Winter Kisses

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

Chapter 2

“It'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 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.”

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.

Chapter 3

“I don't eat mayonnaise,” she said when she entered the kitchen.

He didn't look up. “Fine.”

She sighed. Eating crow was not an attribute listed on her résumé, either. Still, Monica knew futile actions when she saw them. She was stuck in this cabin, in the middle of a storm, with him. There was no way around it and rebelling against it was nothing short of stupid. He was right about that. And she was big enough to admit it.

“Thanks for coming out to get me,” she said, moving to one of the cabinets above the sink, looking to see what was there. Two cabinets away she found bags of potato chips and took the barbecue and plain ones down.

“No problem,” he said. “There are some bowls in that cabinet next to the refrigerator.”

She moved in that direction, found the bowls and dumped both bags of chips into them. “These cabins don't usually come with fully stocked kitchens, do they?”

He was fixing sandwiches—ham-and-cheese from what she could see. The only condiment he had on the marble island counter was mayonnaise. So she decided to check in the refrigerator for something else. Or rather the low rumbling of her stomach decided it was time for her to suck it up and eat something.

“I think we can thank our meddling family members for the food, as well. There's enough in here to feed us for a week,” he said as simply as if he were giving her the time of day.

After she found the mustard she moved to the counter to stand next to him. Not too close, but close enough. He pushed the tray with sandwiches on it toward her and she lifted the bread off one to squirt mustard on it.

He moved away from her then and for a minute Monica thought it was because she'd finally, totally turned him off. Not that she should care either way. The refrigerator door opened again and when she looked up Alex had two sodas stuck in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Bring the chips. We can eat in front of the fire,” he said, taking the tray of sandwiches.

She followed without a word.

Monica thought they'd sit on the couch so she was surprised when Alex plopped down right on the carpeted floor in front of the fire and began tearing off paper towels. Shrugging, she again followed his lead, crossing her legs and sitting across from him. She even managed a small smile when he handed her a paper towel. She put the bowls next to the tray of sandwiches and accepted it.

“You want to bless our food?” he asked and sounded more sincere than she'd ever heard him before.

Momentarily speechless, she shook her head and he instantly began speaking a prayer. Impressed was an understatement.

“So how'd they get you up here?” Alex asked when he'd finished one sandwich and was working on his second.

She'd been taking small bites of hers because watching him was much more appealing. “Karena said she'd missed a conference call with one of the main sponsors of our Black History Exhibit. When I tried to call Bruce Mendleson back his secretary said he was here for the week so Karena booked me on the next flight out. I should have suspected something. Mendleson's secretary was too free with the information of his whereabouts. A good assistant doesn't give that information out to just anybody.”

“And you're just anybody?”

“No, I'm not. But what I mean is unless I give my assistant permission to tell my whereabouts, she doesn't. All she'd say is I'm unavailable and she'll take a message.”

“Have her trained just right, huh?”

There was a sting to his words but he looked as laid-back as if he were lounging in his own living room. Picturing him in the comfort of his own home was a bit disturbing. “Anyway, I didn't pick up on it right away because I was focused on saving the exhibit.”

“You and Karena have been working with the gallery for years now. It's a great place. I've been there once or twice and my parents and their friends talk about it a lot. Both of you seem more than capable of doing a great job in the art world.”

“Thanks.” She sighed. “That's why keeping this connection with the Mendlesons was so important. After that close call with the stolen artwork from Brazil, I want everything to go as smoothly as possible. I need Karena to be more on point in her department.”

“And you don't think she is? On point, I mean?”

“She's so focused on her new husband, their home and now this pregnancy. After she has this baby I don't think I'll see her at the gallery at all.” And that was a fear she'd been harboring since the moment Karena announced she was having a baby.

“That bothers you. Why?”

“She has a job to do. She committed herself to the gallery long before she met Sam and his dogs,” she said, peeling the crusts of her bread.

“Yeah.” Alex smiled. “I've met Romeo and Juliet. Cute. Big, but really cute,” he said referring to Sam and Karena's Great Danes. “But you know women can have a family and work.”

He'd spoken so lightly, she figured so as not to offend her this time. Still, his words were as condescending as ever. This was the way their conversations always went. “I know women can do both, but not from a different state. Sooner or later the commute's going to hinder her ability to come into the gallery. I'm betting on that as soon as the baby is born.”

“The commute's an hour away.”

Pinching more off the bread than she wanted,

Monica wiped her fingers, now smeared with mustard, on the paper towel. “She used to live ten minutes from the gallery.”

“How far away do you live?”

“Ten minutes.”

He chuckled. “Is that the prerequisite for all employees?”

Chewing on a bite of her sandwich, she narrowed her eyes at him, seeing exactly where this line of questioning was going. “I hear you run a tight ship over at Bennett Industries, as well.”

One of his thick, dark brows lifted in question or amusement, she couldn't tell. But the action had something in the pit of her stomach shifting, her thighs throbbing. She lifted her can of soda to take a big gulp. And prayed she didn't choke.

“Do you, now? Been researching me and my company?”

He grinned and that shifting went a little lower, resting in her center as she swallowed the last of her soda, wishing like hell it could quench whatever thirst was building inside her.

“No. Sam speaks very highly of you and your family. Although I don't know why he keeps telling me about you.” She paused. “Wait a minute, you don't think—”

“That this was an elaborate setup to get us together? That's exactly what I told you earlier.”

“That's ridiculous,” she snapped. “And insulting. We're adults. If we wanted to get together we would have. We didn't ask for their little push.” Her temper was steadily rising, heat infusing her cheeks even as her fingers clenched and unclenched. Then she noticed he wasn't saying a word. “Or did we?”

He looked momentarily confused, but Monica didn't believe that reaction one bit. Alexander Bennett did not confuse easily; he couldn't run a multimillion-dollar company with stocks as high as Bennett Industries’ if he did.

“Did we what?” he asked.

“Did you know about this?”

His lips, a medium thickness with a dusting of mustache that fell neatly into the silky-looking goatee, thinned a bit before he spoke. “No. I didn't. Renny suggested we get away before we launched our new product the first of the year. And because I know how busy I'm going to be in the upcoming months, I took him up on the offer. Thought it would be nice to relax a bit after all the hard work me and the R&D team put into the Excel. Does that explanation satisfy you?”

“I just asked.”

He'd begun cleaning up the space where he'd eaten and cast her a wary glance just before he stood.

“No, you accused and you suspected because that's how you are. You don't trust anybody because somebody betrayed you. It's a shame that for as beautiful and truly intelligent as you appear, you don't listen worth a damn.”

Monica wasn't used to being spoken to in that firm and no-nonsense manner, even though she was quite comfortable using it herself. And she wasn't used to being walked out on, but Alex had done it twice. Actually, he'd done it at Deena's wedding and the first time they met at the gallery a year and a half ago. What really irked her was how well he walked away. Said what he had to say then left before she could rebut. Well, she had something to say, as well.

After scooping up her own mess, she went into the kitchen to dispose of it and knew he'd be there, as well.

“Look, I just asked you a simple question. Why you feel the need to dissect everything I say into some deeper meaning is out of my control. In fact, it's beginning to annoy me. You don't know me, Alex Bennet, and I don't know you. For whatever reason we're stuck in this cabin together. I think it's in our best interest to set the ground rules now.”

“Ground rules?” he asked, turning to her.

He had just placed a bottle of water on the counter. As they'd discovered earlier, this kitchen was very well stocked, by a guilty group she'd deal with later. But for now, even the very attractive Alex Bennett wasn't going to change the uncomfortable situation.

“Yes, ground rules. You can have the living room and I'll take the bedroom. We'll stay out of each other's way until the storm passes and I can get another room. Deal?”

He stared at her for what seemed like forever, a look that had her shifting from one foot to another. Her nipples began to tingle—an action that coincided with the persistent pulsating in her center. It was stupid and basic, a punch of lust so hard and fast she could barely swallow after speaking. Furthermore, it was degrading to have such a physical reaction to a man that managed to annoy and slap at her each time he opened his mouth. But Monica wasn't a virgin nor was she a stranger to the urgings of a healthy sexual appetite. What she was not going to do was let any of that distract from the matter at hand.

Then he took a step toward her and her heart stuttered. Another step and the staggering thumping paused. She inhaled, trying to steady her breathing, and caught the scent of his cologne, or was it his body wash? Either was intoxicatingly sexy, male and enticing. Instinctively she took a step back, only to find herself stuck, backside against the counter.

He stood directly in front of her, moving forward until she had no choice but to lean back, tilting her neck to look up and keep eye contact with him. Eye contact was important—it meant they were on the same level, that she wasn't intimidated and that whatever he said or did she could handle. Which was a bunch of bull she fed herself about a millisecond before his lips descended upon hers.