Page 41 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

It was lonely no matter where one stood if one stood without family.

But here, lost in the woods, loneliness could also be peaceful.

It could be normal.

That did not stop him from turning, though, at the sound of Miri’s heels clicking against the hardwood floors.

She wore her clothes from yesterday, of course, but she had changed her hair.

She had pulled it back on either side, revealing cute rounded ears and giving an overall impression of a medieval princess.

She was as striking as she had been the previous day, but softer and sweeter somehow as well.

Or perhaps the softening owed nothing to her clever remixing and everything to do with the fact that he had had her in his arms the night before.

He had clearly spent enough time this morning recalling the more licentious portions of their evening to be struck by her walking through the door.

It was a startling moment when a fantasy became real.

He wanted to touch and taste again what he had already thought too much about.

That was the problem with getting a taste. Once taken, it was hard to pull back.

He wanted to show her a good time again, the way he had last night—not with a lovely brunch but with his hands and mouth.

But today, the second day of not only Hanukkah but of being snowed in together as colleagues, needed to be a reset rather than a repeat.

He needed to keep his hands to himself and his thoughts aboveboard.

He needed to remember he couldn’t have her, even while she remained lush and vibrant and entirely entrancing.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling with a gesture toward the table. “As delicious as our dinner of doughnuts was, I thought this morning we might have a real meal.” He broke the seal on the topic of last night immediately and—he hoped—softly, in order to lance any potential for discomfort that might exist for her.

Unlike him, she had probably spent her night agonizing not over the fact that they had gone to bed in separate rooms, but because she had fraternized with her supervisor amid the fallout of a fraternization scandal.

He could expect no less.

She was smart and dedicated and clearly determined to keep her job.

He liked the idea of her burning for him more, though, and hoped that perhaps a small portion of her evening had included that.

“Good morning,” she replied with a blush and the kind of automatic politeness that told him she’d grown up in an “old-fashioned manners”kind of household. “This looks delicious.”

When her eyes fell to the mimosas, though, her voice filled with some of the sarcastic humor he had been introduced to last night.

Lifting a brow, she said, “I see you went with champagne instead of rosé this morning.”

Had he been a younger man, he might have said something about hair of the dog, but as she was not aware that he had had anything more than a respectable amount of rosé last night—nor why he might be inclined to do so—he merely smiled smoothly and said, “It complements freshly squeezed orange juice so well.”

The look she shot him communicated an eye roll without any such movement and he was happy they could engage this way following their encounter the previous night.

Some people would be too awkward.

He had known they could both be adults about things, that they could be friendly and cordial and still enjoy each other’s company and still maintain a courteous distance.

“Spoken like a typical rich man,” she teased, affirming his belief, before adding, “Regular people don’t drink fine champagne at every meal.”

He gave her a look of mock wounding before smiling and nodding. “It’s true. Regular people don’t drink fine champagne nearly enough. Have you heard the health benefits?”

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