Page 26 of Baby It's Cold Outside

Ryder swore softly and let go of Kate’s hand to thrust his fingers through his hair.

Kate gaped. “But that’s ridiculous,” she said as both men turned to stare at her. “We’re in the middle of Manhattan; I can walk home from here in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryder said, as if she were an imbecile.

Charles levered himself out of his seat and beckoned her forward. “Come have a look at this, Ms. Braithwaite,” he murmured as he headed to the employee door.

As he inched open the door, freezing air blasted her, chilling her to the bone as it hit her damp clothing. Kate’s vision blurred at the sight of swirling impenetrable snow and drifts already several feet high where there had been nothing but large puddles before. Charles needed Ryder’s help to slam the heavy door shut.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, her whole body shuddering. “But that’s impossible. How could that much snow have fallen in the space of an hour?”

“This is a major weather event, ma’am,” Charles said, wearily. “The emergency services are operating, and we’ll all be fine. But nobody should be out in it unless they need to be. That’s the advice I’ve been given.”

“But we can’t stay here indefinitely,” Kate said, her throat closing on the pulse of panic.

She needed to get home, to the security of her apartment, where she had food and a bed, and dry clothes and a hot shower—and several emergency light sources. And there would be no more disturbing thoughts about the man standing next to her.

“Maybe I could get one of the other security guards to escort me,” she suggested, knowing that Charles supervised a team of three or four burly guys who patrolled the store during the night. “If that’s not too much trouble.”

“I don’t think so, Miss,” he said. “I sent them home as soon as it hit.”

“Who gave you the authority to do that?” she said, knowing she was starting to sound a little shrill, but not quite able to stop herself.

Charles’s eyebrows rose up his forehead, but before she had the chance to apologize for the statement, Ryder butted in. “Don’t worry, Charles, I’ll take care of Miss Braithwaite,” he said, but the steely words sounded more threatening than comforting.

“You don’t need to take care of me,” she said, annoyed with the proprietary tone. Helping her out upstairs with her minor meltdown didn’t suddenly make him her keeper. “I’m perfectly capable of…” she began, but the admonition trailed off when glacial blue eyes shot her a look that could burn through lead at fifty paces.

What is he so miffed about?

“How about you, Charles?” he inquired, pointedly ignoring her. “Have you got food? A place to sleep?”

“Uh-huh, Alva made me too much lunch as usual, so I’ve got some left for my supper, and there’s a cot in the back.” He paused, jerking a worried look at Kate. “But maybe I should call dispatch and see if I can arrange transport for Ms. Braithwaite?”

Feeling guilty about snapping at him and so grateful for the lifeline she almost wept, Kate began. “If you could, Charles, that would be…”

Ryder grasped her hand, his viselike grip making the bones fuse together, and she yelped.

“That’s not necessary, Charles. We’ll be fine.” With that, he began dragging her backward toward the door that led to the utility corridor.

“If you’re sure, Mr. Ryder?” Charles sounded doubtful.

“Now hang on a minute,” Kate said, seeing her lifeline disappearing as she struggled to release her hand from Ryder’s ironclad grip. “I’m not sure…”

“We’ll see you in the morning, Charles,” Ryder said, effectively drowning out her protest as he slammed through the utility door and hauled her out after him.

“Let go of my hand,” she demanded, trying to pry his fingers lose as he marched her down the corridor as if she were a rag doll. “I need to go back and talk to…”

He swept her forward with an almighty tug. “The hell you will.”

She stumbled into the wall, her mouth slack at his furious glare.

Okay, that was a little more than miffed.

“What the bloody hell is the matter with you?” she yelled back—the inexplicable temper tantrum starting to piss her off, too.

“What’s the matter with me?” He towered over her, his face rigid with a fury she didn’t understand. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter with me, Princess Kat

herine.” He thumped his chest with the flat of his hand in a display worthy of an irate gorilla. “Charles Avenall has worked for this damn store for twenty-five years. He’s putting three kids through college on what amounts to not a whole lot more than minimum wage, so where the hell do you get off threatening him?”

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