in the snow.

  A wave of disappointment washed over Kate and she continued along the driveway feeling foolish. Nothing had happened, she reminded herself, just a social evening with business associates. And she had been allowed to join in because it was her job to help with hosting guests. Sebastien’s friendliness last night had been towards everybody, after all. Today he seemed to be all business again.

  At the end of the driveway she turned downhill toward the main village. The entire upper village seemed to be sleeping still, although traffic would pick up in an hour or so with weekend visitors keen to enjoy good early-season snow. A bus rumbled by on the main street below, collecting skiers to bring them to the main lift station.

  The Fleur de Sel bakery stood on the corner just before the road started to drop steeply into the centre. Inside it was warm and smelled tantalisingly of fresh bread and pastries. Kate bought two loaves and a selection of croissants and pain au chocolat, still warm from the oven. She helped herself to one as she wandered back along the snowy street, savouring the buttery pastry and melted chocolate inside.

  The first rays of sunlight had made their way over the wall of mountains to the east, reflecting blindingly off the snow. The effect was dazzling and Kate smiled as she wiped the crumbs from her lips with mittened hands. It was ridiculous to let her emotions be so easily swayed by a man who barely noticed her. She didn’t want to let his coldness ruin these lovely wintery days in the Alps.

  The sugar helped to restore her good spirits. It still seemed unbelievable that she lived here and was somehow part of this mountain scene, the perched village in the perfect snow. And this grand chalet, she thought happily as she turned up the drive. When she thought of how dismal she had been feeling in London, she shuddered. This was an opportunity to enjoy and she would not let Mickey’s distant shadow spoil her sunshine.

  She was her usual cheerful self by the time the guests trickled down, enticed by the smell of coffee and warm pastries. Kate had set out a typical Swiss breakfast, with breads, jams, cereals and yoghurts, but she was also ready to prepare a hearty English fry-up if anyone preferred.

  The guests arrived sleepy-eyed but smiling. Sebastien ducked his head in the door to greet everybody and to pick up a cup of coffee.

  “No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid,” he apologised with a smile. “You’ll have to excuse my rudeness, but I am leaving you in the capable hands of Michelle while I finish just a few more phone calls.” He headed back outside, coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

  “I’m not sure that wicked is the right term for his “Simply Elegant” campaign,” Colleen commented sceptically, reaching for a pain au chocolat.

  “Unless he’s referring to the amount of extra work it takes to do due diligence on the charities,” responded Darren as he slid his chair up to the table. “I don’t suppose you’d have any English breakfast tea?”

  “Of course,” Kate said, approaching with an old-fashioned tea-pot. “So what is this “Simply Elegant” campaign?”

  “Haven’t you heard of it?” Janet asked in surprise. “It’s Sebastien’s idea for launching this year’s new watch collection, which are all basically very elegant bracelets with watches set in. Très chic, you know. And ten per cent of the profit goes to a good cause.”

  “He’s trying to find one where the money is well spent,” Darren continued. “Which takes a lot of checking. Geneva is the world capital for humanitarian organisations. He was down at the Doctors Without Borders office last week and I think he might choose them. He met some humanitarian workers just back from a war zone and he was impressed with what they’d managed to do and how simply.”

  “I think he likes the fact that their office is just down the way from his,” Liam corrected him with a laugh. “He likes to have things right under his nose w here he can keep an eye on them.”

  Janet picked up another croissant. “I could grow to like these continental breakfasts, you know,” she said, reaching for the butter from the local dairy. “The celebrities like the set-up as well. They get paid to model and they can claim to be doing it for a good cause.”

  “Which is why we’ve come to meet with Sebastien,” Liam chimed in. “He’s making a push for more corporate social responsibility in the high-end watch and jewellery sectors, sourcing the materials, things like that. He’s trying to establish some new norms in governance for the industry, and we want to link our business into the same movement.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t seen any of the ads,” Colleen commented. “Quite a few celebrities were advertising for the Pichard campaign.”

  Kate shook her head slowly and glanced out the window at Sebastien. She felt a new respect for her boss as she saw another side to his character. Under the cold and businesslike exterior at least he did care strongly about something worthwhile.

  She would have liked to ask more questions, but Colleen had started asking her about shopping. She stopped her musings about her intriguing boss and went back to her job of playing hostess.

  “I could show you a few of the shops myself, if you like,” she offered casually. “Although I don’t want you to think I’m getting a commission or anything. None of them are owned by any of my family members.”

  Colleen laughed. “I would love that. It’s always fun to have the inside scoop, and besides, I don’t speak a word of French.”

  Kate made a face at the reminder of how little her own French speaking had progressed in her time here. “Everybody in Verbier speaks some English,” she confessed. “In fact, many only speak English, especially the ones working the shops and bars.”

  “I’d still love your company, if you don’t mind,” Colleen insisted. “That is, unless you had planned to ski with the others.”

  “Oh no,” Kate assured her hastily. “I have things to do in town today anyway.”

  The truth was that sh
e didn’t want Sebastien to see her on the slopes. Not simply because he had grown up on skis and she was still obviously quite new to the sport, but for fear of being discovered.

  As Emily introduced her to the subculture of chalet girls and other seasonal workers, she was increasingly sure that other people in Verbier knew the real Michelle. If Sebastien ended up introducing her to people for any reason, there was a strong chance that they might call her bluff.

  No, it was best for her to stay out of his way if she wanted to maintain her charade. And if she wanted to maintain her resolution to stay away from men for a while. Her physical responses last night to his subtle looks across the room were enough to send warning signals through her brain. She knew herself well enough to recognise the signals, and her awareness of his presence and of her own awkwardness in front of him were warning enough.

  Even as she thought about him, she became aware of his return to the kitchen. She felt his gaze linger on her as she and Colleen discussed which shops they might like to visit. Under his steady regard she felt her skin growing hot and her focus disappearing.

  Fortunately he didn’t stay long. He had only sat down long enough to pick up a croissant and exchange a few comments with his guests when his phone rang again. He made an apologetic grimace and got back to his feet.

  “Excuse me for letting business ruin a good breakfast,” he said, directing an appreciative look toward Kate. “But I promise I’ll be ready when the skiers are. Michelle, we’ll just be coming by to shower and change between après-ski and dinner, so you’ll be free of us until our night-cap.”

  Kate nodded. Her crush on Sebastien at least had the positive benefit of making her listen to whatever he said, because otherwise she was having troubles remembering to answer when people called her Michelle. Clearly, she would have made a poor spy. She wondered vaguely if she could use this in her defence if anybody suspected her motives.

  Although people might suspect her motives in a different way if they caught her staring at his firm backside and square shoulders as he walked away. Unless they were busy staring at them as well.

  She forced her gaze back to Colleen, almost regretting her offer to take her shopping. This balancing act of impersonating Michelle and pretending to know what she was doing was tiring, and her attraction to her boss wasn’t simplifying matters.

  The skiers had gone back to their rooms to prepare for the day, leaving her alone with Colleen. Of all the guests here this weekend, she seemed the least accustomed to this lifestyle. Kate decided to take a chance on the fact that Colleen didn’t seem to know the rules any better than she did and slid into a vacated chair.

  It was wiser to give into her weakness for baking than her weakness for good-looking men, she decided, reaching for a croissant.

  Chapter Six

  The afternoon sun was blinding as it reflected on the crystal snow. Kate stopped in the shade of a thick fir tree to slather more sun cream on her face. She pushed her sunglasses far back onto her head, squinting at the brightness around her.

  She was out for a walk on snowshoes, using a pair that she had found in the chalet basement. She was following a snowy forest track where she had already startled a fox and a roe deer. After a morning on the ski slopes with the lively crowds of tourists she was glad to escape to the quiet of the woods.

  It had only been a couple of weeks since she left London and already she felt her old life slipping away. Here she felt invigorated, alive again, able to forget the hurt and despair and betrayal she had felt after the fiasco with Mickey. The simple days in the mountains, the fresh air and the beautiful environment were washing away the sense of being lost which had sunk into her after her relationship and her budding tea room had abruptly ceased to be.

  She still didn’t know what she would do next. Her contract here was for the ski season, just until Easter. But for now, that was enough while she took this pause to figure out her next step. Surrounded by happy people simply enjoying their days, it was easy to feel comfortable with an unplanned gap.

  Her weekly column also helped, attaching her by one small thread to her old life. Mark Haskins, the editor, was pleased with her fresh perspective and Kate found that it helped force her to focus on Swiss culture, which was easily overlooked in the international ski crowd.

  Last week she had written about the truth lurking behind some of the national stereotypes. The obsession with cheese, chocolate and cows was real, she wrote, but it masked the true Swiss favourite, cleanliness. It was a nation obsessed with “putzing”, a term taken over from the Swiss-Germans who apparently had perfected the art of housekeeping. A long chat with Chantal, the French cleaning woman who came to the chalet on Thursdays, had given her some amusing material which spanned twenty years of working for Swiss households. She had finished by tying in a few quotes about washing with a comment on money laundering and Swiss banks, which was a current media topic.

  This walk was supposed to help her refine her ideas for this week’s column. She had sketched out an idea but her attempts to polish it off had been sidetracked by daydreams involving a pair of dark, soulful eyes.

  She had also planned the walk as a chance to reflect on what direction she wanted to take after the spring. Instead, she let her attention be distracted by the mountain views as she whistled “Climb Every Mountain”. Behind her the jagged ridge of La Ruinette cut into the skyline, while across the valley she could see over the slopes of Bruson to the Trient glacier and the peaks above Chamonix. Higher up on her walk she had even seen the glistening summit of Mont Blanc towering majestically over the surrounding peaks.

  In the summer, these slopes were meadows of wildflowers, full of grazing cows and the sound of cow bells. Mimi had gushed enthusiastically about the softer season and shown her photos. It was hard to imagine all that green waiting underneath the thick blanket of white but Kate hoped she could find a way to see it for herself.

  For the moment she was happy to absorb the Christmassy atmosphere of snow-laden trees and early dusks. This would be her first white Christmas in years. Mimi had told her not to expect too much Christmas activity, apart from lights on the chalets and shops, and quiet family dinners. She had sounded apologetic when she described it, but Kate was glad. Mickey had always wanted big Christmas parties and social events in the city, whereas Kate would have preferred the simple gatherings she had grown up with.

  Her musings were cut short by the ring of her cell phone. She pulled off her mittens to dig in her pockets, fumbling clumsily with cold fingers. It was probably Mimi, she guessed, calling to check on how the column was progressing. The last time they had spoken, Kate had been in productive procrastination mode, doing everything she could think of to avoid writing.

  “Hiya,” she breathed into the mouthpiece, cradling the phone against her shoulder as she struggled to put her mittens back on. “No need to harangue me, I’m on top of things.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line and then the sound of a man clearing his throat. “I’m glad to hear that, Michelle,” Sebastien said dryly. “But I thought you might like to know details for this weekend.”

  Kate flung her head back in dismay and the phone flew off into the snow. She swore softly as she dropped to her knees to dig for it, frantically dusting the snow off with her mitten before she managed to reply.

  “I’m so sorry, I thought you were somebody else,” she explained, flustered.

  “Sorry to disappoint you again,” Sebastien said, sounding either unimpressed or slightly amused. “May I continue?”

  Kate was glad that he wasn’t there to see her blush. Once again she felt awkward and clumsy around him, like a gangly schoolgirl with a crush. “Please do,” she mumbled.

  “This weekend we will be three,” he began. “We will only be coming up on the Saturday night and leaving after the skiing on Sunday.” He paused, then continued with a bit of a laugh. “To be honest, they are not the easiest of guests. I wondered if I could ask you to work your charm aga
in.”

  Kate was taken aback. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she stuttered uncertainly, feeling a strange warmth rushing through her.

  “Just do whatever you did last weekend,” Sebastien said impatiently. “Just be yourself.”

  A pang of guilt stabbed at her. How could she be herself when she was impersonating someone else? She hated lying and pretending, especially to him.

  Her feeling of guilt worsened as he continued, “I can certainly see why you come so highly recommended.”

  “It’s what comes of having friends in the hiring agency,” she said inanely. Her mind felt frozen and she couldn’t really think. She was glad to hear that she was doing a good job and that he had noticed, but it felt wrong to take credit for somebody else’s reputation. She also felt a small thrill that he was pulling her into another sort of team situation, the two of them facing the difficult guests together.

  Part of her wondered if this was the moment to tell the truth. Obviously he was pleased with her work, so maybe it really wouldn’t matter at all that she wasn’t Michelle ...

  She opened her mouth to speak but her courage failed her. She tried to justify her cowardice by telling herself that he needed her for this weekend, for the business, and that it would be unfair to place him in a situation where he either fired his chalet girl and had to manage alone, or at the very least lost confidence in her.

  But she hated lying to herself even more than lying to others. The truth was that she wasn’t ready to risk being fired. She needed this job, for one thing. And she no longer had anywhere to return to. But she also knew that she hated the idea of Sebastien knowing that she had lied to him, having him feel betrayed by her or thinking that she was dishonest.