Hotter on Ice Page 2

  “I doubt we’ll have any problems,” he continued in that low, rumbling voice. “But there is always the possibility that I will need to protect you. Physically.”

  He paused, swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as the last word sank in. It ran through her body, suggesting much different ways he could physically affect her. Damn, she needed to get this under control. Attraction was about nothing more than sexual interest...which her body was clearly expressing right now. She felt the barely concealed desire in his eyes, and she was almost sure he could see the same in hers. She felt the pain Henning’s scars must have caused, and her mind was already at work, connecting that with the intense sense of...protectiveness...she had felt from him over the last three years. Everything else faded as this all fit together, like the final pieces of a puzzle, somewhere deep inside her. She was opening herself to this feeling, she didn’t know how to stop it. Or if she wanted to.

  “I understand,” she said, her voice steady.

  He gave her a little nod. Then he rubbed the scar on his neck absently. “I’m aware that with my size and my scars and what Max calls my aversion to conversation, I can come off as a little rough around the edges,” he said, cracking a hint of a smile again. It faded quickly. “But I never, ever want to scare you.”

  Alya frowned. “You don’t. Not it all.”

  She had a strong urge to clear up that misunderstanding, but elaborating would mean wandering into inappropriate territory. Her attraction was raw and very real. Any hints of wariness he had detected were about the intensity of her reaction to him, not fear.

  Alya had to make him understand, and words didn’t seem to be the right path. So, instead, she raised her hand and slowly reached for his forearm, crossed over his broad chest. She gave him plenty of time to back away, but he didn’t, so she touched his skin. The electric spark between them surged once again, and she swallowed a gasp. His muscles twitched under her fingers, and his lips parted. Was he thinking about kissing, too?

  “This isn’t fear, Henning,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

  His chest rose and fell and she tried—and failed—to read his expression. Finally, he nodded. “You can touch me, do whatever you need during our trip. I don’t want to go into this with any hesitancy on your part.”

  Alya’s heart jumped at each image his words conjured. Touch me. Whatever you need. The physical memory of her hands on the hard ridges of his abs came back, mingling with things she had only imagined.

  There were nights he had watched her through the security camera in her front hall, making sure she came home safely. But what about the night she had come home, half-drunk, with her date, and had sex against the door in full view of the camera? The idea that Henning might be watching was a turn-on at the time. Now her mind wandered further. If he had watched, had he gotten himself off to it, too? Damn, that would be hot...

  Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. You’re in his workplace.

  She lowered her hand, breaking the connection. Then she smiled up at him. “Is the permission to touch standard in your Blackmore Inc. contract?”

  The hint of a smile returned to Henning’s lips, and he shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m just letting you know how I work.”

  “I’m sure you have plenty of satisfied clients,” she said, laughing.

  “There are no other in-person clients for me. Not now, and not in the future.” Henning shook his head. “Only you.”

  His eyes were dark flames, flickering, captivating. She was getting used to the way he watched her, his gaze unwavering. As if every bit of his focus was on her, as if nothing else in the world existed.

  What did it mean to be intensely attracted to her bodyguard, right from the first moment she crashed into him? She had never felt this way about Max, so his appeal wasn’t just the role of protector. Henning awoke a hunger she knew couldn’t—shouldn’t—be fed...should it?

  Maybe this was the wrong approach. She was done running away from her fears. Maybe it was time to take control of the situation, to explore it, to figure out what she was looking for, not just what to avoid.

  But Alya didn’t know what was going on in Henning’s mind. She was almost positive he felt the same intense attraction, but maybe he had reasons he couldn’t or wouldn’t act on it. Like the obvious ones. What were the Blackmore Inc. rules about personal involvement with clients? Maybe she could just find a way to ask him...somehow. Alya’s face flushed as more of that current of sexual interest sizzled between them.

  “I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning at six,” he said.

  “I’ll be ready for you.”

  “Alya?” His voice had lowered to almost a whisper. “Please send me a message if you think of anything you need. Or want. Anything.”

  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. N
ot 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.”