Taste

The last person on earth I want to be stranded with is Gianni Lupo.

But thanks to the blizzard of the century, I'm trapped in a roadside motel room with that cocky bastard for two straight days.

With one small bed.

Some women might thank Mother Nature for delivering a polar vortex that maroons them with six feet of solid muscle, those deep blue eyes, that sexy grin--but not me. I've known Gianni Lupo all my life, and he's never brought me anything but bad luck and trouble.

So when the tension b...