The CEO's Christmas Proposition / His Expectant Ex. Catherine Mann

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СКАЧАТЬ followed his pointing finger to one of the graceful lindens lining the Elbe’s banks. It was bent almost double, its branches sweeping the frozen earth. As Devon watched, the trunk groaned and split right down the middle. One half crashed to the ground. The other stood mutilated, a wounded sentinel silhouetted against the blue sky.

      “Oh, how sad.”

      “Even sadder when you think how many other trees have split like that and brought down power lines.” Cal shook his head. “Crews will have to clear tons of debris before they can repair the lines.”

      Keeping her arm tucked in his, he steered clear of any trees that might crack and come down on them. They made it as far as the bridge and were thinking of turning back when a lone snowplow cleared a path across the ancient stone spans.

      Cal and Devon followed in its wake, as did dozens of others. They were drawn by the unmistakable tang of burning charcoal and the yeasty, tantalizing scent of fresh-baked stollen.

      They followed their twitching noses to Dresden’s oldest bakery. Only a block off the main square, Der Kavalier had already drawn a crowd of resilient natives and tourists determined to make the best of the situation.

      Munching on the sweet, spicy bread baked in a wood-fired brick oven, they wandered down the Long Walk. The columned promenade had been erected in the sixteenth century to connect Dresden’s castle with the building that had once housed the royal stables. The history buff in Devon felt compelled to point out the incredibly detailed, hundred-yard-long frieze depicting a progression of Saxon kings and nobles.

      “Those are Meissen tiles. All twenty-four thousand of them. The originals were fired in the porcelain factory just a few kilometers from Dresden. Most of them had to be replaced after World War Two.”

      Cal dutifully admired the frieze and pumped her for more information on the city’s colorful history. He did it so skillfully that Devon ran out of narration before he ran out of patience.

      By then it was well past noon. They stumbled on a tiny restaurant tucked away on a side street with a kitchen powered by a loud, thumping generator. It took a thirty-minute wait but they finally feasted on steaming bowls of potato soup and black bread. Stuffed, they strolled back across the bridge only to find a wide swath of frozen river fronting their hotel had been cleared to provide space for an impromptu winter carnival.

      Vendors roasted chestnuts and sizzling shish kebabs over charcoal braziers. A one-legged man muffled to the ears in scarves and a lopsided top hat cranked a hand organ. Skaters glided arm in arm to his wheezy beat. Several enterprising youngsters had overturned a wooden box and offered to rent their family’s skates for the princely sum of two euros.

      Over Devon’s laughing protests, Cal plunked down the requisite fee. He wedged his feet into a pair of hockey skates at least one size too small and selected a pair of scuffed figure skates for Devon. When he went down on one knee to tie the laces, she made a last attempt at sanity.

      “I haven’t been skating since I was a kid.”

      “Me, either.” Pushing to his feet, he dusted the snow off his knees. “Ready?”

      “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she muttered.

      He gave her a few moments to test her wobbly ankles. The next thing Devon knew, strong, steady hands gripped her waist and propelled her across the ice.

      One of those hands was nestled at the small of her back when they finally returned to the hotel a little after five-thirty.

      The kitchen staff had pooled its collective ingenuity to prepare another remarkable meal for the guests. Mostly cold meats and salads, with a few hot selections cooked over cans of Sterno. Spicy goulash filled the air with the tang of paprika, while bubbling cheese fondue hinted at the dry white wine and kirsch that had gone into it. For dessert, the guests were offered a choice of prefrozen Black Forest Cake and Bananas Foster flamed at the tableside.

      Devon’s taste buds were still sighing in ecstasy over the combination of rum and cinnamon in the flambéed bananas when she and Cal went upstairs.

      They’d already been advised the electronic keycard system was still inoperable. Maintenance offered to force the lock on Devon’s door, but Cal suggested she give the system another couple of hours to come online. Meanwhile, she could warm her toes in front of the fire in his suite.

      When they entered the King’s Suite, the rooms were as dark and as cold as a witch’s tomb, yet Devon felt as though she’d come home. She couldn’t believe how much she’d enjoyed her day in the bracing fresh air. Almost as much as she hated for it to end.

      She could have blamed that bone-deep reluctance for what happened next. Or the hot, spiced wine she’d guzzled after skating. Or the alcohol spiking the cheese fondue and Bananas Foster.

      She didn’t resort to any of those excuses, however. All she had to do was look into Cal’s eyes to know the day they’d just spent was merely a prelude for the night to come.

      Five

      After a day filled with dazzling sunlight, the night brought darkness, isolation and a swift escalation of the sexual tension that had been building between Devon and her client since their first meeting.

      An intense awareness of his every move nipped at her nerves as he adjusted the gas fire. Housekeeping had been in sometime during the day and set it to burn low and steady. Cal soon had the flames leaping higher, shedding some light but little warmth beyond a radius of a few feet.

      He solved that problem by dragging the heavy sofa closer to the fireplace. While he angled the sofa to catch the maximum heat, Devon lit the candles the hotel had provided its guests, along with extra blankets and a complimentary bottle of schnapps.

      The schnapps she left on the sideboard but the extra blankets and two plump pillows came with her when she joined Cal on the sofa. Draping one of the blankets around her shoulders, she eyed a cordless phone nesting in its cradle on a nearby table.

      “Do you think the house phones still work? I really should call my office and let them know what’s happening. Or rather, not happening.”

      Her cell phone was in the purse stuffed in the pocket of her ski jacket. Unfortunately, she hadn’t charged it before leaving for dinner last night and the freezing temperatures today had drained what little was left of the battery. Cal’s mobile phone had taken a similar cold-weather hit. Between the weak signals and the saturated airways caused by so many landlines going down, he hadn’t been able to place any calls, either.

      “You can give it a try,” he replied, “but the cradle charger requires electricity. I’m guessing it’s dead, too.”

      He guessed right.

      They might have been alone in the universe. No TV blaring the latest financial news. No music to disturb the stillness. No phones or laptops to connect them with the rest of the world. Just the two of them. Together. With hours of quiet isolation ahead.

      “This is so weird,” Devon muttered, hiking the blanket up around her ears. “I never realized how much we depend on electricity. Heat, light, cooked food, hot water, every form of communication…They’re all gone or severely restricted.”

      “Makes you appreciate the things we take for granted every day,” Cal agreed.

      Kicking СКАЧАТЬ