Page 6 of Hotter on Ice

“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

HENNINGSTEEREDTHEbig 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.