by Julie Caplin
‘I’m going to check on Benedict.’
Before anyone could say anything, I stalked out of the dining room.
I might have guessed as I stormed down the corridor that his room was the one with the empty dinner tray sitting right outside it.
He’d had room service! That was just rude.
Thankfully there was a doorbell because otherwise I might have looked like a lunatic woman hammering on the door. I held my finger down on the bell.
After a good minute, I heard cursing and mumbling through the door, not that I cared, I kept my finger firmly pressed on that button.
The door flew open and a tousled, sleepy Ben stood in front of me, blinking dopily, in black jersey boxers and nothing else. Something tugged in my chest at the sight of him as my mouth went dry.
‘What the …?’ he asked frowning, looking confused and … gorgeous.
He had no right looking like that, all cute, sleepy and adorable. He wasn’t adorable. He was rude, surly and horrible.
‘Sorry, I was worried about you.’ My shrewish tone made it clear that I was anything but. ‘Forget the time?’ I gave the tray on the floor a pointed look.
Instead of answering or even bloody apologising, he turned his back and walked back into the room leaving the door wide open.
I was so taken aback I opened my mouth but nothing came out. So I followed him.
Almost oblivious to me, he stumbled back towards the bed and flopped backwards, pulling the sheet over him. His eyes closing instantly.
What. The. Hell.
My eyes widened as my hands curled into fists. The … the …
He lay there oblivious to me and I stood there too gobsmacked to say or do anything.
I took a step closer, puzzled now. Was he ill?
Was that why he’d not come down? Had he got some medical condition? Had he been ill? I sniffed as if that might give me a clue but the room smelled perfectly normal.
My heart picked up a beat or two as I stood in the semi-dark room. He’d left one bedside lamp on which emitted a golden glow.
I took an uncertain step towards the bed. My first aid training from Girl Guides was long out of date. About the only thing I could remember was check the patient is still breathing, and that wasn’t in doubt. I watched the slow rise and fall of his broad chest. Heck no, he was definitely breathing, even so I couldn’t seem to peel my gaze away from his chest. My hormones were leading the charge, squealing yum, yum. A light dusting of tiny freckles dappled his skin, which had that slight gold cast of a redhead who’s acclimatised to the sun. Fine dark copper hair dusted the smooth skin of the centre of his chest between well-defined pecs before arrowing down his stomach and disappearing beneath his boxers.
His eyes were closed and his face had slackened, one arm thrown above his head, the other stretched away. I picked up musky male scent and my own breathing hitched as I stood over him. I barely knew him and watching him in bed felt so personal and wrong but what if he were really ill? I had no idea what I’d do. I could get Mads to call a doctor. What if he was hospitalised? What if he were seriously ill?
With a tentative hand, I leaned over towards the centre of the bed, my knees bracing the edge to keep my balance and reached out to touch his forehead to check his temperature, the only other sign of illness I could think of.
‘For fuck’s sake go away,’ he growled and like some horror film, his eyes flicked open staring up at me.
‘Eeek,’ I squeaked and toppled over right on top of his chest. Of course, I pushed against him, trying to scramble off as quickly as possible, my hands all over his chest. My fingers tingled at the touch and my heart raced like a startled deer.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘I-I could ask you the same,’ I said, trying to appear unmoved, as I pushed myself back on my feet beside the bed, brushing myself down as if each stroke would help me regain my dignity which was hanging in tatters around my ankles.
‘I’m sleeping. Or at least I was until some weirdo tried to get into bed with me.’
‘I wasn’t trying to get into bed with you,’ I squeaked indignantly and then remembering the dignity thing, added. ‘No one’s that desperate.’
‘Who said anything about being desperate?’ His voice had dropped, deliberately smoky, and he gave me a piercing look.
Oh hell. My hormones danced into life, sending a rush of … of … something spiralling through my system leaving me a touch weak-kneed.
Hiding the sudden breathlessness, I snapped, ‘I thought you might be ill. Obviously I was wrong. Just inconsiderate and rude.’
‘And how do you figure that?’
‘It would have been courteous to let me know you weren’t joining us for dinner. Now that you’re on this trip, the least you could do is make an effort to join in. I see you availed yourself of room service.’
‘Or perhaps I was so darned tired, I wasn’t thinking straight on account of not having slept for two days. In fact, the thought didn’t come into it. I was running on empty. I needed food and sleep. There was nothing beyond that.’
‘Why haven’t you slept? Deadline? Great party?’
‘My sister’s husband upped and left her with a baby and a toddler. Arrived on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Between a wailing heartbroken sister, crying baby and toddler tantrum of the highest order, it was a tad difficult catching any shut-eye.’
‘You don’t look the sort to babysit.’ Not that I knew him that well, but with the stylish clothes, manbag and well-groomed appearance he had that non-dependent, unencumbered look about him, a bit like my brother John. Although it was hardly a good rule of thumb, Brandon’s unkempt appearance suggested he could have half a dozen offspring crawling all over him.
‘I’m not,’ he growled. ‘I like my sleep. It was supposed to be a one off. Except now I’m not there, I’m here where I didn’t want to be, she’s taken up residence and my neighbours are sending complaining texts every five minutes and she’s asking frightening questions like “where’s the stopcock?”. What the fuck does that mean?’
‘It means she wants to switch off the water,’ I said practicably.
‘I know that, but why?’
‘Probably flooding the place out,’ I said helpfully.
‘Thanks, you’re not helping.’
‘I wasn’t trying to.’
We lapsed into silence and then I realised how awkward it was standing there with him in bed.
‘Right well, I’d better go.’
‘And now I’m wide awake.’ The huge yawn that accompanied these words suggested otherwise and I could see his eyes drooping again.
‘Sorry,’ I said feeling a tad guilty. ‘I don’t suppose I could borrow your phone charger?’
‘Why? You left yours at home?’
‘Funnily enough, yes. That would be why I’m asking.’
‘Snarky much?’
‘Clearly the mad fox in you brings out the snark in me. I’m normally very polite and kind to dogs and small children.’
‘Somehow, I find that difficult to believe,’ he muttered and closed his eyes.
I stood there for a minute studying the sweep of his dark lashes against the pale skin, his eyes were shadowed purple. Despite looking washed out, the planes of his face and the tousled hair still packed a punch. He was a handsome bugger. I swallowed, feeling a bit like a peeping Tom. I’d been trying to tell myself that I’d built up the moment at the Great Room and my Prince Charming couldn’t possibly be as good looking as I’d thought and that I’d misremembered in the light of the next morning, but no it appeared my memory was spot on where the physical aspect was concerned, it just short-circuited when it came to his personality, which was completely charmless. Unfortunately, I had to overlook that as I still wanted something from him.
‘Ben?’ I whispered. He couldn’t have fallen asleep again.
He grunted and turned over muttering, ‘Shut the door on the way out.’
Chapter 12
Eva pr
essed a cup of coffee into my hand the minute I walked into Varme the next morning, like some wonderful magician.
‘You’re up very bright and early,’ she said, unhurriedly stripping off her apron and guiding me to a table, bringing her own cup of steaming coffee with her.
I inhaled the coffee. ‘Thank you, that smells lovely. Just what I needed.’ And I hadn’t even realised. ‘I thought I’d pop in while the journalists are having breakfast, make sure everything’s ready.’ And have a bit of time to myself. The thought of being with them all day was a touch daunting.
Eva raised an amused eyebrow as if she could see straight through me.
‘Sit down and have a pastry. It’s a big responsibility looking after other people.’
‘Oh gosh this coffee is wonderful. Thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome. How was your first day?’
‘Fine. Busy. Tiring. But OK. I needed to … you know get out this morning. I had no idea it would be so … well, being with them all the time. They’re adults so they shouldn’t need looking after.’
Eva smiled. Despite my worry about the language barrier, she had no problem following my incoherent answer. ‘I wonder if that is worse. They don’t do as they’re told, which makes your job doubly hard I would imagine.’
I laughed at her instant understanding. ‘At least tomorrow will be easier; we’re going on a boat trip. I can’t lose anyone on a boat.’
Eva laughed. ‘Unless someone falls overboard.’
‘Don’t even suggest it,’ I said laughing with her. ‘That would be a disaster.’
‘And it’s not going to happen. Are they a nice group? I’m looking forward to meeting them all. I thought during the cookery demonstration I’d get everyone involved. They can all make pastry today.’
‘Sophie will love that. David and Fiona will join in but I’m not so sure about the others.’
‘Don’t you worry. Leave them to me.’
‘Yes, you’ll be OK with them,’ I paused not wanting to look weak in front of her, but she had a way about her that elicited confidences. ‘Some of them are older and more experienced than me.’ I thought of Conrad. ‘I don’t feel that confident bossing them about or laying down the law.’ I thought about the wine bill from dinner. ‘If I’m not more authoritative they’ll walk all over me.’ Conrad could run through the allotted expense budget in one day.
‘And would that be the end of the world?’ asked Eva, with a merry twinkle in her eye.
‘It probably won’t go down terribly well with my bosses. It won’t look as if I’m very organised or in charge.’
‘And that’s important to you? Sorry,’ she looked at her watch, ‘Would you mind helping me re-arrange the tables?’
‘No.’ I followed her as she cleared a few chairs away and together we moved tables to form a central bank of them.
‘It matters to you, being organised and in charge?’ Eva cocked her head to one side, her eyes studying me carefully, giving the impression she listened to every word and the subtext beyond.
‘I’m trying to get a promotion. This trip is an important step in that direction.’
‘Ah and what does promotion get you?’ She directed me to another table and I took the opposite end and helped her shift it into place. Her calm, matter of fact question held no judgement or inflection, as if she genuinely didn’t know the answer.
‘Well, more money – always nice. And more … prestige. You know, it’s a measure of success. Other people can see you’re rising up the ranks. They can see you’re doing well.’
‘And do you enjoy your work?’
‘Every day is different. I get to do lots of interesting things and I look forward to going in every day.’ Except that the last bit hadn’t been true for a while and especially not since I had been denied the promotion. It had left me resentful and grudging of the hours I spent in the office when everyone else had left. Being left to do my own thing on the Hjem account had been the most creative and enjoyable thing I’d done in ages. The strict division of labour in the agency meant you usually did one element of a job. Working on Hjem had been like the good old days when I’d first started in PR and worked for a tiny agency where everyone pitched in to do everything. With a sudden pang, I missed those chaotic and less organised days which was crazy, the Machin Agency was a top five agency. Who wouldn’t want to work there?
Finishing my coffee, I stood to leave, butterflies of anxiety starting to stir in my stomach.
‘See you in a minute,’ said Eva. She laid a reassuring hand on my arm. ‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine. You’re in Denmark now. Why not enjoy it?’
All the warm, cosy feelings I’d acquired in the last half hour went up in a puff of smoke the minute I saw Benedict pacing up and down outside the front of the hotel, his mobile jammed to his ear. He broke off as soon as he saw me and said something rapidly to finish the call.
‘You stole my charger,’ he said accusingly.
‘I borrowed it,’ I said. ‘You did say I could.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmm that’s not quite how I recall the direction of the conversation.’
‘You didn’t say no,’ I said, winding him up was such fun, even though I now remembered just how tired he’d looked and felt the teensiest bit guilty.
‘You caught me at a weak moment. Do you think I could have it back?’
‘Of course,’ I said, with a deliberately sunny smile as if he were the one being unreasonable. I dipped into my tote bag and pulled it out. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks,’ he said still grumpy, with purple shadows like bruises under his eyes.
Guilt pricked me and my voice softened, ‘Are you OK?’
He looked up, his blue-grey eyes narrowing sharply. I held his gaze. ‘You still look …’
With a slow sigh, he nodded, not quite smiling but coming close, ‘Tell me about it, I look like shit … but I feel a hell of a lot better than I did.’
Our gaze held a while longer, and then for want of anything else to say, I nodded and said, ‘Good.’
‘Morning Kate, Ben,’ said Sophie, appearing behind him, bouncing on her toes. ‘I am so excited about this. Baking! My favourite thing. I’m so glad Lars arranged this for us as part of the press trip.’
‘Glad it’s yours,’ muttered Ben.
‘Go on,’ she gave him a dig in the ribs with her elbows. ‘You know you’ll love it when you try it.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
Sophie and I exchanged a grin.
‘Hello and good morning,’ called Eva gaily, welcoming everyone as if they were old friends.
She ushered everyone around one of the tables, inviting us all to sit down. As they all gazed around the lovely café, I felt a sense of quick, invested pride and I had no idea why. I’d only been here once before. Perhaps it was because I already felt at home here.
‘This morning, you’re all going to get your hands dirty and we’re going to have lots of fun talking about life in Denmark.’
From anyone else the words could have sounded a bit too cute but with Eva, it was impossible to feel cynical. She began handing out striped aprons. ‘Now, here. There is one for everyone. Katie, this is for you.’ To my surprise the apron had my name embroidered on it.
‘Sophie. David. Ben. Fiona. Conrad. Avril. Excellent. Everyone is here. First we’re going to have coffee and then we’re going to do some baking.’ She made it sound as if it were the most exciting thing possible and Sophie clapped her hands. ‘Goodie.’
I caught Ben roll his eyes and Avril give him a conspiratorial nudge, as if to say we’re all in this together.
Once coffee had been served, Eva started to organise us all.
‘Now cooking and looking after people makes me happy. And I think it shows in the food.’
I paused and hung back checking my emails on my phone quickly. Damn, I’d received ten already from work since breakfast that all needed responses.
Ben also whipped hi
s phone out and cursed under his breath. He excused himself and stepped outside the café and I saw him walk to the other side of the road, his phone jammed to his ear, where he stood, head bowed, shoulders hunched and kicking at one of the cobbles with his heel. I wondered if his sister had located the stopcock yet.
I dealt with a couple of emails and then realised Eva was standing over me. She gently took the phone from my hand and tucked it in my pocket.
‘You and Ben will work here.’ She led me over to the table. ‘David, you will work with me. Sophie, you and Fiona can be together, and Avril and Conrad together,’ she looked reprovingly at them over her rimless glasses, ‘but you have to behave.’
‘Who us?’ quipped Conrad, mischief written all over his face.
‘Don’t know what you mean,’ smiled Avril, for once looking positively light-hearted.
‘In Denmark we’re famous for our pastries, which we call Weinerbrod, which translates ironically as Vienna Bread because the recipes were brought here by Austrian bakers. Today I’m going to show you how to make the typical spandauer.’ She shot me a conspiratorial look and smiled. ‘Food needs to be made with love. Everything tastes better when it’s made with love. Leave your worries and cares at the door.’
‘Ooo, that’s fab,’ said Sophie, grabbing her bag. ‘Let me write that down. I’m going to quote you on that in the magazine.’
‘Baking makes me very happy and here in Denmark we celebrate the little things that make us happy. Perhaps that’s why we’re such a happy nation? Have you heard of hygge?’
‘Yes,’ everyone chorused dutifully, except Ben who held up a hand like a child in class.
‘What exactly is it? Apart from lighting candles and buying expensive cashmere shawls.’
Eva beamed at him. ‘It’s taking pleasure from the simple things in life, like taking a pastry home from work, making a cup of coffee and sitting to enjoy every last mouthful,’ she paused and then added with a twinkle, ‘and not feeling at all guilty about a single calorie.’
‘Having pastry with no calories would make me very happy,’ said Sophie as we all laughed.
‘What makes you happy?’ Eva’s eyes danced around the group. ‘Conrad?’