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...