The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  “Your dress is popping, Scarlett. That bright splash of red against the trees…oh hell yeah…loving this…”

  So am I, Scarlett thought, tightening her arms around Viggo. Being this close to him was the sweetest torture. The feel of his powerful body notched between her legs had heat throbbing at her core. Her breasts were heavy and tingling, aching for his touch and the wet stroke of his tongue. An intoxicated little moan caught in her throat as she clung to him, breathing in his warm male scent and wanting to absorb him into her skin.

  The photographer’s camera shutter was clicking at lightning speed, capturing what she assumed were great shots of her and Viggo framed against the surrounding mountains.

  “Scarlett,” Guy instructed, “can you reach around Viggo and put your hand on his leg?”

  With pleasure.

  She felt Viggo shiver when she touched him.

  “Cold?” she murmured, her mouth near his ear.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  When she curled her fingers into his hard thigh, his hand clenched around the motorcycle throttle. She was getting to him. Good.

  Kneading his thigh, she kissed the skin just below his ear and whispered, “I miss you.”

  He inhaled sharply, the muscles in his back expanding beneath his sweater.

  “And you know something else?” She nuzzled the nape of his neck. “You miss me, too.”

  “Fuck.” The word came out a rough whisper.

  Delighted, she pressed her body tighter against him and rested her cheek against his hair.

  “Beautiful!” Guy was snapping furiously away. “You two make my job so fucking easy.”

  Scarlett smiled blissfully. She didn’t even mind the cold. She would have stayed out there all day if it meant she could hold Viggo, soaking up his heat and strength. Soaking up his essence.

  As if he could no longer help himself, he took his hand off the throttle and cupped her knee, caressing her with light strokes.

  Her heart soared, tears springing to her eyes.

  As the photographer moved in closer, she beamed at the camera.

  No matter what happened after today, this single moment would be imprinted on her memory forever.

  * * *

  When the photo shoot was over, they headed to their separate dressing rooms.

  Scarlett changed quickly, hoping to catch Viggo before he left. Cara was on the phone confirming details for the rescheduled interview with the editor.

  Scarlett left her and headed down the hallway toward the lobby. When she passed Viggo’s empty dressing room, she felt a sharp stab of disappointment. Had he left without even saying goodbye?

  Frowning at the thought, she went outside to see if his truck was in the parking lot. Just as she stepped out the door, a black sedan pulled up in front of the chalet. When the driver got out, she froze in shock.

  Myles slowly removed his sunglasses and smiled at her from the bottom of the veranda steps. He wore an expensive black wool coat, leather gloves and tailored black pants.

  “Hello, Scarlett,” he said smoothly.

  Her shock gave way to fury. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Like I told you on the phone, we need to talk.”

  “And I told you we have nothing to talk about!” Scarlett glared furiously at him. “I can’t believe you showed up here! Are you crazy? How did you even know where to find me? Seriously, Myles. This is super fucking creepy!”

  He frowned. “Calm down—”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

  “C’mon, baby girl.” When he climbed up one step, she instinctively scuttled backward. He stopped, his frown deepening. “Just hear me out, okay? I have some things to get off my chest. Things I should have said to you a long time ago.”

  She glared at him. “I have zero interest—”

  “Just listen. Please.”

  She hesitated another moment, then angrily folded her arms across her chest and hissed, “You have three minutes.”

  His lips tightened. “I was hoping we could go somewhere—”

  “Not a fucking chance.”

  “Fine.” He stared up at her. “I made a mistake. I never should have let you go. Nothing’s been the same without you.”

  “You seem to be doing just fine,” Scarlett jeered contemptuously. “And don’t you have a ride-or-die fiancée waiting in the wings?”

  “We broke up.”

  Scarlett smirked. “What happened? She finally had enough of your bullshit?”

  He frowned. “I ended the relationship. You know why? Because I’m still in love with you.”

  “Give me a fucking break, Myles,” Scarlett said with a harsh snort of laughter. “You don’t know the first damn thing about love. You never did.”

  “And I suppose your hockey boyfriend does?” he taunted.

  That made her flinch.

  Myles pounced with vicious triumph. “What’s wrong, baby girl? Trouble in paradise? Don’t tell me he already dumped you?”

  She gave him an icy look. “Your three minutes are up.”

  He laughed. The sound scraped along her nerves and set her back teeth on edge. “He’s a professional athlete, Scarlett. Love ’em and leave ’em—that’s what they do.”

  “Goodbye, Myles,” she said coldly. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  He started up the steps toward her. “We’re not done—”

  “Yes the fuck you are.”

  Scarlett whirled around to see Viggo charging out the door, practically knocking her aside on his way to meet Myles at the top of the steps. He towered over him with a look of such lethal fury, the color drained out of Myles’s face and he hastily backed down a step.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Viggo growled, low and dangerous.

  Myles swallowed nervously. “Stay out of this, man. It doesn’t concern you.”

  “She already told you to get lost,” Viggo snarled into his face. “So why the hell are you here?”

  Myles looked like he was going to piss his pants. Which was understandable. Viggo was absolutely terrifying.

  Scarlett took a step forward. “It’s okay, Viggo. He was just leaving.”

  “Didn’t sound that way.” His big hands were fisted so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were white. He glared menacingly at Myles. “You need to leave her the fuck alone. You understand? Don’t let me catch you anywhere near her again.”

  “What’s it to you?” Myles challenged, finding a scrap of courage. “You’re not even with her anymore. You got what you wanted and moved on.”

  Viggo made a low growling noise in his throat. Then suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed Myles by the neck, lifting him until his feet dangled off the steps.

  As Myles’s eyes bulged in terror, Scarlett let out an alarmed gasp. “Viggo, stop!”

  Myles wheezed, fighting for air as he swatted helplessly at Viggo’s hand.

  “Let him go, baby,” Scarlett pleaded. “You’re gonna kill him!”

  He smirked darkly. “And that would be a bad thing?”

  “Yes! I don’t want you getting locked up over a piece of shit like him!”

  Viggo clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated the panic-stricken man dangling at the end of his arm. Myles’s face was turning purple from lack of oxygen.

  “Please, Viggo,” Scarlett entreated desperately. “Let him go.”

  With a snarl of disgust, Viggo tossed Myles to the ground like a sack of rotten potatoes.

  He landed hard and lay there choking and gasping and clawing at his throat. He looked like he might need CPR.

  “Shit!” Scarlett stomped down the stairs, cursing with every step. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

  Myles had finally caught his breath and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball on the cold ground.

  Scarlett stood over him. “Do I need to call 911?”

  He coughed a few times and shook his head. At least the color had returned to his face.

 
; “He’ll live,” Viggo growled from the veranda. “Now get back up here, Scarlett.”

  Bristling at the command, she shot him a dark look. Through the lodge windows, she could see Cara and Guy hurrying toward the entrance.

  When Viggo started down the steps toward her, she held up her hand to stop him. “I got this.”

  He scowled at her. “Dammit, Scarlett—”

  She turned away to watch as Myles sat up with a pained grimace. He took a moment to get his bearings, then pushed gingerly to his feet, shrugged his coat back into place and smoothed his hair down with a shaky hand. She’d never seen him so humiliated. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving asshole.

  “Hey.” She waved her middle finger in his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  He glowered at her.

  “I just want to make sure you’re not concussed or anything. You need to comprehend what I’m about to say to you because I’m not gonna repeat myself.” She pinned him with a hard glare. “I never want to see you again. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t follow me on social media. Don’t come to my shows. And do not show up on my fucking doorstep. Stay the hell away from me, Myles. If you ever contact me again, I’ll take out a restraining order against you. And if you’re stupid enough to violate it, I won’t hesitate to press charges. Do you understand? Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.”

  His face twisted with hatred. “Fuck you, Scarlett.”

  “In your dreams.” With that, she turned and started back up the steps.

  Viggo warned sharply, “Scarlett, look out—”

  She spun and delivered a roundhouse kick to Myles’s chest that sent him sprawling across the ground with a loud yelp of agony.

  “Son of a bitch,” she snarled at him, fists balled at her sides as Viggo came charging down the steps. “What the hell is wrong with—”

  “You fucking cunt!” Myles choked out furiously. “That’s why you’re never gonna make it big! You and your bandmates will always be—”

  The clacking sound of a rifle being cocked suddenly tore through the air.

  Everyone whirled around to see a white-haired old man standing on the veranda, the business end of his rifle pointed right at Myles’s face.

  It was the chalet owner. He’d popped in during the photo shoot to introduce himself to everyone, but his name escaped Scarlett at the moment.

  “You’re trespassing on private property,” he barked, glaring down at Myles. “If you don’t get the hell out of here, I’m gonna blow your fucking head off. Then I’ll call the cops.”

  Well, damn, Scarlett thought. Old dude is not playing!

  Myles threw a sullen glare at her and Viggo as he slowly picked himself off the ground, pride wounded but still exuding arrogance.

  “Just so you know,” the chalet owner growled, “my receptionist is jotting down your license plate number as we speak. You should also know that my son-in-law is an FBI agent. You try anything funny, he will take great pleasure in hunting you down like a wild dog.”

  Myles blanched at the threat.

  Scarlett inwardly pumped her fist.

  “Now you got till the count of three before my finger starts twitching,” the old man warned.

  Visibly shaken and humiliated, Myles turned and skulked back to his rental car with his tail tucked squarely between his legs. Everyone watched him start the engine and pull away from the curb.

  As Viggo and Scarlett climbed back up to the veranda, Guy said incredulously to her, “That was your former manager?”

  “Unfortunately,” she muttered.

  Cara smirked. “They upgraded.”

  “No kidding.” Guy snorted, pulling out his phone. “What’s his name? I work with a lot of musicians. I’ll make sure they stay far away from that nutjob.”

  “Myles Katsaros,” Cara cheerfully volunteered, spelling out his first and last name for Guy.

  The chalet owner didn’t lower his rifle until Myles’s car disappeared down the tree-lined road. Then he turned to Scarlett with a look of grandfatherly concern. “Are you okay, young lady?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Thank you for intervening.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He chuckled appreciatively. “Looks like you can handle yourself just fine.”

  “Seriously.” Guy was impressed. “Where’d you learn that move?”

  She grinned sheepishly. “I took taekwondo when I was a kid.”

  Viggo looked vaguely amused. “She has a red belt.”

  “Wow!” The photographer and chalet owner were even more impressed.

  “You two are like a crime-fighting duo,” Guy joked. “Seriously. You really make a great team.” His eyes twinkled at them. “Let me know if you ever need a wedding photographer. It’s not really my thing, but I’d make an exception for you two.”

  Scarlett blushed and dropped her gaze to her feet.

  The chalet owner grinned, slapping Viggo on the back. “Better hang on to this young lady. She’s something special.”

  As the others went back inside, Viggo and Scarlett stood on the veranda staring at each other.

  Her heart ached from the torrent of words she wanted to say.

  I’m sorry I hurt you….

  I would never use you for your money….

  I should have trusted you….

  I was so afraid of losing you, I pushed you away….

  I love you….

  Please come back to me….

  “He’s right,” she finally whispered. “We do make a great team.”

  The light went out of Viggo’s eyes, like a switch had been turned off.

  He took a step back. “I have to go.”

  She swallowed her disappointment and nodded.

  He glanced down the road and frowned before his gaze returned to her face. “Let me know if he bothers you again.”

  His concern gave her a sliver of hope. “I think we’ve finally seen the last of him.”

  Viggo nodded slowly, looking like he wanted to say more.

  She waited, breath held.

  “Goodbye, Scarlett,” he murmured.

  Her heart twisted and her throat closed.

  She watched him turn, walk down the steps and head toward his truck.

  He didn’t look back at her. Not even once.

  Chapter 36

  Viggo

  You Give Love a Bad Name

  * * *

  “Viggo!” elsa squealed, giddy with excitement.

  Viggo smiled as he crossed the elegant lobby of the Ritz-Carlton that evening. “Hej, Elsa. How—”

  She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big hug. He chuckled, awkwardly patting her back.

  “It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed. “It’s been so long!”

  “Yes, it has.” When he moved to pull away she clung to him, coaxing another low chuckle out of him.

  Finally she ended the embrace and gave him an admiring once-over. “Look at you! Still gorgeous as ever.”

  He smiled. “Same to you.”

  She grinned and batted her lashes at him. With her long brown hair and amber eyes, she’d always been beautiful. They’d dated back in high school, but they hadn’t seen each other since he left home at nineteen to play in the NHL.

  “I’m so glad you finally called me back!” Elsa said. “I was beginning to think you were ignoring me!”

  He had been ignoring her calls. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by admitting that. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been really busy.”

  “Of course you have, Mr. Big Hockey Star.” She ran a manicured hand down the front of his suit jacket, giving him another appreciative perusal. “Just look at you, all grown up and manly with your fancy suits and expensive watches. Remember how you used to hate dressing up?”

  “I remember.” Viggo chuckled. “We have to wear suits to every game, so I had to get used to it.”

  “And women all over the world are grateful,” Elsa teased.

&
nbsp; He smiled. “Let’s go eat.”

  “Yes, I’m starving,” she said with a suggestive wink.

  Chuckling, he steered her toward the entrance to an upscale steakhouse tucked inside the lobby. “Are you sure this is okay? There are plenty of other nice restaurants in town. We don’t have to eat at the same hotel where you’re staying.”

  “This is perfect,” Elsa assured him. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about Elway’s. It was highly recommended, so I was already planning to dine here when I came to town. I’m so glad you were able to join me tonight.”

  They entered the elegant restaurant and were escorted to a cozy table by the window.

  As Viggo pulled out Elsa’s chair, he had a flashback to Christmas night when he and Scarlett went to dinner at the hotel restaurant in Buffalo.

  He remembered admiring her round backside as she sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her. He remembered the romantic ambience of their table overlooking the snowy harbor. He remembered her being amused by their starstruck waiter, giggling behind her hand to hide her mirth. He remembered the bewitching twinkle in her eyes and the radiance of her smile. He remembered the warm apple pie they’d shared for dessert, feeding each other spoonfuls dripping with melted ice cream. He remembered them practically racing back up to the room to—

  “Viggo?”

  He blinked, jolted out of his reverie.

  Elsa was staring up at him as he stood behind her chair, and the hostess was waiting for him to sit down.

  “Uh. Sorry.” He rounded the table and slid into his seat.

  The hostess winked at him and gave them their menus before sashaying off. As soon as she disappeared, the waiter showed up to recite the specials and take their orders.

  Once they were alone, Elsa smiled across the table at Viggo. “I’m really glad you returned my calls,” she repeated. “I would have been so disappointed if I had to go back to Stockholm without seeing you—though probably not as disappointed as my mum,” she added wryly. “You remember how much she adored you. She’s followed your career and always asks me if I’ve heard from you.”