Millionaire: Needed for One Month: Thirty Day Affair. Maureen Child

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      He'd never seen anything like it.

      “It's mid-March and it looks like Siberia in December out there,” he muttered.

      Keira came up behind him, threaded her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back. “Welcome to the high Sierras.”

      “I tried the phone,” he said. “No dial tone.”

      “Uh-oh.”

      “What's that mean?” He turned his head to look at her.

      “It means,” she said, “that with the phone lines down this early in the storm, it's a big one.”

      Nathan glowered at her. “Which translates into …?”

      She shrugged. “If the roads aren't completely blocked already, they soon will be.”

      “Surely you have crews to take care of that.”

      “Of course we do,” Keira said, smiling up at him. “But they can't roll till the heavy snows are over, and even when they do …”

      He didn't like the look on her face. The look that said he's not going to like this.

       “What?”

      “They take care of the town first and then the main stretches of highway. Those are priorities for obvious reasons.”

      “And …?”

      “And,” she said with another shrug, “the roads up here probably won't be cleared for a few days.”

       “A few days?”

      “Maybe sooner,” she said, he suspected simply to placate him. “But the private roads and the roads leading to them are pretty much a lower priority. Unless there's an emergency or something. If the road crews get a call like that, they'll come right away.”

      “The phones are out.” He paused, then said, “Wait. I've got my satellite phone.”

      “But no one else around here has one.”

      “Right.” Nathan shook his head.

      She pulled her arms from around his waist, shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe and said, “Look, we do the best we can. And people generally privately contract to get their roads cleared, so that takes care of a lot of problems.”

      “And does the lodge have a private contract?”

      “I don't know.”

      “Perfect.” Nathan blew out a breath. This month was turning into a real trial. “How long is this going to keep up?” He shook his head as he shifted his gaze across the lake, watching snow slide in sideways, riding a wind that was rattling the windows.

      “Well,” she said, giving him a brilliant smile, “if it keeps up, at least it won't be coming down anymore.”

      He glanced at her. “Oh, very humorous.”

      She moved to stand in front of him, leaning both palms against an icy window to get as good a view as she could of the blustering storm outside. “I always laughed when my dad said it.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Of course, I was ten.”

      Nathan wasn't amused. Nor was he charmed. He'd wanted her here last night—and he'd enjoyed every minute of his time with her. But that didn't mean he wanted her at the lodge for freaking ever. Scowling, he saw the wind spit snow at the windows and knew that she wouldn't be going anywhere. At least not today.

      As if she was reading his mind, Keira turned around, leaned back against the floor-to-ceiling windows and tipped her head to one side, staring up at him. “So, what'll we do while we're stuck inside?”

      He knew that gleam in her eye. Hell, he'd seen it most of the night. He was willing to bet they hadn't had more than a couple of hours’ sleep. Yet even thinking about being inside her, touching her, holding her, tasting her, made him hard and eager again.

      Which was clearly unacceptable.

      He wasn't a kid to be led around by his groin. And damned if he'd let himself get any more tangled up with Keira than he already was. Just because she was here, with him, didn't mean she had to be with him.

      “Uh-oh,” she said, tugging the edges of her robe more firmly together over her chest. “It suddenly got very cold in here.”

      He nodded. “I'll turn up the thermostat.”

      “That's not what I meant.”

      “What're you talking about?” he asked as he walked to the coffee pot on the kitchen counter.

      God.

      The counter.

      How was he ever supposed to walk through this kitchen again without remembering her sitting naked on that counter? Without thinking about how she'd taken him so deep inside her he'd thought he might never find his way out again?

      Crap.

      Now he had a headache.

      Rubbing his temple, he asked, “Coffee?”

      “Sure. I'll have a cup of coffee, black, with answers.”

      “Huh?” He half turned to look at her as she walked slowly across the kitchen. Did her hips always sway like that, he wondered, or was she doing it purposely now?

      “I said I'd like some answers.”

      “To what?” He was stalling. He knew it. He poured two cups of coffee, handed her one, then stalled again by taking a long sip of his own.

      “To why your eyes suddenly looked even colder than this stormy day outside.”

      “Keira,” he said tightly, “you're making too much of nothing.”

      “So you're happy I'm here,” she coaxed, taking a drink of her coffee and moving in closer to him.

      “Delirious,” he assured her.

      “Liar.”

      “Why do you do that? Accuse me of lying at every opportunity?”

      “A better question is why am I always right?”

      He set his coffee cup down, tugged at the belt of his robe and said, “You're not right. Women always say that to win an argument, but it's never true.”

      “Of course it is,” Keira said, sipping her coffee. “Women are right because we see everything and we remember everything.”

      “Sure.”

      “Just like I can see that you're trying to start a fight so you won't have to answer my question.”

      He sighed. This woman got СКАЧАТЬ