Winter Kisses (2 page)

“You're doing business during the holidays? Do you ever take a break?” He knew that had to sound strange coming from him, but in the grand scheme of things, he had the feeling he was nowhere near as ambitious and dedicated to his job as Monica.

“What I do with my time is no concern of yours,” she said then took a deep breath.

It looked as if she had to force herself to let it out slowly. She was wound so tight she looked as if she'd explode in the next two seconds.

“Okay, just take a minute to calm down. I'm sure there's an explanation for this mix-up. Just let me get something on and we'll figure it out.”

“Don't bother. I'll figure it out,” she said then turned from him and walked toward the living room.

He'd bet she was heading for the phone, where she'd call her office to recheck the reservations, or to the front desk, where she'd interrogate the clerk as if he were a star witness in a murder investigation. For a
second he thought about following her, trying to reason with her that it was probably just a mistake and nothing to get all huffy about. Then he thought better of that idea. Monica was not a woman to be calmed; that would only make her angrier. So he moved into the bedroom instead, taking his time slipping into jeans and a T-shirt.

When he emerged fully dressed and entered the living room, he wasn't at all surprised to see her pacing in front of the fireplace. Her dark hair was pulled back so tight he had a headache for her. One arm was at her side and the other was bent. A cell phone was in her hand, which she stared at, giving the device some choice words as she did.

He could stand here watching her for hours. She'd removed her coat so that he had a view of the formfitting sweater she wore and the perfect fit of the slacks. She was a tall woman, meeting him—at his six-foot-three-inch height—almost eye to eye with her heels on. Actually, they looked more like stilts and yet she moved gracefully with them, as if they, too, obeyed her every word.

“Any luck?” he asked when ogling her began to feel immature and obsessive.

“My phone's dead,” she hissed, tossing him a heated glare over her shoulder.

A heated but very alluring glare, he noted.

“Let me see,” he said, taking a step toward her and holding his hand out for the phone.

“You can't fix it,” she accused.

“I don't know, me and a team of three designers just configured a state-of-the-art phone that will take
us into the next century. I think I can look at a BlackBerry and see what the problem is.”

With clenched teeth, she still hung tight to her cell phone. Until he reached over and, while one hand held hers with the phone in it, slowly peeled away one of her fingers at a time. He kept his gaze on hers the entire time because he sensed she liked to be in control, to keep what or who she deemed her enemy under close watch. When the phone was just sitting in the palm of her hand, Alex smiled and picked it up.

“I'm just going to look at the phone, Monica. Stop glaring at me like I'm going to ravage you.”

“I don't know why but you give the impression of being smarter than that,” she quipped.

Alex chuckled. This was more than a woman and more than a piece of work—she was one of those science fair projects that nobody signed up for because it looked too complicated and too hard to achieve any type of success.

Yes, she was definitely a challenge, and Alex loved a challenge.

“I
t's dead,” he confirmed. “Did you get the battery wet?”

Monica sighed. Not only did she not want to be here in this winter-wonderland town, she didn't want to be here with him. Of all the men, in all the world, why Alex Bennett?

“I dropped it in the snow,” she admitted. “I can just use this phone.” Moving to the small table near the couch, she picked up the phone and put it to her ear. There was no dial tone so she pushed the on/off button once, twice, still no dial tone.

“You've got to be kidding.”

“What?” Alex asked from behind her.

Very close behind her.

He always did that, invaded her space. No matter where she was when he was around he made it his busi
ness to be only two steps away. It was annoying in a way she didn't want to explore. What she wanted to do was get as far away from him as she possibly could.

“The phone's dead. What kind of shabby place is this that their phones don't even work? When I get back to New York I'm going to kill Karena.”

“I don't think the phone not working is any cause to kill your sister,” he said in that deep voice that she suspected soothed and caressed every woman he ever met. Every woman except her.

“Don't tell me how to handle my sister.”

“I wouldn't presume to tell you how to handle anyone, Monica.”

And she hated when he said her name, hated the tickle of excitement it produced along the nape of her neck.

“Maybe they just haven't switched on the service yet. I've only been here about an hour,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She put the phone down and stepped to the side, away from him and his all-too-knowing gaze. Another annoying thing he did was look at her that way. The way that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, how she was feeling. She hated it.

“Then I'll just get my things and head back to the main building. There has to be another room available since there seems to be some mix-up here.”

“You can take a breath, Monica. I'm not going to assault you.”

His tone held a bite to it that she'd heard before. Just as Alex Bennett always seemed to know what she was thinking, he also had a low tolerance for her. In fact,
she wondered why he wasn't kicking her out the door. They obviously did not like each other.

“I didn't say you were going to assault me.”

“Right. You're just acting like you're stuck in a cabin with a career criminal.” He put the cell phone on the table. “Look, you just stay here. I'll go to the front desk and get another room.”

He was about to leave her there alone, she was sure of that, when there was a knock at the door. They both stood still looking at each other for a few seconds, then Alex went to answer the door.

Monica sighed.

What was she doing? Being rude like she normally did. Well, that really wasn't true, she wasn't rude to everyone. Just men. Nobody had to tell her that she gave men a hard time—she knew she did. Especially good-looking, successful men that could possibly have some interest in her, or in this case probably couldn't stand her. Why did she go out of her way to be mean? Because she was smart enough not to repeat past mistakes.

Alex Bennett was a handsome man, with his dark smoldering eyes and burnt-orange complexion. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a swagger that said money and prestige. He commanded respect from the moment he entered a room, and he made the most adverse female's mouth water. She didn't want to acknowledge how attractive he was, but then again, Monica prided herself on being intelligent and candid. She called a spade a spade and as such had to say that Alex Bennett was one delectable specimen.

That's why she wanted to get away from him. He was temptation personified, and that she definitely did not need. Besides, this was a business trip. Wondering
why he was here or just what he would have looked like had that towel slipped off was not a part of the deal. Those were thoughts she did not have time for.

“I've got good news and bad news,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts.

She turned to face him. “What's going on?”

He had that half smile, half smirk that she never knew what to make of. Truth be told, she didn't know what to make of this good-looking businessman that could talk to her in an almost scornful tone one minute, then looked at her as if she were next in line on the dessert menu the next.

“That was the bellhop. He dropped off your bags,” he said, nodding toward the hallway where he'd left her luggage.

“And?”

“And you were right, the phones are out.”

She sighed.

“They're out because the storm that was forecasted to hit later tonight has already started. The winds have picked up substantially in the last hour, knocking out all power lines. It's probably done some damage to the nearest tower with a cell-phone signal, as well.”

“Wait a minute,” Monica said, holding up a hand as if that would stop the whirl of events as he was relaying them. “There's no phone and there's a storm coming.”

He moved to the bay window and pulled the string that opened the custom-made blinds. “The storm's not coming. It's here.”

Her heart sank like a seven-year-old's on Christmas who didn't see that Barbie town house she'd specifically requested. She stopped at the window, putting her hand up to the pane as if that would make the huge
snowflakes blowing in the blustery wind any less real. “The storm's here.”

“And,” Alex said with exaggeration that drew her attention away from the true winter-wonderland display to rest solely on him.

“And what?”

He took a minute before answering, looking at her with those deep, dark eyes of his. “The resort's completely booked. We managed to get the last available cabin.”

Her throat felt tight, as if maybe she was having an allergic reaction to something. “We?” she managed to croak.

“You and I are both on their records as sharing this cabin for the next three days.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” she said, taking a step back. “There must be some mistake.”

Alex shook his head, his eyebrows knitting just a bit. “Something tells me this was no mistake, Monica.”

He moved away from her to where he had his bags thrown on the couch. He grabbed one of the slimmer leather cases out of the pile, unzipped it and pulled out his laptop. In seconds he was punching keys, then waiting while the computer booted up.

“Renny called me Christmas Eve to suggest we all get together.” He talked and pressed more buttons as she watched the computer screen. “When did you find out about the trip?”

Rubbing her now-throbbing temples, Monica thought about his question. “Karena called me Christmas evening after we'd all left my parents' house.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex said as he punched another button then looked up at her. “Just emailed Renny. He can't
breathe without his phone so he checks his emails religiously. Hopefully, he'll answer in a few seconds.”

“You can get internet connection?” she asked.

“It's probably not going to last long,” he said, sitting back on the couch. “It's a little sluggish already. Before the end of the night we probably won't have much by way of communication.”

“What?” As she folded her arms over her chest, Monica could do nothing but shake her head. “I can't believe this. I need to get another room. I need to make some calls.”

“I think you need to sit down and take a deep breath,” he said not bothering to look over at her. She could take that as him being rude but it was probably as much his personality as the bossiness, she was coming to realize.

“I'll just get my coat and head to the front desk.”

“First,” he said calmly, again not looking at her, “you'll probably get about five steps in that snow with those heels on. Second, there's no use trudging all the way up there when I just told you there are no rooms left.”

She'd heard him say that before, but refused to believe it. Needed to refuse to believe it, was more like it. “That's ridiculous. This is a huge resort. How can they be totally booked?”

“Simple. It's the Christmas holiday. Lots of people who aren't into the big-family-gathering thing are very into the ski-till-you-drop celebration. Most of them probably want to spend the New Year here, as well. Let's face it, Queen, we're here for the duration.”

He looked up at her then with a bleak expression.

“My name's Monica.”

There was that half smile again as he shook his head. “Yes, I know. And, Monica, you might want to know that we've both been duped.”

“What are you talking about now?” she asked with the last little bit of patience she had. How could this be happening to her? She was supposed to be meeting with clients, securing a showing at her gallery. How did she end up here with him?

“Renny just emailed me back.”

“And what was his response?”

“I'll read it to you verbatim so you don't think I'm lying. ‘Have a great time you two, LOL!'”

“What does that mean?” she asked, then realized she'd been asking this sort of question consistently for the past few minutes. Shaking her head she rephrased. “I don't understand what he's trying to say.”

“He's admitting that they set us up.”

She didn't even speak this time, just shook her head negatively.

“My guess is your sisters and my family got together and decided that putting us up in this cabin together would be a good idea.”

“No,” she whispered. “Not a good idea.”

Alex shrugged, shutting down his computer. “I'm not saying I agree with them, but I'm not in the habit of whining about my conditions, either.”

“I am not whining,” she said with indignation.

Pushing the laptop into its case he chuckled. “Say that again.”

“Forget this. I don't have to say anything” was her retort as she reached for her coat she'd finally taken off and thrown over the arm of one of the recliners.
She was in the hallway reaching for her bags when she heard his voice again.

“I already told you there are no other rooms and there's a blizzard out there. Are you really going to let stubborn pride get the best of you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

With bag in hand and purse pushed onto her shoulder, Monica cast him a frosty glare. “I don't really care what you think about me, Mr. Bennett. Now, I'm leaving. I'll find someplace to stay for the night, then I'm heading back to New York in the morning.”

She didn't wait for his response, didn't stay to see if he'd give her that half smile, half smirk again or if he'd physically try to stop her. Monica simply went to the door and jerked it open, feeling the slap of cold against her face as she did. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into what he'd termed a blizzard and sighed. He was right—it was a blizzard. She could barely see two steps ahead let alone up the road to the building where the front desk was. Snow smacked into her face as she lifted her legs to take another step.

In the relatively short amount of time she'd been inside the cabin the snow had begun to pile up. There was at least a couple of inches sticking already and she attributed that to the mountainous region. She wasn't used to seeing this type of accumulation this quickly in the city. That didn't matter right about now. What mattered was getting away from Alex Bennett and finding out just what part her sisters had played in this scheme. With her next indignant step, Monica was fuming and ready to curse at the next person who happened to walk by. Instead the four-inch heel of her expensive leather
boots twisted beneath her and a strangled yelp escaped her as her body and her bags plunged into the white abyss.

 

He'd stood in the door watching her walk away, watching the anger and pride carry her through the beginnings of a nasty snowstorm in bitterly cold temperatures. She didn't want to believe what he'd told her about there being no more rooms left—he shouldn't care. She'd silently rejected the thought that her sisters had set her up—again, it wasn't his concern. She didn't matter.

Until she fell.

Cursing, Alex darted out into the snow, not even aware that he had no coat on. She hadn't gotten that far so he reached her in no time. By then she was already struggling to stand on her own. Grabbing her beneath the knees and around the back, he lifted her up.

“Put me down. I can walk,” she protested, squirming in his arms.

“Yeah, I saw how well you were managing that,” he replied. Deciding to ignore the words coming out of her mouth now, Alex headed straight for the cabin. He deposited the seething, stubborn woman on the couch then turned back to go outside and get her bags.

When he returned she was standing right beside the door, hands on her hips, snow dripping from her eyelashes and the tip of her nose. She was angry and looked ready to spit fire at him when he took a step closer, cupping a hand over her mouth.

“You don't have to like it, but there are no other rooms in this resort. There's a storm just kicking up outside and it's freezing out there. I'm going to add
some wood to this fire and see what we have in the kitchen because I'm starving. If you want to continue with this brilliant temper tantrum of yours, go right ahead. But I'll tell you right now, it's not going to change anything. I would take you for a smarter woman than to try and change the unchangeable.”

After snatching his hand away from her mouth, Alex walked away, missing the choice words she mumbled, and headed straight to the kitchen.