Page 29 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

And yet he had also somehow made an experience that had truly been terrible for her not just bearable, but something she could laugh at.

Thatmight be a Hanukkah miracle.

“Look at you,” he insisted, a grin tilting up the corners of his mouth. “You’ve got an unusually high number of degrees and certifications, an important job at a large foundation, you have a found family of converts, and you’re living your best life. Sounds like a happy ending to me.” He tipped his glass to her, and she rolled her eyes, looking away so that he could not see her continued blush.

Despite the nighttime glow of the wild snow outside, there was no longer any doubt as to whether the sun remained in the sky.

Night had fallen in Aspen.

Los Angeles would be only hours behind and her friends would be well into their beloved annual tradition. She had sent messages letting them know what had happened and not to expect her—it had happened occasionally over the years that one of their party might not be able to make it, though this year would be Miri’s first time as the absentee.

And there will always be next year, she promised herself.

“They’ll be lighting candles soon, I imagine,” she said, looking out at the storm only a little wistful.

Next year, she repeated to herself.

“You would have been with them tonight,” he said, causing her breath to catch.

Turning away from the window to face him again, the darkness of the storm outside forgotten in the alarm of being understood by this man. How long it would take for her to get used to his level of penetration? He saw and pieced together so much more than the average person.

Nodding her head in the face of the acuity of his mind, she could do nothing but answer honestly, authentic words and feelings spilling out without guard. “I would have. The group of us still meet up for the first night of Hanukkah every year. Some of us have families now but we still all just pile into the house of whoever has hosting duty for the year and cook together. It’s a silly tradition, but I guess I hadn’t realized how much I was looking forward to it.”

She didn’t say any of it angling for an apology, but he said, with all seriousness, “I apologize for my role in the circumstances that have led to your having to miss them this year.”

He excelled at what no one else could do—surprising her, and in a good way.

She hadn’t needed an apology, and initial frustration aside, she hadn’t really blamed him—the storm was out of his control—but she appreciated that he understood what she was missing out on and said so.

She wouldn’t have thought Benjamin Silver would apologize to anyone—let alone the new hire who had yet to prove herself.

He didn’t have to.

But he had, and because of it, her respect for him grew.

“Thank you for saying so. You really don’t have to, but I appreciate it.” She accepted his apology with the same sincerity that he had delivered it. “Like I said, it’s helped me realize how important the tradition is to me and how much my friends mean to me. Those kinds of lessons are what the holidays are all about.”

“Spoken like a Hallmark card,” he teased with a light grin, “but true. I can’t give you back what you’ve missed out on this year, but I can promise that you will be taken care of well for the time you are here, Ms. Howard. Anything within my power to provide is yours for the duration.”

Given who he was, he had just promised her only about half of the world, and she could see in his eyes that he was serious in the offer.

The restitution mattered to him.

He felt like he owed her, and something in her knew that he was the kind of man who repaid his debts.

And something whispered in her that she might like it.

The power of it sent a strange thrill through her veins.

It was a good thing she wasn’t one to use power for evil.

But there was nothing she really needed but to get home as soon as possible and make sure that this gala went off without a hitch, even if, at the moment, the world lay at her fingertips.

“Really, it’s fine,” she insisted. “It’s still just one night in the grand scheme of things, and I can handle the disappointment. And, please, call me Miri.” After the scope of their conversation, calling each other by their surnames felt silly and formal.

None of the resolution left his gaze, though his smile took on a warmth that his teasing grin had not had before. “I appreciate your altruism, Miri, but I’m not a man used to disappointing. I’m certain there is a way I can make up for it, and when the time comes, it will be done. In the meantime, call me Benjamin.” He made her name a sensual experience and followed it with a series of words that rippled through her like an erotic promise—even though she knew he didn’t mean them that way.

Despite sharing more with him than she did with most people, at best, the two of them were colleagues in the endeavor of repairing the reputation of an organization they both cared about.

---