Page 19 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

It was not his experience.

But he tried to keep it light with his reply of, “Some people like the snow.” The words sounded more pinched than he would have liked, but reasonably casual.

Ms. Howard’s eyes, however, shot to him with a flash of concern and pity embedded within them.

But then, with a small smile, she surprised him by backing off the subject.

“Figures...” she said, her voice now lit with impersonal humor.

It was too late, though.

He had seen the expression beneath.

Whatever the backstory she had concocted for him, it led her to pitying his lack of family for the holidays.

But there was nothing pitiable about him. And certainly not from her.

Her career was just starting out and struggling while he was firmly established in his field as well as one of the richest men in the world.

How could she possibly pity him?

“Oh, there it is,” she exclaimed, her expression of shock distracting him from his thoughts once more.

They had rounded the hallway corner, coming into the open kitchen and informal living area.

Sitting on the shiny marble of his countertop, mirror-reflected against its glossy surface, was the bright teal doughnut box she had brought with her, but the box was not actually what had caught her attention.

Instead, she stared out the wall of windows that revealed the storm that raged outside.

It was a full whiteout, visibility a joke of the past, the snow so dense and wild it looked like a sea that you could look deep into—a churning ocean of wind and ice and snow.

It was otherworldly, like being dropped into the great storm of a foreign planet.

The weather in Colorado was the main event here—a bigger celebrity than any attention-hungry star or man with more money than he knew what to do with.

Like Ms. Howard, it was unexpected and unignorable, and Benjamin appreciated it.

Colorado, and storms like the one that whirled around them, kept him humble. LA tried to make him into a false god.

Ahead of where they stood, offset to the right, a massive fire roared in his oversize fireplace, filling the space with warmth and light that somehow held its own against the raging storm outside.

His assistant would have arranged that it be lit according to his preference.

He liked a nightly fire.

It was the closest substitute that he had yet to find for the comfort of the family he had lost. It might not be able to embrace, but it was alive and warm, as ever-changing as it was steady and dependable.

Stepping out of the hallway and into his private living area, what had seemed luxuriously cozy at first pass was now a scene of power and wonder—the storm outside a primal reminder that even in this day and age, huddling together remained mankind’s greatest strength against the forces of nature.

“I’ve never...” Her words, as much fearful as they were astonished, trailed off, shaking Benjamin from his own regard of the storm.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she finished.

And, he noted, taking in the alertness in her body and pallor of her cheeks, she was sensible enough to tremble in the face of it.

He believed in looking unflinchingly at the harsh power of the world around him and demanded the same of the people he allowed in his company. Looking away didn’t make things better.

But he didn’t want her to be afraid.

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