Hotter On Ice / Slow Hands

CHAPTER TWO

THE WORDS WERE out of his mouth before all the reasons not to say them registered. Henning’s mind was still stuck on the moment when her slim, tight body brushed against his. When she pressed her hands against his stomach, exploring before either of them seemed to fully register what was happening. Alya was soft. Slim but not frail. So very alive. She smelled of honey and sunshine, and every dark desire Henning had ever had.

But the reason to bury all those thoughts came crashing in seconds later. Her expression when she saw his face. He couldn’t forget that for a moment.

Henning took a step away, giving Alya a clear path to the conference-room door, giving himself a little distance from her intoxicating scent. Finally, her bright blue eyes flickered from his.

“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he said, heading for the door before she had a chance to respond.

The reception area of the top floor was quiet and bright, the morning sun filtering through the frosted glass and reflecting off the polished wood surfaces. They headed for the elevators in silence, Henning’s body on high alert, fully tuned to her every move. She stopped in front of the heavy metal doors, but she didn’t reach for the call button. Instead, she turned to face him again.

“I’m beyond thrilled that Max and my sister found each other. Natasha’s happiness means everything to me,” she said. “It meant I lost my bodyguard, too, but that’s a small price.”

Henning could see that this was hard for her to talk about, so he waited, letting her take her time.

“Hiring security is a crutch I’ve leaned on for a while.” She swallowed, the movement sweeping down her long neck. “It used to be necessary all the time, but now it’s more often for a peace of mind than actual protection. It’s like a little bit of me believed his claims that I was turning into a train wreck, that I doubted myself. And I don’t like that feeling of vulnerability.”

Henning restrained his urge to react. His deep desire to comfort her, to protect her warred with what he heard in her words: she wanted to stand on her own. So he said nothing, just nodded, storing the information away for later inspection.

“You know a little about what happened with Nick, the way he wouldn’t leave me alone and made me out to look unhinged, so I think you might understand why it’s been hard to move on. It takes a long time for me to trust anyone. So I wouldn’t want any other bodyguard,” she added, reaching for the call button. “Only you.”

The elevator doors slid open, and she walked in without looking back, vanishing as the cold metal doors closed. Henning took a deep breath, then another, slowing his heartbeat, forcing himself back to the starkness of reality, where she was just a client and this was just a job. Nothing more. He blew out one more long breath and headed for the hall to his office.

The receptionist gave him a neutral smile as he passed and busied herself with something at her desk. When Henning first came to Blackmore Inc., it had taken that woman a few weeks to hide her reaction every time she saw the jagged scars down his face. He remembered the widening of her eyes, the way her gaze drifted over him each time he passed. Not so different from Alya’s reaction, really. She was a model, for fuck’s sake, paid to live in a world where looks were everything. Of course she’d react to his injuries.

But it had hit him hard. Alya had given him a look that was far too close to the look Corinne had given him five years ago at the hospital, at the very lowest point of his life. Or at least he thought it was similar. Alya had said so convincingly that he didn’t scare her, too. Maybe she was one of those women who got turned on by a man who looked more beast than human? That thought alone should have been sobering enough, but the electric current of desire didn’t seem to be waning.

Why the hell was he still thinking about this? He had made peace with his scars years ago. He had escaped that disastrous drug bust alive, which was more than his right-hand man got. That one day changed everything, and usually he welcomed the visual reminder of the event he never wanted to forget. Now he was mulling over the way he looked? Damn.

As he headed down the hall to his office, Max caught up with him. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his expression relaxed, like nothing in the world bothered him.

“That went well,” Max said lightly. Henning jerked his head in time to see a hint of a smile on his friend’s face.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” muttered Henning.

Max shook his head slowly. “You were the best in the Australian Federal Police force, so I know you’re not talking about your ability to protect Alya.”

Henning blew out a breath and shook his head. “Most obvious issue, I’m going to attract a lot of unwanted attention, which she doesn’t need. It’s a fucking fashion shoot, no place for a bloke with a face like this.” He rubbed his left cheek, where one of the scars pulled his taut, injured skin tight. “And though I don’t track fashion shit, I’m pretty sure this doesn’t go with whatever the hell the season’s look is.”

Max gave a little snort of laughter, then raised an eyebrow. “You saved a dozen officers from a meth-running gang. You will make sure Alya doesn’t spend one minute of this trip worried something unexpected might happen.” His mouth curved up into a full smile as he spoke. “Who the fuck cares what this season’s look is?”

Henning’s mouth twitched until he was smiling, too. Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously, you’ve been surveilling Alya for over three years now. You know every single thing about her situation and where she might feel vulnerable.”

Understatement of the year. But it also meant spending a few days in the cold, which wasn’t ideal. The nightmares rarely came these days, and occasionally he took a winter trip to the Blue Mountains with his sister’s family and faced the cold without too much trouble. Still...not ideal. But he’d make it work.

There was understanding in Max’s easy smile. Had he picked up on the more personal aspects of the job Henning was struggling with? Yeah, that was his problem. Keeping his distance from Alya had been a Herculean effort in the past, but all those hours alone... Henning still wasn’t sure how he was going to pull this off. A captivating woman, strong but in a vulnerable place, who needed his help—this scenario was a temptation too strong to resist.

Cameron Blackmore, the company CEO, had offered him dozens of opportunities to work directly with clients since he’d quit the AFP and come to Blackmore Inc., and he had turned every single one of them down. Henning didn’t usually care much about the looks of shock at the wreckage of his face, but it didn’t make for the best guard-client relationships. Even before the scars, most people left him alone. Now working surveillance, he was pretty sure he scared most of the IT department shitless.

He and Max came to a stop in front of Henning’s office. Henning reached for the handle, but before he turned it, Max quietly cleared his throat, getting his attention.

“I wouldn’t have pushed you to do this if I didn’t think it was a good option. For both of you.”

Henning scowled. “For me? I highly doubt that.” He blew out his breath in frustration. “You have no idea.”

“Maybe I don’t,” said Max, his voice almost maddeningly easy and smooth. “Or maybe I can guess why you’d want to stay far away from her. And why you said yes to this job anyway. But I pushed because I think this assignment is different than any other one for you.”

Henning grunted in response. That much was true. But it didn’t mean he’d survive this week with his sanity intact. Before he could respond, his phone rang. His heart thumped in his chest. It couldn’t be Alya, taking him up on his impulsive offer of anything...could it? Henning squashed that thought as he pulled out the phone and looked at the screen. Suzanne. He sighed.

“It’s my sister,” he said to Max. “I should take this.”

Max nodded and clapped him on the shoulder again before walking away. Henning pressed the button on the screen to answer.

“Hi, Suz,” he said, opening his office door. “What’s up?”

“Kids melting down, work and an occasional conversation with Kenny,” she said dryly. “The usual.”

Henning smiled. His older sister’s house was pure chaos, but she was happy. She and her husband Kenny had tried for years for a baby, first by themselves and then with some help. Suzanne was at the point of desperation when finally, little Molly came. And then Liam. Growing up, their parents weren’t much for outward displays of emotion, and though Henning was close to his sister, neither of them were much for probing conversations. Suzanne had never said a lot about the whole experience with infertility, but just stepping into her house, he knew she was happy. Seeing that was still one of the best things in his life.

Henning headed across his office for his desk and sank into his chair.

“I was calling to see if you have plans this Saturday,” said his sister. Dishes clattered in the background. “Molly has a dance recital. Princess themed, of course. And we’ll go out to dinner afterward.”

Henning took a breath and dropped the bomb as gently as possible. “Thanks, but I’m going out of town tomorrow.”

“What?”

The shock in his sister’s voice made him roll his eyes.

“You know, on an airplane,” he deadpanned. “They even let me on those things.”

She gave a huff of exasperation. “Stop it. You know I’m just in shock that you’re actually going somewhere. Are you...” Her voice turned syrupy, exaggerating the incredulity in her question. “Are you actually going on vacation, Henning?”

“Nope,” he said curtly. “It’s for work.”

“You sit in front of a computer for work these days,” Suzanne said. “Explain.”

“I need to be on the ground for this one.”

She was silent for a bit, and the clattering of dishes died down. “You said you’d never do this kind of thing again,” she said slowly.

Yeah, he did say that. But the last thing he wanted to do right now was discuss why Alya was the exception to that promise. Suzanne was quiet for a long time, so he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk, waiting her out.

“Where are you going?”

“Northern Sweden. The Icehotel. Danger level is very low.”

More silence. Henning swiped a hand over his face. He knew exactly what his sister was thinking about now, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t love the location of the assignment, but he wasn’t going to let it be an issue.

“It’s cold there,” she said quietly.

He frowned. “I’ve been in the cold since...” Fuck, he really didn’t want to talk about this. “It’s under control, Suzanne.”

“Is there a woman involved?”

Henning choked in his next breath, then disguised it as a cough. “What?”

“You heard me,” said Suzanne. “Is there a woman involved?”

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. “Yes, the assignment involves a woman, but that question makes it sound like something it’s not.”

“I knew it,” she whispered, but he heard it, loud and clear.

He huffed out a breath. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“Okay, Henning.” Her words had a hint of that syrupy tone again.

“Look up Behind the Runway on YouTube. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I’ve watched it. The behind-the-scenes show about modeling?” His sister paused, and he was pretty sure understanding was sinking in. He wasn’t a fool. There were so many reasons that whatever connection he had felt with Alya in the conference room would die a quick death as soon as they entered that scene, and his scars were just one of them.

When Henning didn’t respond, Suzanne finally said, “I see. Do you want me to water your plant while you’re gone?”

“My pla—?” He caught himself. Right. The plant his sister’s family had given him for Christmas. The dry, brown tangle of leaves in the corner of his living room.

“Don’t worry about coming all the way into town,” he said quickly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You already killed that plant, didn’t you?”

“Um, maybe?”

“Henning.” She said his name slowly, adding a dramatic pause before continuing. “The kids picked it out for you.”

He cringed. “I know. I’ll get a new one before they come over here next time.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.”

He did.

“At least it wasn’t a puppy,” he grumbled.

A puppy was the kids’ first idea, and thank God he had nipped that one in the bud. Judging from how plant ownership had gone, his sister was probably thinking the same thing. Suzanne meant well, but he was the last person a helpless little animal should be dependent on.

“I know you would have done better with a puppy,” she said softly.

Henning wasn’t sure about that, but he let the statement stand.

“Take care of yourself, Henning,” Suzanne added. This time, there was a mix of worry and affection in her voice. “Please.”

“I’ll call when I get home.” He swallowed back his own emotions and ended the call.

Henning set his phone on his desk and ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. It had taken his sister only one short phone call to uncover all the conflicted feelings for Alya that he was trying to tamp down. Which meant he was going to have a hell of a time putting aside every reaction he had to her the moment he showed up at her door tomorrow morning.

But he’d do it. His job was to watch her every moment of the day. And every long hour of the night. Just the two of them, alone in the darkness, in a remote resort in northern Sweden.

Holy hell.

CHAPTER THREE

HENNING STEERED THE big black SUV over the packed snow that made up the desolate road to the Icehotel, keeping his gaze fixed straight in front of him. The pine forests, covered in white, stretched out along the road on both sides. Alya was looking out the window at the passing landscape, dotted with occasional houses painted bright red and topped with snow. He didn’t need to look in her direction to know what she was doing.

He’d been tuned in to her every movement since he’d picked her up at her Sydney apartment. That was expected. What was unexpected was the sense that she was just as tuned in to him. He had kept himself awake half the night going over her response to him yesterday in the Blackmore Inc. conference room. Imagining all the other ways he wanted to end that meeting.

“It’s cold here,” said Alya, clutching her down jacket tighter around her. “I mean, of course it’s cold, but I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

Henning knew exactly what she meant. When they’d stepped out of the airport, the wind found its way through his jacket immediately. He had seen snow in person, but nothing like this endless blanket of white. It was fascinating to look at, or at least it should have been. Now, the fascination was tainted by the memory of the ice-cold concrete floor of the warehouse where he had lain, watching his team member die from the shards of glass that had hit them both in the explosion. But he could put that reaction aside for the next few days. Besides, he was Australian for fuck’s sake—of course he reacted to the cold.

Henning checked to make sure the seat heater was on max and hiked up the temperature a couple notches. “I thought you were from Russia.”

“We left when I was six,” she said with a snort of laughter. “And I think my parents did a better job of dressing me for the weather.”

Henning smiled. “I should probably call them for some tips.”

He glanced over at her. Other than the parka and boots, Alya was dressed for late summer in Australia. She’d walked onto the airplane in tight jeans, a silky top that showed skin, and sunglasses. The look-don’t-touch vibe rolled off her. A good thing, as far as Henning was concerned, since the travel portions of the assignment were the most unpredictable—and the most critical for her to feel safe. While he accepted that he could never completely shut down his reaction to her, this cool, polished Alya was easier to separate himself from. But right now, after a day of traveling halfway across the world—hair mussed from fits of sleep, curled up in her puffy down coat with her feet tucked under her—keeping a professional distance was close to impossible. Had he caught her staring at his ass when they were getting off the plane? That didn’t help. It triggered a vivid image of her that he’d conjured up in the shower the night before as he came: Alya up against the door, his cock deep inside her as he put his mouth on her soft, slim throat.

Heat flooded to his groin. Fuck. Enough of that.

No encounters with Nick. No scenes that called attention to her personal life. That was his job. Nothing else. Unless she said explicitly that she wanted more. It was this last thought that had kept him up way too late.

Alya yawned and reached into her bag, pulling out the master schedule, scanning the pages.

“Today you have a meeting when you arrive, and then there’s drinks in the Icehotel, right?” he asked.

She nodded. “I was just checking to make sure we have time for a nap between those two.”

“Can you nap in that igloo?” He had seen photos of the Icehotel rooms, glowing with the tint of ocean blue. They were works of art, really, elaborate beds, chairs and sculptures carved from enormous blocks of ice. Strikingly beautiful but not made for casual napping.

“I could probably nap anywhere at this point, though I think the frozen portion of the hotel is more like a museum during the day,” said Alya, stifling another yawn. “But we’re not staying in the part of the hotel with ice rooms tonight. We’re scheduled in the regular heated building, right next door, for the first night, so we can use the beds in our room anytime today.”

Use the beds. Unfortunate phrasing. As the words left her lips, an image came of using a bed, naked, with Alya riding on top as he fucked her. Henning swallowed back a groan. How long had it been since he’d gotten laid? Too long, clearly.

There were places he could go to fuck, clubs where women got off on having a big, scarred man over them, holding them down, just the way they asked for it. And the women had no problem with his limits either—they had no interest in touching or kissing him anyway. Maybe he should have gone there last night, just to burn off some of this intense want.

But Henning had quit, cold turkey, when he found himself searching for tall, blonde women with endless legs. He had never had a preference before, and he knew exactly why this one was forming. Which was more than enough reason to cut that habit off immediately. What he felt for Alya was so many worlds away from what he wanted from those women. Henning couldn’t bear to mix the two worlds.

So it had been a while. Maybe that was why he had thrown caution to the wind and offered Alya anything she needed. Or maybe, after watching those blue eyes come alive under his gaze, he couldn’t resist.

During his undercover work with the AFP, he had built a career in part on reading people, looking past what they said and concentrating on what they did. Yesterday, he hadn’t missed the way Alya had stepped closer instead of backing away from him, the way she’d licked her lips, the way her breath came faster when she’d touched him. In the days before the disastrous bust that marked the end of his AFP career, he had gotten more than his fair share of attention from women. And he understood his responsibility as a man bigger than most other people, the responsibility of making sure he understood exactly what a woman wanted from him before he touched her. His days of propositions in bars were long over, but he hadn’t forgotten how it all worked. He had to be really fucking careful.

The GPS on the car told him they were nearing the place. He pulled off into a little parking lot in front of the unassuming wooden buildings. Tall pine trees rose up on both sides, and Henning assumed the actual Icehotel lay somewhere behind them. He found a parking spot at the far end of the lot, and turned off the car. Then he rested his hands on his legs, ready for whatever came next, but Alya made no move to gather her belongings and climb out. Instead, she turned to face him. He had the feeling she wanted to speak, so he watched her, waiting her out. After her chest rose and fell a few more times, she met his gaze.