By the tone of her voice, she sounded pleasantly surprised, so he tookcuteas a compliment as he kicked off his shoes and indicated that she do the same.The mudroom led straight into the small kitchen cum living room.He’d knocked out one wall to make the place more open-plan and livable, and installed large sliding doors at the rear of the house to let in more light.A quick perusal told him that at least he’d left the house tidy.Which was a minor miracle, because who would’ve thought he’d return to Sweden with a beautiful but headstrong woman in tow.
“This is gorgeous,” she breathed, doing a twirl so she could take everything in.A ridiculous little fizz of pride at her words echoed in his chest.But then, why shouldn’t he be proud of how the kitchen had turned out, considering the state of the place when he’d first moved in?He’d ripped out the original kitchen cabinets, which were rotted and falling apart, and installed brand new cupboards himself, painting them a pale green to offset the natural timber countertops, adding in modern appliances and a large farmhouse sink.Then he’d taken his mother’s advice when she’d come up to visit after he’d bought the house, and painted the wooden walls cream to make it feel bigger.At least his mother could see the potential of the cottage.Her visit had been bittersweet.She’d been a little sad that he’d settled up here so far away from Stockholm, but happy to see her youngest son putting down some roots at last.
“This will be your room,” he said, leading her to a doorway off the main living area.The cottage comprised only two bedrooms.The guest bedroom was downstairs, while his master suite took up the whole attic space upstairs.“There’s only one bathroom,” he added almost apologetically, pointing to the door next to hers.Which meant they’d have to share, he thought with an uncharacteristic surge of heat.One more reason this was a bad idea.Sharing a bathroom with Summer might just try his self-restraint to the limit.
“I’ll get our bags,” he said, needing to get out into the fresh air, leaving her to take a better look around.
The Uber driver had helped him unload the bags, but they’d left them on the front porch while he’d led her inside to give her a tour.As well as her bag of clothes, Summer had also brought her bicycle in a specially designed bag; she took it with her to all her triathlon meets and was used to the logistics of traveling with it.He wasn’t sure where that was going to go in his small house, but he guessed he was going to have to find a spot somewhere.
Mårten leaned against the porch railing and drew in a deep, cleansing breath.This was one thing he’d missed while he’d been in America; the pure sweetness of Swedish air in the summer.There was nothing else like it.The faint waft of the birch leaves as they were warmed by the sun, the untainted verdant smell of the tall, green grass, waving in the soft breeze.It evoked memories of summer holidays spent as a child, when his mother had brought them north, away from the city, to the visit the crystal clean lakes and forests, and he and his brother Eric, would spend hours splashing in the cold water and then dozing in the sun to get tanned on the small, rocky beaches.
A thump came from inside, pulling him out of his reverie, and reminding him of his guest.Had he done the right thing by bringing her here?The same question had rolled around in his head for the entire twelve-hour flight from Seattle to Stockholm.Not that he didn’t have faith in the FBI—and Jacob—to protect her.But she was point-blank refusing to go into witness protection, and it seemed the only way he could ensure her safety at the time.But perhaps he should have pushed her harder to stay.Now that he’d analyzed his proposal to Summer, he was wondering if it was the stupidest thing he’d ever contemplated.Not for the reason that most people would assume—that he had now made himself a direct target for the eco-terrorist, Tyrone.No, it was way worse than that.Now he was going to have to endure the next two weeks of her sleeping in his house.
He’d already proved that he couldn’t resist her when he’d given in to temptation and allowed himself the luxury of that kiss on the bed in Seattle.Afterward, he’d decided the only tactic to stop it from happening again was to put space between him and her.And then what had he gone and done?Invited her back to his house on the pretext of keeping an eye on her.Where they would share the same bathroom, eat their breakfast at the same kitchen island, drink coffee on the same couch in the small living room.He’d have to watch her comb out her long, silky hair in the mornings, and she’d most likely wear those tight little shorts, especially if she was going running.And that brief tank top that revealed her bare, toned midriff.It would be sheer torture.
He groaned and pushed his forehead hard against the wooden post, relishing the pain as the rough texture bit into his skin.He was an idiot.
But he was also a grown man, and he would find a way to fight this attraction, no matter if it killed him.She trusted him to keep safe, and that was what he planned to do.He would not think about her sleeping only meters away from him, or about how much he might want to crawl into bed with her, and kiss those soft lips again, just to make sure he hadn’t dreamed that fiery animal magnetism from their first time.He hadn’t imagined the way she’d responded, however, as if she’d come alive at his touch and wanted to devour him.The mere memory of it was doing weird things to his insides.And his dick.
“Are you coming back inside?”The sound of her voice made him jump.
“Yep, yep,” he replied, swiveling on his heel and quickly bending to pick up a bag in each hand, swinging his duffel in front of his body, ostensibly so he could fit through the door, but in reality hoping to hide his straining erection.Jesus Christ, he couldn’t even go five minutes with her in his house without getting turned on.How was he ever going to get through two whole weeks?“I’ll bring your bike in later,” he told her.
“The guest room is lovely,” she gushed, as he carried her bag—she must pack light, because it was smaller than his, which surprised him, most women always took more than they needed—and laid it on the luggage rack next to the compact wardrobe in the corner.There had only been space to fit a king-single bed along one wall, and a small reading chair, with the cupboard occupying the rest of the room.
Ebba had helped him pick out the color scheme, with more cream paint, a simple white duvet and pillowslips, accented with a taupe throw-rug and cushions.A jute mat covered the wooden floorboards, with a few pretty Swedish landscapes hung on the walls.
Ebba had a knack for interior decorating—like most women did, he assumed.It was just a pity she also had a knack for subtle manipulation.Thank God he’d found out before it was too late that Ebba had been so desperate to get pregnant, she’d gone off the contraceptive pill without telling him eight months after they first started dating.Mårten would’ve been trapped like a rabbit in a snare.He would have married Ebba if she’d announced she was going to have his baby, and she knew it.But that was no way for a marriage to start; Mårten would’ve resented her forever.He’d been wary of relationships after that, only having two very short, but unsatisfying encounters with women he’d met on a dating app.For the past six months, he’d been celibate, but if he was truthful with himself, he hadn’t missed having a woman by his side.Had he missed the sex?Yes, definitely.But companionship, not so much.Mårten enjoyed the bachelor lifestyle and had no real urge to change.
Which was one more reason to stay well away from Summer.Not only was he sexually attracted to her, which was raising all kinds of red flags, but he also found her mind appealing in ways no other woman had done.He was already invested in her story; who wouldn’t be after finding out that a simple break and enter had morphed into something much more sinister and now she was the target of an eco-terrorist?The protector within him was desperate to keep her safe, but another part of him was also desperate to delve deeper into that dark well of emotions simmering just below the surface.There was a sad past there; he could tell.
Which was no business of his, he reminded himself, shaking his head to clear it of the lame thoughts.
“Thank you,” he replied, squeezing past her to get through the doorway.“Just let me know if there’s anything you need.I’m going to make a coffee and some toast.Are you hungry?”There wasn’t a lot of food in the house; he’d left it pretty much empty when he’d gone on holiday, and he’d need to make a trip to the local supermarket this afternoon if they were going to eat anything decent for dinner.
“Yes, please, that would be lovely.”He’d noticed that Summer had eaten nothing on the flight, and while he didn’t blame her—airline food could be abominable—she must be starving by now.While it was mid-afternoon here, it was still only early morning back in Seattle, so his stomach was confused, not knowing what it wanted to eat.He guessed she was probably the same.
She settled on a stool on the far side of the kitchen island and watched as he busied himself taking bread out of the freezer and popping four slices into the toaster.Then he turned on the coffee machine, filling it with water and ground beans.All the while, her eyes followed his every move.It was a little disquieting, but also…homely somehow.
“Does your family live close by?”Her question surprised him.
“Not really.My mother, Nora, lives in Stockholm, as do my brother, Eric, and his family,” he replied, placing the butter and jam on the island bench.“It’s only a seven-hour train ride to see them, or a couple of hours on a plane.”
“So, you moved away when you became a cop?”
“Yeah, I did my training in Umeå, a town a few hours drive south of here.I was offered a position here as a newly minted cop, and I guess I stayed.”
“What about your father?You didn’t mention him.”
“He died just before I was born.Crashed his car into a frozen lake in Norway.That’s one reason my mother moved us to Sweden.”Not that Mårten didn’t like to talk about his dad; it was just that he had no memories of him, so there was nothing to talk about.Eric had been two when their father, Anders, had died, and even he admitted he couldn’t remember him.It was only through photos and Nora’s stories of how she’d fallen in love at first sight with the American architect that Mårten knew him at all.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”Summer’s face crumpled.“That must be hard.”
“Not really.I grew up in a family with a single mother—she never remarried or even dated until we were old enough to move out—and so I knew nothing different.”Which was all true.The part he didn’t tell most people was that money was always tight.His mother had moved them to Stockholm to take her dream job at a holistic healing clinic, but the salary was barely enough to get them through.Even though both he and Eric got jobs as soon as they were old enough, it was still a struggle.Now, however, both he and Eric earned good wages, and his mother had taken the plunge after they’d left home and started her own holistic healing business, which was doing well.
“I guess.”Summer shrugged delicately, and his eyes were drawn to the smooth roundness of her shoulders, bare beneath her dark blue tank.She’d traveled in an oversized hoodie and leggings on the plane, but as soon as they’d stepped out into the Swedish sunshine, she’d removed the sweater with a sigh of delight and he hadn’t been able to look away from how the tight tank and leggings hugged her curves, showing off her sculpted body.
Quick, think of something else.He was about to open mouth to inquire about her family when she changed the subject, asking, “What is this?”She picked up the jar and tipped it so she could examine the orange contents more closely.
