Merline Lovelace - The CEO's Christmas Proposition / His Expectant Ex - The CEO's Christmas Proposition

Cal scraped a hand across his chin, trying to remember the last time a woman had roused this kind of hunger in him, this fast. From the first glimpse, Devon had stirred his interest. From the first taste, she’d dominated his thoughts. All during the meeting with Hauptmann, Cal had had to work to keep his attention on the acquisition details and off the woman sitting next to him.

He was damned if he understood why. Even with Alexis—beautiful, sensual, avaricious Alexis—a part of him had always remained detached. And more than a little cynical. He’d known from day one that the glamorous blonde had been more attracted to his millions than to him.

Yet prickly, stubborn Devon, who insisted on maintaining a professional distance, had Cal plotting all kinds of devious ways to get her in his bed. He had several in mind as he crossed the darkened room, intending to toss down the rest of his cognac before he hit the sheets. A sharp rap brought him back to the door.

When he opened it, his pulse spiked. Devon stood in the hall. For a wild moment, Cal was sure she’d come back to conduct the experiment he’d suggested.

“The key to my room doesn’t work.”

So much for his misguided hopes, he thought wryly.

“I used the house phone to call the front desk. They think the sudden power outage sent a jolt through the computer that electronically resets the hotel’s door locks.”

The only lighting came via the red emergency-exit signs. It was more than enough for Cal to note her thoroughly disgusted expression.

“Until they get the computer back online, not even security or housekeeping can let me in. So I thought…Since you have two bedrooms…Maybe we could…”

“Share?”

“Yes.”

“Sure. Come in.”

He stood aside, careful to keep his expression neutral as she swept by him. She was clearly upset by this latest turn of events. That didn’t stop him from feeling a whole lot like the big bad wolf when Red Riding Hood appeared with her basket of goodies.

She halted in the sitting room, her slender figure silhouetted against the glow from the fireplace. “Which bedroom are you using?”

He gestured to the one on the right. “I went for the stag’s head instead of the crown.”

“Okay.” She hesitated. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll turn in.”

He had to fight a grin. He shouldn’t be enjoying her predicament so much. “’Night, Devon. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.”

He waited to see if she’d tack on another Mr. Logan. She didn’t.

When the door closed behind her, a fierce satisfaction gripped Cal. He was halfway home. He had Devon here, in his lair. That was progress enough for tonight.

Or so he thought.

An hour later he was forced to admit he’d made a serious error in judgment. With the electric heat out, the room temperatures had gone down like the Titanic. The thick comforter provided sufficient protection against the cold, but all Cal could think of was how much warmer he’d be with Devon curled up beside him. The fact that she slept less than a dozen yards away kept him awake and aching long into the cold, dark night.

Devon woke to sunlight so bright and dazzling she had to put up an arm to shield her eyes. Squinting through her elbow, she saw she’d neglected to draw the pale gold brocade drapes. No surprise there. She’d whacked a shin on a chair leg and bumped into the dresser while stumbling around in the inky blackness last night.

Still squinting, she lowered her arm. That’s when she discovered that dazzling sunlight didn’t necessarily equate to warmth. The elegant bedroom was as cold as the inside of an Eskimo’s toolshed. Each breath brought icy air slicing into her lungs. It came out a second later on a cloud of steamy vapor.

Gasping, Devon dragged the covers up to her nose. Obviously, the hotel’s power was still out. She knew zero about substations and transformers and such, but suspected the city that had gone dark right before her eyes last night was probably still powerless.

So where did that leave her? More to the point, where did it leave her client? Until she had a fix on the situation, she wouldn’t know how to handle it.

She huddled under the covers, trying to work up the nerve to make a dash for the bathroom. The mere thought of planting her bare feet on the icy bathroom tiles kept her burrowed in.

“Devon?”

Her startled gaze flew to the door. “Yes?”

“You decent?”

“I…Uh…” She scrunched down until only her eyes showed above the fluffy comforter. “Yes.”

The door opened and a man she almost didn’t recognize entered the room. The cashmere overcoat and hand-tailored suit were gone. So was the boardroom executive.

This Cal Logan looked more like a cross-country Nordic skier. He wore a cream-colored turtleneck and bright blue ski jacket with the collar turned up. Matching ski pants emphasized his muscular thighs. The pants were tucked into microfiber boots cuffed by thick thermal socks Devon would have killed for at that moment.

Luckily, she didn’t have to resort to murder. Cal carried a shopping bag across the room and dumped it on her bed.

“Good thing the hotel caters to the winter sports crowd. I had the manager open the ski shop. I figured we’d both need some cold-weather gear if the power stays off for more than a day or two.”

“A day or two?” Gulping, Devon tugged the covers down a few inches. “Surely they’ll restore it before that.”

“Maybe, maybe not. The manager said at least two-thirds of the city and most of the surrounding countryside have been affected. And it’s still happening. Lines are coming down right and left.”

Her gaze went to the uncurtained windows. The suite was on the sixth floor, too high up to afford more than a glimpse of the ice-coated trees lining the Elbe. From what Devon could see of them, however, most had bent almost to the ground under the unrelenting weight of the ice.

“I had to guess at your size.” Cal’s blue eyes skimmed down the covers and back up again. “If anything doesn’t fit, I’ll take it down and exchange it.”

“Thanks. Er, I don’t suppose you were able to scrounge some hot coffee along with the ski clothes.”

“Sorry. The hotel kitchen is temporarily out of operation. The staff was scrambling to put together a cold breakfast for the guests, though.” He headed for the door. “We’ll go down as soon as you’re dressed.”

Devon dove into the shopping bag and extracted a thick pair of socks. Only after her toes were encased in thermal warmth did she grab the bag handles and make a run for the bathroom.

The toilet seat almost gave her freezer burn. The icy stream that gushed from the water taps made washing her hands and face a challenge of epic proportions. Thankfully the hotel’s amenities included spare toothbrushes and a complimentary tube of toothpaste. Shivering and hopping from foot to foot, she brushed away the overnight fuzz, then shimmied into black-silk long johns so thin and sheer she wondered how the heck they could retain any heat. Her bikini briefs showed clearly through the almost-transparent silk. So did her demi-bra.

A V-necked sweater in pale lavender went on over the thermal silk undershirt. The ski pants and jacket were a darker shade of amethyst trimmed with silver racing stripes. Cal, bless him, had thought to include gloves and a headband in the same rich purple.

Ears, fingers and toes all warm and toasty, she zipped on a pair of microfiber boots and left the bathroom with a last glance at the woman in the mirror. She could use some lip gloss and a hairbrush. Hopefully, the hotel’s computer whizzes would figure out some way to operate the door locks so she could get back into her own room soon. If not, she’d have to conduct another raid on the downstairs shops.