Snowed in with a Billionaire

by Karen Booth

  “I need to go take care of something,” Joy said, taking off her dirty apron and chucking it in the laundry. “I’ll see you after lunch?”

  “You need me to come with you?” Natalie asked.

  Joy delivered a tentative smile. “No. It’s okay. I need to do this on my own. I’ll be back in a few.” She rushed out of the bakery. It was a good ten-minute walk down a side street to the tiny pawn shop she’d spotted a few weeks ago.

  The bell on the door rang when she walked inside. Leave it to this lovely hamlet to have a high-class pawn shop. It might have been called an emporium, but Joy knew exactly what she was dealing with. No regular store had glass cases filled with fine jewelry and musical instruments ringing the room. Joy reasoned that being in a place that wasn’t the slightest bit seedy might help her get more money, which was exactly what she wanted.

  “Hello, there,” the man behind the counter said. He was tall and particularly thin, wearing frameless glasses and a tan pullover sweater. “What can I help you with today?”

  “I have a necklace I need to pawn.” Joy pulled the small pouch out of her purse, her hand trembling. She tried to focus on positive things to keep her mind off how much this necklace meant to her—she’d made her plan with Bonnie to earn the money quickly to buy it back. In the end, it would all be worth it if she made Alex happy.

  He’d changed her entire mindset while she was here. A few weeks ago, she’d been as down as could be. Her Prince Charming, although he wasn’t meant to be hers forever, represented a turning point, and for that, he deserved a reward.

  The man pulled out a small board covered in black velvet, seeming unfazed by the way she tapped her fingers on the case. He was probably used to customers who were on edge. Joy draped the necklace across the fabric, then busied herself by browsing the other items in the store. The man was remarkably quiet while he examined the piece, leaving Joy to hum what was stuck in her head—the song that had been playing in the bakery when she left.

  “I can give you two-fifty,” he said, placing the necklace back on the board.

  Joy took a second to think it over, but she knew this was a yes-or-no proposition. She didn’t want to haggle for more money; it would only mean more to pay back in order to return it to her possession. It was far less than the necklace was worth, but the man had to have some room for profit. “Great. Thank you.”

  The man pulled out some paperwork, and after procuring some information from her and making a copy of her driver’s license, she signed away the necklace. “You have until the 27th to buy it back for three hundred,” he said.

  “That’s it? The last place I pawned it gave me two weeks.”

  The man grimaced and shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not a bank and we don’t get a lot of customers. If you’re in a real jam, you can come in that day and pay me ten percent for an extension.”

  Forget that. Like Joy had extra money to expend. “Are you open for regular hours that day?”

  “Every day but Christmas.”

  This still was making her far too nervous. “You have my cell phone number. Can you call me if you put it out before I get back here? I don’t want to take a chance that someone else might buy it.”

  The man sighed. “I’ll make a note of it. No promises, but you seem like a nice person, so I’ll do my best.”

  That made her feel a whole lot better. The man had a kind face. She had to believe in the goodness of strangers. “I’d really appreciate it. I’m definitely going to buy it back.”

  “Of course you are.” His voice had a distinct edge of skepticism.

  “I’m sure people say that to you all the time, but in my case, it’s true. I have to have this necklace. It means too much for me to ever let it go.”

  “You must be in a tough spot.”

  Yep. I’m the queen of the tough spot.

  “It’s okay. I’ll get out of it just fine.”

  Ten

  Alex pulled up to Joy’s place and killed the engine. Stealing a second to look in the car’s visor mirror, he straightened his tie—the dark blue one. Did he look like he was walking into a business meeting? He didn’t want to look like that. Not for Joy. Was his hair okay? He didn’t dare mess with it too much without a comb, so he just flattened the spot in the back that never seemed to cooperate. One deep breath and he flipped up the visor. He just wanted tonight to be perfect. That was all.

  He grabbed the gifts he’d bought for Joy from the passenger seat and scaled the steps to the front door. This would likely be his last time in this house. No matter how she reacted to the most important of the gifts tucked under his arm, tomorrow was Christmas Day and his last full day in Colorado. The meeting with his dad on December 27 could not be rescheduled and he needed December 26 to get back in the office and prepare. Alex realized that this was a convenient out for him. If the big gift, the important one, fell flat, he could make a graceful exit and kick himself later for thinking that a woman like Joy might want more than a fling.

  He rang the doorbell, remembering very well that first night when he’d stood out on this stoop and wondered if he was crazy for returning. Yes, it had been the responsible thing to do, but there had also been a great deal of curiosity woven into his thought process, whether he’d been willing to admit it to himself at the time or not. He’d wanted to know more about the beguiling Joy Baker. How much he had learned since then.

  The door latch clicked and his pulse picked up, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. It hadn’t been that long since he’d seen her. They’d talked on the phone that morning.

  The door flew open. “Oh, my God. Dinner is a disaster.” Joy smiled thinly, lunged for him, kissed him on the cheek and ran off down the hall into the kitchen. “Just come in. I have no idea when we’re eating.”

  Alex stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him. What had just happened? He took off his coat, slung it over his arm and strode into the kitchen. Normally, Joy had everything under control. She made Martha Stewart look messy and disorganized. Today, not so much. The kitchen counter looked like a crime scene, bowls everywhere, a significant flour spill, a carton of eggs still sitting out.

  “What happened?” He tossed his coat over the back of one of the chairs in the living room and casually slipped his gifts under the tree.

  Joy was shaking her head and peeking through the window in the oven door. She was wearing a long red dress with a decidedly unsexy plain black apron over the top of it. He really wanted to see the rest of the gown though—the back had a deep V, showing off a glorious stretch of her creamy skin. “I wanted to make a cheese soufflé, but I forgot to make the adjustments for the altitude, and it fell on one side. I don’t know if it’s going to recover. It was so dumb. I do it every day at the bakery. I did it when I baked you all those damn scones, but when it’s really important, like our last big dinner together, I blow it.” Her voice did something then he’d never heard—it cracked. Right in half. Strong, feisty Joy was losing it.

  He approached, careful to be calm, and pulled her into his arms. “Joy, come on. Take a breath. It’s going to be fine. I really don’t care about dinner. I just want to be here with you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, but the exhale was a shuddering gasp. She was crying. She clung to him so hard, digging her fingers into his back. “I know. But I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

  He grasped her shoulders, dropping his chin and forcing her to look at him. “Tonight is perfect because you’re here. I’m here. We’re together. That is all that matters.”

  She just looked at him as a tiny tear rolled down her cheek. She was absolutely gorgeous, even with misty eyes, but it broke his heart to see her like this. She chewed on her lower lip, her head bobbing. “You’re so sweet. It almost makes it worse.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Worse? How could I possibly make it
worse by being understanding?”

  “I don’t know, Alex. Maybe because I’m waiting for you to commiserate with me.”

  “Well, sorry. As much as I love your cooking, I really don’t care that much about dinner. I care way more about everything else.”

  The timer buzzed and Joy snatched a pair of hot pads from the counter. She pulled the soufflé from the oven and set it down next to two plates, which already had side salads waiting on them. “If this was culinary school, I would be getting chewed out right now, big time.”

  “Luckily, it’s not.” He grabbed a piece of lettuce from the plate closest to him and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm. Good vinaigrette.”

  “Thank you. Hopefully the salad makes up for everything else.” With a large spoon, she scooped a portion of the soufflé onto each plate. She then reached behind her and untied the apron, lifting it over her head and tossing it onto the counter behind her. “Can you get the forks?”

  “Sure.” Alex never should’ve agreed to the request. He was not capable of simple tasks right now. All he could do was drink in the vision before him—Joy in that dress. Forks were the exact last thing on his mind. “Wow.”

  “You haven’t even tasted it yet. Let’s sit in the dining room. I put out a bottle of wine, but I still need to light the candles.”

  “Hold on a second.” He ran his fingers down the back of her bare arm as he admired her. The deep V of the gown’s back was matched in the front, the neckline dipping low enough to show off the swell of her beautiful breasts. There was no way she was wearing a bra. Apparently, she was trying to kill him. With the apron gone, he could truly see how stunning she was in red, with her long chocolate-brown hair falling behind her shoulders and her eyes as warm as ever. “You are so beautiful. I mean, seriously.” He wanted to say more, to be poetic, but had no clue where his command of the English language had gone. “Can I just tell you that?”

  She cocked her head to the side as a smile crossed her lips, only making him want to kiss her more. “You like the dress?” She turned once and the floor-length skirt swished behind her, but when it came to a stop, he saw a flash of her leg. The dress had a very high slit. “It’s not too much?”

  Alex was surprised he didn’t need to physically put his eyes back into his head. “Too much? No. I’m just lucky I get to look at you in it.” It was official. He had zero interest in food. He’d never been less hungry. He placed his hands on either side of her neck and tilted her chin upward. “I’m just lucky I get to kiss you right now.”

  His lips fell on hers and there was this magical moment where the world around them fell away—no messy kitchen, no life circumstances holding them back. Only Joy’s warm and giving kiss, the way her tongue sought his, was of importance now. He didn’t give a damn about anything but this.

  She popped up on to her tiptoes, stretched out her arms onto his shoulders and dug her delicate fingers into his hair. She deepened their kiss. He countered, and she whimpered, a sound he would never tire of hearing. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, but one hand caressed the bare skin of her back, her silky skin. He wanted to touch every inch of her more than he’d ever wanted to, which was saying a lot. He dropped one hand to her hip and gathered the skirt upward, taking a fistful of the soft fabric. His fingers reached her bare thigh and she gasped like he’d just seared her skin.

  “The soufflé will get cold,” she said, breathless. Gladly, there was an edge to her voice that said she didn’t care, either.

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” With that, he reached down and swept her into his arms, holding her tight.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and set her head against his chest. He tried not to stare down into her cleavage, reminding himself he needed to get her upstairs safely. Then he could have his reward.

  He wasted no time getting up to her bedroom. He planted a knee on her bed and set her down gently.

  She swished her hands across the duvet. “I love this bed. It feels so amazing.”

  You are amazing. Not taking his eyes off her, Alex dispatched his suit coat and tie. Why he’d ever worried about the damn color was beyond him. It clearly hadn’t made a blip of a difference to Joy.

  She propped up on her elbows and raised her knee, allowing the slit of her dress to fall open. He unbuttoned his shirt as fast as he could.

  “I like watching you take your clothes off,” she said.

  He tossed the shirt aside. “I like taking your clothes off.” He stretched out on the bed next to her, wishing he’d been smart enough to ditch his damn pants—they were entirely too confining right now—but he just wanted to touch her. That had seemed most important.

  They went right back to kissing like their lives depended on it. He flattened her against the bed, she dug her fingers into his back, hitched her leg up over his hip, tracing the back of his thigh with her foot. Her other leg slipped between his and she pressed against his crotch, raising a groan from the depths of his belly and bringing it to his lips. The heat inside him was building like a wildfire on a sunny day. A windy, sunny day, at that. This was an all-new level of longing for Joy. If this was their last time together, he wanted to make it count.

  He pulled one dress strap off her shoulder. Thankfully his earlier assumption had been right. No bra. He cupped her breast with his hand, her velvety skin impossibly soft against his. He lowered his head, flicking his tongue against her nipple. He loved feeling the way heat surged beneath his palm, and her skin tightened beneath his touch. She moaned softly, rubbing her leg more convincingly against his crotch as his lips closed in on the firm bud.

  He lowered his hand and found the gap in the skirt, his fingers roaming higher on her thigh and lifting the voluminous fabric. When he reached her hip, he moved to her belly, and his fingers slipped beneath the silky fabric of her panties. He took his time getting to her center, teasing with a delicate touch. One well-made loop with his fingers and he knew exactly how ready she was. He didn’t think he could stand the wait much longer.

  She clamored for his belt buckle, unhooking it and the front of his pants. When she unzipped them and slipped her hand inside, molding her hand around his erection, he was blinded with need. All he could think about was what it was like to be inside her, to experience every inch of her. He scrambled off the bed and shucked his pants and boxers. Joy got up as well, turning her back to him and pulling her hair aside. He unzipped her dress and she pulled it forward from her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a beautiful red puddle.

  Taking her hair in his hand and pulling it aside, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his body. He wanted her to feel just how turned on he was, grinding his hips against her. He kissed his way from her nape to one shoulder, then back to the other side. Joy turned in his arms, planted a hot, wet kiss on his lips before dropping to her knees. He nearly fell over from the anticipation.

  She dragged her hands down his chest and stomach, then shot him a white-hot look before gripping his erection and taking him into her mouth. His eyes clamped shut, his own mouth so agape he thought he might not ever close his jaw again. It felt so impossibly good, the tenderness of her tongue, the firm hold of her lips, the attention she put into pleasing him. It would’ve been one thing to have this treatment from any woman, but from Joy, it was so beyond mere physical gratification. She was a rare and beautiful creature. He was lucky and he knew it.

  * * *

  Joy had to admit—she loved having Alex at her mercy. She paid special attention to every noise he made, every subtle twitch of the muscles in his firm thighs. She’d messed up dinner, but she was pretty sure she could get this right. Judging by the deep groans he kept unleashing, she was on the right track. Knowing they were parting tomorrow made her charge even more important. She wanted him to remember this. She knew she would. She shut out the sad feelings that threatened to take over
. They had been encroaching on her thoughts all day, and she’d had enough. She would enjoy him if it was the last thing she did.

  Alex caressed her shoulders, dug his fingers into her hair. “You are so damn sexy,” he muttered.

  She would’ve smiled if it wasn’t going to ruin the rhythm she’d so carefully established, the one that had elicited the words in the first place. Instead, she gripped his hips a little harder and flicked her tongue from side to side, keeping as much suction as she could. The tension in his body only grew. If she didn’t slow down, Alex was going to need recovery time before he could make love to her. She didn’t want to wait.

  He grasped her upper arms. “Come here. I need you.”

  Now she could smile. That was exactly what she’d been thinking. She rose to her feet and he gathered her in his arms, planting a fast and loose kiss on her lips. She opened the drawer in the bedside table and took out a condom, ripping it open and putting it on him. One more kiss and she climbed on to the bed, rolling to her back, sinking into the plush bedding and waiting for him.

  He had that cocky grin on his face, the one that made her want to roll her eyes, except in this setting, it only meant she was in for a treat. He was so stunning standing before her, and even better looking when he descended on her, kissing his way up her belly and moving his attention to her breasts. He positioned himself at her entrance and drove inside.

  Time stopped. Her breaths stalled. Her heart was the only thing talking as her body molded around him. It wouldn’t stop saying all sorts of implausible things. You need him. You can’t let him go.

  Alex settled his weight on her, driving her crazy in the best possible way. He knew exactly what she liked, the perfect amount of pressure to send her into oblivion. How he had figured out in little more than a week what a fair number of men had never figured out was a mystery; she only knew that Alex had a way of getting to the heart of all matters, her body included. They moved together in the rhythm that was their own, her legs wrapped around his hips to have him as deep as he could go. Their kisses were slow and careful, and she tried once again to stop thinking of the lasts that were coming for them—the last time they would make love, the last kiss. She didn’t want this to be a countdown, but it was hard not to think of it that way. And if she did, the tears would come.