Nate grabs the blanket from the sofa. "Gonna go to bed. Hardly f.u.c.king slept on there."

"It's eight a.m."

"And? I said I'm f.u.c.king knackered." Nate drags the blue blanket across the floor and out of the room after him. "If they need help digging snow or some s.h.i.t like that, ask someone to wake me up. Otherwise, I'll see you later."

"Right."

He pauses in the doorway and looks over his shoulder. "And Riley?"

"What?"

"Please don't come into the bedroom while I'm in there."

"Why would I do that?"

He bites his lip. "Because I normally sleep naked and I'm scared you won't be able to control yourself."

Leaving a flash of an image of Nate naked behind, the arrogant jerk heads to bed.

I return to the kitchen and as I drink my tea, something I never considered crosses my mind. Nate slept on the sofa and now wants my bed. There aren't enough for everybody. We'd better be out of here before tonight.

10.

RILEY.

I spend the rest of the morning chatting to my fellow guests. George and Val run the pub and have for almost twenty years. Becca works part-time and is studying business at college. The other guy, Jason, is a regular who's a little older than Becca and a close friend. Judging by his body language, I'd lay bets he's her boyfriend. Either that or would like to be.

Becca in particular is interested in my job and asks candid questions about Ruby Riot, confiding she'd wished it was Jax stranded in the pub. I smile and resolve to tell Nate this fact, next time we have a snarkfest.

Val makes lunch and refuses offers of help, and Nate doesn't re-appear. Afterwards, George and Jason dig snow from the front door, but with more falling and no access to the cars or roads, the exercise is futile.

George gives up and speaks to friends in the village; all roads leading up here are now blocked, at least for the day. No snowploughs can travel from the nearest town to the outlying villages, never mind to isolated pubs.

Once I accept this is the way things are, I find a quiet corner and call Mum to update her. Nate remains absent. I'm all for socialising with these people, I'm stuck with them for another night after all, but I'd like to retrieve my laptop from upstairs and work to pa.s.s the time. I have a huge event I'm in the midst of organising, involving a prestige client and his US PR firm. I field some e-mails, but the stress mounts. Mitch.e.l.l, the guy I'm liaising with, arrives from New York next week, and if I'm not organised it will be a dent in my professional reputation.

By two p.m., I'm tired again and desperate for some time alone. Instead, I'm attempting to answer e-mails on my phone while Jason and Becca chatter.

"Typical rock star, eh?" says Jason, inclining his head upwards. "Does what he wants. Sleeps all day after a few beers."

"So Nate slept on the sofa because he was drunk?"

"He sank a few. Can hold his ale better than most," he replies.

"Nate didn't sleep well so I think he's catching up." And why am I defending him?

"I told Nate to go to bed, but he mumbled something about you and collapsed on the sofa," Becca says.

"Probably. I can't imagine he'd want to sleep in a bed with me."

"So you're not a couple? I thought he only slept on the sofa because he was too drunk to move," she says.

"No, we're not. I work with him. Nate was driving us back to London before... we got stuck."

"Going to have to fight over the bed, then," says Becca with a smile. "Only two guest rooms. Jason and I have the other room, and we're happy to share."

Becca grips Jason's hand and drops her gaze from his, fighting a smile.

"I can share a room with him if I have to, but not a bed. Nate can use the sofa."

"Nate said you work for him. Isn't it up to him where he sleeps, then?" asks Jason.

I'm already picturing the situation. Belligerent Nate refusing to leave the room, taking the bed, and sending me to the sofa in the lounge. He's a selfish pig. Why would he offer me the bed? Then what right do I have to demand using it?

Last night I was lucky Nate was too drunk to kick me out.

"I hope the sofa is comfy," I reply with a weak smile.

Fed up with waiting for Nate to come downstairs, I leave my new friends and bang on the bedroom door.

"What?" calls a voice.

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Val brought me some lunch."

"What? When?"

The door opens and a brighter Nate, dressed in his usual clothes again regards me. "She brought me my dry clothes. Nice lady, she fetched me a sandwich too. Reckon she wants a picture of the star who visited the pub, to hang on the wall and add to her collection."

Great, should've guessed at least one of the females in the building would be star struck by Nate and the charm he turns on when he feels like it.

"A bit rude of you not to come downstairs and talk to people."

Nate shoves his hands into his back pockets. "I will, when I want to."

"So you've sat in here awake for a few hours?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I've been waiting for you to come downstairs so I can get into the room! I want to work and my laptop is in my bag."

"No wonder your bag was so f.u.c.king heavy! And seriously? You want to work?"

"Why not?" I push past him into the room. His leather jacket is slung on the end of the bed and my bag is in the corner, unzipped.

I halt, catching a familiar orange scent. "Have you used my body wash?"

"Couldn't find anything else."

"You took something from my bag?"

"Relax, Smiley, I didn't use your toothbrush." He runs a finger along his teeth. "Could do with one though."

I stare, heart rate picking up at his invasion of my privacy. Then my cheeks heat at the thought of him rifling through my clothes.

"Saw the knickers you're always getting in a twist too." Nate c.o.c.ks a brow. "You're a matching underwear kind of girl. I never expected that."

Anger flares more heat into my cheeks. "You d.i.c.k!"

Nate's eyes darken as he steps closer and whispers, "I like black, for future reference."

"Future reference?"

"Should you decide to act on your obvious need to finish what we started two years ago."

"I thought I was clear on the subject back then."

"Yeah?" He pushes hair from my face and holds his lips close to mine. "Then why do you still look at me the way you did back then?"

This man infuriates the h.e.l.l out of me, but he will not seduce me out of my clothes. Even if the effect he's having is exactly as two years ago. I close my eyes and pull together my dignity before sidestepping him.

"I'm not that bored yet, Nate."

He laughs. "Yet."

"I only came in here to find my laptop." I pull out my MacBook and pointedly zip up the bag again. "Stay out of my things."

He crosses his arms. "Sure thing, Smiley."

I pull myself to his height, half-tempted to smack him over the head with my laptop. "Call me that one more b.l.o.o.d.y time, and I'll slap that stupid smirk off your face."

Nate catches my hand and the physical contact shocks me. Literally, as the sparks shoot up my arm and through the barrier between us. Nate's fingers encompa.s.s my wrist, pulling tight my insides. When Nate carried me up the hill, the closest we were was my face to the back of his head. The situation didn't endear me to anything but the need to warm up.

This skin on skin physical contact again grips me harder than his fingers.

"I apologise, Riley." His hold remains and my breathing shifts as the intense look continues. The softness of his tone and apologetic smile almost convince me he's contrite.

Almost.

I break away. "I have work to do."

"Of course you do."

I take my shaky self away. I'm not only worried how long I'll be stuck in this pub, but also how long I can hold back on giving in to this man's maddening s.e.xual pull he's had over me since the day we met. The one Nate's acutely aware of and clearly intends to work on.

11.

RILEY.

A couple of hours of e-mails, and another chat to Josh about his day at school, and I'm calmer. Nate sits in the bar, drinking, and I take a nap on the bed to make the most of my use of it, considering I'll be kicked out onto the sofa tonight.

I'm b.l.o.o.d.y thankful the central heating and power haven't failed in the building, but as I watch the unrelenting white storm outside, I'm increasingly nervous this could happen. I don't have any warm clothes with me, mostly business wear and one set of casual clothes. More than Nate though, who has the clothes he walked through the snow in, his phone and wallet, and nothing else.

Nate avoids mentioning the crash and events leading up to it, but we haven't exactly sat around chatting. We've been alone twice; there's only so long we can avoid spending time together. Plus we need to finalise sleeping arrangements.

I'm apprehensive as I look for Nate. The log fire crackles downstairs and Nate sits with Becca and Jason at one of the round tables in the warm room. Jason's closer to Becca than before, knee against hers. As usual, Nate's presence dominates the room. His back is to me as he watches Becca unpack something from a cardboard box on the table. She looks up as I walk in.

"Riley! Just in time. We're about to play Monopoly."

"Monopoly?" I ask.

Becca pushes gla.s.ses out of the way and sets out the board.

"Nate's playing Monopoly?" No way.

"All three of us. Four with you, and it's better with more players," continues Becca. "Jase, sort the money."

Jason dutifully picks the paper money and cards from the box.

"Nate?" I ask.

He shrugs without turning around. "Yeah. Gonna beat their a.s.ses."

I giggle and Nate throws me a look over his shoulder. Nate playing a board game? This, I need to see. I straighten my face. "Sure. I'll be the car."

I played Monopoly for years as a kid, love the game, and always won. I don't have any siblings, but I easily outplayed my cousins. My strategies flood back, and I soon have the properties I need lined up. As the game progresses, it's clear Becca and Jason aren't as skilled at the game as I am, but Nate is. Concentration lining his face, he focuses on the game and drops his att.i.tude. Nate beats me to some of my favourite properties, and we relax into friendly rivalry, the animosity retreating.