Hotter on Ice

by Rebecca Hunter

  She closed her eyes and let the words sink in. He was here. This was real. She looked up into his deep brown eyes, and she had the strong urge to kiss him, to remember all the things she had learned about him back at the Icehotel. Was he right, that what they had between them wouldn’t change? God, she hoped this would last forever.

  She threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged a little, urging his mouth down to hers. It was a soft, slow kiss, making her insides melt and her heart skitter in her chest. There was nothing hesitant about it. She put aside the cameras and the whispers and everything else, and she kissed him again and again. It was so freeing to simply kiss this man she was in love with, right here, for the world to see.

  “I don’t think the palm is hiding much,” she said with a little laugh. “By the way, how did you get into this event?”

  Henning smiled. “It started with a call to Max. I asked if he’d check in on you and to get back to me. But he told me no, straight up. If I wanted to know, I had to come myself. So I told him you didn’t want security, and he said, ‘looks like you’ve got a problem on your hands.’ Next thing I knew, a courier delivered a ticket to my house.”

  She could picture his expression as he opened that envelope, struggling with what to do. “How long did you sulk at home before you decided to come?”

  “Only five hours or so,” he said with a grin. “Half that time was spent going through scenarios if you had brought a date, figuring out how to deal with that.”

  “What did you come up with?”

  “Nothing you want to hear about.”

  She laughed. “Lucky for you, I came alone.”

  “Lucky for me,” he echoed.

  Alya found Henning’s hand and laced her fingers with his. “You ready to get out from behind this tree?”

  “I’m willing to try just about anything, as long as it’s with you.” His voice was soft, that gruff, gentle rumble she had missed so much this week, so she squeezed his hand, and together, they walked into the crowd.

  * * *

  Henning looked down at the loveliest, most amazing woman in the world. Somehow, he was the one holding her hand right now. Love, not fear. It was the answer to everything, really. “Where are we going?”

  “To find Max and Natasha. And I think the rest of the Blackmore Inc. crew is here, too,” she added with a mischievous smile.

  Henning raised his eyebrows, and then started to laugh. He just let himself go, laughing and shaking his head. “Is this a test? Right in front of all the guys I work with.”

  “No backing out, right?” She kissed his hand. “But no, it’s not a test. I told Natasha I’d come find her right away when I arrived. She’s been a little worried about me this week.”

  Her sister had been worried about her. His smiled faded. “It was a hard week?”

  She nodded, and, fuck, it was painful to see it all over her face.

  “I hurt you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  He slowed to a stop and lifted his hand to her face, resting it on her cheek. “It was an awful week for me, too, if that’s any consolation.”

  “Maybe a little bit.” Her lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “But I guessed it would be. I just didn’t think you’d do anything about it.”

  He slipped his hand to the base of her neck and pressed his lips against hers. “But I did.”

  He wanted to stay like that, holding her, kissing her, but there would be time for that later. So he let her go, and they walked across the patio, decorated with flowers, toward the French doors that led inside. There was plenty of open staring at him as he and Alya wove their way through the crowd hand in hand. He could feel the gazes that traced his scars, then dropped to his hand that covered hers. It would probably always be like this, but as long as it didn’t hurt Alya, he didn’t care.

  They were about to go inside when Natasha walked out alone. Her mouth fell open the moment she caught sight of them.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, her brow wrinkled.

  Henning cringed. Shit. Alya told her sister everything, which probably meant Natasha hated him at this point. The last thing he wanted was to upset either one of them again. But Alya squeezed his hand, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, that they were in this together.

  Then Natasha broke into a smile. “I’ve got to go tell Max I lost the bet.” Natasha wrapped her arms around her sister’s waist and kissed her cheek. “But you look so much happier than you did all week, so I guess I’ll get over losing it.”

  A little relief flooded in, and Henning let out his breath. It was going to be okay.

  Natasha gave him an assessing look. “Henning Fischer?”

  He nodded, kissing Alya’s sister on the cheek.

  She smiled. “Come on. We’re all inside, out of the sun.”

  Natasha led the way across the open room, to a lounge area on the far side. But Alya slowed to a stop at the entrance, letting Natasha go ahead. The voices of the other Blackmore Inc. men echoed in the room. Henning squeezed Alya’s hand.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  But when Alya turned around, her face was lit with a smile of pure happiness. “I’m so much better than okay.” Her blue eyes sparkled and danced as she looked at him.

  “Only you, Alya,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers. “That’s all that matters.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him back, her mouth soft and warm. After days apart, the fire between them sparked and sizzled, almost irresistible. But this was so much more than attraction. This moment was a dream he had never allowed himself to hope for.

  “Thank you for coming, Henning,” she said, her voice serious.

  “I’ll always come for you.”

  Always. A word he hadn’t believed in for so long. Until Alya.

  Then, slowly, they entered the lounge. All the Blackmore Inc. principals were seated around a low glass table. Derek Latu and his wife, Laurie, were on one side of a long sofa. Derek and he grew up together, and he was the reason Henning had come to Blackmore, Inc. after he left the AFP. Right now, his friend’s gaze moved between Alya and him, and his smile was wide. Jackson McAllister leaned against Cameron Blackmore’s chest on the other side of the sofa. When Henning started at Blackmore Inc., if anyone had told him the CEO would fall head-over-heels in love, enough to chase a woman halfway around the world, he would have laughed. Then again, the same could probably be said about Henning. But seeing Cameron and Jackson gave him another surge of happiness. Cameron had made mistakes, and they were still together. Marianna Ruiz and Simon Rodriguez were there, too, squashed together on an oversize chair, Simon’s arm draped over his fiancé’s shoulder, holding her close. Their story began years ago, back in Miami, and it was another testament to the resiliency of love.

  “I told you he’d step up,” Max said from the far sofa, tugging Natasha onto the cushion next to him.

  “You bet on my relationship with Alya?” grumbled Henning, but he couldn’t hold back his smile.

  Max smirked. “Hey, I bet for you. Natasha was the one who bet that Alya would turn you down.”

  Natasha turned around and swatted at him. Then she turned back to Henning. “I was just looking out for her. Nothing personal.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “I messed up.”

  “See why I bet on him?” said Max. Natasha rolled her eyes as she shifted closer to him.

  “Come sit down for a bit,” said Simon, gesturing to the open spots on the far sofa. “You two need a drink?”

  Alya looked up at him, and he shook his head. They had just found each other again, and he wasn’t quite ready to share her. But if that’s what she wanted...

  “Not yet,” she said. “I think I want to go down to the beach for a bit before dinner.”

  She winked at him,
and Henning slipped his arm around Alya, breathing in the scent he had ached for all week long. Alya chatted with the others for a few more minutes, but he wasn’t following the conversation anymore. The air was warm, and the breeze blew gently through the open windows. And Alya was there, so close. It was a heaven Henning had never believed in, but tonight, for the first time, he knew it existed for real. This was all he needed.

  * * *

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘YOU’LL DEFINITELY BE needing a lawyer.’

  April Sinclair’s initial relief at having finally confessed her predicament to her best friend turned sour as Lizzie’s mouth twitched.

  ‘For pity’s sake. It isn’t funny.’ April glanced around the crowded café, thankful that their conversation had seemingly failed to attract the attention of other patrons. ‘I’m starting to think I’m the only one taking this seriously.’

  Lizzie battled to keep her face straight. ‘It is pretty funny.’

  ‘Sadly, most of the lawyers I’ve approached share your view. They either fall off their chair laughing or look at me as if I’m running a bordello.’ April drummed her fingers against her coffee cup. ‘Maybe I’d see the joke if my business wasn’t on the line.’

  ‘You should tell the woman to piss off and stop bothering you with her idiot claims. Stupid cow. She’d be better off asking herself why the only way she can get her prurient needs met is via a piece of plastic.’

  ‘Shh!’ April looked around again before lowering her voice. ‘Veronica won’t back down. I’ve tried reasoning with her, but she won’t budge. Why would she when she’s been waiting years to get back at me? I played right into her bloody hands.’

  ‘She won’t go through with it. She’s winding you up. Making you sweat.’

  ‘Well, mission accomplished, then.’

  April knew that Veronica Lebeck was not only capable of going through with her threats, but that she’d absolutely relish making April squirm. Back in her modelling days April had experienced Veronica’s spiteful ways first-hand. Catwalk rivalry, the spreading of vicious rumours, garment tampering... And, of course, there had been the whole Richard thing. The woman was relentless when it came to her own interests, and she courted publicity as if it was going out of fashion.

  ‘Don’t lose sleep over it,’ Lizzie advised as she picked up her coffee. ‘Even if she does carry out her threat, your insurance will cover any costs.’

  With a hard swallow, April looked her friend square in the eye. Showtime.

  ‘Well, see...that’s the thing. I don’t have any insurance. The policy hasn’t been renewed.’

  Frothy latte midway to her lips, Lizzie froze. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

  Why the hell had she chosen to confess all to Lizzie in the middle of a crowded Covent Garden café? Her friend wasn’t known for her shy and retiring ways.

  ‘It got overlooked while I was dealing with my dad’s estate. And, before you say it, I know it was stupid and I’m an idiot.’

  Eyes fierce, Lizzie put down her cup. ‘You’re neither. But I thought Rotten Richard was dealing with your business paperwork while you were up to your ears in funeral arrangements and sorting your dad’s affairs? Don’t tell me he screwed that up on top of everything else?’

  April shrugged. She wasn’t planning on revisiting that time. She’d put her ex into a box and shoved him, and the whole pitiable episode, into the cobwebbed recesses of her mind. At least she’d thought so until Veronica’s threatened claim had required that she check out her insurance policy.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  Lizzie stared across the table at her, and the concern in her friend’s eyes made April’s stomach spin. When Lizzie was worried there really was something to be alarmed about.

  ‘You’re definitely going to need legal advice.’ She picked up her bag and dug for her mobile. ‘And I might just know where you can get it. Miles mentioned this guy who handled their CEO’s divorce case. A real hard-ass, by all accounts. High-profile. High success rate.’

  That sounded like music to April’s ears, but since Lizzie’s current squeeze worked for an international pharmaceutical company, April couldn’t imagine a lawyer of such standing would be at all interested in giving advice about her predicament.

  ‘I’ve already contacted just about every lawyer in the book,’ she said as, undeterred, Lizzie tapped the keypad. ‘I really can’t see this one chomping at the bit to take me on.’

  Lizzie waved that away as she brought the phone to her ear. ‘He gave Miles his card after he did him a favour. Let’s see if Miles can work his magic and get you an appointment.’ She turned her attention to the phone at her ear. ‘Oh, hi, sweetie. You know that lawyer you helped out...?’

  * * *

  Walking into the foyer of the eight-storey office building located on London’s Chancery Lane, April reminded herself that she was out of options. She’d checked out Logan Fitzpatrick on the internet and he was most definitely going to laugh her out of his office. Lizzie had said he was high-profile, but she’d failed to mention that he’d handled prestigious cases involving politicians and celebrities, his successes ensuring that he was now pretty much a celebrity himself.

  Ignoring the nauseous roll of her stomach, April went through the security booth and over to Reception. She gave her name and was directed to the sixth floor. Stepping into the elevator, she pushed the relevant button and seconds later exited into a long hallway with polished black and white floor tiles and monochrome prints decorating the walls. The only colour came from the scattering of plants and potted palms strategically placed along the space.

  A woman with spiky brown hair emphasising a pretty heart-shaped face came to meet her. She smi
led and reached for April’s hand. ‘Ms Sinclair? Come this way.’

  April followed her to the end of the hallway and into a huge waiting room containing two massive white leather sofas.

  ‘Mr Fitzpatrick is running a few minutes late. Can I offer you coffee while you wait?’

  Hell, no. She was hyper enough already. ‘I’m fine. Thanks.’

  ‘Take a seat, then. I’m sure he won’t keep you waiting long.’

  When the woman had left, April took the opportunity to look around. It was all very smart and sophisticated. Minimalist, almost. She shifted a couple of deep orange cushions and sank into the sumptuous leather. Absently, she selected a magazine from the glass coffee table and flicked through it. Seconds later she popped it back on the table. It was fruitless trying to concentrate when she felt so wired.

  How had things gotten to this? When was the moment she’d screwed up so badly? She’d thought she had it all worked out. Leaving London to care for her father, creating an online business so she could work from home and be there if he needed her, building that business into something she was proud of...

  The strange thing was that although she’d chosen it as a stopgap, until she could return to London and resume her modelling career, she’d soon realised that she loved her online venture. Since returning to London several months ago she’d worked hard to rebuild her business after Richard had almost destroyed it, and now it was going from strength to strength. She’d been able to diversify, had garnered some prestigious link-ups with fellow entrepreneurs, and was slowly building trust and recognition amongst her growing list of customers.