The rest of the night seemed hazy and slightly unreal as Scott lay across the big fourposter bed with her. She’d missed making out and Scott was certainly reawakening parts of her that had lain dormant for far too long. His lips traveled along her cheek and down the side of her neck. Alarmed, Julia was slightly embarassed to discover her blouse was unbuttoned. It seemed somewhere along the line Scott had grown a few extra hands and she struggled to keep up with them. He was touching her everywhere and yet, when she closed her eyes, it was Ross she saw touching her, kissing her, making her feel so hot. A light breeze touched her thighs as she felt her skirt slowly being lifted and she opened her drowsy eyes, somewhat surprised to find Scott—not Ross—shirtless and digging through his wallet.
“I have a condom in here somewhere,” he said. His words hit her like cold water in the face. Guilt suffused her. She’d been fantasizing about Ross the whole time Scott was touching her. He was a very nice man, but she was not the type to succumb to one-night stands. He deserved her whole attention and desire. Unfortunately, she could provide neither.
Reaching down, she attempted to adjust her skirt. “Uh, Scott,” she began, “I think maybe we should slow down.”
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“Don’t worry, baby,” Scott crooned, “we’ve got all night. I’m gonna love you good and slow.”
His corny line disgusted her. As did her uncharacteristic actions—she didn’t have sex with strangers at parties. Attempting to rise, she continued, “No, I don’t think you understand. I want to go back downstairs.”
“What? Why?” Scott asked, his voice aghast.
“Please, don’t get me wrong. I think you are a very nice man, but I don’t think we know each other well enough to sleep together.”
Scott laughed coldly. “Everybody at the office said you were an uptight bitch, an ice queen. Guess they were right. Well, sweetheart, fact is you should know better than to go to a bedroom with a stranger. Maybe I should teach you a lesson about what happens to a little girl who acts like a cock tease.”
“Excuse me?” Julia’s voice shook with anger. “Get away from me,” she demanded, trying to shake off his viselike grip on her arm.
“No.” Scott’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “But please feel free to struggle. I like a girl with spirit.”
“You—
you
,” she stammered, unable for once in her life to come up with the perfect word, the perfect line.
Scott merely laughed as he pushed her back on the bed, straddling her kicking legs. For the first time since she entered the bedroom, Julia felt the cold, clammy hands of fear seize her. Scott’s strength was far superior to hers. He’d seemed like such an affable guy, easygoing and kind. God—what a fool she was.
“I said
let me go
,” she repeated, beating on Scott’s chest, pushing as hard as possible. Scott continued to laugh until she managed to land one hard slap across his face.
“You little whore,” he snarled, returning her slap with an even harder one across her cheek. Bright lights flashed before her eyes as Julia suddenly understood what it meant to see stars. The sound of fabric tearing roused her from the lingering pain and she fought even harder.
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“Stop! No,” she yelled. Surely Ross or someone from the party would hear her if she screamed, and come to investigate. How embarassing. However, her stomach roiled at the thought of this man touching her in any intimate way. Mortified or not, she needed help. Before she could make a sound, a familiar, beloved voice came from the doorway. “I believe the lady said no.”
Julia had never heard Ross’s voice sound so quiet or menacing. Scott immediately jumped off her and the bed, turning to face his boss.
“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Phillips,” Scott began. “We were just playing. She likes it rough, pretends to struggle, you know how it is.”
“Is that true, Julia?” Ross asked, looking at her for the first time since entering the room. She felt herself blushing as she attempted to cover herself with the remains of her shredded blouse, pulling down her skirt at the same time. Both acts were futile—her hands had chosen that exact moment to begin shaking uncontrollably.
“Good God, no, Ross,” she gasped. “He’s a pig.”
No sooner had the words passed her lips before Ross crossed the room and punched Scott harder than Julia ever imagined a man could. Scott’s eyes rolled up into his head as he fell like a sack of potatoes.
“K.O.,” she whispered, spellbound by Scott’s still form on the floor. Ross stepped over the unconscious accountant before kneeling at Julia’s feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice so kind and full of concern that Julia felt the dam give way as she fell into his embrace, the shock of the moment evaporating, replaced by delayed terror.
“Oh God,” she sobbed as Ross rocked her gently in his arms, whispering soothing words. Her tears flowed, her teeth chattered and her shaking seemed to go on forever. After several long minutes, she struggled to catch her breath before speaking.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” she whispered.
“I’d heard some unsavory rumors about Jenkins around the office. I’ve been keeping an eye on the two of you all night. Unfortunately, I was detained for a few minutes and when I got back, you and Jenkins had vanished. Did he force you here?” he asked softly. 12
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His face was flushed and his own hands were not steady as he reached for the bedquilt and tightened it around her shoulders, studying her face intently. At her embarrassed blush, she sensed the anger in him begin to rise again as he noticed the red hand print across her left cheek. Taking her chin in his fingers, he turned her face to look at it more closely. The menace she felt building in him seemed almost tangible as he glanced back down at Scott, still prostrate on the floor. Before he could inflict further pain on the asshole accountant, she muttered, “No, he didn’t force me. I—I mean, he— God, I came here on my own.”
Dear Lord
. She’d almost willingly let Scott have sex with her.
“I’m taking you home,” Ross said stiffly as he rose and began setting her clothing to rights. Shame suffused her body—Ross was obviously disgusted by her and her actions.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What?” Ross knelt beside her again, pulling her blouse closed and securing it as much as possible, despite the fact several buttons were missing. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
Julia’s humiliation came back tenfold as Ross efficiently re-dressed her, gently holding her ankles as he slipped her heels back on her feet. Feeling like a child, she added, “I’m an idiot. I thought he was a nice guy. You must think I’m the biggest fool in the world.”
“Oh, Jules, of course I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re a sweet, trusting woman who had a little too much to drink. Perhaps you were a bit naïve, but you’ve never been a fool. The fool was me for leaving you unprotected. I knew what kind of man Jenkins was. I should have yanked you away from him the second I saw the two of you talking. I just didn’t think he’d try anything at a work function.”
Julia looked at Ross and trembled at the anger she saw lurking in his eyes.
“Ross—”
“Hush, no more words. You look wiped out, Brown Eyes. I’m taking you home.”
Julia smiled at this new endearment before realizing she truly was exhausted. Her eyes began to drift closed before another thought opened them again.
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“What about Bridget?”
“She’s a big girl. She can find her own way home.”
“She’ll be pissed off,” Julia muttered, again fighting back sleep.
“That seems to be one of her two permanent states,” Ross answered, gently lifting her into his arms and carrying her across the room as if she weighed no more than a mere babe.
“What’s the other state?” she asked groggily.
“Horny. Go to sleep, Jules. I’ll take care of everything.”
Throwing the last load of firewood on the pile, Julia dropped into the comfy chair in front of the roaring fire, the heat from the flames not the only thing causing her face to flush. She tried not to think of that night, but every now and then it came creeping back to her. She never saw Scott again, although she’d heard through the grapevine Ross had transferred him to God knew where. Asking Ross was a definite impossibility, as they seemed to have reached a tacit agreement never to speak of that night again and she, for one, was glad to avoid the topic. Discussing the biggest act of stupidity of her life with the man of her dreams was something she would never voluntarily do. All she remembered after falling asleep in his arms that night was waking up the next morning alone in her bed, then managing to avoid him for almost a week before he stopped by with pizza and beer for their standing Thursday-night dinner. He carried in a large pepperoni and mushroom, cracked open a cold one and started talking about his week as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at the Christmas party. Relieved by the reprieve, Julia followed his lead and avoided the subject. Staring into the flames, she felt herself slipping back into the same melancholy that had taken over in the past few months. Her life was in the gutter and she had no one to blame but herself. Her parents had been killed in a car crash her junior year in college. Blinded by the loss, she’d cut herself off from everyone close to her. She’d moved out of the apartment she shared with two friends, broken off her relationship with her boyfriend and buried herself in her schoolwork. After graduation, she’d rented a small apartment 14
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with the little bit of money left to her by her parents, adopted Duke from an animal shelter and poured herself into her writing. By escaping into her romance novels she was able to exist in an exciting world with dashing men who loved their women no matter what. And in the process, she was able to avoid feeling anything real. If you never truly loved, she reasoned, you never truly lost. Love in a fantasy world was safe and painless. None of her characters ever disappointed her by dying or leaving her. Unfortunately, she was halfway through writing the third book when she realized her money had run out. Unwilling to leave her emotionless sanctuary, she mailed out her first manuscript to twenty different publishers. Nineteen rejections immediately returned. Then her phone rang. Ross Phillips, a young editor with a struggling publishing company he was launching with a friend, invited her in for a meeting. He saw something special in her writing and thought she had what it took to make it big. The rest, as they said, was history. Her books were an immediate success and they helped to skyrocket Ross’s small company into a major contender in the publishing world. Ross was now the chief editor and controlling partner in the firm.
Shaking her head, she chastised herself for falling into the same black despair that had continued to hound her since Duke died. “I’m here to write,” she said aloud, desperate to hear a voice in the quiet of the cabin. At least when Duke had been around she’d never felt crazy for talking to herself. She could justify it by claiming she was talking to the cat.
A loud knock at the door had her jumping up. Suddenly feeling very isolated and unprotected, she scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Spying a big log in her pile of firewood, she grabbed it, cowering in the corner. The pounding on the door continued, louder this time, and Julia’s heart began to race. Who the hell would be on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on a day like this? It was a virtual whiteout outside.
“Jules, open the damn door. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
Ross? She sighed in relief, rushing to unlock the door, and there in the doorway stood her very tall, very wet editor.
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“What are you doing here?” she asked, aware her tone was distinctly unfriendly, but he had scared her half to death.
Eyes narrowed, Ross entered the cabin, his arms laden with packages, a large duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, a backpack over the other. “I tried to call, but the phone lines are down,” he answered gruffly.
“My cell?” she asked sarcastically.
“No service up here,” he replied with equal irritation.
“Is something wrong?” She couldn’t imagine what could be so bad it would compel Ross to leave the comfort of his penthouse apartment in New York City to drive for nine hours to the mountains.
“Blizzard.” He unloaded his bags on the kitchen counter. “Headed this way. I was worried you’d be snowed in without enough food.”
Secretly pleased at his incredibly sweet gesture, Julia smiled and helped him unload the soggy paper bags. “You’ve brought enough food for an army.” She gaped at all the meat, vegetables, fruit and snacks he carried in. “I hope you don’t think I need all this to survive. Hey, I didn’t hear a car. How did you get here?”
“By the grace of God and my four-wheel drive. I almost made it all the way to the cabin. The snow is already pretty deep. I got stuck about a mile down the road. Had to walk the rest of the way. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.” Pulling off his drenched coat, he hung it on the peg by the door.
“My God,” she exclaimed, glancing out the frosted window, “it’s freezing out there and the visibility must be zero. You’re lucky to have made it at all. What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed.” She put her hands on her hips, suddenly aware of the very real danger he’d just escaped.
“What was I thinking?”
“Yes. Good Lord, Ross, of all the idiotic things to do. What if you’d crashed the car?
What if you’d gotten lost in the snow while looking for the cabin? You could have frozen to death.”
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Ross shook his head. Clearly, of all the receptions he’d imagined, this nagging scold was not one he’d considered. “I guess, like the idiotic fool I am, I thought you’d be glad to see me. That you’d offer me a warm drink and some supper. I thought you’d be happy not to be stuck up here in this godforsaken cabin alone in a blizzard!”