Page 17 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

Her use of the word unexpected he found interesting too.

The concept clung to her, enveloping her with its many meanings.

The woman, the work, the blizzard—all thoroughly unexpected.

A further example of which was the fact that he had not expected his earlier omission to come back around to him.

Ms. Howard remained under the impression that he had family hidden somewhere in the wings, waiting for him to light candles and hand out gifts and eat doughnuts from LA’s newest hot spot.

Now, despite the excuse she had offered him, he would have to correct the misrepresentation.

Once again, Ms. Howard had necessitated a change of his plans.

Rather than correct her impression immediately, however, he said, “We can certainly have that arranged, though it will take a little bit longer before your room is fully stocked and prepared. In the meantime, with work done, we might as well go track down those doughnuts.”

Cheering her in the face of the situation was reason enough to manage the memories the doughnuts would stir up.

The question was, would she follow, or would she insist on waiting to hole up in her guest room until the storm passed?

He took his first step, turning to her to with a look in his eyes that challenged her to come along.

Her warm amber eyes flashed.

Of course she would meet his challenge.

Already she had proven she was the kind of woman who met challenges head-on.

She closed the door of the office behind her as she left, the click of the latch engaging echoing around the two of them in the hallway.

The sound signaled that their workday was done, while the silence after it asked What’s next?

Early as it was, just past 3:00 p.m., the remainder of the afternoon and the long stretch of evening lay ahead of them.

Up until moments ago, they had been colleagues. Now they were a man and a woman alone at his place.

Had these been normal circumstances, he knew exactly what he would suggest they do.

But these were not normal circumstances.

Ms. Howard was not his paramour of the hour, and he typically did not have the forces of nature to thank for a romantic opportunity.

Besides, he didn’t entertain in Aspen.

Aspen was his personal retreat, reserved for working creatively and recharging after bouts of making the rounds socially and professionally.

Aspen was for warm fires, and privacy, and building things that had never existed before.

The idea to invite Ms. Howard to meet him here—while he was in the midst of designing a new software project—had only come to him when she had picked up the phone, eagerness to turn the gala around as obvious in her voice as it had been in her emailed correspondence.

She had the kind of goal-oriented energy he appreciated while working and had acted off the cuff, inviting her because he was willing to welcome that energy into his private sanctum.

His impulse had not been wrong.

The three hours he had spent with her had flowed smoothly within the atmosphere he had created in the woods—too smoothly, if the extra hour was any evidence.

Until she had gotten stuck here, of course.

The extension of her visit necessitated a bigger shift than he could have predicted.

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