Passion Under the Ice

DecemberIt was all the shirt's fault. Nothing would have happened if he had kept it on. But no, he'd had to act like a gentleman when he saw her soaked to the bone by the ice storm that had hit Seattle without warning. First, he'd given her a towel to dry off, then his shirt. That's where it all started, and then he'd lost control. How else to explain the fact that she was currently lying on a pile of cushions on the floor of Merrick Boats?&    Sullivan, with Paxton Merrick holding her around the waist and his hand covering one of her breasts?Shea Weatherby bit the inside of her lip as she lay still, hoping he wouldn't wake up.
It was daytime. Sunlight filled the room. The wind that had howled violently and forced her to seek shelter in the office after her car wouldn't start had stopped blowing. She couldn't face the window without moving, something she didn't want to do because it meant turning toward Pax. It was already uncomfortable enough to feel the heat of his body against her back. It was obvious he'd lost his mind after she offered him the shirt, and she wasn't sure what might happen if she saw his attractive face or other parts of his body again.
She closed her eyes and wondered how she could ever get through this with dignity. She had known Pax for over two years, and during all that time she had rejected his advances. But in just one night, because her bank account didn't allow her to replace her old tartan with anew car, had let his guard down and they had ended up together. He'd left her his shirt because it had gotten soaked. He'd wrapped his arms around her for warmth after the power went out during the storm.
And after brushing her lips... Shea wasn't even sure who had kissed whom before, and Shea was afraid it had been her. She dug her fingers into the pillow and tried to push those thoughts away, but it was difficult when her body still felt warm and satiated, more satisfied than she had ever been. She had to be grateful Pax had been at her business offices. She spent much more time at her company's boatyard by the bridge than she did at the marina where the chartered sailboats were anchored.
If he hadn't been there, she would have been forced to stay inside her car during the ice storm since she hadn't been able to get back inside Cornelia's building. Shea had just started working for her the week before and hadn't wanted the responsibility of having a key to the office. The previous afternoon, after the storm had hit, everyone from the office had left before the roads became impassable, leaving her there alone.
She held back a sigh and opened her eyes again. Pax had taken the cushions they were lying on from the wooden armchairs scattered throughout the office. They were stiff, square, and nautical-patterned, and while they didn't make the ideal bed, they were more comfortable to sleep on than the hard wooden floor. If there hadn't been any cushions, they would have had to settle down on a table. They had also found a piece of canvas to use as a blanket and a few candles for light.
His gaze traveled from one of the armchairs to the round table in the center of the room, which, apart from the chairs, was the only furniture there was, and on top of which rested the enormous wooden model of a sailboat. Pax and his partner, Erik Sullivan, built boats, beautiful and imposing yachts for sailing the waters. They were both single and very handsome. They were part of the yachting world and all that went with it: money and beautiful people.
But they were both concerned about the well-being of the people.from her community, which is why Shea had met Pax when she was covering a story for her newspaper, The Seattle Washtub.