Snowed In With A Billionaire. Karen BoothЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Three

      Joy climbed into the bed she’d been fantasizing about during her trudge up the hill. It was just as heavenly as it had been the night before, and the night before that. This bedroom was gorgeous, and it wasn’t even the master bedroom. Joy couldn’t stomach the idea of taking Mariella and Harrison Marshall’s room. She was already pushing things far enough.

      She’d instead chosen their daughter Elana’s room, with its beautiful cherry wood sleigh bed and richly colored tapestry carpet in shades of gold, cream and taupe. There was a gas fireplace in the corner of the room, lit with the simple flick of a switch. The flames would probably cast a golden glow and warm the entire room, but Joy was too nervous to turn it on. Windows spanned one wall overlooking the back of the property, which had a stunning view of the seemingly never-ending mountain vista. Being in this bed felt like being on top of the world.

      The snow was still coming down. Joy picked up her phone and pulled up the weather app. They were predicting an unusually heavy snowfall overnight. It took a lot of snow to shut things down in this part of Colorado, but the reality was that the Marshall estate was at the very top of the mountain. Even if life was normal down in town, it would take a while for plows to make their way up here. Rafe had told her as much when he’d given her the keys to the house.

      Bad weather or not, there was no way she’d be able to get to work tomorrow. Not with Alex and his 24-hour timeline, courtesy of Dr. David. She still couldn’t believe she’d practically met a celebrity while she was wearing her pajamas. The Marshalls had lots of famous friends, some just as well-known as Dr. David, but she’d certainly never had a conversation with any of them.

      She dialed the number for her boss at the bakery. “Hey there,” Bonnie answered. “I take it you’re calling to chat about this lovely bout we’re having with Mother Nature?”

      Joy smiled and sat back against the pillows. “In part, yes. But even if the weather cooperates, I don’t think I can come in tomorrow. I had a small accident when I came home and the doctor wants me to rest for 24 hours. I’m sorry if that leaves you in the lurch. I think you know how much I hate to miss work. I love working at the bakery.” And I don’t want to jeopardize my job.

      “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

      “The doctor doesn’t think so, but he’s not entirely sure I didn’t hit my head. That’s why he wants me to lay low.”

      “What in the world happened?”

      Oh, nothing. Just a super handsome man flew down a mountain and almost killed me. “I slipped and fell. Stupid snow.”

      Bonnie clucked her tongue as if she was scolding Joy. “Ouch. Well, I wouldn’t worry about work tomorrow anyway. I’m not sure we’ll be able to open on time, and even then, I’m not sure we’ll have any customers. This storm is supposed to be pretty bad. I think it’s best you stay inside and recuperate. We’ll see you on Thursday if all is back to normal.”

      Joy breathed a huge sigh of relief. Bonnie was a wonderful boss. After Mariella Marshall, this was one life change Joy was glad for. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. I’ll be in touch. Stay safe.”

      “You, too.”

      Joy hung up and settled back in bed, her mind zeroing in on her other problem—Alex. It would’ve been so nice to stay up and chat with him, but he asked too many questions. It took a lot of effort to think about the ramifications of every answer she gave, and she knew it made her come off as someone who was hiding something. She didn’t want to be that person. She was horrible at being that person, but such was the situation she’d gotten herself into.

      Part of her wished she never would’ve given him a fake last name. It set a bad precedent, and she’d done a ridiculously bad job with it, to boot. Baker? Seriously? It was the first thing that had come to mind, a perfect illustration of how ill-equipped she was to go around the world being anyone other than herself. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it—she would only know Alex for a short time. Twenty-four hours. He’d never have to know she’d fibbed a few times. It certainly wasn’t hurting anyone.

      Despite her inability to lie for hours at a time, she would’ve liked to have talked to Alex more and at least find out about him. She was a naturally curious person, and he’d been almost as dismissive of her questions as she’d been of his. He hadn’t made a big deal of his occupation, but if his car was any indication, he had to be an important guy... She didn’t like the idea of snooping, but maybe one internet search wasn’t too nosy. He was sleeping in the same house as her, after all.

      She pulled up the web browser on her phone and typed in Alexander Townsend, Chicago, Illinois. As the results came back, it quickly dawned on Joy that she was in over her head. He wasn’t merely Alexander Townsend. He was Alexander Townsend III. Joy had never been acquainted with someone with roman numerals after their name. Ever. Judging by the bio and photos that came up, her hunch about Alex being somebody had been absolutely correct.

      The Townsends were one of the wealthiest families in Chicago and had resided there for decades. They were old money personified—houses all over the world, expensive vacations, lots of heavy political ties and famous friends. As she scrolled through the stories about Alex though, she learned that he was generating his own new money. He was responsible for taking Townsend & Associates Investments to a whole new level of success. According to several business publications, he was doing so with aplomb. Good for him.

      Joy clicked on Images and she was glad no one was watching her while she did this. She got all tingly and hot-faced just from seeing pictures of him. She needed to have her head examined—it wasn’t as if she hadn’t just had the chance to look at him as much as she liked. Most of the photographs were from big social events and fund-raisers, the theater, fancy dinners. He was in a suit in many of them, a tux in a few, always dashing and impeccably dressed. With every suit came a stunning woman on his arm. After a while, it became her mission to find a picture of him without a woman, but all she could find was his corporate head shot and a few of him leaving or arriving at his office.

      Alex’s parade of women was ready for the covers of magazines. They were ripe for the society pages or the red carpet—gorgeous hair and makeup, flawless designer gowns, long legs and perfect skin. None of these women, Joy was quite certain, was a baker from Ohio. She might have enjoyed her conversation with Alex, she