Page 47 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

CHAPTER SIX

“YOUWOULDN’THAPPEN to have a roomful of clothing in every size that rich people always seem to have in the movies, would you?” Miri asked wistfully, aware of the toothpaste stain on her shirt, as they exited the dining room.

“Unfortunately, no. Not here, at least,” he said. “At my Palisades home I retain a personal stylist on staff who generally does maintain a wardrobe for guests to choose from, but I don’t entertain here.”

At his Palisades home... He had a house in the Pacific Palisades?

Pacific Palisades wasn’t the wealthiest neighborhood in LA, but it was the most beautiful, in Miri’s opinion.

Keeping her reaction to a small choking laughing fit, Miri shook her head.

“It’s all right. I’m sure it will pass sometime between now and tomorrow. I can bear another day in old clothes.”

As if her words had sparked a memory, he said, “I can’t offer designer attire, but I do have a few less traditional options.”

Perking up a bit, Miri said, “Yes?”

“There is a near-endless supply of robes in the spa. I discovered them there on my last use.”

Laughing again, at both the idea that he had not known he owned a stockpile of robes as well as the thought of wearing nothing but a fluffy white robe, and said, “No, thank you, though I appreciate the offer. Somehow it feels wrong to wear solely robes through a blizzard...”

Not to mention the fact that the idea of wearing nothing but a spa robe around him set off the kinds of sensations she had been trying to forget about since last night.

Laughter warmed his eyes, his smile remaining, as he said, “Absolutely understandable, and in that case, my second option: I think I have some of my old things from high school that might fit you. It may take some unearthing, but they have a better chance than anything from my current wardrobe. I’ve filled out since then,” he added, a flirty light in his eye that Miri couldn’t help but respond to.

“I consider myself generally more filled out than a teenage boy, as well,” she said saucily, only partially joking, but his smile only grew.

“You’d be surprised what a height advantage can do to tailoring,” he said. “You’re a tall woman, but I’ve still got plenty of inches on you.”

She loved being tall and full-figured—had been praised and lauded for both through her development into a woman—but it often meant she stood eye to eye with the men around her in more than a metaphorical way.

But not with Benjamin.

As he pointed out, he had her by more than six inches.

Focusing in on him now, her attention was drawn to the fact that his height and broad chest were traits she admired in a man.

Not that she spent much time admiring men.

Through a combination of scholastic busyness and her insistence on moving at a snail’s pace romantically, dating had happened only sporadically amid her collecting of degrees, moving out on her own and finding a job.

It had just been too hard to get to know someone while juggling all of that, and she refused to be intimate with someone she didn’t feel like she knew.

And now that she had a job, she had a gala to save.

She figured she would turn her attention to the awkwardness of modern dating once her career was secure and she had a few years with the foundation under her belt.

At that point her life might have space for the process of coming to trust someone.

But it really didn’t now.

And it particularly did not with Benjamin—no matter how much of an ideal height he might be.

He was a man with no time, and she was a woman who required a serious investment of it—once she had some of her own to spare, that was.

As a man, Benjamin was distinctly off-limits.

But wearing his clothes when she needed a change of them was not the same thing as forgetting that.

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