Page 27 of Baby It's Cold Outside

Shame at the memory of Charles’s face when she’d snapped at him flickered through her. But she ignored it. She hadn’t meant anything by it, and if Ryder had given her a moment to apologize…

“I did not threaten him,” she hissed, her own temper sparking at being forced on the defensive. “I would never do anything…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he snarled, once again not letting her finish. “You’ve got how superior you think you are written all over your face.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face up as if for his inspection.

She twisted her head out of his grasp, stunned not only by the sudden contact but the shot of awareness that went sprinting up her spine. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she managed through the riot of conflicting sensations.

“I’ll dare what I damn well please.” He slapped his hand above her head, caging her against the wall in a bullying fashion that only made her more mad. “I’ve got news for you, Princess,” he said, his voice lowering to an ominous threat. “It’s working stiffs like Charles that made Sinclair’s what it is today. Not you and your fancy marketing ideas, or my old man and his boardroom full of fat, useless, stuck-up overpaid directors.”

She could feel her cheeks flaming, astonished by the furious accusation.

Yes, Charles was a vital part of what made Sinclair’s tick, but so was she and every other member of the staff. The thing that shocked her the most, though, was the utter contempt in his voice for the man who had fathered him. A man whose tireless work ethic and dedication to business she’d held in the highest possible esteem since moving to Manhattan in July. A six-month period during which she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his son—who now saw fit to lecture her on the success of a business he knew sod all about.

“It’s funny you should say that.” Her words dripped with sarcasm, her whole body shaking with a fury that now matched his. “Because the only useless, stuck-up, overpaid director I know of at Sinclair’s,” she continued, wishing she could add fat to the list but not quite able to, given the lean muscular physique only an inch from her nose, “is you!”

His jaw tightened and something raw and aggressive flickered in his eyes, but just as she braced herself for the explosion and prepared to fire it straight back at him—preferably right between those glaring sapphire eyes—the lights went out.

And they were plunged into darkness once more.

Chapter Six

“Shit!”

Kate flinched at the hissed expletive—but her rage at Ryder Sinclair was already being consumed in the wave of panic.

Two big hands settled on her hips, and she bucked in shock. “It’s okay, dammit. I’ve got you.”

“D-don’t touch me,” she protested, hating his grudging sympathy. She pushed against his chest with trembling hands, desperate to cling to her indignation.

“Stop fighting me.” He ignored her feeble attempt at bravery and dragged her into his arms. “Let me hold you,” he said, the tone tense. “You’re shaking.”

He cradled the back of her head, tucked it under his chin.

“I d-don’t need y-your help,” she said, the horrifying quiver in her voice calling her a liar.

His hand flattened on her back, rubbing up and down. “Shut up.”

She stopped struggling, her nails cutting into her palms as she fisted her hands, her teeth biting into her lip, and concentrated all her energy on stopping the silent scream echoing in her head from coming out of her mouth.

Because she knew if she let that happen—she’d never be able to stop screaming.

It felt like months, but could only have been a minute, before the electric hum sounded again. And the light returned.

She released her fisted fingers and licked the metallic taste of blood off her lip, but stayed in his arms as she waited for the hysteria to subside.

He stroked the slope of her spine to rest his hand on the swell of her bottom. “Why did you put the clothes back on if they’re still wet?”

She pulled away and blinked up at his handsome face—gratitude now mixed with trepidation. How did you deal with a man who never said or did the expected? “I couldn’t very well walk home in that elf costume.”

He gave his head a resigned shake, as if she’d said something nonsensical. “Here.” He pressed a gentle thumb to her mouth. “Your lip’s bleeding.”

She took a tissue out of her pocket, then folded it over in her fingers, and stared down at it. Suddenly close to tears.

It was all a bit too much. The breakup, spending Christmas alone, his disturbing presence, the blizzard, the pointless argument, the thought of being stuck here all night with the prospect of the lights going out at any second, and all the conflicting emotions she felt about a man she didn’t know, didn’t understand, but had somehow come to rely on.

He took the tissue, tucked a knuckle under her chin, and lifted her head. Then wiped her mouth with a gentle stroke that had her heart clutching again. “Don’t cry, Katherine,” he said. “It’s a glitch in the generator—it most likely won’t happen again.”

“I’m not crying,” she said, determined not to, now that he’d mentioned it.

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