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  Before he could inflict further pain on the asshole accountant, she muttered, “No, he didn’t force me. I—I mean, he— God, I came here on my own.” Dear Lord. She’d almost willingly let Scott have sex with her.

  “I’m taking you home,” Ross said stiffly as he rose and began setting her clothing to rights. Shame suffused her body—Ross was obviously disgusted by her and her actions.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “What?” Ross knelt beside her again, pulling her blouse closed and securing it as much as possible, despite the fact several buttons were missing. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

  Julia’s humiliation came back tenfold as Ross efficiently re-dressed her, gently holding her ankles as he slipped her heels back on her feet. Feeling like a child, she said, “I’m an idiot. I thought he was a nice guy. You must think I’m the biggest fool in the world.”

  “Oh, Jules, of course I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re a sweet, trusting woman who had a little too much to drink. Perhaps you were a bit naïve, but you’ve never been a fool. The fool was me for leaving you unprotected. I knew what kind of man Jenkins was. I should have yanked you away from him the second I saw the two of you talking. I just didn’t think he’d try anything at a work function.”

  Julia looked at Ross and trembled at the anger she saw lurking in his eyes.

  “Ross—”

  “Hush, no more words. You look wiped out, Brown Eyes. I’m taking you home.”

  Julia smiled at this new endearment before realizing she truly was exhausted. Her eyes began to drift closed before another thought opened them again.

  “What about Bridget?”

  “She’s a big girl. She can find her own way home.”

  “She’ll be pissed off,” Julia muttered, again fighting back sleep.

  “That seems to be one of her two permanent states.” Ross gently lifted her into his arms and carried her across the room as if she weighed no more than a mere babe.

  “What’s the other state?” she asked groggily.

  “Horny. Go to sleep, Jules. I’ll take care of everything.”

  * * *

  Throwing the last load of firewood on the pile, Julia dropped into the comfy chair in front of the roaring fire, the heat from the flames not the only thing causing her face to flush. She tried not to think of that night, but every now and then it came creeping back to her.

  She never saw Scott again, although she’d heard through the grapevine Ross had fired him. Asking Ross was a definite impossibility, as they had reached a tacit agreement never to speak of that night again and she, for one, was glad to avoid the topic. Discussing the biggest act of stupidity of her life with the man of her dreams was something she would never voluntarily do.

  All she remembered after falling asleep in his arms that night was waking up the next morning alone in her bed, then managing to avoid him for almost a week before he stopped by with pizza and beer for their standing Thursday-night dinner. He carried in a large pepperoni and mushroom, cracked open a cold one and started talking about his week as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at the Christmas party. Relieved by the reprieve, Julia followed his lead and avoided the subject.

  Staring into the flames, she felt herself slipping back into the same melancholy that had taken over in the past few months. Her life was in the gutter and she had no one to blame but herself.

  Her parents had been killed in a car crash her junior year in college. Blinded by the loss, she’d cut herself off from everyone close to her. She’d moved out of the apartment she shared with two friends, broken off her relationship with her boyfriend and buried herself in her schoolwork.

  After graduation, she’d rented a small apartment with the little bit of money left to her by her parents, adopted Duke from an animal shelter and poured herself into her writing. By escaping into her romance novels she was able to exist in an exciting world with dashing men who loved their women no matter what.

  And in the process, she was able to avoid feeling anything real. If you never truly loved, she reasoned, you never truly lost. Love in a fantasy world was safe and painless. None of her characters ever disappointed her by dying or leaving her.

  Unfortunately, she was halfway through writing the third book when she realized her money had run out. Unwilling to leave her emotionless sanctuary, she mailed out her first manuscript to twenty different publishers. Nineteen rejections immediately returned.

  Then her phone rang. Ross Phillips, a young editor with a struggling publishing company he was launching with a friend, invited her in for a meeting. He saw something special in her writing and thought she had what it took to make it big. The rest, as they said, was history. Her books were an immediate success and they helped to skyrocket Ross’s small company into a major contender in the publishing world. Ross was now the chief editor and controlling partner in the firm.

  Shaking her head, she chastised herself for falling into the same black despair that had continued to hound her since Duke died. “I’m here to write,” she said aloud, desperate to hear a voice in the quiet of the cabin. At least when Duke had been around she’d never felt crazy for talking to herself. She could justify it by claiming she was talking to the cat.

  A loud knock at the door had her jumping up. Suddenly feeling very isolated and unprotected, she scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Spying a big log in her pile of firewood, she grabbed it, cowering in the corner. The pounding on the door continued, louder this time, and Julia’s heart began to race.

  Who the hell would be on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on a day like this? It was a virtual whiteout outside.

  “Jules, open the damn door. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

  Ross? She sighed in relief, rushing to unlock the door, and there in the doorway stood her very tall, very wet editor.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, aware her tone was distinctly unfriendly, but he had scared her half to death.

  Eyes narrowed, Ross entered the cabin, his arms laden with packages, a large duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, a backpack over the other. “I tried to call, but the phone lines are down,” he answered gruffly.

  “My cell?” she asked sarcastically.

  “No service up here,” he replied with equal irritation.

  “Is something wrong?” She couldn’t imagine what could be so bad it would compel Ross to leave the comfort of his penthouse apartment in New York City to drive for nine hours to the mountains.

  “Blizzard.” He unloaded his bags on the kitchen counter. “Headed this way. I was worried you’d be snowed in without enough food.”

  Secretly pleased at his incredibly sweet gesture, Julia smiled and helped him unload the soggy paper bags. “You’ve brought enough food for an army.” She gaped at all the meat, vegetables, fruit and snacks he carried in. “I hope you don’t think I need all this to survive. Hey, I didn’t hear a car. How did you get here?”

  “By the grace of God and my four-wheel drive. I almost made it all the way to the cabin. The snow is already pretty deep. I got stuck about a mile down the road. Had to walk the rest of the way. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.” Pulling off his drenched coat, he hung it on the peg by the door.

  “My God,” she exclaimed, glancing out the frosted window, “it’s freezing out there and the visibility must be zero. You’re lucky to have made it at all. What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed.” She put her hands on her hips, suddenly aware of the very real danger he’d just escaped.

  “What was I thinking?”

  “Yes. Good Lord, Ross, of all the idiotic things to do. What if you’d crashed the car? What if you’d gotten lost in the snow while looking for the cabin? You could have frozen to death.”

  Ross shook his head. Clearly, of all the receptions he’d imagined, this nagging scold was not one he’d considered. “I guess, like the idiotic fool I am, I thought you’d be glad to see me
. That you’d offer me a warm drink and some supper. I thought you’d be happy not to be stuck up here in this godforsaken cabin alone in a blizzard!”

  Biting her lip, she said softly, “Well, I am. Happy, that is. I was feeling rather trapped—and alone.”

  As quickly as his anger came, it left him. Smiling, he admitted, “It was a damn stupid thing to do. Unfortunately that fact didn’t occur to me until I was about halfway up the mountain and I realized it was too late to turn around.”

  “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said, suddenly very pleased to have him with her. “I’ll put some water on for tea.”

  “Don’t bother with the tea. I brought a bottle of Southern Comfort.” His hands shook as he attempted, with little success, to tackle the buttons on his soggy flannel shirt. “We are in the South, after all.”

  “I’m not sure West Virginia classifies as the South. It’s really sort of the middle. Here, let me.” Pulling his trembling hands away, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. His skin was ice to the touch. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia or frostbite,” she said, unable to resist one more scold. “Come stand by the fire.” Taking his icy hands in hers, she rubbed them lightly. “I’ll get a blanket for you. Stay here and try to get warm.”

  Crossing the room, she retrieved a fleece blanket from the foot of the bed as Ross struggled with the button and zipper on his damp jeans.

  “I’ll do that,” she said, concerned for his health. His hands were still trembling and looked blood red and chapped. No doubt he’d lied about how long he’d really been roaming around in the snow and wind.

  “Jules,” he started to object, but she had already worked the button free and was tackling the zipper, concern distracting her from exactly what she was offering to do.

  When she had the jeans undone, she grabbed the waistband and started to pull the clinging denim off his legs. The task was harder than she would have thought, but sheer determination and worry kept her going. She struggled for several minutes, working the material down his muscular legs, stopping only to pull off his boots and socks, before finally peeling the jeans completely off.

  “There,” she exclaimed, looking up into Ross’s suddenly pained face. Her mouth went dry as she realized that during her exertions she’d knelt in front of him and was now eye level with his barely clad cock straining through the material of his silk boxer shorts.

  This part of him certainly gave new meaning to the term “frozen stiff”.

  “I—” she stumbled, unwilling to take her eyes off his very large appendage. She was sure she’d never seen anything quite so big and her curiosity outweighed her embarrassment.

  “My God,” she whispered, awestruck as the monstrous cock seemed to grow even larger before her eyes. Without a thought, she reached up and nearly touched it before a growl above her and a strong hand on her wrist stopped her.

  “Brown Eyes,” Ross said, his deep voice flowing over her like honey, “if you don’t move away from that this minute, I’ll keep you kneeling there the rest of the night.”

  Gasping, Julia rose quickly, painfully aware she was not as averse to his threat as she should be. She’d never sucked on a man’s cock before, had never even wanted to until she’d read those damned erotic novels Ross had given her. Now all she could think about was trying to give him a blowjob. Lord, she was losing her mind.

  “I’ll get you something to eat,” she muttered, escaping to the far side of the cabin.

  Chapter Two

  Ross watched his brown-eyed angel flutter across the room to the kitchen, obviously hoping to escape. The main reason he loved this cabin was because it was a whole house contained in one large room. The roomy kitchen was separated from the rest of the room by a long bar and it contained everything needed to make someone’s stay special. An extra-large refrigerator, microwave, convection oven and dishwasher made sure visitors wouldn’t starve or slave.

  On the opposite wall of the cabin was the tall king-sized oak bed, with a matching dresser, chest and wardrobe. In the center of the room was the large living area, complete with an oversized couch and two easy chairs facing the big stone fireplace, a huge bearskin rug on the floor in front and a double-sided partner desk, one side of which Jules had clearly claimed as her laptop and notes rested there.

  The only other room in the cabin was the adjoining bathroom with a large Jacuzzi tub and double-headed shower stall.

  It was a lover’s paradise. Ross had known the moment he laid eyes on it he would buy it and bring Jules here. For the first time in their decade-long relationship, his favorite author would have no escape—not from him or his plans for seduction.

  He watched as his skittish kitten dropped the fork she was using to flip the ham steaks she’d hastily thrown into a cast-iron skillet. Grinning, he admired her luscious backside as she bent to pick it up.

  God, she was perfect.

  Ross shook his head, amazed to think he’d been blind to her beauty for so many years. He and Jules had rocketed to the top of their respective fields together. They had climbed the ladder of success side by side and foolishly, Ross had wasted the first few years of their relationship treating her like a little sister. Studying her now, he was feeling anything but brotherly.

  His feelings for her hadn’t changed overnight, but rather evolved gradually after the unsavory incident between Jules and Scott Jenkins. Watching Julia flirt and make eyes at the asshole accountant had nearly driven him out of his mind that night. He’d never seen her show any interest in another man and the image of her showering all her lovely smiles and lilting laughter on someone else was more than he could stand. Jealousy, in regard to Jules, was a new emotion for him and it took him by surprise.

  Of course, it didn’t help that she was wearing a sheer red blouse and black velvet skirt shorter than he’d ever seen her in. He was used to seeing her in her tomboy outfits—jeans and T-shirts. Yet that night, she’d obviously taken special pains with her appearance—even wearing makeup and pulling her lovely brown hair up in a chignon, allowing a few wisps to frame her face. Ross’s fingers itched during the whole party to yank her upstairs, take her hair down, pull his hands through it and watch it trail over her shoulders.

  When he saw her fighting Scott on the bed, her eyes wide with fear, he was overwhelmed with an anger more intense than any he’d ever felt before. For the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to want to physically hurt another person. Hell, to kill another person. He would gladly have ripped Scott Jenkins to pieces for touching Julia against her will.

  Later, when he realized she’d willingly gone to the bedroom with Scott, he’d been eaten alive with jealousy. The only man he wanted in her bed was him.

  Somewhere along the line his little Julia had blossomed into a true beauty. Her wavy chestnut hair framed a heart-shaped face and emphasized her large whiskey-colored eyes. Her body was every man’s wet dream with firm, large breasts, a narrow waist and shapely hips a man could grab onto as he plunged into her.

  Despite the unexpected revelations of that night, he continued to fight his growing attraction to his sexy romance writer, dismissing it as a passing fancy, a strange quirk of fate. For all intents and purposes, she was an innocent and his sexual desires needed an experienced woman, one who could handle his darker appetites. Jules did not fit that bill.

  Unfortunately, the women who could handle him in the bedroom, women like Bridget, were complete bitches out of bed. For the last few years he’d managed to convince himself he preferred his eligible-bachelor status, hopping from one casual, sex-only relationship to another, while getting the female companionship he craved from his best friend, Jules.

  Every now and then guilt would get the better of him and he’d convince himself he was being selfish with Julia, trying to keep her in a little box—his own exclusive friend, his own private fantasy. She would make a hell of a wife for some lucky bastard, even if it couldn’t be him.

  He tr
ied more than once to set her up with other guys, but at the last minute, he’d panicked and found the worst possible man for her. After forcing her to endure several mismatches, he didn’t have the stomach to try any more blind dates for fear one of his setups might actually take.

  Unwilling to risk losing her, he stopped trying to convince her to join the real world. Keeping her busy with deadlines and their Thursday-night pizza dates, he allowed her to convince him she was happy with her life as it was, which in turn, allowed him to hop from bed to bed attempting to satisfy his heavy-handed sexual urges.

  Then the damned cat died and he watched his best friend fall apart.

  For the first time since he’d met her, Jules stopped writing and Ross realized something else.

  He was in love with Julia Martin.

  This quirky, intelligent, shy, inquisitive little romance writer had stolen his heart. When he stopped to think about it, she’d stolen it ten years earlier when she’d walked into his dingy little office and struck a book deal with the tenacity of a pit bull. Shy she might be, but stupid she was not.

  Over the years, they’d fought long and hard over the development of her craft and he had to admit that of all the writers he had edited and published, Julia’s work was by far the best.

  No longer willing to deny his true feelings for her, he was about to put into action the game plan he’d designed a couple of months ago. He was going to claim Jules as his own and all he had to do was open her up to her sensuality, her passion.

  The erotica suggestion had been the first test. Ross had suggested she try to write a new genre, then gave her books to expose her to all the types of things he wanted to try with her. One evening, four weeks earlier, had set in motion the chain of events leading to this moment.

  He could still recall every word of their conversation that night…

  * * *

  It nearly killed him to wait until their Thursday-night date to see what she thought of the books he’d given her to read. When he arrived, her face was flushed and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. Glancing at the end table, he saw a copy of one of his favorite BDSM books, Master Lover, lying there.