Snowed In With A Billionaire. Karen Booth
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There was even a towel warmer. Joy didn’t use it often. It was more of a treat, which was a silly notion, but Joy didn’t want to get too accustomed to this life. She wouldn’t have it for long.
She grabbed her robe from the hook and towel-dried her hair, studying herself in the mirror. Some days it was a necessary reminder of who she was and what she was. She was Joy McKinley, a hardworking girl from Ohio. She did not come from a house like this, nor would she live in a house like this. Pipe dreams didn’t get anyone anywhere. Hard work did. She most definitely was not Joy Baker, invited guest of the Marshall family and woman perfectly at home staying by herself in a sprawling estate. She’d only let Alex believe those things because she was covering her tracks and he was nothing more than an acquaintance. A ridiculously sexy one, but a stranger nonetheless.
The security system control panel on the bathroom wall dinged. Joy jumped. Someone was at the door. Her pulse took off in a sprint. Anyone who arrived on her doorstep had already passed through the gate. Had someone from the Marshall family arrived without their key? Had Mariella Marshall invited friends to stay here, leaving Joy to explain herself and hightail it out of there? She jabbed the button for the security camera. Alex came into view in pixelated black and white. Relief washed over her, followed by a jolt of excitement. But why was he back?
“Hello?” she asked into the intercom.
“Hi. It’s Alex. From before. The car? The hill?” He was so adorable, talking into the doorbell instead of looking up at the security camera.
“Yes. I remember.”
“I got halfway home and I had to turn around. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She waited to answer. She really wanted to invite him in. She wanted to have a real conversation. If he didn’t want to talk, she could just stare at him for a while or maybe she could convince him that a brief make-out session with a stranger was totally normal. “I feel fine. I think.”
“See? That’s a problem. I think I should call 911. This could be serious.”
“No. Please don’t do that.”
“Can you come to the door and talk to me?”
He was the most insistent man she’d been around in a long time. “Fine. I’m coming.” Down the stairs she thundered. She opened the door but quickly remembered she was wearing a bathrobe and nothing else, and stopped herself from flinging it wide open. She greeted him by poking her head out through the narrow opening. “I’m fine.” The soft amber glow from the porch lights made him even more movie star handsome. It was going to hurt to tell him to go away.
“It doesn’t seem like you should be by yourself right now,” he said.
“I told you I’m fine.” Except that she wasn’t entirely sure she was. Her neck still felt tight, even after that long shower, and she had a headache brewing.
He pursed his lips and looked down at the ground for a moment. “I think you should see a doctor.”
“That’s not necessary. I just need to get some sleep.”
“Are you positive you didn’t hit your head? If you have a head injury, it could be a bad idea to go to sleep.”
Good God, he was persistent. “It was snow. Nothing hard to hit my head on.”
He moved his face closer to hers, studying her. The breath hitched in her throat. He had a really sexy mouth. Totally worth kissing. What if they ended up having that make-out session after all? “It seems like your pupils are pretty dilated.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that. It’s not like I can see my own eyes right now. Nor do I even know what it means if they are, in fact, dilated.”
“Can I please come in for a moment? I promise I’m not wielding an axe.”
She sighed and opened the door wider, the brutally cold air rushing in behind him. The snow was coming down even harder now, which she hadn’t thought possible. “Have you ever noticed that murderers don’t carry an axe, they wield it?”
“It just occurred to me that I shouldn’t have used axe-murderer terminology. I’m sorry. I swear I’m a good guy.” His smile was extra convincing. Alex wasn’t a threat, although she might pass out from how blindingly perfect his mouth was.
Joy couldn’t imagine finding a reason to put Alex off, even when logic said she should. That smile had done something to her. It had left a chink in her armor. “Please. Come in. You must be freezing. It’s horrible out there.”
He shook snow from his hair and stomped his boots on the foyer rug. “Yeah, the forecast isn’t looking good.” His eyes dipped south, then returned to her face. “It’s much nicer in here.”
A vaguely familiar tingle zipped through her. Was he flirting with her? Was Prince Charming making the moves? A breath of cold air crossed her shoulders and she realized then that the top of her robe had gaped quite significantly. It wasn’t a full-on wardrobe malfunction, but it wasn’t far off. She quickly covered up and re-cinched the tie. Embarrassment covered her from head to toe.
“Can I make you a cup of tea?” She wasn’t sure what else to offer the man who’d showed up at her door again.
“That would be great, but I was hoping we could call my doctor together. I’ll feel a lot better about things if you just talk to him.”
“So I don’t have to go anywhere?”
“Nope. You can do this from the comfort of your own home.”
My own home. If only. “Okay. Do you want to have a seat in the living room while I run upstairs and get dressed?”
“You don’t have to change on my account. I think you look pretty amazing just as you are.”
There it was again—that flirtatious lilt to his voice. Or maybe he was just one of those men whose every comment came off with an edge of innuendo. Regardless of whether he was trying hard or not, she had a deep desire to comb her fingers through his hair, if only to learn whether it was as thick as it looked. It’d been more than a year since she’d been with a man, and that one had been a deeply disappointing kisser—weak lips and a hesitant tongue. If a man was going to kiss her, she wanted him to go for it. Send a message. Alex looked like he could knock a woman off her heels with a single kiss. And here they were, all alone in this big beautiful house, she in a near state of undress.
“You’re sweet, but I think it would be best if I was wearing something that more closely resembled clothes. I’ll be right back.”
She turned and darted up the stairs, mumbling to herself, “What in the hell are you doing? Why did you let him inside? That was really, really dumb. We’re going to call his doctor? At night? How weird is that?”
Learning firsthand how adept Alex was at talking her into something, she needed to remain on her toes. She also needed to remain calm and allow him to leave of his own accord. Making a stink was a good way to arouse suspicion, and she didn’t want to give him any reason to decide she was acting strangely or quite possibly didn’t belong in this house. For all she knew, he’d call the police. Surely a guy as thorough and conscientious as Alex wouldn’t even hesitate to turn her in if he thought she wasn’t on the up-and-up. She had to do her best to appear to belong here. She had to make things seem as normal as possible, then hope he would leave so she could return to her sad, but relatively safe existence where she still got to sleep in an amazing bed.
Dressed in far less revealing pajama pants, tank top and hoodie, Joy hurried back downstairs. As she turned the corner for the living room, she saw the glow and heard the crackle of a fire in the hearth. She hadn’t bargained on Alex making himself at home. “Oh. You built a fire.”
“Well, yeah. Look at it out there.” He tossed his head toward the long wall of the living room, where the windows soared to the top of the cathedral ceiling and stood in single file like soldiers. The night sky was a midnight blue, dotted with fat, glowing snowflakes.