The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  That caused him to groan. A hot-blooded, purely male groan. “Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.”

  She wholeheartedly agreed.

  “So where do you live, beautiful?”

  Scarlett hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. “If I tell you, you’re gonna think I’m a loser.”

  “Why would I think you’re a loser?”

  She sighed. “Because I live at home with my parents.”

  “What’s wrong with that? My baby sister still lives at home and she’s only two years younger than you.”

  “The supermodel?”

  “Yeah. Svea.” He pronounced it Svay-ahh. Beautiful name for a beautiful chick.

  “She doesn’t really count,” Scarlett said.

  “Why not?”

  “She’s a supermodel who spends most of her time jet-setting around the world. I bet she’s not even home enough to justify paying for her own place.”

  “And you’re a musician who spends several months on the road. What’s the difference?”

  Scarlett pursed her lips. “You have a point.”

  “Always.”

  She grinned. “Well, anyway, I’m saving up to get my own place.”

  “Cool,” Viggo said. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll put you in touch with my Realtor.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. In the meantime, give me your address so I can pick you up for dinner. Seven work for you?”

  “Um…” Scarlett pictured her mother peering excitedly out the window when Viggo pulled up. She pictured her rushing to the door, batting her lashes at him and saying all sorts of horribly embarrassing things.

  She cringed just thinking about it. “Uh, maybe I can meet you at the restaurant.”

  “Why?”

  Before she could respond, her phone beeped with an incoming call. She looked at the screen and was surprised to see her manager’s name.

  “Um, I gotta run,” she told Viggo. “My manager’s calling.”

  “That’s cool. Don’t forget to text me your address.”

  “Okay.” She hesitated, reluctant to let him go.

  “Night, Scarlett. Sleep well.”

  “If I’m lucky.”

  He chuckled. “You and me both.”

  She was grinning when she pressed the button to take her manager’s call. “Hey, Cara.”

  “Hey, babydoll.” Cara sounded excited. Always a good sign. “I have great news.”

  “Really? What?”

  “You’re going on tour with Black Kross!”

  “Holy shit.” Scarlett bolted upright. “Black Kross? Are you serious?”

  “You think I’d joke about something like this?” She wouldn’t. She knew better. “I just got off the phone with their booking agent. Seems their opening act had some sort of conflict that forced them to bail on the band’s holiday tour. Crazy, right? Who in their right mind cancels on Black Kross?”

  “Seriously.” Black Kross was one of the biggest indie rock bands out there right now. Touring with them would help expand Off The Grid’s domestic audience. For whatever reason, they were more popular overseas than in the States.

  “Their booking agent has seen you guys perform and he really likes your sound,” Cara said. “Plus you’ve already got a nice fan base, so he knows you can draw some numbers. He called me up to see if you guys are available.”

  “Hell yeah, we’re available!”

  “That’s what I told him.” Cara laughed. “Anyway, it’s an East Coast tour covering twenty-two cities including Boston—your home base. Hopefully your fans will pack the house for that show.”

  “They’d better.” Scarlett grinned.

  “So…there’s just one catch.”

  “What’s that?”

  Cara hesitated. “The first show is tomorrow night in Brooklyn.”

  Some of Scarlett’s excitement fizzled. “Tomorrow night?”

  “I know it’s super short notice,” Cara said apologetically, “and they’re not paying much. But they agreed to cover your hotel expenses since the rooms were already booked for that other band. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this is a great opportunity for you guys to sell merch to a packed house and grab some new fans.”

  “Of course,” Scarlett agreed. But even to her own ears, she sounded half-hearted.

  Cara picked up on it. “Do you have something else going on?”

  “Not really.” Other than a hot date with a supersexy hockey stud who lights up my body like no other. “I was supposed to work tomorrow. The shop gets pretty busy around the holidays. And then I promised to do some wedding stuff with my cousin who just got engaged. I’m her maid of honor so…” She trailed off lamely.

  She could picture Cara frowning, probably wondering what the hell had gotten into her. Nothing came before the band. Ever.

  “This is a big deal, Scarlett.”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t turn down an opportunity to go on tour with Black Kross.”

  “I know,” Scarlett said defensively. “The timing just threw me off. It’s really short notice.”

  “I agree, babydoll. But you’re a pro, so roll with it.” Cara was all business. “Listen, I need to make some calls and confirm the arrangements. I won’t be able to join you guys until Wednesday in Queens, but I’ll definitely be there. Can you call up the fellas and tell them the good news, and make sure they get their asses to the show on time?”

  “Will do.” Scarlett mustered a smile. “They’re gonna be so excited.”

  More excited than she suddenly felt.

  Chapter 6

  Scarlett

  Midnight Drive

  * * *

  An hour later, she’d packed a months’ worth of clothes, shoes and accessories into two suitcases. As expected, her bandmates were stoked to be going on tour with Black Kross. They planned to load up the van and hit the road first thing in the morning.

  It was close to midnight and Scarlett had an eleven a.m. flight. She should crawl back into bed and get some sleep. But something else was calling to her.

  Or rather, someone else.

  Impulsively she grabbed her phone, pulled up her most recent calls and tapped on Viggo’s number.

  He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  Just the sound of his deep, raspy voice made her break out into a million goosebumps. “It’s me,” she whispered. “Sorry for waking you.”

  “That’s okay. What’s up, beautiful?”

  A delicious shiver ran through her. Summoning her courage, she blurted, “Would you like to fika with me?”

  There was a surprised silence. Then Viggo chuckled, all low and sexy. “Fika?”

  “Isn’t that the Swedish word for meeting up for a cup of coffee? Taking a coffee break?” She was cringing, her cheeks burning. “I said it wrong, didn’t I? Oh God, I’m such a dork.”

  “No, you’re not. You said it just fine. And I’d love to fika with you, Scarlett.”

  “Really?” She sounded super breathless and giddy. “I know it’s late—”

  “It’s never too late to spend time with you.” She heard rustling in the background and pictured him stretching his long body out of bed. Didn’t he say he slept naked?

  She licked her lips. “Since it’s so late and we both have to be up early, we don’t have to drink coffee. Hot chocolate works for fika too, right?”

  “Sure,” came his lazy drawl. “I know a place that’s still open. I’ll pick some up on my way over. We can go for a drive or park somewhere quiet and stargaze.”

  Scarlett got all swoony. “That sounds good.”

  “Awesome.”

  At the hiss of a zipper, her pulse jackhammered and her knees almost buckled.

  “Do your parents live near Nadia’s?” Viggo asked.

  “Right around the corner,” she breathed.

  “Cool. I’ve been to their house before with Reid. Text me your address and I’ll be there soon.”r />
  “’Kay.” She hung up and quickly sent off her address. Her heart was racing and her skin was tingling with little bursts of excitement.

  Feeling like a hormone-crazed teenager, she hurriedly pulled on a pair of black leggings and a black cotton bra. Biting her lip, she swapped out the cotton bra for a lace demi number from Victoria’s Secret. Then she tugged on a black hoodie featuring Misty Knight, her favorite ass-kicking comic book superhero.

  Humming Mary J. Blige’s “Midnight Drive,” she gargled with mouthwash and then laced up a pair of Converse Black Sabbath high-tops bearing the band’s album artwork. Snatching off her bonnet, she plucked her hair into some semblance of a style with the black curls falling over one side of her face. Then she reached for a tube of lip gloss, changed her mind and smoothed on vanilla-scented lip balm for a more natural look.

  Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her phone, wallet and house key. Then she left her bedroom and tiptoed down the darkened hallway. She’d nearly reached the staircase when she heard soft giggles coming from her parents’ room at the other end of the hall.

  Suddenly the door opened and her mother started backing out of the room. She was wearing a long red negligee and purring wickedly to her husband, “Hold that pose, honey. I’ll be right back with the whipped cream.”

  Oh God, Scarlett mentally groaned. Seriously?

  With a naughty giggle, her mother closed her bedroom door and turned on the hallway light. Her ample breasts were all but spilling out of the low bodice of her negligee. She started strutting down the hallway, stopping short when she saw Scarlett.

  “Oh hey, baby.” Making no attempt to cover her semi-nudity, Sherise took in her daughter’s attire and lifted an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

  Scarlett thought fast. “I gotta pick up a few things from Wal-Mart.”

  “At this hour?”

  “Yeah. Cara just called. We’re going on tour with another band. I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “What?” Her mother looked stricken. “Why so soon?”

  “The holiday tour starts tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!”

  “Tonight, technically.”

  “But what about your date with Viggo?”

  Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about that?”

  “I overheard you and Nadia talking about it on the plane.” Sherise was so distressed she didn’t bother lying about eavesdropping. “Oh, baby, do you really have to go? You haven’t even been home that long from your last tour.”

  “I’ve been home since October.”

  Her mother waved her hand as if dismissing the reminder. “Viggo will be so disappointed about you leaving town.”

  That makes two of us.

  “He leaves town all the time,” Scarlett mumbled, turning and starting down the staircase.

  Her mother followed her. “I won’t be able to take you to the airport. I have that breakfast fundraiser after spin class.”

  “Lennox is taking me. I already called him.”

  “Humph. What band are you touring with?”

  “Black Kross. With a k.”

  “Black Kross? Sounds satanic.”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “They’re not satanic. At least not that I know of.”

  “Well,” her mother fretted as they reached the main floor, “how long will you be gone this time?”

  Before Scarlett could answer, her phone rang. She dug it out of the front pocket of her hoodie and pressed the answer button. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Viggo’s voice was like liquid sex. “I’m at the front gate. Is there a passcode or…?”

  “Sorry! I forgot to tell you the neighborhood’s gated.” She rattled off the code.

  “Thanks, gorgeous. Can I come to the front door?”

  “No!” She cringed at her vehement outburst and shot a backward glance at her mother, who was beaming with sheer delight. “I’ll, uh, meet you outside.”

  He chuckled. “See you soon.”

  As she stuffed her phone back into her pocket, her mother excitedly clapped her hands together. “Are you having a midnight rendezvous with Viggo?”

  Scarlett blushed. “It’s not a midnight rendezvous.”

  “It’s midnight and you’re sneaking out of the house to meet a man. Sounds like a midnight rendezvous to me.” Sherise’s dark eyes twinkled mischievously. “Are you wearing sexy panties?”

  Scarlett’s face flamed. “Ma!”

  She let out a peal of wicked laughter.

  “So inappropriate,” Scarlett grumbled, heading toward the front door. When her mother followed, she turned and gaped at her. “What’re you doing?”

  “I want to see Viggo.”

  “Seriously, Ma?” Scarlett motioned to her negligee-clad body. “You can’t come to the door like that.”

  Totally unfazed about her state of undress, Sherise opened the foyer closet and pulled out a cashmere Burberry trench. She put on the coat, flipped her reddish-brown hair out from under the collar, cinched the belt around her waist and then grinned at Scarlett. “Better?”

  Shaking her head, Scarlett turned and unlocked the front door.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  She glanced back at her mother. “What?”

  “It’s cold outside. Where’s your coat?”

  “I don’t need one. We’re just gonna be sitting in his car. I assume the heater works.”

  Her mother gave her a conspiratorial wink. “And the less you wear, the less he has to remove.”

  Scarlett groaned. “Can you not?”

  Sherise giggled unabashedly as Scarlett opened the front door and stepped out into the chilly winter night.

  Nervous, fluttery excitement hit her low in the stomach when she saw Viggo. He was leaning back against a chromed out Chevy Silverado parked in front of the house. Though she knew he owned a couple of sports cars, seeing him with this big rugged truck made him even hotter.

  He was wearing a black crewneck sweater, a pair of dark cuffed jeans and heavy black boots. His thick hair was pulled back into one of those man buns that so many athletes seemed to favor. It made him look even more like a badass Viking.

  Her mother made an appreciative purring sound behind her. “God bless Sweden.”

  “Amen,” Scarlett couldn’t help whispering.

  Slowly Viggo straightened from the truck, staring intently at her.

  She swallowed hard, her skin erupting in goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to move.

  “Heyyy, Viggo!” her mother cooed across the front lawn.

  Viggo lifted his hand in a lazy wave and smiled. “How’re you doing, Mrs. Warner?”

  “I’m doing just fine, handsome!” Sherise was all breathless and giggly. The effect Viggo had on women of all ages was downright appalling. “He looks like he’s ready to come get you, Scarlett. Better go on before I push you out of the way and take your place!”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Get back, woman.”

  Her mother laughed and gave her a sly nudge forward. “Have a good time, baby. I won’t wait up.”

  As Scarlett stepped off the porch and started down the flagstone walk, a squadron of butterflies took flight in her belly.

  Viggo watched her come toward him, looking her over from the top of her head all the way down to her feet—and back up again.

  When she reached him, he gave her one of those slow panty-melting smiles. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She smiled shyly, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. She’d almost forgotten how tall he was, how physically imposing with his massive shoulders and wide chest. He was oozing enough heat and testosterone to set her girl parts to quivering and her pulse to hammering.

  “Sorry for getting you out of your warm bed,” she said.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he murmured. “I’m glad you called.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He reached out and touched her chee
k, like he just couldn’t help himself. “Was everything okay with your manager?”

  His touch distracted her. “My manager?”

  “Yeah. She’s the one who called you, right?”

  “Right. Yes. That was her.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Scarlett hesitated. She didn’t want to put a big fat cloud over their time together, so she decided not to tell him that she was leaving town. Not yet.

  “Everything’s fine.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and gave him a saucy smile. “Let’s get this fika started.”

  That made him grin as he opened the passenger door for her.

  Before she could put one foot on the running board, his big hands were on her hips, lifting her up into the cab of the truck. Tingles shimmied down her spine.

  When their eyes locked, her breath caught and her heart beat triple time.

  They stared at each other for several supercharged seconds before Viggo winked, stepped back and closed her door.

  Dazedly she fastened her seatbelt, watching him saunter around to the driver’s side and climb behind the wheel. He looked and smelled so damn good, she wanted to sink her teeth into him and lick the skin off his bones.

  Closing the door, he glanced down at her Black Sabbath Chuck Taylors and smiled. “Nice kicks.”

  She grinned. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve heard that high-top Chucks are the best shoes for drummers to wear.”

  “You heard right,” she asserted. “I love my Chucks. They’re timeless and comfortable as hell.”

  Viggo gave her a lazy grin. “They should put you in a commercial.”

  She laughed. “I’ve been saying that for years.”

  As the powerful diesel engine roared to life, she glanced out the window at her parents’ large stone and stucco house. Her mother stood at the door waving and blowing kisses at them.

  Scarlett slumped down in the leather bench seat, waves of embarrassment washing over her. “I really need to get my own place,” she muttered.

  Viggo chuckled, pulling away from the curb. “You don’t enjoy living with your parents?”

  “It has its challenges.”

  “Why do you say that? Did something happen?”

  “They were about to have sex,” Scarlett said in disgust.