Page 39 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

Without a change in clothes, or her sleep bonnet, she had piled her hair up in a high bun and stripped down to her camisole to sleep in. As an option in a pinch, it had worked, but her hair would need some TLC when she got home, and her cami had definitely lost some of its shape through the night.

Maybe if she hadn’t spent so much time tossing and turning...

But it was no use grumbling.

Tossing and turning, alternating between wishing they hadn’t stopped and wishing they had stopped sooner was the obvious consequence of making out with your boss.

Padding over to the window, she took a deep breath and then reached out to take the curtain edges in her hands.

Flicking them open in sync with her exhale, she blinked against the sudden brightness in the room, squinting to limit the incoming light.

It was not a bright sun in a blue sky that had her wincing, though.

It was the continued whiteout of the blizzard.

She wouldn’t be going home quite yet.

And without the possibility of an impersonal exit, she was going to have to face Benjamin Silver again.

Heat flooded her face and neck.

Pressing cool palms first on her cheeks before moving to her forehead and neck, she sighed.

It was her own fault.

I should have had more self-control, and word-control, and body-control...

There was no point in delaying it further, though.

Her time would be better used putting herself together to face the day, at least as best as she could.

Without her hot-air brush, flat iron or any hair product, there wasn’t going to be a lot she could do about her curled and lifted baby hairs and added volume.

Yesterday she had done her usual morning routine and had arrived at the meeting with her normal office look of glossy soft curls—exactly so because she gave herself a mini blowout every morning before leaving the house and didn’t skimp on the sheen spray before she used her flat iron to create soft wave curls that framed her face, neck and shoulders.

Taking her clothes into the adjacent bathroom, Miri flipped on the light and took in her sleep-messy bun and lace cami-clad reflection.

She looked like she had spent the night before making out with a man in front of a fireplace.

Her hair was going to require some creativity.

Rummaging through her purse back in the room, she found a few bobby pins and a small tin of cocoa butter she kept on hand to use as a quick moisturizer.

She used the cocoa butter to moisten the soft curling hairs that framed her face before twisting sections in the front back and away from her face, fixing it with the bobby pins just above her ears.

She repeated the process for the other side and smiled at the result in the mirror.

It wasn’t the polished shine she normally liked to present at the office, but it was at least appropriate.

She didn’t look like she was trying to seduce anyone.

A knock sounded at her door while she took advantage of the bathroom’s complimentary toothbrushes.

Jumping, she paused mid-brush to say, “Just a minute.”

As she moved, however, a giant dollop of sudsy toothpaste fell out of her mouth and straight down her chin and front, leaving a streak of white froth in its wake.

Fortunately, the disaster had missed her cardigan.

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