BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE by Emma Sinclair
Abby stared out the window watching the snow fall. There must have been at least a foot already and the weatherman was calling for even more.
And she was alone.
Roger, the guy she'd been seeing for a few months and had every intention of sleeping with tonight, was stuck at the airport in Albany. Tonight was going to be the night she'd finally get over her one and only disastrous sexual experience with the opposite sex.
Instead, she was alone.
"I wish it'd stop snowing."
She turned away from the window, no use wishing for what wouldn't happen, and shuffled back to the living room. She'd ditched her new black lace up stilettos a few hours ago and went back to her ever-faithful pig slippers.
Her living room was fit for seduction. Candles abounded, a bottle of champagne--the expensive kind--waited in a chilled bucket and two flutes rested on the coffee table. The fire was blazing and sultry sounds drifted through the speakers.
I really can't stay--Baby, it's cold outside.
Ah, what she wouldn't do to have that give and take, that flirting, that ... wanting.
Instead, she sat alone with her pig slippers and a seventy-five dollar bottle of champagne that she didn't even like.
"This blows," she muttered to herself.
Thinking about a nice bowl of ice cream, and maybe making her emergency box of brownies that she always kept on hand, she was startled by a knock on the door.
Who in the hell would be out and about during a blizzard?
Shuffling to the door, no easy feat considering she hadn't yet changed out of her miniskirt, she spied a familiar black and red checkered coat standing outside.
Cold air rushed in as she opened the door.
Goosebumps skittered up and down her body and her nipples jutted to attention.
But whether it was from the cold or the man who stood on her front stoop, she didn't want to know.
"What are you doing out in this?"
Leave it to Zane to do things no other sane person would do.
"Oh, it's not like I had to come too far."
True, he did own the other unit in her duplex, but still, in this weather, fifteen feet from door to door was way too much.
He stepped inside and shook the snow from his coat before taking it off and hanging it up. He stomped his feet a few times, dislodging huge chunks of snow and ice off the massive snow boots.
She'd often made fun of his boots, Eskimo's didn't wear boots that thick, but it took really big feet to fill them and you know what they say about men with big feet...
And she had no doubts about him being a disappointment in that department.
She'd felt it against her body once.
Shortly after he moved in, she'd invited him over for chocolate fondue. She hadn't expected him to show up early to help her chop the fruit. As they were working side by side in the kitchen, he reached past her and brushed up against her.
He'd been rock hard, and it had felt so nice pressed against her backside.
But that was it.
A promising evening had turned into absolutely nothing.
Hell, wasn't she used to that?
"Are you going to invite me in?"
She looked up from where she'd been caught staring at his crotch. His brown eyes twinkled. Melting snowflakes caught on his eyelashes only intensified the effect.
His black hair was thick and wet with moisture.
Wow.
"Since when did you need an invitation?"
She shuffled back to the living room, but then decided that wasn't where she wanted to be.
"Do you want some brownies? I want some brownies."
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