Snowed in with the Scoundrel by Kat Sterling

Author:Kat Sterling [Sterling, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kat Sterling Books

When Imogen roused some time later, it was to a medley of mouthwatering aromas. She arched her arms over her head in a languid, restorative stretch and sniffed greedily at the air. Her headache, thankfully, was gone, though her body still hummed with lingering agitation. She had every intention of pursuing Tommy’s promise to satiate the relentless ardor demanding her attention, but first things first.

“Something smells wonderful.”

“Of course it does,” Tommy said from his seat before the hearth. “I am a wonderful cook.”

“Another reason I adore your mother.” She pulled on a thick robe and walked to his side. Gawking at the number of pots simmering on embers, she asked, “Gracious, how long was I asleep?”

“Long enough for me to prepare a few presents.”

“A few?”

“I have to make up for lost time.” He tilted his head and gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Merry Christmas, Genie love.”

“Merry Christmas.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Though I feel a bit guilty. I haven’t prepared a present for you.”

He rose to his feet and drew her into his embrace. “You’re the only present I need.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Aren’t you the charmer?”

“I’m serious. I never expected to spend another Christmas with you.”

“Especially a carnal Christmas.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she buried her face in his chest. Laughter rumbled beneath her cheek, and then he eased her back.

“Let’s start with your other presents first, shall we?”

“Right. Food.”

He used a wooden spoon to point to various pots. “We’ll start you on this bone broth. If your stomach handles it, we’ll try one of these pan biscuits with an egg on top. Or…perhaps you’d prefer this barley and carrot soup? I could also make flapjacks⁠—”

“You’re the absolute sweetest,” she interrupted.

“I assure you it’s purely out of self-interest. I am not immune to the whiskey from last night, either.”

She patted his forearm. “Whatever you say. Now feed me.”

“Once you’re dressed properly.”

“A nightgown and dressing robe is perfectly acceptable attire to drink bone broth!”

A mischievous gleam appeared in his eye. “Not for this meal, it isn’t. Come with me.”

Without waiting for her reply, he lifted two buckets of water she hadn’t noticed warming on the hearth and disappeared behind her staging screen in the corner of the cabin. She followed, shaking her head at his vagueness. Then she rounded the screen and gasped.

While she slept, Tommy had staged a scene straight out of her dreams. The oval, wooden tub with copper handles had been moved from its cramped position against the wall and was now the focal point of the nook. A flat slab of wood was laid across both rims, the perfect place to rest a mug or a book. Beside the tub, he’d positioned a short box. Atop it lay her bar of vanilla and cinnamon soap, comb, and the book she’d begun reading the night before.

Her heart thudded in time to the rhythmic cascade of water filling the half-full tub. She

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