Lorraine Wilson - Confessions of a Chalet Girl:

He liked that she was taking the mickey.

‘Actually I think the rug under that table over there is goatskin. I know, it's a bit of a cliché but it's what the guests expect. Chalet chic. Looks simple and rustic but costs the earth.’

‘I think it’s fab. And so lovely to have a real fire too.’ She walked towards the hearth, stretching out her hands.

He imagined Holly lying on the rug in front of the fire, her curves highlighted by the soft light.

Clearing his throat, he wrenched his eyes away. ‘Do you need to make your phone call or can it wait?’

‘It can wait.’

‘Follow me.’ He led her to the guest suites, striding ahead to make sure she didn't come too close. He wasn't sure how long his resolve might hold. The client accommodation reminded him of his earlier suspicion. He turned to face her.

‘You still haven’t answered my question. If it wasn’t yours, where did the bra come from?’

He couldn’t help himself. The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Like steak and chips when you were on a diet, teasing Holly was just too tempting.

‘Chalet Repos' lost property.’ Her confident stare radiated defiance.

‘So our guests pay for the luxury experience and you choose to drape their underwear in public for the whole of Verbier to see?’

‘But it's okay to let your staff face some initiation where they have to flash their underwear to the entire resort? I’m quite sure it contravenes some employment law or other.’

Checkmate.

‘Why do you want this job?’ Genuine curiosity prompted the question.

‘Why spend the winter temping in a London office and cramming yourself onto the tube when you can ski all day and hit the town at night?’

He'd heard this argument many times. Gut instinct said she was parroting what she’d heard someone else say. Holly wasn't a party animal. Was she going to give him a straight answer to any question he asked?

‘Right.’ He remained unconvinced. ‘Well, it's part of your job to make sure our guests have their every whim met. Whatever the guest wants, from fireworks to an off-piste expedition, we organise it. That's what we do; help them experience life to the max.’

Great, now he sounded like a cola commercial.

‘Err, when you say every whim…’

‘Every whim within reason that is,’ he replied, trying very hard to suppress all the whims he’d like Holly to satisfy. ‘Nothing dodgy obviously. Don’t worry. Come to me if you have any problems with … ahem, sexual harassment.’

‘Like people asking me questions about my underwear for example?’ She smiled sweetly.

This girl was trouble.

He grinned. ‘Yes…something like that. Right, I’d better dash and let you make that phone call. I’ve got a date with some paperwork. And another thing - do you mind if I leave your ski pass ‘til the morning? I expect you can’t wait to hit the slopes.’

‘Err, no that will be fine. Well, um, goodnight.’ Her eyes searched his for a few seconds before she averted her gaze. Was she looking for something? Hoping for something?

‘Goodnight.’ He turned away. Walking to his office was one of the strongest tests of self-control he’d ever known.

***

Holly paced the room clasping her iPhone. As it was more of a broom cupboard with bunk beds than a real bedroom this was difficult. She thought about the banter with Scott and smiled. She'd won that last point nicely. Although, what if he now thought she didn't want him to flirt?

Well then, that would be good because she didn't want him to. Did she?

She stared out of the window. The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes as large as her palm. The view of the valley with its snow-laden pine trees and picturesque chalets bathed in the moonlight soothed her.

She scrolled through her contacts list, maybe it was a bit late to ring. She’d text Pippa instead.

Hi Pips. Am in Verbier now at Chalet. Was forced to strip in bar tonight. All your frickin’ fault! Can’t believe you got me into this!!! Hope things are okay hun xx

A beep signalled a reply.

Hey! Fast work there grasshopper ;-) Landed a zillionaire yet? xx

Hmm, I met a rather interesting guy who kept going on about my underwear… Well, maybe she wouldn’t send that reply. Instead she typed:

Get real – I’ve got to be up at stupid o’clock to clean toilets, no time for zillionaires! Snow is lush though. Wish you were here H xx

Pippa’s reply appeared on her screen as she watched.

Put your big girl pants on and go get yourself a man ;-) P xx

Great, why did Pippa insist on assuming all Holly needed was a man? It did Holly's head in. She’d told her often enough she wasn't bothered. What she needed was to be as far away from home as possible and to be left alone. She looked around at the four bunks squeezed tightly into the cramped space.

Alone was something she was going to struggle to be.

***

‘Give us a snog love.’ One of the guests leered towards Holly, red-faced and with a paunch that bulged over his waistband, shirt buttons straining.

She reeled back from the alcohol fumes on his breath, almost gagging. The chimes of the church clock rang out the New Year, sounding sharp and clear on the alpine air.

Holly cursed the enforced jollity of New Year and drunken morons … sorry, 'paying guests', to whom she had to be polite and not knee in a sensitive area, no matter how provoked she was.

She’d slip away for a bit. The others could cover for her. If they took cigarette breaks then why shouldn’t she have a little nervous breakdown break? She raced down the steps.

The path to Chalet Repos’ terrace lay shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by flashes of fireworks. Most of the guests were up on the balcony or inside. The firework display would keep everyone busy for a while.

She inhaled the fresh air deeply, enjoying the relative peace so much that she didn't care about the cold. You'd think a ski resort in the Swiss Alps would have plenty of peace but no such luck. The small dormitory had proved as suffocating as she'd feared.

‘Who or what are you escaping from?’ A low male voice asked from the shadows.

She jumped up from her slouched position next to a pile of crates, muscles tensed. If anyone tried it on she was using her self-defence moves, guest or no guest.

‘Hey, it's okay, don't panic,’ he added, the kindness in the tone sounding familiar. Her fists unclenched and she peered at the man more closely, her eyes becoming accustomed to the dim light and recognising Scott.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, appraising her with an intensity that made her shiver. Frying pans and fires came to mind.

‘Hello again.’ His mouth widened into a warm, confident smile.

‘Hello,’ she replied shyly, hoping the darkness partially obscured her thousand-watt smile reaction to seeing him again.

Avoiding tackling her confused emotions for him had been fairly easy since her first night, as he'd flown home to London for Christmas. She’d been up to her armpits with guests' children needing babysitting while their parents skied. Not that she minded being busy but her ski pass lay untouched in her rucksack and she never got round to organising a lesson.

‘What brings you down here?’

‘I don't want to be kissed.’ She blurted the words before her internal censor had time to react.

His handsome face creased with amusement. ‘I wasn't planning on kissing you, but now you mention it … ’

She could feel her face flaming, even in the freezing night air. Snowflakes stung on her overheated skin. She hated Scott's knack of making her blush like a teenager.

‘Come into my office, it's more comfortable than out here. Warmer too.’