Page 20 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

In fact, he had the unusual urge to make her feel safe.

Keeping his voice steady and nonchalant, he gave a light shrug as he said, “I’ve been through worse out here, but the first one I encountered after coming from LA? It was certainly an experience. And foolish me, back then I did not have the forethought to bring doughnuts.”

Her face whipped toward his, her eyes their own form of fire, humor with a trace of relief alive in them.

Lifting a brow, a half smile on her face, she asked, “So which is it, wise forethought or an obvious move to curry favor?” referring to his earlier comments about the doughnuts.

Pleased with the return of her fighting spirit in the face of the storm, he countered with a slow grin, “It can’t be both?”

She laughed as if she couldn’t help herself, brow crinkling as it came together over her smiling eyes and mouth. Again, he was momentarily stunned, her expression and the sound of her laughter sparks of joy that, like the roaring fire, held their own against the icy storm outside.

Inconveniently, she was more than attractive.

Her spectacular body of curves stacked upon curves—all of them sumptuous and well-formed—was mingled with the flames of her temper and joy that were contained, for the most part, within the bounds of her diligence, intelligence and competence.

It was a knockout combination.

In the face of both derailment and mild terror, she dazzled him, her eyes alive in the firelight, the whole of her thrumming with vibrancy and heat at least equal to that of the flames.

The attraction that had been a mild irritant throughout their meeting was clearly growing more potent after hours.

Shaking himself, he brushed away the snapshot his mind had taken of her smiling, recalling the fact that he was more than capable of controlling his baser urges for a night.

In making the years-long transition from skinny computer programming major from the California suburbs to one of the richest men in the world, he had both overindulged and learned how to manage his appetite for romantic company.

He knew how, and when, it was appropriate to express interest in a woman, and how to ensure that she liked it when he did, and he used those talents according to the preferences of his life. And his main preference when it came to romantic entanglements was that they not to get too serious.

He had no intention of starting another family that could be lost and made it a policy to be clear about his intentions with the women he got involved with.

Women who were not off-limits to him, as Ms. Howard was—due to both the foundation’s nonfraternization policy, as well as the scandal that had led to her hiring in the first place.

“A man who understands nuance,” she said, speaking not to his thoughts, which she could have been, but to his teasing. Referencing another earlier comment of his, she followed with, “I might not be able to go through a box of doughnuts during a two-hour meeting, but I bet I can give it a good go in front of a fireplace after-hours.”

“Three hours,” he corrected automatically, wondering if she knew that it sounded like she was talking about something else when she said I can give it a good go in front of a fireplace after-hours.

Or was only his mind rolling around in the gutter?

Snorting again, she rolled her eyes. “The time’s gone either way. The doughnuts, however, are right there,” she said, waving a palm toward the bright box on the counter.

And then she was moving toward them and opening the box, helping herself.

He joined her as she chose a pillowy and plump-looking confection, lightly coated with powdered sugar.

He watched her bite into the treat, closing her eyes in delight as she did, and his stomach tightened.

Her entire posture changed in pleasure, softened and eased, and he realized it was not bravado that had driven her to the box but the need for comfort.

Could he blame her? An unexpected and last-minute business trip had been even more unexpectedly extended and now she was trapped with a supervisor she barely knew for the first night of Hanukkah.

Whatever her original plans for the evening had been, he was sure they had been more comfortable than where she found herself.

But like steam rising, a measure of tension evaporated from her form as she chewed.

He wished a bite could be so effective in the face of losing control of a situation for him as it appeared to be for her.

“Mmm...” she hummed, and when she finished, she opened her eyes, the expression in them easier and brighter. “Lives up to the hype, even hours old, abandoned and obvious. You should try one.” A grin spread across her face as she finished speaking, gesturing toward the open box with her palm. “They’re not all jelly, but it seemed appropriate to get a half dozen, tonight being the first night of Hanukkah.”

She had meant to encourage him to grab a doughnut, but instead reminded him of so much more: of his family, of almost-forgotten family traditions, of the fact that she was here, isolated with him, as opposed to celebrating the holiday with her own family back at home.

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