Up in her room, she examined her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. On the pretext of being desperate for the loo, she’d left Luke downstairs sorting out the skis and poles, which she didn’t feel good about. She wasn’t the sort of woman who left things to men. She’d heard him come back to his room about ten minutes after her.
Mountain air agreed with her, or maybe it was being with Luke. She sighed and frowned at her reflection. Luke’s company was everything she enjoyed; they were so in tune. He was ideal friend material, except that kissing him was like drinking champagne, diving out of a plane, and coming home all at the same time. It made her feel alive and wild, safe and crazy. A bit like touching a live electric cable knowing you had wellington boots on.
With another heavy sigh, she changed quickly, spritzed with deodorant and perfume, and then sat on the bed waiting to hear Luke’s door open and close. She didn’t want to risk bumping into him in the corridor again. Eventually she heard his door click and close, and her heart began thumping as if aware of how close he was. She heard his footsteps pause. For some reason she held her breath. Was he going to knock for her? Her body seemed at odds with her brain, although that wasn’t doing her any favours either. That sinfully, gorgeous kiss came flooding back into her mind.
She heard a shuffle and another step. Was he thinking of her? Was he about to raise a hand to rap on her door?
She imagined opening the door and seeing him in the doorway and her heart thudded. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself with him. It was a relief when his footsteps picked up and padded away down the corridor to the staircase.
Giving herself a full five minutes, she gave another look at herself in the mirror and left the room.
‘Just in time,’ said Bernhardt, immediately crossing to her side as she walked into the lounge, as if he’d been looking out for her. She gave him a big smile, already aware of Luke in her peripheral vision.
‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to miss this cake.’ She reached for a plate and one of the delicate pastry forks. ‘I helped Amelie make it this morning. Doesn’t it look delicious? I’m dying to try it. You should have seen how light and fluffy the sponge was when Amelie took it out of the oven.’ She was talking too much. She moved to sit down on one of the sofas, the slight ache of her thighs reminding her she’d had a good workout. Bernhardt took the seat next to her.
‘Did you?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘Isn’t that what you call a busman’s holiday?’
Mina marvelled once more at how good everyone’s English was, but Bernhardt shrugged. ‘We’re multilingual from a young age. So how come you’re working in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be on holiday?’
‘I didn’t get a chance to mention it yesterday, and I didn’t get a chance to say thank you for taking me with you. I had a great time.’
‘Yes. Sorry we lost you, but you know what it’s like.’
‘I didn’t mind.’ She grinned at him. ‘It meant you didn’t see how rubbish I am, but I definitely improved during the day.’
He laughed. ‘We learn from a young age. I can’t remember not being able to ski.’
‘You do everything from a young age, it seems,’ said Mina teasingly.
‘Not everything,’ he said it seriously but there was a sudden glint of humour in his eyes.
‘Going back to your earlier question. You asked why I was in the kitchen. I was helping Amelie because I’m her goddaughter. I didn’t expect to be a guest, I thought I’d be staying with her—’ she lifted her shoulders ‘—in the staff quarters.’
‘Instead you got the best room in the house,’ chipped in Kristian, who had come to sit opposite them.
‘Er… is it?’ She was slightly perturbed by the fact that he knew exactly which room she was staying in.
‘Kristian, you sound like a stalker.’ Bernhardt rolled his eyes and the other man blushed to the very roots of his pale blonde hair.
‘Amelie said she’d saved the best room for her goddaughter. I know the rooms on the top floors are the best. Luke got one because he’s staying and working here.’
‘He’s working here?’
She thought he’d told her he was between jobs.
Kristian waggled his eyebrows. ‘No one knows what he does. We think he’s a spy.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said Bernhardt with an impatient huff. ‘We don’t think anything. I try not to think of him at all.’ He turned back to Mina. ‘So how was your day? I’m very impressed with the cake. It’s a real speciality in Solothurn, but this is every bit as good as a real one from the Suteria bakery.’
Mina didn’t want to laugh at his faint air of pomposity. She didn’t think he was doing it on purpose, he was just rather serious, and in some ways it was rather cute. His dark eyes seemed to be narrowed in perpetual study, as if he wasn’t sure whether he could take things at face value.
‘I can’t take any of the credit, I just helped Amelie, but it is a fantastic recipe. I’d love to introduce it to people at home.’ She screwed up her face. There was no way she could persuade her bosses to create a dessert like this for the supermarket. It was such a shame, because she knew people would love it.
‘Good evening, Mina.’
‘Hello, Johannes.’
She watched him scan the room quickly, his eyes lingering on the door to the kitchen, before sitting down in the chair next to Kristian and studying the slice of cake on his plate. ‘Another triumph from Amelie’s kitchen, I think. She’s a very talented woman.’
