Snowbound with the CEO (6 page)

“Hey, Rachel, it’s Alex. Are you busy?”

“Nope. What’s up?”

“I forwarded the email from the restaurant to you so we could approve the final menu for the Christmas party and I haven’t heard back. It’s been a couple of hours, so I figured I’d call.”

“You do realize it’s Saturday, right?” And what did it say about her being a slave to her phone when an email going unseen for two hours merited a phone call?

“Oh, does that make a difference now?”

Rachel laughed. “Fine, smartass. I’ll pull up my email and read the menu.”

“Soon?”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“You’re back in Boston, right?”

Rachel swallowed, tempted to lie for a second before she realized how unnecessary that was. “No, the storm closed the roads, so we’re still at the Mount Lafayette.”

“They’re not open yet?”

“The highway’s open, but some of the smaller local roads up here are still a mess.” That wasn’t too much of a lie, since it was probably true in places.

“Snowed in with the boss, huh? Fun.”

You have no idea.
“I’ll get on that email and see you Monday.”

When the call was over, Adrian hooked his arm around her and dragged her toward him. “You’re not supposed to be working.”

“They’re used to me responding to email immediately. They were probably afraid I’d been kidnapped by some local mountain man and was being forced to cook his roadkill.”

“As fascinating as that sounds,” he said, running his hand up her thigh, “no more answering the phone.”

“I have to read Alex’s email.” She sucked in a breath when his hand skimmed high enough between her thighs so his knuckle brushed her sensitive skin.

“You can answer his email on one condition.”

“My boss bribing me
not
to work isn’t weird at all.”

“You can answer his email, but then we’re going to spend the rest of today and the night in this bed. Room service. Some champagne. Maybe a little detour to that huge tub in the bathroom.”

“With bubbles?”

He sighed, exaggerating it as though the thought of soaking in a bubble bath would come at great cost to his manly dignity. “With bubbles.”

“I need five minutes. Ten tops. And without your hand between my legs.”

He withdrew his arm and propped himself up on his elbow to watch her. “Ten minutes, and then my mouth’s going to finish what my hand started.”

It took her the full ten minutes, and she still had no idea what she’d just approved. Macaroni and cheese, maybe. But by the eleven-minute mark, she didn’t care anymore.

Chapter Five

Travel didn’t come easily to Adrian. He liked his office and his condo and having his own things around him so, whether by plane or by car, going away from home was slightly wrenching for him.

Now, for the first time, he was dragging his feet about going home. Except for the fact it couldn’t last, the weekend had been damn near perfect and he would have given anything to extend it.

“You look very serious,” Rachel said, pushing the room service cart toward the door. They were still in blue robes after their very long shower, her hair was wrapped in a towel and her feet were bare, which he found incredibly sexy.

Maybe because it felt so real. It was a domestic scene that tugged at his heart and made him start wanting things he hadn’t given a lot of thought to before. He knew
someday
he would find a wife and have some kids, but his focus had been on his business. Now his focus was firmly on the woman who was so comfortable and natural with him.

“Just wondering about the road conditions,” he lied.

He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing her laugh. “You’re not getting out of work that easy. The roads are fine and we have to go home today.”

It wasn’t the work. He loved his work, which probably had a lot to do with how good at it he was. He didn’t want to leave this cocoon of intimacy he and Rachel had made.

He made a fake coughing sound. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

“I’m not playing doctor with you.”

Now he laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I was trying to get out of work, but I’m always up for role-playing. You can be the hot blonde in the bar and I’ll be the stranger who plies her with drinks and bad jokes.”

“Bad jokes? That would never work.”

He snagged her around the waist as she walked by and they tumbled backward on the bed. The towel on her head slipped, freeing a curtain of wet, tangled hair. “Some women would find that sexy.”

“I recommend plying her with the drinks first and then the bad jokes.”

“Is that why you came upstairs with me? Because I plied you with drinks?”

She kissed the tip of his nose, which made him chuckle. “I came upstairs with you because you’re sexy and funny and I wanted you. Obviously the chemistry boiled over and we had to get it out of our systems.”

“It’s still boiling.”

“I can feel that. You’d think a hotel like this would have thicker bathrobes.”

“Maybe I should see a doctor about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m still not playing doctor with you.”

“Okay.” There was no way he was getting off the bed while her robe was teasing him with glimpses of skin. “I could be a pirate and you could be my serving wench.”

“No.” She was trying not to smile at him, but he knew the battle was almost lost. “How about I be the woman with a ton of stuff to pack and you be the guy who takes my luggage to the car.”

He shifted so he was wedged between her legs more firmly. “Depends. Will I get a special tip?”

“Sure. Don’t eat the yellow snow.”

“Smartass.” He cupped her face in his hand, running his thumb over her lips. “How about I be the guy who thinks you’re amazing and gorgeous and who can’t keep his hands off of you?”

“And I’ll be the woman who’s susceptible to that kind of flattery.” The rush of victory heightened the rush of desire, and Adrian pushed the robe down over her shoulders. “We do have to go home today, though.”

“Eventually,” he conceded before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

It was almost dusk when they finally drove away from the Mount Lafayette, but Adrian didn’t regret the late start. Once he hit the highway, he set the cruise control and steered with his left hand, while holding her hand with the other.

Neither of them had really mentioned tomorrow. He wished he knew what her expectations were, as far as their relationship. If he assumed too much, it could make things rocky at work. But if he assumed too little, he could miss out on a great thing.

He glanced over at her, trying to come up with the right words to subtly bring up the subject, and then he had to chuckle softly. She was already asleep, her head cradled in the shoulder strap of her seat belt.

So much for that conversation. He was a little relieved, he had to admit to himself. If they didn’t talk about it, she couldn’t tell him it had been a weekend fling she’d already put behind her.

Four and a half hours of radio surfing and fighting road hypnosis later, he shook Rachel awake. “Hey, honey. You need to wake up and tell me where you live.”

“You know where I live,” she mumbled.

“In theory, yes. In the reality of navigating this city at night? Not so much.”

Groggy, she sat up straight and gave him directions to her apartment. There was no off-street parking, so he took her key and left her in the SUV while he carried her suitcase up the stairs and set it just inside her door.

She met him halfway down the walk, clearly exhausted. “I’m sorry I slept all the way home. I wasn’t very good company, I guess.”

“No, it was good. Your snoring kept me awake.” She rolled her eyes, apparently too tired to take a swipe at his arm. “I’m going to see you tomorrow, right?”

She gave him an odd look. “Of course. You’re the one fake coughing, not me.”

He belatedly realized he’d asked the question awkwardly, as if he was talking to a regular date he wanted to see again. Of course he was going to see Rachel at the office. What he’d really wanted to know was if he’d see her
after
the office.

But he could see the exhaustion on her face, so he shelved that to worry about tomorrow. Leaning close, he gave her a slow, thorough kiss. “Good night, Rachel.”

She gave him a sleepy smile. “Good night, Adrian.”

Her yawns had been contagious, so once he was back in his SUV, he turned off the heater and turned up the radio. Once he saw her close her door, he pulled away from her curb. Singing along loudly, but badly, to an old hair band power ballad, he headed for home.

* * *

Rachel wasn’t a person who complained about Mondays. While it wasn’t her favorite day of the week by any means, she felt it set the tone for the entire work week, so she always tried to keep it positive.

But on this Monday, her bus was late, the coffee shop put hazelnut flavoring in the coffee she didn’t taste until it was too late to go back, and when she walked into Adrian’s office, he looked up at her and said good morning before pulling up the schedule on his phone.

Just like he did every Monday morning. But it wasn’t just any Monday morning. It was the day after he’d kissed her good-night and left her with promises shining in his eyes.

But, in her nervousness about the situation, she took her cues from him. “Good morning, Mr. Blackstone.”

“Rick Bouchard called,” he said, shuffling through some papers. “Alex must have done a hell of a job with the presentation because Bouchard’s chomping at the bit to talk to me. Unfortunately, he’s the kind who likes to look you in the eye while you talk, so I need a flight ASAP to Vail, Colorado. Tomorrow morning, preferably.”

“That’s good news.” And it was. If Rick Bouchard was so eager to talk to Adrian he wanted the conversation to take place before Christmas, his signing with BHR to handle his villa’s renovation was as good as done. “Will I be traveling with you?”

Another resort. Another winter wonderland with the possibility of being snowed in. She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach.

“Not this time. It’s going to be very casual because he’s not supposed to be working during the family vacation. And I need you to keep the staff focused on actual work until their vacations officially start. Plus the Christmas party’s coming up and that keeps you pretty busy.”

He seemed to have quite the list of reasons for her not to go to Colorado with him, and the flutters in her belly died. Even if it was a valid list, he could have prefaced it with something like “I’d really love to take you with me, but...”

“I’ll book your flight as soon as we’re done here. Would you prefer a car service or a rental in Colorado?”

“I won’t have time to sightsee, so probably a car service.”

It should have been comforting, this return to professional normality, but it made Rachel feel hollow. He wasn’t even looking at her, so it was hard to see if there was any special warmth in his eyes for her, at least.

“I’ll get right on that,” she said, and then she turned on her heel and walked out of his office.

When she got to her smaller office, she left the door open as she always did. The staff would pop their heads in and out throughout the day, and it kept communication open. She found if she closed the door, they were reluctant to bother her.

She fired up her computer, sipping the nasty hazelnut coffee. There was a coffeemaker in the office, but she’d paid a lot for the one she had and there was habit to consider. She always brought her first cup of the day with her.

“Hey, Rachel, do you have the expense report from his trip to Philadelphia in October?” Del asked from her doorway. He did the accounting, assuming he didn’t misplace the information she gave him.

“I did in October, when I sent it to you.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Oops?”

“I’ll resend it.” She shook her head at his careless wave of thanks and pulled up her email. Thankful she didn’t have to find a physical sheet of ledger paper from May, she re-sent the file to Del’s address and mentally checked that off. The plane ticket and car service for Colorado were next.

It was another hour before another head popped in. This time it was Michelle, who did general office work. “There’s a problem with the oak Mr. Blackstone wanted for the Nantucket cottage.”

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s pine.”

“The oak is pine?”

“The oak isn’t pine. But they sent pine instead of oak.”

Rachel rubbed her temple. Supplier screw-ups were the only part of her job she really hated. They meant multiple problem-solving phone calls for her. Delays for the contractors. Excuses and denials from the supplier. And a very angry Adrian Blackstone. “Send the info to me. Mr. Blackstone’s leaving for Colorado in the morning, so I’ll handle it.”

“Just so you know, the GC called the supplier himself and was told he shouldn’t swing a hammer if he’s too stupid to tell the difference between oak and pine. So the situation’s already nuclear and I know from past history with this supplier, it’s not going to get resolved before Christmas. It could be a two-week delay, if not more.”

So this time, the general contractor might be even more upset than Adrian. “Thanks for the heads-up. And do me a favor. Research alternate suppliers for the materials we buy from this guy. Mr. Blackstone’s not going to like the way he spoke to a member of his crew. I’ll need numbers in case he wants to pull his business.”

“Sure thing.”

It went on like that for most of the day, keeping her too busy to dwell on Adrian’s sudden emotional distance. And when he scheduled a dinner meeting with an investor for that evening, she knew she wouldn’t get answers anytime soon. Not with him having a predawn flight out of Logan in the morning.

Maybe Adrian going to Colorado was for the best. His absence would give her the space to get her feet back under her, while time passing would give her some distance from their Mount Lafayette tryst.

While he was in Vail schmoozing a villa owner, Rachel would take the opportunity to get him out of her system by sheer force of will. And maybe a few tears.

* * *

Adrian’s mind was swimming in uncertainty, unable to focus in on a plan. It wasn’t something he felt often while sitting behind the massive maple desk he’d rescued from a junk sale and refinished himself.

It was his first day back in the office since his return from Colorado. Rick Bouchard had been a pain in the ass, insisting on multiple low-key meetings instead of just getting the thing done. The important thing was that Bouchard had signed on the dotted line, but now it was Thursday and the office party was tomorrow night and he felt like he was running behind on just about everything.

And he had no idea where he stood with Rachel. She’d set the tone first thing Monday morning with her brisk “Good morning, Mr. Blackstone,” reeking of professionalism even though they’d been alone in his office at the time. He’d called her several times from Vail, but no matter how he tried to keep the conversation casual, she kept turning it back to work.

Unfortunately, he could take a hint. She wanted to keep their interactions strictly professional, and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d already crossed a blurry line by taking her to bed. He wouldn’t cross a definitive line by pressuring her about their relationship while
at
work.

He just needed them to not be so busy so he could talk to her outside of the office, and it wasn’t going to happen until after the holiday party. BHR was closed from noon on Friday—to give everybody time to dress up for the festivities and get to the restaurant where the party was held—until the sixth of January.

Even though he’d work from home during that time, and Rachel invariably did as well, he’d have almost two weeks of office-free time to try to figure things out and make things right between them. He wasn’t quite sure what right was yet, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He heard Rachel’s heels approaching and shoved personal thoughts into the back of his mind. Now that he had a plan, maybe he could concentrate.

“We received a voicemail about the villa in Tuscany,” she said.

“Already?” Bouchard was an intense guy and he wasn’t going to let any grass grow under this project. “Is there a problem?”

“Since my Italian is nonexistent, I have no idea. Del’s grandmother spoke Italian when he was a kid and he thinks it’s just an introduction, but I wouldn’t bet money on his interpretation.”

Since the villa project was a whole heaping pile of money, he had to have better information than that. “I need you to research somebody in the area we can hire to act as a liaison. Maybe a real estate agent or a lawyer. Bilingual and not connected to either Bouchard or the contractors in any way. Somebody whose loyalty will be to us. Or to our money, anyway.”