Snowbound with the Boss (5 page)

“All very logical,” he said, nodding. “Good points, too. But you left one thing out.”

“Yeah? What's that?”

“Sex,” he said with a shrug. “Between us, it's incredible.”

“Not enough to build a marriage on and why are we still talking about this?” she asked.

“Because I want you to admit you want me.”

“I do—just not as a husband.”

“I can live with that,” he said, one corner of his amazing mouth tipping up into a smile that tugged at something deep inside her. Kate felt herself melting. Sean Ryan was so bad for her. Maybe that's why she was enjoying him so much.

His gaze fixed on her mouth, and she licked her lips in anticipation. When he bent his head and kissed her, she sank into it. This thing between them was powerful, energizing, and she would be a fool not to take everything she could from this interlude before her world went back to normal.

* * *

A few hours later, the memory of Kate's laughter was sharp and bright in Sean's mind. He hated knowing that she'd been right about his reaction when she talked about a future. It was knee-jerk for most men, probably. They were, as a species, fairly suspicious, waiting for a woman to get that white-picket-fence gleam in her eye. A man had to stay wary just to make sure he had time to make a clean getaway.

Sean had had it happen to him too many times to count. Every casual relationship he'd ever been in had eventually become a tug-of-war centered around marriage. He knew what the women were thinking—a wedding. Kids. Access to Sean Ryan's fortune. Was it so surprising then that he immediately assumed that Kate was no different?

But, of course, she was, he told himself grimly. Not only was she not interested in snagging him into some kind of relationship, but she also found the very idea laughable and that just annoyed hell out of him.

“The snow's getting to you,” he muttered. It was the only explanation, Sean thought. “Being trapped with a woman like Kate is bound to make a man a little nuts.”

She was like no one he'd ever known. She filled his thoughts, tormented his body and, at the moment, was working him like a slave driver. Sean was used to running meetings, winning over clients and snagging huge market deals. He had meetings. Dinners. Drinks with a client at some exclusive restaurant.

What he wasn't accustomed to was swinging a hammer. He'd already helped her pull up linoleum in one bathroom, tear down some hideous paneling in what would eventually be the first-floor game room and now he'd been tasked to tear up some—God help him—
shag
carpeting in one of the upstairs suites. He tightened his grip on the worn, wooden handle, slid the claw top beneath the edge of the faded floor covering and pried it loose.

Carpet tacks gave, and Sean tossed the hammer aside to grab the rug with both hands. He pulled it up as he backed across the room and coughed at the years of dust flying into the air. It was hard, dirty work, and he was getting a new appreciation for the men and women who did this kind of thing daily.

Women like Kate. When he first met her a week ago, Sean had seen only the coldly efficient shell of the woman. She knew her job and wasn't afraid to stand up to Sean when she believed she was right. He'd admired that even while arguing with her.

Now he knew more. Knew the heat of her, the passion bubbling right beneath the surface. Knew that even while she gave herself to him, she kept parts of herself locked away. It surprised him to realize how much he wanted to know what she was hiding. And why. She would close him out expertly at the slightest threat of getting too close.

Like you?
his mind whispered.

Scowling, he told himself that everyone had secrets. Everyone had pockets of regret or guilt or misery tucked away that were rarely brought out to be inspected. His were his own business—hell, even Mike didn't know about them—and so he would leave Kate with hers.

What lay between them was desire born of convenience. That was it. So he'd work, he'd sleep with her and then when they finally got the hell out of this damned hotel, he'd go home. Where he belonged and where he could put this whole situation into perspective.

“Nice job.”

She moved quietly. He turned to look at Kate, standing in the open doorway. Sean didn't want to admit, even to himself, what seeing her wearing a damn tool belt did to him. She looked confident and too damned sexy for his peace of mind. Her worn jeans hugged her legs, the hem of her tunic sweater hung to her hips and her boots were as scarred as his own. The tool belt that was currently driving him insane fit her as undeniably as diamonds might another woman.

Man, he was losing it fast.

“Thanks,” he said wryly. “But pulling up old carpet doesn't take a lot of finesse.”

“Just time and effort,” she agreed, then walked into the room and skirted around him and the roll of carpet. She went down to one knee to examine the wood floor that had been hidden beneath the ratty carpet. “Looks good,” she mused, more to herself than to him. “I was hoping for this. Hardwood, even battered and scarred like this, can be sanded and brought back to life a lot cheaper than buying new floors throughout.”

Nodding, he watched her stroke her fingertips over the wide planks with the same gentleness she'd used to caress his chest. His body stirred, and he gritted his teeth, ignoring the flash of heat.

She whipped her ponytail back out of her way and glanced at him. “If all the floors look this good, we'll be saving you a lot of money.”

“Always a good thing,” he agreed.

She stood. “I've got the rugs in two other rooms rolled up and their floors are nearly perfect, so I'm hopeful. What I'd like to do now is check out the basement, see what we've got down there.”

“Didn't you already do that when you made your first inspection for your bid on the job?”

“Sure.” She shrugged and rested one hand on the hammer hanging from her belt. “But it was a quick look, mainly checking for foundation issues. Now that we've got some time...”

He laughed shortly. “Plenty of that.”

“Exactly. We can look at it and see what improvements can be made.”

One eyebrow winged up. “We're done pulling up carpet?”

“I just wanted to get an idea of the shape of the floors. The rest my crew can do when the storm's over.”

One glance at the window told Sean the snow was still swirling like a thick white veil. “If it's ever over.”

“It will be. I've been through these storms all my life.”

“Not me,” he said with a sigh born of missing the ocean, the sand, the sea breeze. “I'm a surf-and-sand kind of guy.”

“You'll be back to it soon,” she told him, and their gazes locked for one tension-filled moment. “For now, though...the basement?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, following her as she headed downstairs, and his gaze dropped unerringly to the curve of her behind. Whatever else the woman was, she had a great butt and the ability to work him into an inferno without even trying. He had to admire that even while it made him a little crazy.

“The banisters will have to be tightened,” she said over her shoulder. “The base is loose and you don't want it wobbly.”

“Absolutely not.” He gave said banister a shake and felt it wiggle under his hand. Right again, he thought, then told himself this was why he'd hired her in the first place. Kate Wells had a reputation for being a perfectionist when it came to her work, and that was something he understood and approved of.

She hit the bottom of the stairs and headed across the great room, where the fire still burned against the constant chill in the room. Through the kitchen and into the butler's pantry, she opened the door to the basement and started down the stairs.

The light spilled from two overhead lamps, illuminating a wide room that was empty but for a line of dated washing machines and dryers. There was a workbench along one wall and a pegboard above it, just waiting for someone to fill it with tools. The floor was cement, the windows were narrow and high, blocked now with piles of snow. The walls were cement blocks, which only seemed to magnify the cold outside the building.

“I always thought basements were a little creepy,” Sean said to himself.

“Agreed,” Kate said, throwing him a quick look as she pulled out a measuring tape and laid it down on the floor as she walked off the space. “But they don't have to be. Still, having the laundry down here doesn't seem real handy for the housekeeping staff.” She paused to make note of numbers on a small memo pad she dug out of her tool belt. “Especially since they have to come and go through the kitchen.”

“You're right.” Nodding, he glanced back up the stairs before reluctantly admitting, “I wouldn't have thought of that. But if the kitchen staff is busy, then having housekeeping coming and going will make everyone's job harder than it has to be.”

She made a few more notations, then wound the tape back into its shell. With it tucked away, she inspected the block walls and said, “A little insulation down here would make it more livable.”

“Another good idea,” he said. “Do it.”

“That was easy.” She looked at him. “And since you're being so reasonable, what do you think about moving the laundry facilities to the old owner's suite? It's on the other side of the hotel, opposite the great room, and there's plenty of space for water and electrical hookup, plus worktables for the folding or ironing or whatever is needed.”

Sean pulled the layout of the hotel into his mind and could see it just as she'd described it. “Yeah, that'd work. Be easier for everyone. But then we've got an empty basement and don't really need the insulation, do we?”

“Of course we do,” she argued neatly. “Insulating down here will help keep the floors above warmer, cutting down on heating bills. And you could set this up as a tool room for the maintenance crew you'll need to hire.”

He walked down the rest of the steps, stopped beside her and laughed shortly. “And they
won't
get in the way upstairs in the kitchen.”

“Nope,” she told him before walking across the room to slap one hand against the wall. “Because we'll cut out a double door right here, with a ramp, so maintenance can get heavy tools and machinery in and out with no problem. Gives them easy access to what they need, and you know you'll need riding mowers and at least a couple of snowblowers, as well. They can be stored down here. There's plenty of space for everything you could ever need.”

He could see it once she'd painted the picture, and Sean was only a little annoyed that he hadn't seen it before. But why would he? He'd never used a snowblower in his life and since he lived in a condo at the beach, he really didn't need a lawn mower, either, did he?

Unaccustomed to having to work out solutions for anything other than how to market their next video game, he was stumbling around in the dark here. And all in all, he thought he was doing a pretty damn good job of it.

“Okay, it's a good plan.”

She just looked at him for a long moment, then cocked her head and asked, “Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden? We spent the first week you were in Wyoming arguing about everything.”

She had a point there, too. But from the first, she'd gotten under his skin. Sean hadn't wanted to admit it was desire chewing at his insides, so instead he'd told himself her attitude was aggravating. Maybe she'd had some great ideas all along and he'd just been too distracted by what she did to him to hear her out. And that knowledge was lowering for a man who had always prided himself on his ability to focus.

“Things change,” he finally said.

“I guess that's true enough.” She came toward him, but instead of stopping alongside him, she walked past and took the stairs back up to the main floor.

“What're you doing now?”

She stopped in the threshold and was backlit by the kitchen light. Her face in shadows, he felt her smile more than he could see it. “As long as you're in such a good mood,” she said, “I figured we could start tearing down one of the walls to check the wiring.”

He choked out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Okay, not the whole wall, but we should be able to at least rip away enough drywall to take a peek.”

“And you want to do construction while we're trapped in a blizzard, why?”

“We can't stay in bed all day,” she said.

His body burned at the thought. “Don't see why not.”

“Of course you don't. And what you and I will be doing upstairs is not construction,” she insisted, flipping her ponytail behind her. “It's more
de-
struction. What we in the building business lovingly call ‘demo day.'”

“Great. Demo.”

“Come on. You'll like it.”

Well, he told himself as he climbed the stairs, if they weren't going to be having sex, at least he could take out his frustrations with a hammer.

Five

T
hey worked together all day, with Kate keeping them too busy and occupied for either of them to consider heading back to the sleeping bag. Though the temptation of it nibbled at her continuously. How could she not think of it? Sean had opened up a world of sensations she'd never expected. And she wanted to feel them all again in spite of the fact that her mind kept warning her off. Logically, her mind was absolutely right and her body should take a time-out.

The problem was, what she was feeling had nothing to do with logic. When the day finally ended and the snow was still falling, she was out of distractions. They shared another meal from their dwindling supplies and when they were finished, Sean reached for her and she went to him. Knowing it was a mistake to continue doing what she knew she shouldn't, Kate still couldn't stop herself. There was so much to be discovered in his arms, and she wanted—needed—to know everything.

But sometime during the night, the snow finally stopped. By morning, the sky was a brilliant blue and the sunshine on all the fresh snow shone like diamonds under a spotlight. Kate should have been relieved, happy that this forced togetherness was at an end. Instead, she really wasn't.

“How long do you think it'll take for the pass to be cleared?” Sean asked.

She glanced at him standing beside her at the wall of windows in the great room. “A few hours. The county plows will get to it fast.”

“Then all we'll have to do is dig out the driveway so we can get your truck out of the garage.”

“We won't have to.” She smiled to herself and shook her head. “Now that the storm's over, I'll call one of my crew. Raul's got a snow blade for his pickup. He makes extra cash plowing mountain roads for residents. He can get up here to clear this as soon as the county's done with the pass.”

“So we're almost free,” he mused quietly.

“Yep,” she quipped, hoping for a light tone that would hide the yawning pit of emptiness opening up inside her. “Your nightmare ends today.”

He took her arm, turned her to face him and when she did, his gaze moved over her face like a touch. “I wouldn't say nightmare.”

She wished she could read his eyes, see what he was thinking, but whatever he was feeling was carefully masked. “No?”

He shook his head. “Let's think of it as a three-day seminar. Sean and Kate 101.”

In spite of everything, a tiny chuckle escaped her. She had learned a lot about Sean. Maybe too much, but it was too late to go back and
un-
learn it even if she wanted to. “And now class is over.”

“Almost.” He moved in, set his hands at her waist and effortlessly lifted her against him until she had no choice but to hook her legs around his hips. He stared into her eyes, then gave her a slow, wicked smile. “I think we have time for one more recess.”

God, he really
was
charming, she thought. She stared into those lake-blue eyes of his and knew that when he was gone, she was going to miss him. She didn't want to. She'd like to go back to her old life and leave these few days with Sean in the past, where they belonged. But that, she realized now, would be impossible.

He'd touched more than her body during their time together. He'd reached into her heart and brought it back to life again. And with that life she knew there would be pain. But for now, there was still joy to be found.

“Exercise is important,” she said.

“There you go.”

* * *

Two days later, Sean was back in California. He deliberately jumped back into his real life, diving into the plans and strategies for launching their next video game, “The Wild Hunt,” in early summer. While he talked to distributors, marketing and the Celtic Knot website division, he was able to push thoughts of Kate out of his mind. He buried himself in work until the memory of a snowbound hotel and a tiny, gorgeous woman with a pit-bull attitude were nothing more than misty images nibbling at his brain. Which was just the way he liked it, he assured himself. His focus was on the job, where it belonged. Wyoming was a long way from Long Beach, California.

Just as well. Despite the snow and the cold and the fact that they had lived on coffee, shared sandwiches, cookies and crackers, Sean had been getting way too comfortable in that drafty old hotel. Nights spent with Kate in his arms, waking up with her sprawled across his body while a roaring fire hissed and crackled in the stillness was just too...
something
, he told himself, not really wanting to identify the feeling any more than that. Being there with her had confused the situation. Getting back to their own lives and their own work were the only real answers for either of them.

So why, then, was he in such a crappy mood? He'd already snapped at Linda, their admin, rejected their lead artist's idea for the upcoming Christmas game and managed to insult one of their biggest clients. And it wasn't even noon.

“There something you want to talk about, Sean?”

“What?” He looked up and saw his brother, Mike, standing in the open doorway of Sean's office. “No.” He picked up a sheaf of papers and rattled them for emphasis. “Busy here.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, walking into the room and dropping into the visitor's chair opposite Sean. “Me, too. So let's wade through all of the denials and get down to whatever it is that's got your shorts in a knot.”

Family could be a real pain. Especially an older brother who saw too much and knew you too well. Shooting that brother a dirty look, Sean asked, “When did you get so insightful all of a sudden?”

“When Dave tells me you eighty-sixed the sketch of the Nightmare Pooka. Linda was crying at her desk. And oh, yeah, Dexter Stevens called to complain about your attitude.”

“That's rich,” Sean muttered, deliberately refusing to pick up the gauntlet of guilt Mike was tossing him. “Dave's drawing was mediocre at best—”

“Preliminary sketch,” Mike added.

“Since Linda got pregnant, she cries when the phone rings—”

“And so she doesn't need
you
giving her more to be upset about,” Mike interrupted.

“As for Dexter,” Sean continued as if his brother hadn't spoken at all, “he's given us plenty of grief over the last two years, and we've never called him on it.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “because his distribution network moved almost two million units of ‘Fate Castle.'”

Sean frowned, remembering their first major best seller game. All right, Mike had a point there. Dexter had given the beta version of the game to his teenage sons, and they'd loved it. With their recommendation, Dexter's company had covered the entire northeastern portion of the country with “Fate Castle” at a substantial discount that had pushed Celtic Knot up to the next level. Was Dexter a jerk personally? Sure. But he was also hell on wheels at distribution, and they couldn't afford to offend him.

In self-defense, though, Sean scrubbed one hand across his face and blew out a breath. “Dexter Stevens is a pain in the—”

“And has been for years,” Mike said, cutting him off. “Still no reason to give one of our best partners such a hard time.”

He was right, but Sean didn't want to admit it. His first day back at work, and he was making everyone as miserable as he was. Upside to this situation? Dexter would be fine once Sean apologized—which he would do as soon as he could get Mike out of his office.

Normally, dealing with their suppliers, clients and distributors was something Sean enjoyed. He liked people and figuring out how to work with the different personalities he encountered. But today, he simply hadn't had the patience to deal with Dexter, and that was his own fault.

“Yeah,” Sean muttered. “I'll call him later. Offer to send him an early version of ‘The Wild Hunt' for his kids.”

“Great. So want to tell me what's going on with you?”

“Nothing. Everything's good.” Sean sat back, kicked his feet up to the corner of his desk and folded his hands on his abdomen. The casual stance didn't fool his brother.

“Sell that to someone who doesn't know you.” Mike cocked his head to study Sean. “Things were fine before you got snowed in. So. Want to tell me what happened in the hotel between you and Kate?”

That'd be the day. Hell, looking back at it all from a safe distance, even
he
wasn't sure what had happened between him and Kate. And he was really trying not to think about any of it. So, instead of answering, Sean asked a question of his own. “Want to tell me what's going on between you and Jenny?”

For some reason, Mike and Jenny Marshall, one of the artists at Celtic Knot, got along as well as a lit match and a stick of dynamite. But Sean had the distinct impression something was going on between them. His first clue was the way Mike went cold and silent the minute Jenny's name was mentioned. Like now, for instance.

Instantly, Mike's features tightened and his eyes shuttered.
Ha
, Sean thought.
Not so much fun prying when it's your secrets being uncovered, is it?

“Jenny's doing a good job at the Laughlin hotel.”

“Uh-huh. Nice stall and, hey, extra points for evasion,” Sean said with a knowing smile. “What's she doing to
you
?”

Mike's eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself to his feet. “Fine,” he said tightly. “You made your point. You don't want to talk about Kate and I don't want to talk about Jenny, so let all of this rest and get back to work.”

Satisfied, Sean nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Mike headed for the door but stopped long enough to add, “And don't piss off any more of our clients, okay?”

When he was alone again, Sean swiveled his chair around to look out the window at the backyard. The majestic old Victorian mansion where Celtic Knot made its offices sat on Pacific Coast Highway. Just across the wide, busy street, the ocean stretched out to the horizon and from the back of the house, the view was a large, neatly tended yard. Of course now, in the middle of a Southern California winter, the grass was brown and the gardens desolate but for a few lingering chrysanthemums. Overhead, the sky was clear with white clouds scudding along like sailboats on an endless sea. He was a long way from Wyoming, Sean told himself.

So why was he daydreaming about snow?

* * *

It was snowing again.

Kate listened to the Muzak coming through her phone while she was on hold and looked through the front window, watching as a thick, white blanket fell from steel-gray skies. It wasn't a blizzard—she and her crew wouldn't be snowbound here at the hotel. It was just another Wyoming winter storm, and it made her think of Sean and how only a few days ago the two of them had been alone here.

She missed him.

Kate hadn't expected that at all. He had been such an irritation at first that all she had wanted was for him to leave, go back to California. Now? She wished he was there. She ached for him, and that was hard to accept.

“Ms. Wells?”

The music ended abruptly, and Kate dragged her mind back to work. Much, much better than thinking about Sean, which wouldn't do her any good at all. “Yes. I'm here. And I'm wondering why my Dumpsters aren't.”

“Well, now,” the condescending male voice on the other end of the line said, “I understand you're a little impatient, but we won't be able to haul the Dumpsters through the pass for another day or two at least.”

Kate gritted her teeth, took a slow, deep breath and said, “The pass is clear, Henry, and I need those Dumpsters on-site.”

He chuckled, and Kate wanted to scream.

“In case you hadn't noticed, missie, it's snowing again, and we don't want to get halfway through the pass and find we can't maneuver the rest of the way.”

They both knew this storm was no issue. But Kate was also aware that pushing Henry Jackson wouldn't get her anywhere. “Fine. Then I can expect them here by Friday?”

“As long as the weather holds,” he said, managing to agree and not promise a thing.

“Fine. Thank you.” That cost her, but Henry was the closest supplier. If she had to arrange for someone else to deliver Dumpsters, it could take twice as long. So she'd make nice for the good of the job and hope he came through. Eventually.

When she hung up, she stayed where she was until her annoyance dropped a couple of levels. “If the snow was so bad, we wouldn't be here working, would we?” she asked herself. “The pass is clear, Henry's just lazy, which you already knew.”

If the pass was still blocked, she and Sean would still be trapped here, just the two of them. A ping of something sad and sweet echoed in the center of her chest, and she absently rubbed the spot, futilely hoping to ease it. It didn't help.

“Yo, boss!”

Kate looked up, to where Raul stood at the head of the stairs. “What is it?”

“With no Dumpsters here, where do you want us to pile all the stuff we're tearing out?”

Kate scowled, glanced around the hotel, then back up to the tall man waiting for her decision. “Right now, just toss everything out a window to a clear spot in the yard. We'll load up the Dumpsters when Henry finally decides to bring them up.”

“You got it.”

Twice the work, twice the time, but there was nothing else to do about it. Kate figured she could do one of two things. Keep thinking about Sean and wondering what he was doing right now. Or she could get to work on this hotel and keep herself too occupied to think about the man who had so briefly lit up her world.

Grimly, she set off for the kitchen. Tearing out old cabinets ought to keep her busy enough.

* * *

Sean spent the next few weeks working on the Celtic Knot game plan. Focused, he could avoid thoughts of Wyoming and what had happened there until it was only in sleep that memories of Kate swung around to haunt him.