The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  Viggo grinned lazily. “Works for me.”

  “I bet it does,” she teased, kneading her way up his spine to his neck. As her fingers made little circles on either side of his nape, she said very casually, “I met Audrey tonight.”

  He immediately tensed up beneath her fingers. When he said nothing, she stared down at his face.

  His eyes were still closed, but his jaw was rigid. “What did she say?”

  “Enough,” Scarlett grumbled sourly.

  “What does that mean?”

  She relayed the brief conversation to him, watching his face darken into a scowl.

  “I’m sorry she said that to you.” His voice was taut. “How do you know it was Audrey?”

  “One of her mother’s friends came into the bathroom and struck up a conversation with her. She’s a blonde, right? Tall, slim, blue eyes?”

  He gave a brusque nod.

  “She’s pretty.” Scarlett smiled dryly. “The two of you could make a litter of blond Aryan offspring.”

  Viggo didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile.

  Scarlett studied his face, noting the ticking muscle in his jaw. Something like fear seeped into her veins. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  He’s lying, she thought, pulling her hands away from him as if she’d been burned. “What aren’t you telling me about you and Audrey?”

  He frowned. “There is no me and Aud—”

  Scarlett climbed off him and lunged out of the bed.

  He rolled onto his back and sat up. “Where are you going?”

  Ignoring him, she crossed the room to grab a plush throw draped over a leather chaise by the window. She wrapped the blanket around her body, covering herself up. She felt vulnerable enough right now. She didn’t need to be naked, too.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Viggo swing his legs over the edge of the mammoth bed. He stood and stalked over to a tall dresser, opened a drawer and grabbed a pair of dark basketball shorts that he pulled on. The stuffed elk she’d given him for Christmas sat propped up on the dresser. They’d named it Ragnar.

  As Viggo approached Scarlett, she turned away to stare out the window at the glittering city lights below.

  He came up beside her, towering over her. “Scarlett—”

  “I’ve been hurt before.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  “Who hurt you?” Viggo growled.

  “A man I stupidly trusted.” She swallowed a knot of pain. “I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”

  “I’m not him.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Did you hear me?” Rough fingers gripped her chin and turned her head, forcing her to meet fierce silver eyes. “I’m not the bastard who hurt you.”

  Her chin quivered. “Maybe not—”

  “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” Viggo snarled. “I’m not him.”

  “Then tell me the truth,” she demanded, temper flaring. “What the hell is going on between you and Audrey?”

  “Nothing,” he insisted, palming her cheek. “She asked me to participate in a charity bachelor auction she’s organizing for some Lark Women’s Club. I agreed.”

  Scarlett stared up at him. “You agreed?”

  “Yes,” he gritted out, “but only after I saw that fucking picture of you and Leo Harry. I figured we were done, so it didn’t matter if I did the bachelor auction.”

  This doused some of Scarlett’s anger. She lowered her face away from him and tugged her lower lip between her teeth.

  He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Believe me when I tell you that there’s nothing I want or need from Audrey. I had no interest in doing the bachelor auction, and I turned her down the first few times she asked. But she was persistent, and she ended up catching me at a bad moment.”

  Scarlett shook her head, staring out the window. “What do the proceeds go to?”

  “Foundation Fighting Blindness. A good friend of Audrey’s lost her sight at a young age, so tackling blindness has become her personal cause.”

  “Dammit,” Scarlett grumbled under her breath. “That’s really admirable.”

  “It is,” Viggo muttered. “But what she said to you wasn’t cool. I’ll talk to her.”

  Scarlett sighed. “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do,” he growled. “I need to set her straight on a couple other things as well.”

  Scarlett lifted an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  He clenched his jaw, clearly reluctant to answer.

  She wasn’t having it. “Like what?” she repeated.

  He scowled. “Audrey is the general manager’s niece, something she conveniently forgot to mention when I met her.”

  Scarlett frowned. “I don’t understand. You’ve been on the team for six years. You never saw her sitting in the owner’s box at a game? You never saw her at any team functions?”

  “No, because she’s only been around a few months. Her mother and uncle were estranged, so Audrey didn’t grow up with him. She and her mother just moved to Denver in October. I met her shortly after she got here.” Viggo scowled. “I wouldn’t have gone out with her if I’d known she was the GM’s niece.”

  “Maybe she knew that,” Scarlett suggested. “I remember in one of your GQ interviews, you were asked about relationship deal-breakers. You explicitly stated that you’d never date anyone who was related to team management because that was just asking for trouble.”

  “It is,” Viggo said angrily. “And now I’ve got McCaskill breathing down my fucking neck about Audrey. She apparently told him we’re still seeing each other. So, yeah, we need to have a little talk.”

  “Jesus.” Scarlett sank down on the chaise and rubbed her forehead. She had a very bad feeling about this. Audrey sounded like a scheming, manipulative bitch who would go to any lengths to get what she wanted.

  “Hey.” Viggo crouched in front of her, looking deep into her eyes. “Don’t worry about Audrey. She’s not gonna be a problem.”

  Scarlett’s lips twisted wryly. “I might have believed that if you weren’t participating in her bachelor auction. Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?”

  He grimaced. “Because I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it.”

  “You’re right. I’m not happy about you going on a date with another woman, worthy cause or not.”

  “I know, baby, but I already agreed to do it. If I back out now I’ll look like a dick.”

  Scarlett frowned. She knew he was right. Didn’t mean she had to like it, though. “You said Audrey’s organizing the auction. What’s to stop her from getting a proxy to bid on you on her behalf? It’d be the perfect way for her to score another date with you.”

  Viggo frowned. The thought clearly hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t see how she’d get away with that.”

  Scarlett snorted. “You’d be surprised what desperate women can get away with.”

  His frown deepened. “I don’t think she’d go that far.”

  “She made a calculated decision not to tell you that she’s the general manager’s niece. Then she told her uncle that you guys are still involved. Hell, she’s probably the one who sent you the link to that picture of me and Leo. I wouldn’t put anything past her, Viggo, and neither should you.”

  He scowled, forked a hand through his hair and puffed out a breath. Then he got quiet for a long moment, rubbing his jaw as he stared down at her lap. She could see the wheels turning.

  “What if…”

  “What if what?” she prompted.

  His eyes lifted to hers. “What if you come to the auction and bid on me?”

  She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have that kinda scratch.”

  His brows furrowed. “How much scratch would you need?”

  “Believe me,” she said with a sardonic chuckle, “I can’t afford you.”

  He looked confused. “What does that even mean?”


  She sighed. “The Lark Women’s Club is one of the most exclusive clubs in Denver. Some of the city’s wealthiest society matrons are members. After my dad became an executive at Boeing, my mom joined the club as a way to network, and she wanted the cachet of belonging to such a prestigious group.” Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Anyway, as much as I’d love to attend the bachelor auction and bid on you, I’d be way out of my league with all those rich women. Hell, I’d be shocked if the bidding for you started under a thousand—”

  “A thousand dollars?” Viggo exclaimed.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Holy shit.”

  Scarlett grinned. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “Because that’s a lot of money to spend on one date with a total stranger.”

  “But you’re not just any stranger. You’re Viggo Sandström, NHL superstar and one of People’s 100 Most Beautiful People in the World.” Her grin turned lopsided. “Believe me, dude, you’re gonna fetch a hefty price for the pleasure of your company.”

  That made him scowl.

  Scarlett laughed, cupping his cheek. “If you think I’m exaggerating, just ask my mom. She socializes with these women. They attend the same ritzy luncheons and dinner parties and volunteer on the same charity committees. These broads have plenty of disposable income, and they’re not afraid to spend it.”

  “Maybe,” Viggo conceded darkly, “but one grand for a date is fucking nuts.”

  Scarlett shook her head at him. “I think you’re underestimating what a hot commodity you are. At the risk of inflating your ego, most women can only dream of going on a date with a guy like you. If they have to shell out big bucks to spend one evening with an insanely rich and gorgeous athlete, that’s not a hard sell. Seriously.”

  Viggo looked more annoyed than flattered. In fact, he didn’t look flattered at all.

  “What’s the problem?” Scarlett teased. “You’re worth millions and you generously donate to a ton of charities. What’s one more?”

  “It’s not about the money,” he grumbled. “It’s the principle.”

  “I get it,” she commiserated. “There’s something horribly dehumanizing and exploitative about being put up for auction. Imagine how my ancestors felt.”

  Viggo lifted both brows at her.

  She shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

  He grimaced. “Now I just feel like a fucking asshole for complaining.”

  She laughed, watching as he scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a frustrated breath. After another moment, he rested his palm on her thigh and began kneading her through the blanket, sending tingles up and down her spine.

  “If I give you the money,” he proposed, “will you come to the auction and bid on me?”

  She grinned. “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “Who’s gonna tell?”

  “Good point.”

  “So will you do it?”

  Her grin spread. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “What’s my spending limit?”

  “No more than four grand. Five, tops.”

  She made a face. “That’s gonna be tough.”

  He scoffed. “I’m sure five grand will be more than enough.”

  “Okay,” Scarlett said with a laugh. “When you end up on a date with some blue-haired matron with grabby hands, don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

  Chapter 22

  Scarlett

  Wish You Were Here

  * * *

  Cara pounced on Scarlett the moment she emerged from the Boston airport terminal the next day. “I cannot believe you’ve been holding out on me!”

  Scarlett gave her a puzzled look. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Like you don’t know!”

  “I don’t,” Scarlett said. Cara could be random sometimes. “Please enlighten me.”

  “Are you dating Viggo Sandström?” Cara demanded.

  Scarlett’s cheeks warmed. “Uhh—”

  “Don’t even try to deny it!” Cara warned, wagging a manicured finger in her face. “Your pictures are splashed all over the Internet!”

  Shit. “What do you mean by ‘all over’?”

  “On all the gossip blogs! Even the sportswriters are talking about you guys!”

  Double shit, Scarlett thought, wheeling her suitcase to the rental car parked at the curb.

  Cara popped the trunk, helped her heft the suitcase inside and slammed the door. Then they both hopped into the car.

  “The gossip blogs are going crazy,” Cara said excitedly, pulling away from the terminal and following the exit signs. “There are pictures of you and Viggo canoodling at some casino in Canada and kissing outside the locker room after last night’s game.”

  Scarlett groaned, dropping her head back against the seat. “Fuck me.”

  “Clearly he is,” Cara leered. “And doing a damn good job of it, judging by your smile in those pictures.”

  Scarlett covered her face with her hands, making Cara howl with laughter.

  “I don’t even know why I was shocked,” she said. “The guy’s best friend and teammate just got engaged to your cousin. It was only a matter of time before you two hooked up.”

  Scarlett stared out the window, fighting a smile.

  “So how long has this been going on?” Cara cut off another car and flipped off the driver who honked at her—a Jersey girl through and through. “How long have you been dating that Swedish stud?”

  Scarlett became absorbed in studying her fresh manicure. “Not long.”

  “Uh, could you be more specific?”

  Scarlett hesitated, biting her lip. “The first time we went out was the night before the tour started.”

  “What!” Cara shrieked in disbelief.

  Scarlett winced at the assault on her eardrums.

  “That was weeks ago!” Cara accused.

  “I know.”

  “You mean to tell me you were already going out with Viggo when I gave you that whole spiel about how dating him could bring all sorts of publicity to the band?”

  “Yep.”

  “Maronna mia! I can’t believe you sat there and let me run my mouth and didn’t say a word!”

  Scarlett chuckled wryly. “Can you really blame me? Look how you’re freaking out.”

  Cara laughed. “I can’t help it! This is so fucking awesome!”

  Scarlett grimaced. “Can you not make a big deal over this?”

  “But it is a big deal!”

  “Maybe,” Scarlett conceded. “But like I told you before, I don’t want everyone prying into my personal life. I’d rather keep my relationship with Viggo private.”

  “Oh, hon, it’s too late for that.”

  Scarlett sighed, shaking her head. “Fuck me.”

  Cara grilled her about Viggo all the way to South Boston. By the time they reached their destination, Scarlett was ready to strangle her bandmates for not picking her up from the airport. Lazy asses.

  As Cara parallel parked at the curb, Scarlett stared out the window at the brick row house she and the guys had moved into after graduating from Berklee. The rent was dirt cheap, so they’d signed a long-term lease. She’d enjoyed living there until she got super homesick and decided to return to Denver. This, of course, made her parents positively ecstatic. They’d thrown her a homecoming party and bought her a new drum kit to replace the one she left in Boston so she wouldn’t have to lug it back and forth between gigs.

  “Do the guys know about me and Viggo?” she asked Cara.

  “I’m sure they do. It’s all over the blogs.”

  Scarlett made a face. “They don’t read gossip blogs. If they knew, they would have said something to me by now.”

  “What’s the matter? You don’t want them to know?”

  “Not really. Not yet, anyway.”

  Cara shrugged. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to. But they’re gonna find out sooner or later.”

  “I’d prefer later. Much later.”

>   They got out of the car and started up the walk together. Most of the snow from last week’s storm had melted, leaving dirty patches here and there on the small lawn.

  As they climbed the porch steps, the front door swung open. Traeger stood there, all killer smile, shaggy hair and badass tattoos.

  Scarlett grinned. “Hey, Traeg—”

  He grabbed her, lifted her off the ground and spun her around before setting her on her feet again. She was laughing, her hands framing his scruffy face. He was a little sweaty, and he wore yellow rubber cleaning gloves that clashed with his whole bad-boy rocker look.

  “Dude, have those gloves been in the toilet?”

  “Not yet. But they’re about to be.” He grinned wider, ushering her inside. “Welcome home.”

  “Thanks, Traeg.” Scarlett sniffed the air. “It smells great in here. Is that Pine-Sol?”

  “And Carpet Fresh.” He pointed upstairs, where she could hear the drone of a vacuum cleaner. “We’ve been cleaning like crazy all morning.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. We didn’t want you slagging on us like you did the last time you were here.”

  Scarlett laughed. “I didn’t slag on y’all.”

  One dark brow lifted. “You said the house smelled like sweaty balls and gym socks.”

  Cara laughed.

  Traeger’s blue eyes skipped past Scarlett to land on their manager. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Traeger.”

  Scarlett glanced over her shoulder to see Cara tucking her hair behind her ear like some shy teenager. Interesting.

  Traeger gave Cara a crooked smirk. “You gonna stand out on the porch all day or come inside?”

  “Oops. Sorry.” She let out a nervous laugh as she stepped into the house and closed the door. But she didn’t move beyond the threshold. She stayed behind Scarlett, as if she were trying to keep as much distance between herself and Traeger as possible.

  Hmm, Scarlett mused. The plot thickens.

  As Traeger peeled off the rubber gloves and tucked them into the back pocket of his ripped jeans, the vacuum cleaner went silent upstairs. Moments later the others came clomping down the steps, laughing and wrapping Scarlett up in big bear hugs. How many women would kill to receive such a warm welcome from not one but four hot guys?