Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
She crosses her arms, not appreciating my effort to ease her worries. “Since you’re stuck here, why don’t we take advantage of some of the things we offer. We can discuss business.”
“Outdoor stuff?” I nod, because if I don’t get her outside, I’ll have her legs over my shoulders. “Well, I didn’t bring anything, but I can put some extra layers on.”
I like her resourcefulness but that’s not going to work. “I’ll have Jean hook you up with everything you need from our store. Do you ski?”
“Like a pro.” She does this little motion with her hands and hips, mimicking the motions, but to me it just looks sexual.
“I’ll see you in an hour.” I give her a smile and flee. In a manly way, of course. I phone Jean and make arrangements for her to connect with Zoe. She may think the business to discuss is soap, but I’ve got an even bigger proposal for her.
Chapter 4
Zoe
I’ve never skied in my life. The closest I’ve gotten is a patch of ice in my driveway. That didn’t end well, so I’m not sure why I didn’t just tell him no. Well, I know why I didn’t. This is my chance to get him to agree to my soaps and show I’m a professional. It’s a little unconventional, and I may break my legs, but at least I’ll look fashionable doing it. He wasn’t kidding about Jean hooking me up— black pants and turtleneck, teal jacket, scarf, hat, gloves—I’m a walking endorsement for his Mountain Goat clothing line.
The snow crunches under my black boots as I hurry to the dark-haired God waiting by the ski rental shop. I was hoping for a puffy marshmallow man, but much to my chagrin, he looks just as sexy in his all black outfit. He probably caused the avalanche with his hotness. It probably slid right off the mountaintop from being near his heat, just like my panties.
“Hey,” he greets me, lifting his aviators onto his knit hat to give me a thorough eye fuck. “My brand looks great on you.”
I’m thankful my cheeks are already flushed from the cold, so he can’t decipher the blush now spreading across them. I flip off the hooha switch and hold out my hand to shake his, because that’s appropriate behavior between potential partners. They shake hands, not run them along a whisper of stubble and into the dark hair peeking out from his hat, like mine want to do. “Hello, Mr. Steele. I appreciate the opportunity to discuss business with you. And the clothes to do it in.”
His brows rise a fraction, and he extends his hand to clasp mine. “It’s like that, huh?”
“Well, yes.” Unfortunately, it can’t be any other way. This is business. I release his hand and divert my eyes away from his encompassing stare to the white landscape dotted with skiers. Looks pretty easy. “So, do I just shout out things as we ski?”
He chuckles. “If you’d like, sure.”
He leads me into the shop where I’m fitted for the gear I’ll need and twenty minutes later, I’m clinging to the poles I have no idea what to do with in my hands, looking down an endless sugary slope. There are no obstacles in my way, so that’s a plus. “So, as I said earlier, I can brand all my soaps with your logo.” He looks over at me. “You may think soap isn’t that important, but your guests will appreciate the moisture. No one wants alligator skin. I only use my soap and my skin is extremely soft…” I trail off, realizing he knows exactly what my skin feels like—he licked it. Just like he’s now licking his lips.
“That it is,” he muses. “Great point.”
“As I was saying, take away all the clothes and skin is all you have left…” This is not going well. Now, all I see is his nude body covering mine. “Ready?”
“How about a wager, Zoe?”
“What kind of wager?”
“You beat me to the end of that slope and I’ll put your soaps in the cabins—“
“Seriously?” I cut him off in my excitement.
“Well,” he says, looking very dark and devilish against the pristine terrain, “if you don’t, then you agree to my proposal.”
“What proposal?”
“Well, if you win, you won’t have to find out.”
Maybe this is some kind of eccentric businessman test to see how bad I want this deal. My former boss had a bad habit of giving impromptu assignments that later turned out to be his way of ‘separating the sharks from the guppies.’ I’m not really one to venture into the unknown without cautiously dipping a toe in first, but I’ve had sex with Graham, so, yeah, this isn’t exactly following my guidelines. Time to be a shark. “Let’s do it.” Once again, his eyes flare at my word choice and it’s suddenly blistering hot on this mountain. “Count to three,” I tell him, getting into position and hunkering down a little.