"So this is where you’re going to be staying," I explained to her, lifting her bags out of the car and heading down to the cabin below us. She was just standing there, gazing around like she was still trying to wrap her head around all of this.

"And you own this?" she asked as she finally hurried to catch up with me. I nodded proudly.

"One of the first places I got after I made my first couple of million," I replied. "I knew I would need somewhere to come get away from it all, you know? Somewhere far from LA."

"Well, this is about as far from LA as it gets," she agreed. And she was right; I had purchased this place not far from a ski resort in the Colorado Mountains precisely because it was so humanly distant from the world I normally inhabited back in the city. Oh, and because it was way too cold for my mother to ever bother coming out and bothering me here. She refused to go anywhere that might mess up her skin regimen, and I had a feeling her various oils and lotions would set solid at this temperature. Not to mention, I was good at skiing, and I loved indulging in stuff I was good at.

"This place is amazing," she exclaimed as she ducked into the cabin for the first time; I was glad to see that the cleaners I’d hired to have a go over it before we arrived had done a decent job, and the place was looking appropriately spotless. It was an old-fashioned wooden cabin, the kind that passed for rural and rustic but was actually adorned with all the best of everything Colorado had to offer: fast internet, good booze, and under-floor heating. The exact kind of place where I could steal away for a few days and remind this woman exactly what we had shared together.

"This is your room." I carried her bag to the guest bedroom next to mine. Her jaw dropped when she walked through the door.

"This is where I’m going to be staying?" She laughed, looking around. "I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere as fancy as this in my life..."

The guest bedroom was nice – I had stressed to the cleaners to make it look extra-cozy, with candles burning on the side opposite the bed and the blinds thrown open to allow the snow-filtered sun to pour in through the window. The bed was a giant double, and she flopped down on it at once, tipping her head back and lying happily against the plush pillows.

"Alright, I’m not leaving here. Come find me in a week," she waved her hand at me as I popped her suitcase open for her. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw the clothes she had with her.

"What? What are you laughing at?” she asked, and I shook my head.

"Is this everything you have with you?”

"No, I’m getting my eveningwear collection flown in from Milan later today," she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Yeah, it’s everything I’ve got. Why do you ask?”

"Because I think you’re going to need something a little more practical while you’re here," I explained. She sat up and starting pawing through the dresses she had packed. Even she had to admit they were hardly the kind of wear she needed for this kind of trip.

"Yeah, I guess you’re right," she conceded, shooting a look toward the window at where the snow was glowing angelically beyond the glass.

"Come on, let’s go into town and pick something up," I suggested, but she shook her head.

"No, I need to unpack, then I need to get a little work done, and I need to call Clara and the kids—"

"Clara and the kids, I’ll accept," I held my hand up to stop her. "But how about you leave work for a little bit? Just for today. That’s all I’m asking. You can get settled in and actually scout around the place a little bit to see if it’s right for you, huh?"

"I suppose you’re right," she admitted, but I could tell that she was having a hard time admitting it. Well, for better or worse, she’d been master of her own universe for a hell of a long time now – it must be weird to have someone come along and whip that out from under her. I understood how it felt to crave that control, and I understood how it felt to have it move from beneath you. But maybe, just maybe, I could show her that spending time with me instead was a good relinquishment of control?

"Well, why don’t you give them a call, and I’ll bring the car around?” I suggested, and she reached for her phone and dialed the number at once. As I stepped out of the room to give her some privacy, I heard her cooing to her kids over the phone, and I felt the swell of tenderness rushing off of her. She was such a good mom. I didn’t know how she’d managed to pull that off, given the asshole she was allegedly co-parenting with, but she had done it, and she had earned my eternal respect for that and that alone.

And maybe that would explain why she had no memory of who the hell I was. Her head was too full of more important things, like keeping her family together and running her business, to bother with lingering too long on one dance with a guy like me. Was my life so empty that she had been enough to fill it with just that one encounter? I was starting to believe so. And I hoped I could get her to see things from my point of view, too.

I pulled the car around – I had already sent the driver away, knowing I wanted to be the one in total control for the next few days – and waited for her outside. I turned on the radio but quickly switched it off when a cheesy love song started playing. I figured maybe that type of song wasn’t the best call for our first drive together, just the two of us. She might think I was putting the moves on her. Which I was, but she didn’t need to know that yet, right?

She emerged from the cabin a few minutes later, shivering as she hopped into the car beside me.

"See? I told you you’ll need some new clothes," I pointed out. "You’re already cold."

"Yeah, but I can drive into town and get them myself," she rejoined. I shook my head.

"Trust me, I know where to get the best skiwear," I assured her, causing her to splutter with laughter.

"In what world do I look like the kind of women who goes skiing?”

"In the one where you’re staying near a ski resort," I responded. She just grinned and shook her head.

"Okay, but fair warning – I’m pretty damn terrible at it," she confessed.

"I’m happy to train you."

"Watch out. It won’t be long until I’m stealing your roles," she teased.

"Honestly, you’re welcome to them," I sighed. "I’d be happy to move onto something a little less demanding."

"Well, when you look like that..." she began, but she cut herself off before she went any further. I glanced over at her as we pulled up to a stoplight, raising my eyebrows in her direction.

"I’m sorry…what was that?”

"Nothing. It was nothing," she replied quickly, but she was already starting to go a little red around the edges.

"What were you saying?” I prompted again, and she rolled her eyes and turned to me.

"I was saying, as long as you look like that, people aren’t going to see you as anything other than an action star," she pointed out. "People like you don’t tend to run quirky bakeries, you know?”

"Hey, I’ll have you know I have my very own chain of quirky bakeries all across California," I replied playfully. She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Okay, I think you’re joking, but I honestly have no idea how much money you actually have, so..."

"I’m kidding, I’m kidding," I promised her. "I don’t own any bakeries. Though now that you mention it..."

"Well, I get half of the stock because I came up with the idea," she jumped in.

"Ah, a shrewd businesswoman, I see," I shot back. She giggled. I liked the way she sounded when she laughed, as though a great weight had lifted from her shoulders for a moment and allowed her to break free.

"So, how long have you owned the cabin up here?" she asked as we pulled into the town below the resort; it was small and kitschy, and mostly for tourists, but it would have everything we needed to deck her out with weather-appropriate attire.

"About nine years?" I replied, furrowing my brow. "I can’t remember specifically. I know that I wanted a place like this as soon as I started in the business, somewhere I could get away from it all."

"You get recognized less up here?” she asked idly, peering out of the window. I looked over at her, at this woman who really seemed to have no clue who I was or what the hell the both of us had shared together. I stifled a sigh.

"Yeah, I get recognized less," I admitted as I drove the car into the parking lot of a store I knew would have all of the clothes we were looking for.

"In here?" She glanced at me, and I nodded.

"In here," I replied, and I helped her out of the car, giving her my hand so that she could navigate the slippery, packed-down snow below. As soon as our fingers touched, I felt that little jolt of attraction again, the shock that seemed to pass through my system every time she laid a hand on me. Did she have any idea the impact she had when she did stuff like this? Did she feel it as well? Did she recognize the feeling of my fingers against hers? Was she trying to place it right then?

I let go of her hand as we made it to the store, and I held the door open for her to go in before me; she ducked into the little boutique, eyeing the clothes laid out around us. The mannequins were artfully displaying various stylish looks appropriate for the slopes, and I couldn’t help but imagine her in a few of the more form-fitting ones.

She turned back to me, her eyes wide, and bit her lip.

"This place looks really expensive," she whispered. None of the clothes that were laid out had been labeled with prices, and there was a good reason for that. Most people would have fled if they had any idea how much this all cost. But I didn’t care. I was going to get her whatever she wanted.

"Just take a look," I suggested gently, and she turned back to the mannequin before her and reached up to touch the pair of sleek thermal leggings it was wearing. I could see the shop assistant eyeing her with some disdain, but then he caught my eye and looked away swiftly, leaving the two of us to browse at our leisure.

And browse we did. She didn’t seem to guess too soon that I was going to be paying for all of this, and she was reluctant to so much as look at some of the more expensive clothes, but eventually, I managed to convince her to try a few pieces on, just to see how they looked.

"We can always look somewhere cheaper later," I reminded her. "Just use this place to get an idea of what you actually want, alright?”

"Yeah, okay," she agreed finally, and she grabbed a few items off of the shelf and headed to the changing room to put them on.

I waited outside patiently, even though I was itching to pull back the curtain and catch a look at her in her underwear. As far as she was concerned, though, this was still very much a work trip, and I didn’t want to do anything to make her uncomfortable.

After a little rustling and a few minutes, she pulled the curtain back with a flourish to reveal herself in a pair of lean leggings and a large, puffy jacket. The leggings were white with a mint-green swipe up the side, and they seemed to bring the most beautiful shape to her legs and her hips and her ass – I forced myself to look away from those body parts and return my attention to her face. She bit her lip and smiled at me.

"What do you think?” she asked. Truth was, it was the best I’d ever seen her look. Sure, I had seen her turn out in a fancy dress before. I had seen her dressed for dinner and dressed for dancing and dressed for drinks, but in this outfit, she was dressed for me. And there was something profoundly sexy about that to me. Not to mention that the way those leggings hugged her hips was more than any thinking man could handle in good faith.

"You look awesome!" I nodded, and she beamed at me and flushed a little, turning to check herself out in the mirror once more.

"I really love them," she admitted. "But they’re so expensive. And I can’t get just one outfit for the week..."

She eyed the stack of clothes she had picked out that were currently dangling patiently off a hook next to the mirror.

"Try them on," I ordered her firmly. "No harm in seeing how they look, right?”

She shrugged, and with that, I was treated to a little fashion show of everything she had picked out from the stacks around the store. And man, did she have good taste: every item of clothing she had selected seemed as though it had been tailor-made to hug her curves, to give her shape, and to show her off. I couldn’t get enough of her. I could have stayed in that store all day watching her change in and out of clothes, hearing that tempting little rustle behind the curtain as she stripped down to her panties once more.

Soon enough, she was done, and all of the clothes that she had laid out were hanging back on their hooks, a little more crumpled than before. She grabbed one last item from the stack she had laid out for herself – a silly little hat with pom-poms and fluff – and yanked it on over her hair, grinning up at me.

"How does it look?”

"Adorable," I replied at once, and that was the truth. She went a little red, and I couldn’t help but wonder how that shade of pink would look somewhere entirely different on her body. She pulled the hat off and hooked it back on the rack.

"I guess we should get out of here," she sighed, looking longingly once more at the clothes. "Before the assistant figures out that I can’t afford anything here."

"I’m getting it," I replied breezily, and her eyes widened.

"All of it?”

"Yeah, all of it," I shot back, lifting the clothes from the rack and laying them over my arm.

"I can’t let you do that," she protested, but there wasn’t a lot of conviction to her words. I glanced over at her, raising my eyebrows.

"You want to get them?”

"Of course I do, but I can’t afford these," she shook her head. "I’ll just put them back and find something cheaper—"

"In this town, this is about as cheap as it gets," I replied with a shrug. "And you’re my guest. I want you to be as comfortable as you can be."

"I’m not going to let you do this," she warned me, planting her hands on her hips.

"You can’t pull the parent card with me," I shot back, and she laughed at herself.

"Jesus, I didn’t even realize I was going into mom-mode," she conceded as I handed the clothes and my credit card over to the cashier before she could protest further.

She did, of course – she tried to talk me out of it right up until the moment her clothes were bagged and handed back to her, at which point she finally seemed to concede the point and accept that I was going to treat her.

"I just can’t believe you actually did all of that," she admitted, reaching down to look at the new clothes in her bag. "I’ve never had anyone...you know, I’ve never had anyone spend that much on me in one go."

"I need you to be all decked out when I take you to the slopes," I explained. "Can’t have you taking them on in a dress and heels, can I?"

"Alright. Fair warning – I don’t think you should take me skiing," she admitted.

"And why might that be?”

"I’m seriously competitive," she grinned at me. "I might not take it well if I’m not the best person out there right away."

"Well, there’s a learning curve, but I’m sure you’ll nail it," I replied.

"Don’t patronize me," she laughed. "I know I’m going to be crappy at it for a while."

"But at least you’ll look the part, huh?” I remarked, glancing down to the clothes sitting at her feet.

"Thanks to you," she beamed up at me.

We arrived back at the cabin not long afterward, and she went to unpack her stacks of new clothes and arrange them into her wardrobe. I knew I should leave off, give her some space, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be near her. I craved her presence.

I found myself hanging in the doorway, watching her put her clothes away. She was just wearing a sweater and jeans, nothing special, but the way the fabric cradled her body was too much for me to take. I found myself approaching her against my better judgement, close enough that I could just reach out and touch her if I wanted to.

"Morgan?” she murmured, stopping what she was doing. But she didn’t turn around. It was as though she wanted to savor this moment for a little while longer. I should have backed the hell off, but I didn’t want to. Until she told me to, I wanted to see if she wanted me, too.

"Yeah, it’s me," I assured her, moving a step closer to her. She tilted her head to the side, and before I could stop myself, I leaned down and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck. I inhaled her scent – sweet, just like it had been the very first night we’d danced together. And then I realized what I was doing, and I pulled back away from her, putting some distance between us. But I had a feeling it was way too late for that.

She turned, slowly, and for a second, I thought she was going to chew me out for daring to touch her like that. But her eyes were soft and her lips were slightly parted, and she was looking up at me with…was it need? Desire? Recognition? I couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. Before I could do anything, she leaned up and kissed me again, a moan escaping her lips as she did so. And for a few moments, the two of us were totally lost in one another.

My tongue was deep in her mouth as I pushed her back against the wall. She wound her arms around me and hung onto me for dear life as I ran my hands all over her body. It was just like it had been before, just like it had been the very first time we’d met, when I’d been so starving-hungry for her it was as though I had been fasting for months. She moaned against my mouth, her need for me palpable and coursing through my system like overheated blood, and I moved my hand down between her legs and—

Suddenly, she pulled back. She was breathing hard, but she forced herself to look up at me.

"What’s wrong?” I demanded. She shook her head.

"This was meant to be a professional trip," she reminded me quietly, pulling her gaze from mine. "I’m sorry, I...I shouldn’t have...I need to shower. And change."

And with that, she ducked out of the room, leaving me standing there alone – wondering what the hell I was going to have to do to convince her that this trip was anything but professional.