Page 10 of One Night on the Naughty List

“Nice hat,” he said, smiling as his gaze lifted to my head.

Heat rushed into my cheeks, and I brushed the edge of my knit beanie, which said “BAIN” in big letters. It even had a pompom. Self-conscious, I said, “I had a ton of these left over from the photo shoot. I forgot to grab a hat at home this morning, so I took one from my office.” God, I was such a nerd, wearing company gear outside of work. I was like the guy who wore a band T-shirt to the same band’s concert.

But Bain’s eyes shone with appreciation. “I like it, Samantha. When I was a kid, I used to write my name on my prized possessions so my brothers wouldn’t take my stuff. This way, everyone will know you belong to me.”

His words set off a bomb of desire inside me, the blast lighting up every nerve ending. I probably should have been offended, considering he basically claimed me as his property, but I wasn’t. Because being claimed by Bain Thatcher wasn’t offensive at all.

The wind picked up, sending a spray of snow into the air.

“We should get a move on,” Bain said. “I don’t want you to get too cold.”

I tugged my Bain beanie lower on my head. “Ready.”

Grinning, he motioned for me to follow, and I fell into step beside him, our boots crunching across the snow. It came to my knees in some places, making icy wet seep through my jeans. Fortunately, he was right and we didn’t have to look too hard to find a suitable branch. After about five minutes, he bent and hoisted a sturdy piece of wood. He used a gloved hand to dust off the snow, then turned to me. “What do you think?”

“Looks good to me,” I said, “but keep in mind I have limited experience in Yule log selection.”

That got another grin out of him. He used the axe to point to a tree stump a few steps away. “You sit there.” He gestured to another nearby stump. “I’ll split this branch, and we’ll be on our way.”

I settled on the stump, which was cold but otherwise surprisingly comfortable.

Then Bain stripped off his jacket and sweater, and all my comfort poofed right out of existence. He swung his arms back and forth, making broad sweeping movements that should have looked dorky but somehow didn’t. “Gotta warm up,” he said, giving me a sheepish look. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Not from where I’m sitting.All that CrossFit had clearly paid off. Flipping over tractor tires and jumping rope for an hour didn’t sound like a good time to me, but I could certainly appreciate the results.

He lay the branch across the stump, then picked up the axe and swung it two-handed in a graceful arc, splitting the wood with a precise crack that echoed in the cold air. Without missing a beat, he swung again, his flannel shirt riding up and giving me flashes of his trim stomach. I’d seen it before, but it didn’t matter. My throat still went dry, and I found myself leaning forward as I caught glimpses of the dark happy trail that marched down his abs and disappeared into his waistband. My gaze drifted lower, taking in his strong thighs and the bulge between them.

No man had ever affected me the way he did. Until I met him, I never understood what people meant when they talked about their heart skipping a beat or desire making their blood heat. I just assumed those were euphemisms—the kind of poetic talk people used because saying “I met a guy and I like him” didn’t sound as romantic.

Now I knew those feelings were very real, at least when you met the right person. The problem was there were a whole slew of reasons Bain wasn’t right for me, not the least of which was his status as my boss. And not just my immediate supervisor. He owned the company. Even if he harbored some deep, passionate desire for me—a laughable idea—he would never act on it. He rarely mentioned Natasha, but he said more than once how much he regretted entangling his marriage and his business. “Work and relationships don’t mix,” he’d muttered one night as we sat on opposite sides of the conference table in his office. I’d looked up from the reports I was reviewing, startled by the sudden comment. He’d given me a tired smile and tapped his own stack of paperwork. “Sorry. Just going through applications for the new chef.”

He’d replaced Natasha at work. And if he showed no signs of replacing her in his heart, well, that was none of my business.

But it didn’t stop me from squirming on the stump as lust made my sex clench. For once I was grateful for the cold and the occasional gusts of icy wind, since my cheeks were about as hot as the fire between my legs. As the flurries swirled thicker, I imagined them hitting my skin and sizzling out.

After a few more swings, he lowered the axe, leaving a neat log about the size of a shoe box perched atop the stump. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the waves and dislodging snow. His shoulders heaved, and his shirt must have been damp from his efforts, because it clung to his muscles.

I squeezed my thighs together, suddenly jealous of fabric.

Axe in hand, he scooped up the log and headed toward me, his face flushed as he crunched through the snow, his long-legged gait easy and confident. Watching him, I had to revise my earlier assessment. He wasn’t a lumberjack. No, with his tousled hair and the winter backdrop, he looked more like a Viking returned from a raid.

A Viking striding straight at me, a cocky grin on his face as he brandished the log. “I think it turned out pretty good.” He stopped, our boots almost touching. “What do you think?”

I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes. “It’s good.” My voice came out husky, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “It looks great.”

He frowned, his gaze running over my face. “You’re cold. We need to get you back to the car.”

“I’m fine.” As I said it, wind swept across the snow, making me shiver involuntarily.

“You’re freezing,” Bain said. He stepped back, his frown deepening. “And soaking wet.”

Before I could gasp at his unintentional double entendre, he tossed the axe and log aside and scooped me off the stump.

“Bain!” My voice came out in a high-pitched squeak as he swung me into his arms. The only thing to hang onto was him, and I flung my arms around his neck. “Put me down!”

“I will.” Without missing a beat, he started for the SUV, his strides as smooth and easy as before. He cradled me against his chest, his grip around the backs of my thighs dangerously close to my backside.

Desire flared, making me flush from head to toe. “You’ll hurt your back.”

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