An Unexpected Viking: Sveyn & Hollis: Part One (The Hansen Series - Sveyn & Hollis Book 1)
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After a moment, he said, “I’ll call you.”
Hollis lifted her cheeks in a weak smile. “Goodnight.”
She turned around and walked toward the Viking.
Chapter Fourteen
Hollis and Sveyn didn’t talk until they were back in the condo and she had changed into her pajamas—alone in her bedroom with the door closed. If Sveyn walked into her bedroom again, uninvited, she would have to talk to him about respecting her privacy.
She opened a bottle of pinot grigio and splashed it over a handful of ice in a large goblet, then carried the wine and yesterday’s left-over pizza to the coffee table. She sat next to Sveyn, who was reading the closed-captioning on a muted Travel Channel show about England.
“Will you tell me now?” Sveyn asked.
Hollis wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “Tell you what?”
“How you felt when he kissed you.” Sveyn turned to face her. “And please be honest.”
Hollis stared at the slice of cold pizza in her hand. “It was nice, I guess. Well executed.”
Sveyn frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means his technique—his skill—was fine.”
The Viking’s mouth twitched. “And yet, you felt nothing in here.” He pointed at her chest first, and then a much lower part of her anatomy. “Or here.”
Hollis was surprised that she wasn’t embarrassed. “No. I’m afraid not,” she admitted.
Sveyn rested his elbow on the back of the sofa. “I have observed many forms of kissing over these years and have organized them into differing categories.”
Hollis laughed. “You sound like a scientific historian.”
His gaze cut to hers. “I would argue that I do possess the necessary qualifications, would you not agree?”
She waved the pizza in invitation. “Go on.”
“The simplest kiss is the brief one on the cheek or lips.” He demonstrated by kissing the air.
“Commonly known as the peck,” Hollis added.
Sveyn nodded. “Used either in greeting or leave-taking. This brief kiss may well signal much deeper feelings, but is used for efficiency in those instances.”
“Noted.” Hollis swallowed her bite of pizza and reached for her wine glass. “Next?”
“Next is the exploration sort of kiss, such as you experienced this evening.” Sveyn stroked his beard. “If both of those involved are thus moved, however, the kiss will usually progress to the third category.”
“It starts tenderly, as if a question is being asked.” Hollis parted her lips, imagining that the enigmatic man in front of her was the one doing the asking.
“And when answered in the affirmative…” Sveyn leaned closer. “The exploration deepens.”
Hollis’s gaze fell to Sveyn’s lips, pale pink and full, surrounded by a beard beginning to show traces of white. “Her mouth opens…”
Sveyn’s voice took on a definitely husky tone. “His tongue tangles with hers…”
“Bodies press against each other…”
“The promise of pleasure is offered.” He reached out his hand and laid his palm against her cheek. “And, if possible, accepted.”
Hollis’s cheek felt warm and tingly. More than anything, she wished it wasn’t her imagination. “This is dangerous.”
His gaze fell away, then rose to meet hers again. “I know.”
She tried to place her hand over his, but only succeeded in touching her own cheek. “Damn,” she whispered.
Sveyn pulled his hand away, his expression stark. “The longer I remain with you, the harder this may become.”
“But I don’t want you to leave.”
“And I do not wish to go. I have never felt so—” the Viking wagged his hands back and forth between them. “Attached.”
“Do you mean your tether?” Hollis asked, hopeful.
“No. I mean attached. As though I am bonded to you in some way.” His brow lowered. “I cannot explain it more clearly, because this has not happened to me before.”
“Is it because I’m a woman?” she offered.
“Possibly.” Sveyn’s eyes narrowed. “I do think that might be one portion.”
Hollis risked asking for more. “And the other portion—is it because you like me?”
He nodded. “I am quite certain that my attraction to you as a woman has affected my situation.”
She resettled on the couch to face him directly. “What do we do about this?”
“I suppose we do whatever we wish to.” The Viking looked as uncomfortably tentative as his suggestion.
Hollis recoiled. “Are you suggesting that we treat each other as if we have a romantic relationship?”
Sveyn’s expression shifted and softened. “Is that not the sort of relationship for which we both yearn?”
“Hold on.” Hollis shook her head, feeling her grip on reality sliding down a very slippery slope and picking up speed. “I never said that.”
“Not in words,” he murmured. “But I can see this so clearly every time you converse with me.”
“Even when I yelled at you?” she challenged.
“Most especially when you bellowed at me.” Sveyn traced a figure eight on her knee while she watched, mesmerized by the languid motion. “You were hurt and you cried, because I acted in an unkind way. Is that not true?”
Her eyes remained on his finger. “Yes.”
“And I acted as I did because I was jealous. And when you reacted so strongly, I knew.”
Her eyes flicked up to his. “Knew what, exactly.”
“That you are falling in love with me, just as I am with you.”
Thursday
September 17
Three days passed without a call from George, which was a relief. Hollis didn’t want to have to tell him she wasn’t interested in dating him, after trying so hard for a second chance at doing exactly that.
In the meantime, the Bluetooth ruse was working perfectly when she was out in public with Sveyn. As a result, their conversations had become much more fluid. Today Hollis told everyone at the museum that she was meeting an old friend from Chicago for lunch, when in reality it was her first date with Sveyn.
“Table for one,” she said to the hostess, and followed the girl to a corner spot. Hollis accepted the menu as the Viking slid into the chair across from hers.
“I want you to tell me what your food tastes and smells like,” he said. “Though I am never hungry, I do miss eating.”
She grinned happily at her menu. “Gladly.”
Describing food in evocative terms turned out to be a very sensual process. Hollis kept her gaze fixed on her plate—she didn’t want to look like Feral Cat Lady by making constant eye contact with the wall—and now and then rested her fingers against the earpiece convincingly.
As she quietly described the textures of each dish, how they felt in her mouth, the way the aromas filled her sinuses and enhanced the flavors, and how succulent and satisfying each dish was, Sveyn leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and listened intently.
“That dish must be amazing,” he said at one point. “I believe there are so many new spices and flavors that I did not experience on my travels or in Norway.”
“I wish you could taste this.” Hollis took another tiny bite of the lemon crème tart. “I’m not usually a big fan of dessert but, oh my goodness, this is fantastic.”
Sveyn put his hand over hers. “Thank you for sharing this experience with me.”
Hollis stared at his hand, large and strong, with fingers tapering to trimmed nails ringed faintly, as expected, with dirt. She was oddly aroused by their conversation; it felt almost like they were having mild phone sex.
“My pleasure,” she whispered.
The waitress set the bill on the table. “I’ll be your cashier when you’re ready.”
Hollis dug out her credit card. “Time to get back to work, I suppose.”
As they walked back to her car, Hollis was smiling. “Was that as
good for you as it was for me?”
Sveyn chuckled. “You might be surprised.”
Hollis opened her car door. “Does that mean you are willing to go on another date with me?”
He moved through the opposite door into the passenger seat. “I am, my lady. Do moving pictures still exist?”
“Absolutely! And I think that’s a wonderful suggestion.” Hollis started her car. “Especially since conversation is forbidden during the actual show.”
“And so our next date, as you called this, will be a moving picture show.” Sveyn grinned. “I have seen many short films telling about shows starting this week or next. Would you like to make the choice?”
Hollis laughed, pleased by Sveyn’s eagerness. “No, you choose.”
The Viking sat back in his seat as Hollis drove to the museum, stroking his bearded chin in thought, and smiling.
*****
“George? What are you doing here?” Though it might have been her imagination, Stevie—who was in Hollis’s office as well—seemed to blush and looked a little guilty. Maybe because she was sitting on Hollis’s desk in front of the lawyer’s chair.
George jumped to his feet. “I apologize for dropping in without calling, but I was going past the museum and thought I’d stop and see if I could talk to you.”
“I told him you were at lunch with a friend, but he was welcome to wait.” Stevie slid off the desk and straightened her skirt. “I guess the time just slipped by.”
“How was your lunch date?” George asked, obviously trying to divert the conversation.
“Delicious. And our conversation was tantalizing.” Hollis walked around her desk and dropped her purse into the bottom drawer. “I’m glad to see you, George. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ll be going.” Stevie hurried to the door. She turned back and shot George an obviously alluring look before she closed the door.
Ah.
George faced Hollis again. “I wanted to say this to you in person, not on the phone.”
Hollis gave him a knowing smile. “You want to tell me that, while our time together on Monday was thoroughly enjoyable, when we kissed there was no chemistry?”
His concerned expression smoothed in surprise. “Well, yes. But—”
“But we should still be friends.”
George looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Hollis.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. I felt the same thing.”
“I suppose saying that I’m glad about that isn’t exactly appropriate,” he offered.
Hollis pointed at him. “Are you lying about being friends? Because I’m not.”
George held up his right hand. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but.”
“Good. And don’t worry. I’ll make sure you are invited to all things Jane Austen.”
George laughed. “Thank you, my friend.” He turned toward the door. “I should let you get back to work.”
Hollis circled her desk and stood in front of him. She tipped her head towards the door. “Stevie’s amazing. You should talk to her on the way out.”
George’s brow twitched. “Are you sure?”
“She’s the best friend I have in Phoenix, and she deserves a good man.” Hollis walked to the door and pulled it open. “Go.”
“Thank you, Hollis.” George kissed her cheek. “You’re a classy chick.”
She smiled. “Just name your firstborn after me.”
*****
“I still can’t believe you did that,” Stevie effused. “He’s so handsome, and smart, and funny—”
“And into Jane Austen…” Hollis looked over her shoulder at her friend. “I really mean it, Stevie. I felt nothing when he kissed me.”
Stevie’s dimples showed, even though she wasn’t exactly smiling. “How was lunch? Lots of good catching-up gossip?”
Hollis turned back to the blurb they were writing for the Norse Blessing. “Men don’t dish like women.”
Crap. Why did I say that?
“You didn’t tell me you were having lunch with a man!” Stevie squealed.
“I didn’t say it was a woman either.” Hollis scrambled for a way out. “But don’t get all bothered. He’s…”
Stevie leaned on the desk to see her face. “He’s what?”
Old. Foreign. Doesn’t have a body.
“Married.”
“Oh.” Stevie straightened. “And the marriage is going well?”
“Yep. Married to my cousin.” Keep the details easy to remember. “In Wisconsin.”
Stevie’s brows pulled together. “I though you said your friend was from Chicago?”
Crapsity crapola.
“They just moved to Madison. I forgot.” Hollis glanced at her friend. “I don’t always read the Christmas letters to the end.”
Stevie giggled. “Who does?”
Hollis leaned back in her chair. “How does this sound for our mystery item: We believe this to be a Nordic icon whose origin predates the Viking era.”
“Generic enough, I think,” Stevie approved.
“I just don’t want to give too much away about its supposed power, or the crazies will be pounding down the doors.”
Stevie shrugged. “They might be anyway. I mean, you found out what this thing was. Others are bound to as well.”
Hollis sent the email with the super-short blurb to the tech intern who was posting the twice weekly items on the museum website. Within five minutes, the photo of the velsignelse av gudene was online, along with the hint.
Stevie crossed her arms. “It’ll be interesting to see if someone recognizes this.”
Hollis laughed. “It’ll be interesting to see if anyone even visits the website.”
“Oh they’ll visit. Miranda was being interviewed while you were gone. Channel twelve is running a piece about our Mystery Item of the Week tonight at six and ten.”
Hollis swiveled in her chair. “Really?”
“Yeah. I guess Benton pulled some strings.” Stevie sighed. “I should get back to work. Logging all the things we brought back last week is tedious. And not in a fun way.”
“Then I hate to tell you that I’m going back tomorrow.” Hollis grinned at her friend. “Wanna come?”
“Not this time, thanks.” Stevie paused at the door. “Are you really sure about George?”
Hollis rolled her eyes. “Yes. I am. He’s my gift to you. Enjoy him.”
Stevie beamed and blew her a kiss.
Chapter Fifteen
Friday
September 18
Sveyn picked a dystopian fantasy film for their date, but Hollis asked if they could wait until Sunday afternoon to go. “I’ll be tired after digging through the hoard all day, and the theater will be less crowded than on Friday or Saturday.”
He agreed, though he looked a little disappointed.
“How about this,” she offered. “That film is the third one in the story. We can watch the first two this weekend before we go. Then you won’t have so many questions when you see it.”
Sveyn’s expression brightened. “That is a well thought-out plan, Hollis. Thank you.”
“Great.”
“And in exchange for your thoughtfulness, perhaps we might watch the Viking shows together, and I can explain all of the fallacies in them.”
While the offer was genuine, Hollis could not think of anything she would enjoy less. “It’s fiction, Sveyn.”
“It is on the History Channel, Hollis,” he countered, his features stern. “I want you to know the truth, even if no one else does.”
That was it: the honest reason. Sveyn wanted her to understand him, his life, and his world. “That’s important to you, isn’t it.”
“As the woman I am courting, yes it is.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Even though our courtship is futile, I still wish for you to know me.”
Remembering his words prompted a little bubble of happiness in her chest as she dug through more dusty boxes.
Tom straightened, his legs straddling a box. “Okay. Can I ask Jesse to help me?”
“Sure.” Hollis walked down the hall to the back room, wondering where Sveyn was.
The last room in the one-hundred-and-forty-year-old house was once a sleeping porch for the family, long before air-conditioning made its way to Arizona. As wide as the house and ten feet deep, the now-enclosed space was a catch-all for about a third of the hoard.
When she walked through the door, Hollis clapped her gloved hand over her mask. She’d found Sveyn—or half of him.
The Viking’s leather-clad butt was sticking out of the stack, his booted feet planted on the floor. The urge to sneak up and smack that solid-looking target made her hands twitch; only the knowledge that her palm would slap a box instead stopped her.
“Hello?” she said, using the Bluetooth ruse.
Sveyn’s body emerged from the stack. He turned his head to look at her, and grinned. “I am exploring.”
Hollis walked around a pile of wooden crates. “What did you find?”
He held up his hand and ticked the items on his fingers. “Dick Turpin’s tri-corn hat from seventeen-thirty-nine, a pewter cup used by King Richard the Lionhearted when he was imprisoned in Trifels Castle in eleven-ninety-three, a bottle of Doctor A. B, Seelye’s Wasa-Tusa healing elixir from eighteen-ninety-nine, and a container of film from Danesfield House, when the house was used by the Royal Air Force as an image intelligence unit.”
Hollis sank onto a box. “What?”
Sveyn held his hand up again. “Dick Turpin’s tri-corn—”
“No, I heard you,” she interrupted. “Do you even know what those things are?”
“Yes, I know a hat, a cup, a healing elixir, and film. I know of King Richard. And I know the Royal Air Force because of the war with Germany.” He shrugged. “I do not know Dick Turpin, or Doctor Seelye, however.”