Page 3 of Frosty Mountain Man

That more than anything made me take a deep breath and try again. “If you will look that over and literally give your stamp of approval, I’ll be on my way and you can enjoy the snow in peace and quiet.”

He walked over to the fireplace, dropping the document on a large coffee table in front of an even bigger leather couch. I allowed myself a moment to take in the cabin. Cabin McMansion. The ceilings were tall, exposed dark beams contrasting with the white walls. We were standing in a large living area complete with a stone fireplace, oversized furniture and large windows that framed the mountains beyond.

A view that was currently turning white.

“Oh, no,” I murmured moving closer to the windows. “It’s really coming down.”

He didn’t say anything, just poked at the low burning fire until it roared back to life.

“Okay, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s not even technically fall yet.”

“Montana doesn’t do weather by the book, lady.”

“My name is Elle.”

“Yeah, you told me that before.”

I set down my things and told myself, again, that this was just a job even though I didn’t quite believe that anymore. I could still feel the imprint of his big hand as it had splayed across my curves and the way his dark eyes had looked at me on the porch.

Some small, stupid, entirely too-interested part of me wondered what those hands would feel like doing something other than catching falling paperwork. I shoved that thought into a very deep hole and hoped it would stay there.

The snow would soon stop, and I would be on my way.

There was no way I was getting snowed in with this frosty mountain man.

CHAPTER TWO

Harrison

I didn’t make a habit of inviting strangers into my house.

I’d built this place because I could — because there was nothing left to prove to anyone and no board meeting worth missing a sunrise for. Two hours from the nearest town, cell signal only when I bothered to flip the booster on. Not hiding. Just done. There’s a difference, no matter what the pop psychology says about men who move to mountains.

Or why others thought I had.

And now there was a woman drying out by my fire, hair the color of good whiskey, still damp from the storm, filling up my silence.

Fuck. The way that blouse clung to her under her ill-fitting blazer. Full, soft curves that made my body hard. I wanted to peel it off her and find out if she tasted as good as she looked. I was self-aware enough to know that wanting something and being smart enough not to take it were two different decisions.

“You have a guest room, I assume,” she said, not quite a question. “Since apparently I’m stuck here.”

“I do.” The paperwork was still sitting where I’d dropped it, smudged and dirty. She hadn’t looked at it once since we’d come inside. The first person who’d come up here as my grandfather’s errand boy, had gotten himself literally kicked off my mountain. And more had followed.

“Well, Mr. Cole, since we’re apparently roommates until this storm passes, you should know I intend to spend every spare minute of it trying to get you to approve this project.”

I wanted to tell her to drop the formality and call me Harrison and then decided against giving her the inch. “That won’t be happening.”

She looked at me, open curiosity on her face. “You really don’t want anything to do with your grandfather’s company.”

“Not with the company. With people trying to entice me back to the company. There’s a difference, and my granddad knows it. You can tell him I said the answer’s still no, and he can stop wasting good assistants on a bad bet.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not a bad bet. I’m very good at my job.”

“I don’t doubt it. Doesn’t change the answer.”

“You could at least hear why he wants your approval. Maybe he has doubts.”

“My grandfather is still sharp as a tack and if you work for him, you know that. No, he wants me back in the boardroom I walked out of a decade ago. He’s decided the direct approach isn’t working, so now he’s trying something new. Send his minions to convince, coerce or charm me. It’s not going to work better just because he’d sent someone I couldn’t stop looking at.