to wonder what it would be like to brave her
fire and tame the woman at the heart of her.
Turning on her heel to glare at the
unconcerned man sprawled in one of the two Queen Anne chairs in the room, Abigail's
lips tightened. "Don't start," she warned with glittering eyes.
"I'm about this close," she said, holding her thumb and forefinger
together for emphasis, "to losing it altogether."
Her expression would have quelled a
lesser man, but he was not naïve when it came to countering the Donavan glare.
Cocking his head, Colin replied evenly, "It's just a little weather,
Donavan. We've moved inland. We're going to be fine," he informed her
negligently, deliberately using her last name in an attempt to force her to
focus.
"It's a hurricane ,
Colin," Abigail growled in exasperation, lifting her thumb over her
shoulder to indicate the darkening cloud cover above the building. "And
we're only thirty miles from the Coast!" How in the hell could such an
intelligent man make such exceedingly stupid comments? Or better yet, her
psyche smirked….how could she be attracted to such a man?
"We’re in a sturdily built hotel
and not outside in the way of Mother Nature's elements. Considering how
we in all likelihood may have gotten the last vacant hotel room in North
Carolina, we should be grateful," he noted impartially, grimacing as she
rolled her eyes and began to pace the carpet again. Probably not the best
thing to have said to her, his mind chided. Reminding her that she was for all
intents and purposes trapped inside a room with him wouldn’t exactly pave the
path into his arms.
"No," Abigail bit out as one
foot stepped in front of the other, "I would have been grateful if
you had listened to me last night and we'd had the company jet come and get us
as I’d originally suggested. While you might have experience with these kinds
of storms," she said, gesturing at the window, “I do not.”
"You know they'd already shut down the
airports," Colin remarked with a sigh, watching as she made another pass
near the window while glowering out the glass at the rapidly devolving
elements. "Frankly, I wasn't aware that you were afraid of a little
storm," he said casually, realizing too late that it was exactly the wrong
thing to say to her.
"I'm sorry," she hissed,
turning flashing eyes upon him as she stopped suddenly in her tracks. "Did
you say little storm, Colin? This isn't some thunder boomer coming our way, you
know! It's a hurricane. It even has a name. Irene!"
"I heard the same news report you
did, Donavan," Colin replied dryly, shaking his head. "I know she has
a name," he remarked, privately thinking how ironic it was that this
particular hurricane had been dubbed with a female name. Destruction, thy name
is woman. Trying to ignore the way her slim slacks hugged the curve of her perfect
ass, he shifted in the chair. Had they turned off the air conditioning already,
he wondered, glancing at the air vents in the ceiling. Suddenly, it felt hot as
hell in here. "Look, at least you'll have company to ride the storm out
with. Wouldn't it be worse if you were in here alone?" he asked, propping
his chin in his hand as he watched her turn toward the window again.
Now, there was a loaded question,
Abigail thought grimly. While she was, indeed, happy that the her boss was with
her...this wasn't exactly the fantasy she'd envisioned if she ever finagled her
way into a hotel room alone with him. The fact that they were sharing this
space together had been a result of necessity, not choice. "Oh,
yeah," she muttered almost to herself. "I'm thrilled," she mumbled,
her eyes on another black cloud rolling past the window.
How the hell could he remain so calm?
Based on her limited knowledge of the man sharing the room with her, he was a
pro at manipulating situations to his favor. She supposed that skill even
applied to weather anomalies. Spying him out of the corner of her eye, she
again let her mind wander over the
fire and tame the woman at the heart of her.
Turning on her heel to glare at the
unconcerned man sprawled in one of the two Queen Anne chairs in the room, Abigail's
lips tightened. "Don't start," she warned with glittering eyes.
"I'm about this close," she said, holding her thumb and forefinger
together for emphasis, "to losing it altogether."
Her expression would have quelled a
lesser man, but he was not naïve when it came to countering the Donavan glare.
Cocking his head, Colin replied evenly, "It's just a little weather,
Donavan. We've moved inland. We're going to be fine," he informed her
negligently, deliberately using her last name in an attempt to force her to
focus.
"It's a hurricane ,
Colin," Abigail growled in exasperation, lifting her thumb over her
shoulder to indicate the darkening cloud cover above the building. "And
we're only thirty miles from the Coast!" How in the hell could such an
intelligent man make such exceedingly stupid comments? Or better yet, her
psyche smirked….how could she be attracted to such a man?
"We’re in a sturdily built hotel
and not outside in the way of Mother Nature's elements. Considering how
we in all likelihood may have gotten the last vacant hotel room in North
Carolina, we should be grateful," he noted impartially, grimacing as she
rolled her eyes and began to pace the carpet again. Probably not the best
thing to have said to her, his mind chided. Reminding her that she was for all
intents and purposes trapped inside a room with him wouldn’t exactly pave the
path into his arms.
"No," Abigail bit out as one
foot stepped in front of the other, "I would have been grateful if
you had listened to me last night and we'd had the company jet come and get us
as I’d originally suggested. While you might have experience with these kinds
of storms," she said, gesturing at the window, “I do not.”
"You know they'd already shut down the
airports," Colin remarked with a sigh, watching as she made another pass
near the window while glowering out the glass at the rapidly devolving
elements. "Frankly, I wasn't aware that you were afraid of a little
storm," he said casually, realizing too late that it was exactly the wrong
thing to say to her.
"I'm sorry," she hissed,
turning flashing eyes upon him as she stopped suddenly in her tracks. "Did
you say little storm, Colin? This isn't some thunder boomer coming our way, you
know! It's a hurricane. It even has a name. Irene!"
"I heard the same news report you
did, Donavan," Colin replied dryly, shaking his head. "I know she has
a name," he remarked, privately thinking how ironic it was that this
particular hurricane had been dubbed with a female name. Destruction, thy name
is woman. Trying to ignore the way her slim slacks hugged the curve of her perfect
ass, he shifted in the chair. Had they turned off the air conditioning already,
he wondered, glancing at the air vents in the ceiling. Suddenly, it felt hot as
hell in here. "Look, at least you'll have company to ride the storm out
with. Wouldn't it be worse if you were in here alone?" he asked, propping
his chin in his hand as he watched her turn toward the window again.
Now, there was a loaded question,
Abigail thought grimly. While she was, indeed, happy that the her boss was with
her...this wasn't exactly the fantasy she'd envisioned if she ever finagled her
way into a hotel room alone with him. The fact that they were sharing this
space together had been a result of necessity, not choice. "Oh,
yeah," she muttered almost to herself. "I'm thrilled," she mumbled,
her eyes on another black cloud rolling past the window.
How the hell could he remain so calm?
Based on her limited knowledge of the man sharing the room with her, he was a
pro at manipulating situations to his favor. She supposed that skill even
applied to weather anomalies. Spying him out of the corner of her eye, she
again let her mind wander over the
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