Page 16 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

CHAPTER THREE

“HOWLONGAGO did it roll in?” Benjamin asked his assistant, irritation in his voice though none of it was for the messenger. He knew where the fault lay, and it wasn’t with the bearer of bad news.

He had been very clear with his staff about his expectations when the do-not-disturb light above his office was lit. He was not to be disturbed—under any circumstances.

“About thirty-five minutes ago, sir,” his assistant replied with her characteristic specificity.

It was exactly as he had immediately assumed.

Had their meeting concluded on time, Ms. Howard would have beat the storm.

He despised lapses in scheduling.

He knew that a difference of an hour could be the difference between life and death.

He had learned that the hard way, long ago and too young, with the death of his parents.

A wasted hour of fuel and you woke up more than half-drowned to the loss of everything you held dear. A wasted hour was enough to make a man wish he were dead, too.

But Benjamin was not dead.

And because of that, he did not waste time.

But somehow, he had with Ms. Howard.

An entire hour had slipped past him unaware while he had been absorbed by the fascinating mind and mannerisms of a woman who was nothing that he expected.

And because of that lapse, she would not be going home tonight.

Because of that, she would spend the first night of Hanukkah with him, rather than whatever else she had planned.

Turning to her, his frustration making his delivery less smooth than it might otherwise have been, he said, “It appears that you will be missing the first night of Hanukkah with your family, after all. Feel free to reach out to them via any of the numerous means available. I will have my staff prepare a room for you for the night, and it goes without saying that you will be compensated for your inconvenience.”

His assistant turned on her heel at his words, reacting to the situation with her characteristic pragmatism.

Ms. Howard, however, was dealing with the revelation in a different way, her whiskey eyes flashing and narrowing at him.

It was obvious she placed the blame on him.

He shouldn’t be surprised. She had shown herself to be an intelligent and quick-thinking woman over and over again through the past three hours.

Three hours...not two.

She was likely recalling the fact that he had been the one to insist she travel to him for the meeting—a meeting that he had arrogantly assured her would last no more than two hours.

Pride had come before his fall. First, they had gone over time, and now a blizzard.

It was enough to crave a drink.

But there would be no silent night of unwinding by the fireplace with something on the rocks tonight.

He had a guest.

“Thank you,” Ms. Howard replied thanklessly, her voice flat, before finishing her thought with, “I’m sure my phone will suffice, though. Rather than impose on your family, I’ll plan to stay in my room for a quiet night.” Her expression turned abruptly serious then. “Really, I’d prefer that. It’s been a long day of travel and work and I don’t want to be the unexpected guest that impacts your holiday celebrations.”

Did he detect a hint of censure in what she said, faint chastisement in the words travel and work?

He thought he did—because she had spine.

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