Jack and I were good skiers, but Anders was a whole other level. His skis were like an extension of his large feet, and not once did I see a moment of indecision or loss of balance. Jack’s ski technique was more aggressive and slightly less elegant, founded on confidence and natural athleticism rather than finesse. I lay somewhere between the two. Unfortunately, unlike me, Jack had no compunction about following straight behind Anders, which is when he got into trouble.
Moguls were never his strong point, and the uneven small mounds of snow were trickier than usual. The conditions had turned, and the warm weather had softened the top snow, making skiing down the lower part of the run like sliding through porridge. Jack was going too fast and clipped the edge of one of his skis, losing his balance and falling awkwardly and, at that speed, twisting his knee.
He lay grimacing in the snow, moaning slightly, for he was a true Englishman and would never cry, even in intense physical pain. We hurried over to help him, discarding our own skis at the side of the run where they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Anders and I got Jack’s skis off, and I carried his equipment while Anders put his arm around him and helped him hobble to the medical center, which was fortunately not too far from the end of the run.
“Are you right with him now?” Anders asked after getting Jack seated in a chair in the waiting room.
“Yes, thanks for your help. I don’t know how I would have gotten him here by myself.”
“Are you going back out skiing? I can take your skis back to the chalet,” Anders offered.
“No, I’ll stay and look after Jack. I’ll take them; you don’t have to go all the way back to the chalet.” I felt guilty putting him to so much trouble, as well as feeling like I was a bit in his debt.
“It’s no problem. Besides, you’ll have your hands full helping Jack.” He had a point there, so I nodded.
“Well, I’ll see you later,” he said and turned to go.
“Thank you again for your help.”
“You are welcome.” He smiled, then turned and strode out the door. Damn, he had a great walk. He even looked good walking away.
After a bit of a wait, the doctor pronounced, much to our combined relief, that there was no significant damage and Jack just needed to rest it for a day. Knee bandaged and armed with painkillers, Jack was released from the medical center. I helped him back to the lodge, where he went to bed, slightly woozy from the drugs.
With Jack crashed out in bed, I was otherwise alone in the chalet. I tried to read a particularly trashy novel I’d bought at the airport but was feeling restless and unable to concentrate enough to get into it. For lack of a better option, I decided to make use of the sauna. It smelled like a pine forest, and the heat was bliss.
It was close to the intense heat of my childhood summers, though the smell was not quite the same. I missed the scent of eucalyptus sometimes, and days so hot the air had texture. Plants that were gray-blues and shades of brown, none of the extravagant greens of England, or only in the well-tended lawns of the urban elite. During dry summers of water restrictions, even those went dry and crispy and would crunch delicately underfoot.
After we got engaged, it was never really considered that we would live anywhere but England. Jack would never move to Australia, but even if he had considered it, I’m sure he would have hated it. He didn’t even like it for a holiday; it just made him tense. He thought it was too far and had too many dangerous spiders, snakes, and sharks. I think he’d watched too many of those sensationalist nature programs where Australia seemed to have the most venomous everything, despite the fact that my parents’ house was in the middle of a densely populated area with little discernible wildlife. He was simply English to his core, and to imagine him living anywhere else was impossible.
I should take the boys back for a holiday soon, I mused as I lay down, relaxing into it with a sigh of pleasure. I had the primal need to recreate some of my childhood for them, and they seemed to enjoy it whenever we went. Traveling along these thoughts, I had drifted off into a daydream when a noise from outside the door filtered into my consciousness. I sat up quickly and grabbed the towel from the bench beside me.
“I’m in here!” I called out, slightly panicked as I hurriedly wrapped the towel around me. I thought Jack and I were the only ones in the lodge. Certainly no one had been there when I’d come into the sauna what felt like only a few minutes ago. It was a bit after midday, and I counted on everyone still being out enjoying the fine day’s skiing. Feeling a bit naughty, but secure that there was no one to see me, I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and go naked—an impulse I was now regretting.
I stayed sitting against the wall, my legs out in front of me along the bench, not sure if there was a less-revealing position. At least the towel covered me from chest to mid-thigh, which was more than a swimming costume did, though it felt far less secure.
Instead of whoever it was leaving me in peace, the door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air and Anders. I pulled the towel tighter and tried not to look at his perfectly muscled chest, revealed in all its naked glory. Only a small white towel covered him from his hips to mid-thigh, his long legs showing like a gladiator’s under the short skirt of the towel. The blond hair on his legs glistened, wet from the shower he took before coming in.
“Hello,” he said, his Nordic accent slightly more in evidence than last night.
“Hi! I thought everyone was out.” I tried to not look as uncomfortable as I felt. If there was anyone I shouldn’t be naked and sweaty in a sauna with, it was Anders.
“I came in early,” he said, stretching out with a yawn as he took a seat on the wall opposite. I swear if I looked I’d be able to see everything, as he sat with his legs apart. My eyes started to do laps of the ceiling to stop me looking, though it was ridiculously tempting. I was curious to see what he looked like, but I was better off not knowing the truth or my fantasies might take on an uncomfortably life-like quality.
“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding puzzled. I glanced at him and realized that it may have looked like I was having a fit of some sort.
“Just trying to preserve your modesty and not look up your skirt. I don’t know if you realize, but if you sit like that, I can see everything.”
“That’s okay, then,” he said, unwrapping the towel. “If you’ve seen me already then I don’t have to worry about this.” I swear my jaw hit the floor before I jerked my gaze skyward again. “It’s so Anglo to worry about nudity,” he continued. “In Norway, no one worries about it. I have no problem with being naked. You can take your towel off again if you like.” His voice was all innocence, but he was clearly laughing at me, which fired up my backbone. I lowered my gaze to look directly at him and then up and down, examining him thoroughly. After I had studied him, I returned to his eyes and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“Your turn,” he said, eyeing me challengingly, daring me to do it.
“Fine,” I said, feigning nonchalance and leaning back against the opposite wall. My legs firmly crossed at the ankle, I let the towel drop to the sides. I wasn’t uncomfortable with my body—Bats’ influence had paid off, and our hard work running and at the gym had more than offset my indulgences—but even though I’d gotten off fairly lightly from being pregnant, things were definitely softer and more rounded, as well as further south, than they had been. I felt his warm gaze like a featherlight caress and watched him watch me. His eyes became slightly hooded, and I could see him stir.
“You are beautiful; you should not be ashamed to show your body,” he said, his blue eyes intense.
“I’m pretty sure that even in Nordic countries you aren’t supposed to openly look. Isn’t that a huge faux pas?” I said, nodding toward his lap.
“You’re not supposed to notice either, but I find you attractive, and we are alone…” He shrugged. “It is only a mistake if it is unwelcomed.” He looked at me questioningly. “Is it unwelcomed?”
I should have said yes, but I w
as a bad liar at the best of times.
“Are you suggesting…?” I started.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I would very much like to sleep with you.”
Oh…dear…Lord. For a second I almost had to pinch myself. While none of my fantasies with Anders were set in a sauna, maybe this was a new, very vivid one. In my fantasy, though, he would now be moving over toward me and taking my nipple in his mouth. Instead, he was still sitting against the wall, his eyes like blue fire. I had the chance to make my fantasy a reality, something few people ever get to do. If you ever fantasized about someone in the movies or on TV, the odds of ever even meeting them one-on-one were slight. The likelihood that they would want to sleep with you, even if you wanted to, was almost non-existent.
“So…” he said, and I realized I still hadn’t responded.
“I’m still thinking,” I said, running through the pros and cons in my head. It should have been an easy answer: “No, I’m married.” But somehow the easy answer was still not coming out of my mouth. Here was the offer of exciting, potentially amazing sex, and it sent a shiver down my spine, in a good way. He wasn’t after anything else—an introduction, a leg-up socially or career-wise, money—he just saw me as desirable and fuckable, and I really wanted someone who wanted me. It had been a long time since I’d been intimate with Jack on anything but a perfunctory basis, and I missed being touched.
Anders laughed. “Take your time,” he said, waving his arm. I looked at him, gorgeous, desirable, and surprisingly attracted to me. I knew I should say no, but I didn’t want to, even though it was also impossible to say yes.
“I like that you have hair. It’s kind of unusual.”
I did a double take. “Sorry?”
“It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen pubic hair on a woman,” he said conversationally.
“You’re kidding, right?” I looked at him skeptically.
“No, really. Everyone seems to get it removed now.” That finally snapped me out of it. What was I thinking? He was clearly someone who could and did sleep with anyone they liked, and I couldn’t compete with younger women whose job it was to be beautiful and hairless, and he was clearly going to compare me to them.
“Okay, well, enough of this pre-school ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ thing,” I said briskly, folding my towel back up around me before I stood up. Anders stood up too, touching my arm to stay my exit.
“What did I say?” he asked perplexed.
“It’s not what you said per se; it’s that you live in a world that is largely separate from reality, especially in the looks department. I don’t want to be a slightly perverted deviation from the mini-hairless people you usually sleep with,” I explained, quite reasonably I thought.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“But true, nonetheless. Besides, you may have already insulted the saunatonttu,” I said archly.
“You’ve heard about the sauna elf?” he asked with a laugh as he smiled down at me. “That’s in Finland, though.”
“Maybe there’s one here on holiday. You’d better leave an offering for him to atone for your immorality or you might have an imaginary gnome after you for violating the sanctity of the sauna,” I said as I left him, still chuckling.
Chapter Ten
AT DINNER, JACK SAT with his knee propped up on a spare chair and regaled our friends with an increasingly dramatic retelling of the accident. He was now airborne and somersaulting through the air before landing. I just rolled my eyes and smiled when anyone looked at me for confirmation, no sense in spoiling his fun and the ensuing game of one-upmanship as the men vied for the “worst fall” title with great enjoyment.
Anders kept his distance until after dinner. Jack was stationed on the couch, and I went into the kitchen to make tea, and Anders followed, ostensibly to help.
“Come skiing with me tomorrow,” he urged, moving to stand so close we were almost touching, completely invading my personal space. His large body made me feel small in comparison, which didn’t happen a great deal, given I was five foot ten and not exactly of fragile build.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I took a step backward.
“You keep saying that to me when I suggest the most interesting things,” he responded, standing up straight before flicking back a section of shiny blond hair that had fallen on his forehead. He was clearly amused. “We’re outside in the open, and it’s pretty cold, so what exactly do you think is going to happen? It’s one of the safest places to keep your virtue intact.”
“My virtue is hardly intact. I’m a woman in her thirties with two children.”
“Really? Then what are you worried about?” he asked teasingly with a smile. He had a point; outside in the snow was hardly a place you were going to get your gear off and succumb to the advances of a rogue, charming though he may be.
“Sure, why not?” I said, figuring it would be more fun with Anders than stuck to the bunny slopes with the others. “I’ll see you down here in the morning.”
“Let’s get an early start. I’ll meet you at eight thirty. We’ll get the first lift up.”
The weather the next morning was perfect: cold, dry, and sunny. The snow sparkled in the sunlight, and as I stood in the small secluded clearing with a view down to another quaint French ski village, the scene was so beautiful it look my breath away. Anders stood by my side, quietly looking at the trees. I have to admit I was having fun. Anders knew the mountain well and had taken me on some great off-trail runs, our skis squeaking through untouched virgin snow.
He was good company. The fresh air and exercise was as intoxicating as the bottle of wine we shared at lunch, and I was floating on a sea of well-being. He flirted outrageously, making me laugh. It had been a while since anyone but the local butcher had flirted with me, and he flirted with everyone. The woman I used to be, young and desirable, peeked out from the box I had stored her away in years ago when the changes brought about by age and motherhood had rendered me virtually invisible as an object of desire.
This was crazy and dangerous but so much fun, as long as it didn’t get out of hand, and by that, I meant myself. Anders was too handsome and smooth and obviously up for a bit of fun with someone who wouldn’t be an emotional entanglement, being already married. I wasn’t exactly immune to his charms, but I hoped that seeing it for what it was would stop my head being turned by it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Anders said in my ear.
I jumped, not realizing he had moved so close. My skis tangled, and I lost my balance, falling sideways. I flailed wildly, trying to regain my feet, and grabbed Anders, who should have been solid enough to hold me up. I must have caught him by surprise too, though, because my weight overbalanced him, and we both went crashing into the snow. I landed flat on my back with a thud, winding myself. Anders tried not to land on me and threw himself sideways, landing on his side in the snow beside me with a loud “Oomph.” I lay there, trying to get my breath back and pretend it didn’t hurt that much.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I asked finally, when I could. He bent down and unclipped our skis, freeing our legs before turning back.
“I’m fine,” he said with his incredibly sexy smile. “Are you hurt?”
Uh oh! I thought. He was way too close.
“No, just a bit stuck at the moment.” I looked pointedly down at his body which was still half lying on top of me.
“Let me just check for injuries before you move. I did a first aid course as part of my national service.” He pretended to look, running his hand lightly down my arm and my side. The touch was muffled through the layers of clothing, but as his hand rose closer to my breast, my breath caught. He looked up and deliberately ran his hand over the raised area of my parka, and I felt my nipple tighten. He moved closer until our faces were centimeters apart. He moved his head sideways, readying for the kiss. His lips stayed there; only a small movement on my part and we would be kissing.
“Tell
me you don’t want this.” His breath was warm against my mouth. My lips were parted, taking shallow breaths. My head was clouded, unable to think with him this close, wanting to kiss him but having the distant thought that I shouldn’t, even though I couldn’t remember why right now with him so close.
“Say it.” His lips brushed mine, featherlight, barely touching. All rational thought was swept away on a wave of need and desire.
“Kiss me,” I breathed, willpower broken. He cupped my face in his hands and brought our lips together, slowly moving his mouth against mine. I moaned, wanting more, and he deepened the kiss, his warm tongue entering my mouth to gently touch mine. We explored the wet heat of each other’s mouths, and my hand snaked up into his hair, twining in the thick blond strands. He drew himself up over me, resting his weight on his forearms, his large shoulders dwarfing my hands, his hips moving instinctively toward my pelvis.
Our kissing became more passionate and heated, and the small part of my brain that was still working wondered at the likelihood of anyone stumbling upon us. Given we hadn’t seen anyone for hours and we were well away from the main trails, it was probably safe. Distracted, I hadn’t noticed his hands opening the zip on my jacket as he started kissing my neck, and it wasn’t until I felt the cold air hit my chest that I became aware that he had lifted my undershirt and thermals to reveal my breast, virtually naked though the thin lace of my bra.
Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking Page 9