Page 3 of Her Yule His Log

“Well, Miss Leonidis, it seems we both booked this cabin at the exact same time, which is what caused the glitch in the reservation.”

“Oh, I see. I guess it isn’t your fault then,” I murmured.

“Did you think it was?” he asked and looked amused.

“Maybe, Mr., um, what is your name?” I asked.

“I’m Bron,” he replied, his voice deep and husky.

Bron held out his hand, his silver gaze boring into me. He was just so much man, I felt positively dizzy sitting across from him. Older, like me, but with movie star looks and a sense of self-assuredness I never possessed. I took his hand, gasping at the electric shock that traveled from his fingertips to mine.

“So, Bron. What cabin are they giving me now? Did they tell you?”

“None I’m afraid. There are no more vacancies,” he said, and his gaze was glued to my face.

“What? There has to be!”

“There isn’t.”

“Shit. Um, shit, I better see if there’s a hotel nearby. The blizzard won’t be bad until later, right?”

I was full on panicking now, but who could blame me? I’d been expecting a pleasant weekend alone on a mountain with majestic views blanketed in a cocoon of white.

“Look Natalie, the snow is already piling up, and that blanket of white and majestic mountain view is all right here.”

His deep voice took on a hypnotic resonance, and I felt my entire body swell and heat with awareness. Was it possible to be aroused so quickly by someone I hardly knew? And, holy cow, could he tell?

“What are you saying?” I asked.

My voice sounded breathy, and my body was trembling as I waited for Bron’s next sentence. When he delivered it, I almost swooned. Romance was not the genre I wrote in, but I’d read plenty of them. Bron’s statement was worthy of any one of them.

“I mean, I have a proposition for you,” he said, and paused a beat.

“Stay here with me. Be mine for Christmas.”

CHAPTER TWO–BRON

The second she opened the door, I was taken aback by the fierce arousal that hit me. Like a shot between the eyes, the woman was a goddamn stunner. Big bountiful breasts outlined beneath the hideous Christmas sweater she wore. Tight leggings revealed sumptuous hips, and thick thighs, and my cock was ready to burst inside my jeans.

I hadn’t been hit so hard by lust since I was a teenager, and that was a long fucking time ago. Being a billionaire, I had all the hottest supermodels and peers with single sisters, daughters, and even mothers being pushed at me all the damn time. But none of them lasted, and lately, none of them even interested me.

With two divorces behind me, it wasn’t a wonder I was not looking for anything or anyone. Especially not this time of year. I barely got out of those relationships intact, thank fuck for prenups. Marguerite hadn’t lasted the first year after failing to pass off her lover’s child as mine, and Desiree was gone after just two months. She couldn’t take my schedule, she said, though I suspected it was more that she didn’t want to be tied down.

But that was what happened when I married women who were far too young for me, and too shallow. My sister, Oona, said I chose women without any brains and maybe she was right. But after sharing lunch with the delectable Natalie Leonidis, I had to admit she was smart and sassy, and hot as fuck.

She was closer to my age, too, but that did not bother me. In fact, it was just the opposite. I was curious about her, wanted to know more with every tidbit she revealed. She was educated, independent, and divorced, like me.

“Why aren’t you with family? It is Christmas,” I said.

“Why aren’t you?” she countered, and I liked that spark of sass.

Really, I did. My personality tended to cow most people, but not her. She gave as good as she got, and I found myself wondering if that was true in other arenas. Like the bedroom.

The whole time we chatted, I wanted to kiss her. The fact she seemed uninterested only made me want her more. What a fucking shock that was! I was Bron Beckett of Beckett Corp. I didn’t need to work to get women to want me.

Even if I wasn’t a billionaire, I was still a good-looking man. That wasn’t conceit. I spent a lot of time and effort staying fit. Ate right. Exercised. But it had been a few months since I’d been with a woman, and this woman stirred my interest.

But there I was, putting on my most charming smile and flirting with a woman for the first time in years. Not that she noticed, which was why I’d decided to lay some of my cards on the table with her. It was kismet that our reservations had gotten screwed up, and I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

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