Right now she simply wanted to run and run and run and...

Holy shit! It’s cold!

The snow came down in one big blanket, and the wind nearly knocked her off the porch. Squealing, she ran back into the house and slammed the door.

Bo leaned against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face. Haughty! That was the only way she could explain the expression he wore. Haughty and rude!

“A little nippy outside?” he asked.

“Oh, shut up!” She paced by the door, wondering what she would do now. Then she remembered the television.

She had the remote in her hand and aimed at the TV when Bo walked into the living room behind her and said, “Cable’s out.”

“What?” She turned on the TV anyway, and there was more snow there than outside. “What the hell?”

“Cable usually goes out when it snows like this.”

“It’s like the Dark Ages!” she yelled, shutting off the TV, unable to stand looking at all that fuzzy white, and brought her arm back.

“Don’t throw the remote,” Bo said. “You break it and Grigori will lose his mind.”

Growling in frustration, she dropped the remote on the couch and began pacing again.

“I am so damn bored!”

“And what are we going to do with you so bored?”

“I don’t know!”

He relaxed against the wall. “You could read?”

“Read?” She wanted to spit at him. “Does it look like I can sit and read for a few hours?”

“No TV, no running, and no reading . . . my God, what will you do to get rid of all that excess energy?”

“I don’t know!” she wailed, despondent.

“Well, while you think of something, I’m going to bed. Of course, you can join me.”

“I’m not tired!”

“Okay. Good luck then. If you need me for anything, I’ll be in bed. Naked.”

Blayne froze. Naked. Naked Bo. And if she were naked, too...

She turned around but he was already gone.

Bastard.

Bo heard something behind him, but when he looked over his shoulder, he only saw the empty hallway. Shrugging, he faced forward again, and immediately stopped.

Blayne stood in front of the bedroom door, one hand pressed against the doorway, the other on her waist. How she got past him . . .

“Yes?” he asked.

“So . . . uh . . . you busy?”

“Just going to bed. I’m tired and the sun’s almost up. Mind moving?”

He tried to step around her, but she crowded up in the corner, blocking him. “Are you really tired?”

“Exhausted. Had that game and a really late night at the bar. What’s a guy like me to do?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know.” Shemoved into him, wrapping her arms around his chest. “Anything you want?”

“I get that anyway. What are you offering me that makes you special?”

Blayne gasped. “You rude, son of a—”

“That’s what I thought.” He reached around her, opened the door, and stepped into the room.

“You’re just walking away?”

“Not walking away. Stepping away. To my bed.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Night, Blayne.” He reached behind him and gathered up his jersey, pulling it over his head. When he shook his hair out of his eyes, Blayne stood in front of him and she still wasn’t wearing any pants. “Yes?” he asked.

“Let’s lay our cards on the table here. Okay? I don’t have a lot of options right now and”—she shrugged—“you’ll do.”

“I’ll do?”

“Isn’t that good enough at the moment?”

“No.” He pushed her aside and sat on the bed, removing his boots.

“Oh, come on, Bo. Help a girl out.”

He tossed the boots aside and stood. “I could. But what am I getting out of it? It seems one sided, don’t you think?”

“One sided? You’re getting me! And you’re damn lucky, too!”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

Bo stripped off the rest of his clothes and stretched out on the bed. He placed his hands behind his head and watched her. “You haven’t exactly given me anything to change my mind.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” She went for the boots first, but she must have forgotten that she’d laced them up tight in the front so when Blayne tried to slip the right one off by using her left foot, she ended up sprawled flat on the floor. Bo cringed when he heard her hit the hard wood.

“Blayne?”

“I’m fine. Just shut up!”

He heard her muttering about “goddamn knots,” but she eventually got to her now bare feet.

She’d borrowed someone’s soft hair band to pull her mass of hair into a high ponytail when they were dancing. She tugged it out with one hand, but ended up cursing as stray hairs were caught between the twisted material. That was another three minutes of Blayne trying to get that loose since she wasn’t about to yank it out and risk pulling out what she insisted on calling her “precious tresses” in the process. When she finally got that done, she tossed the hair band aside and shook her hair out. She gave him a small, ridiculously sexy smile, before reaching for the jersey she still had on. She got that off without any problem. And the sweatshirt under that. And the thermal shirt. And the T-shirt because the thermal material made her chest itch.