A.C. Arthur - Winter Kisses

He always did that, invaded her space. No matter where she was when he was around he made it his business 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.”