A loud knock at the door had Julia jumping up. Suddenly feeling very isolated and unprotected, she scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Spying a big log in her pile of firewood, she grabbed it, cowering in the corner. The pounding on the door continued, louder this time, and Julia's heart began to race. Who the hell would be on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on a day like this? It was a virtual whiteout outside.

"Jules, open the damn door. I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Ross? She sighed in relief, rushing to unlock the door, and there in the doorway stood her very tall, very wet editor.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, aware her tone was distinctly unfriendly, but he had scared her half to death.

Eyes narrowed, Ross entered the cabin, his arms laden with packages, a large duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, a backpack over the other. "I tried to call, but the phone lines are down," he answered gruffly.

"My cell?" she asked sarcastically.

"No service up here," he replied with equal irritation.

"Is something wrong?" She couldn't imagine what could be so bad it would compel Ross to leave the comfort of his penthouse apartment in New York City to drive for nine hours to the mountains.

"Blizzard." He unloaded his bags on the kitchen counter. "Headed this way. I was worried you'd be snowed in without enough food."

Secretly pleased at his incredibly sweet gesture, Julia smiled and helped him unload the soggy paper bags. "You've brought enough food for an army." She gaped at all the meat, vegetables, fruit and snacks he carried in. "I hope you don't think I need all this to survive. Hey, I didn't hear a car. ...