The CEO's Christmas Proposition / His Expectant Ex: The CEO's Christmas Proposition

Devon’s taste buds were still sighing in ecstasy over the combination of rum and cinnamon in the flambéed bananas when she and Cal went upstairs.

They’d already been advised the electronic keycard system was still inoperable. Maintenance offered to force the lock on Devon’s door, but Cal suggested she give the system another couple of hours to come online. Meanwhile, she could warm her toes in front of the fire in his suite.

When they entered the King’s Suite, the rooms were as dark and as cold as a witch’s tomb, yet Devon felt as though she’d come home. She couldn’t believe how much she’d enjoyed her day in the bracing fresh air. Almost as much as she hated for it to end.

She could have blamed that bone-deep reluctance for what happened next. Or the hot, spiced wine she’d guzzled after skating. Or the alcohol spiking the cheese fondue and Bananas Foster.

She didn’t resort to any of those excuses, however. All she had to do was look into Cal’s eyes to know the day they’d just spent was merely a prelude for the night to come.

Five

After a day filled with dazzling sunlight, the night brought darkness, isolation and a swift escalation of the sexual tension that had been building between Devon and her client since their first meeting.

An intense awareness of his every move nipped at her nerves as he adjusted the gas fire. Housekeeping had been in sometime during the day and set it to burn low and steady. Cal soon had the flames leaping higher, shedding some light but little warmth beyond a radius of a few feet.

He solved that problem by dragging the heavy sofa closer to the fireplace. While he angled the sofa to catch the maximum heat, Devon lit the candles the hotel had provided its guests, along with extra blankets and a complimentary bottle of schnapps.

The schnapps she left on the sideboard but the extra blankets and two plump pillows came with her when she joined Cal on the sofa. Draping one of the blankets around her shoulders, she eyed a cordless phone nesting in its cradle on a nearby table.

“Do you think the house phones still work? I really should call my office and let them know what’s happening. Or rather, not happening.”

Her cell phone was in the purse stuffed in the pocket of her ski jacket. Unfortunately, she hadn’t charged it before leaving for dinner last night and the freezing temperatures today had drained what little was left of the battery. Cal’s mobile phone had taken a similar cold-weather hit. Between the weak signals and the saturated airways caused by so many landlines going down, he hadn’t been able to place any calls, either.

“You can give it a try,” he replied, “but the cradle charger requires electricity. I’m guessing it’s dead, too.”

He guessed right.

They might have been alone in the universe. No TV blaring the latest financial news. No music to disturb the stillness. No phones or laptops to connect them with the rest of the world. Just the two of them. Together. With hours of quiet isolation ahead.

“This is so weird,” Devon muttered, hiking the blanket up around her ears. “I never realized how much we depend on electricity. Heat, light, cooked food, hot water, every form of communication…They’re all gone or severely restricted.”

“Makes you appreciate the things we take for granted every day,” Cal agreed.

Kicking off his boots, he stretched his stocking feet to the fire. Devon admired his seemingly philosophical acceptance of the situation even as she worried about its impact on his business. And hers.

“You told Herr Hauptmann you need to finalize arrangements with your bankers in Berlin before you fly back to the States on Friday. That’s three days from now. What if we’re still stranded here in Dresden, without any way to communicate with the banks?”

“With this much money on the line, the banks will be more than happy to work with me.”

“So you were bluffing to force his hand?”

“I was taking a calculated risk. As you heard at the meeting yesterday, Templeton Systems also made Hauptmann an offer, but they haven’t locked in the financing yet. I want this deal signed, sealed and delivered before they do.”

She blew out a silent whistle. She’d left that meeting convinced the banks had Logan’s back to the wall.

“Remind me not to get into any high-stakes poker games with you.”

His rich chuckle carried across the crackle and spit of the gas-fed flames. “And here I was thinking a little five-card stud might be one way to pass the time tonight. Guess we’ll have to resort to Plan B.”

“Which is?”

“We talk politics. We try to guess each other’s favorite movies. We wrap up in these blankets and share our body heat. We have wild, uninhibited sex.”

Her jaw dropped.

“We don’t have to follow that precise order,” he informed her solemnly. “We could start with the sex and work our way backward.”

The sheer audacity of it took her breath away. Then she saw the laughter glinting in his blue eyes, and her lungs squeezed again. Despite the wicked glint, she knew he wasn’t kidding.

More to the point, she knew darn well she wanted what he was offering. Devon didn’t even try to deny it. The mere thought of stretching out beside him, of feeling his body press hers into the cushions, had her heart ping-ponging against her ribs.

“What do you think, McShay?” He reached across the back of the sofa. Burrowing under the blanket draped over her shoulders, he curled a palm around her nape. “Are you up for Plan B?”

She swiped her tongue over suddenly dry lips. Her fast-disintegrating common sense shrieked at her to end this dalliance, right here, right now.

Because that’s all it was. All it could be. She’d fallen for a stud like Cal Logan once and still had the scars to show for it. No way she was going to set herself up for another tumble.

So don’t.

The blunt admonition came compliments of her alter ego. The one with shivers rippling down her spine from the slow stroke of his thumb on her nape.

Have some fun, dummy. Enjoy a mind-blowing orgasm or two. Then you and Logan can go your separate ways, no harm, no foul.

Since every hormone in Devon’s body was screaming at her to agree, she wet her lips again.

“I, uh, think we should start with a modified Plan B.”

His thumb stilled. The gaze that had been locked on her mouth lifted to hers.

“I’m listening.”

“We conduct the experiment you suggested last night. See what happens. Take it a step at a time from there.”

A slow grin spread across his face. Devon’s alter ego was whooping with joy even before he agreed to her proposed modification.

“Sounds good to me.”

His hand tightened on her nape and tugged her closer. In the flickering light of the fire, his face was like a painting by one of the old Flemish masters, all strong planes and intriguing shadows. Then Devon’s lids drifted shut, his mouth came down on hers and all thoughts of old masters, Flemish or otherwise, flew out of her head.

This kiss was slower than yesterday’s. More deliberate. Despite that—or maybe because of it—the sensual movement of his lips over hers packed even more of a wallop. Devon angled her head to give him better access before surrendering to the urge she’d been battling since her first glimpse of the man shirtless.

Tugging down the zipper on his ski jacket, she flattened her palms against the broad expanse of his chest. She could feel his pecs under his turtleneck, and the jackhammer beat of his heart.

Or was that her heart pounding like a rock drummer on steroids? At this point, Devon wasn’t sure and didn’t particularly care. All she knew was that her other self almost wept when Cal broke the contact and lifted his head.

To her profound relief, his breath came as hard and fast as hers. The hand at the back of her neck held her steady. His eyes burned into hers.

“Well? What’s the verdict? Do we progress to the next step?”