“Oh. Hi.” Her smile broadened. “You’re Neve? He said you had bangs. I like them.”
“Uh, yeah,” she responded, thrown off balance by the same blue eyes that haunted her dreams in a smaller, perky face. Of course, Tor must have told his daughter she was coming, but she had been so wrapped up in what this trip meant for her that she hadn’t fully thought through what it would be like forhim. The fact that this crowd was made up of people from his life, and he was giving her a backstage pass into what made him tick. For all his mistrust of the press, that was a big gesture.
The evidence was mounting that Tor had no sinister agenda. And the biggest scoop of a story might be that he liked her.
A feeling vibrated through her chest like thunder.
He might like her a lot.
Olive wrapped her arm around Tor’s waist and leaned into him, assessing her with an appraising look Neve knew all too well. “Daddy told me all about you.”
“Did he, now?” Neve was used to hearing Tor Gunnar called Coach, of course, and less savory things—mostly insults muttered under her own breath—but to hear his daughter speak of him with such bright affection gave her pause.
When he glanced down at his daughter, there was nothing reserved in his face. He looked like any amused father who was slightly skeptical about what his precocious child might say next.
“Iwillbe good.” Olive shot her father a quick mischievous look. “He made me promise to go easy on you.”
“Is that a fact?” Neve placed a hand on one hip. She had limited experience dealing with children and didn’t want to make a misstep.
“I ask a lot of questions.”
“Me too, as long as it’s a day ending iny,” Neve answered. At least they had something in common. “I look forward to your interrogations.”
“Sounds good.” Olive laughed, turning back to Tor and batting her lashes. “But, Daddy, seriously, can I share a hotel room with my cousins? I’ve never done it and I am bigger and I will be good. Please, please please? I’m dying to. Dying, I say.”
“Let’s go have a word with your aunt. I’ll be right back.” He gave Neve a curt nod. “If you’ll excuse us a moment.”
“By all means.” Neve gaped as Tor walked over to a gorgeous blonde who was drinking a glass of wine by the roaring fire. While it was fascinating to glean insight into Tor’s life, she was also going to smack into his past. A past that was striding into the lobby in a pair of impossibly elegant heeled winter boots and with a delicate heart-shaped face framed by lustrous blond hair that would make Rapunzel weep.
Neve remembered her face from the article she’d written on his divorce, one of her first at theAge.
Maddy gave Tor a stiff embrace, air-kissing both of his cheeks. Neve chewed the inside of her lower lip. He’d been married to an air-kisser?
The beautiful woman spoke with animation, twin lines of concern creasing her high, smooth forehead, and as if on some unspoken cue, they both spun and stared in her direction. Neve tried not to grimace. She was so busted, she couldn’t even pretend to be inspecting the large Thanksgiving-themed cornucopia on the mantel.
It was obvious she’d been taking in every word.
“Neve?” Impossibly marvelous Maddy took off like an elegant rocket, speeding in her direction. “Hello,” she said in a breathy, sleepy voice, as if she’d just woken up from a delicious nap. “Wonderful to meet you. I’m Maddy, Tor’s... well... the bride. Look, there has been just a teensy, tiny mix-up. The hotel is overbooked and when I saw Tor had reserved the extra room, I assumed it was a mistake. My Great Aunt Agnes has settled into what was evidently supposed to be your room and she’s ninety-one and. . .” She threw up her hands in a frazzled gesture. “For Pete’s sakes. You know what they say about assuming...”
“No! N-no, it’s fine. You must have a million and one things to think about. Don’t give me a second thought,” Neve stammered. “Let’s leave Aunt Agnes right where she is.”
Brave words as her stomach lurched.
She and Tor Gunnar were going to be sharing a hotel room alone for an entire weekend. And she had a suitcase packed with very new and very, very tiny French lingerie.
Chapter Ten
“Nice bed, emphasis on the singular,” Neve deadpanned, dropping her suitcase onto the hardwood floor with a dull thud. The impact echoed the crash of his heart against his rib cage.
The room was a blend of rustic and modern. The stuffed chair by the window looked like an inviting place to curl up with a book, while the framed photographs of wildflowers gave the room a touch of feminine whimsy. But there was no denying the space was dominated by the pine-framed king-sized bed.
Perfect for sprawling like a starfish and taking a long winter’s nap.
Or trying to medal in the Sexual World Championships.
His mouth filled with invisible sand, going drier than the Sahara. It was impossible to look anywhere else. Was Neve really going to crawl up onto that giant mattress, her body next to his? He blazed so hot it was a wonder he didn’t turn to flame. He set his own bag by the dresser, half expecting to see smoke rippling off the back of his hand.
The light-canceling drapes were long and dark, and he flung them open, needing head space.
