Temporary Boss, Permanent Mistress

‘Your weakness?’ she guessed.

‘Blame it on memories of Saturday mornings in my Norwegian grandmother’s kitchen.’ He grinned, suddenly looking younger, and her heart skipped a beat. Jakob Andersen in work mode was gorgeous enough. In play mode, he was breathtaking.

His fingers brushed against hers as he handed her the coffee, sending a shiver of desire down her spine. She hoped he hadn’t noticed; the last thing she needed now was complications.

One last job. That was what they’d agreed. And then she could resign and get on with the life she really wanted to lead.

‘Do you mind if I…?’ He fished his phone from his inside pocket.

‘Sure. I have stuff to be getting on with, too.’ Emails of her own to check on her BlackBerry.

‘Fine. Help yourself to gingerbread.’

She didn’t dare. Just in case she reached for the bag at the same time as him, and their fingers ended up tangling, and she ended up blurting out the crazy ideas in her head.

This really wasn’t on. For all she knew, Jake was already committed elsewhere, and the last thing they needed was an embarrassing situation just before they left the country to work together for a few days.

An insidious voice in her head reminded her that Jakob Andersen worked the kind of hours that few women would put up with, so he was probably single.

But she refused to listen. As far as she was concerned, he was off limits and staying that way.

Lydia had just about got herself under control by the time they checked in and boarded the plane. Jake was busy reading through paperwork; she knew she ought to do the same, but he’d given her the window seat and the pattern of clouds was irresistible. A glance told her that Jake was totally absorbed in what he was doing, so she took out the sketchpad and tin of pencils she always carried in her handbag, and began sketching. She worked swiftly, her pencil skimming the page.

And then she realised what she was sketching. Not the clouds: a picture in her mind’s eye.

Jake.

Flushing, she closed her sketchbook and stuffed it back into her handbag. Better to concentrate on her paperwork. She opened her file, and forced herself to focus on the words in front of her.

Jake was aware of the sudden flush on Lydia’s cheeks. What had happened to make her colour rise like that?

He was horribly aware that he’d like to see her skin bloom with colour in a completely different situation. One where her breathing would be ragged and her eyes would be wide with desire and her mouth would be parted and…

No.

Apart from the fact that he never dated anyone who worked for him—in his view, mixing work and relationships always ended in a mess—thoughts like these were completely inappropriate. For all he knew, Lydia was in a serious, committed relationship. There were no rings on her left hand, but that meant nothing.

Though he had heard Tim refer to her as the ice queen, as if she never dated.

The ice queen. Ha. More proof that the junior lawyer still had a lot of growing up to do. Just by looking at her, Jake could tell there was nothing icy about Lydia Sheridan. Her mouth had a sensual curve that would make any man want to reach over and touch.

Taste.

And right now he was beginning to wish that he’d brought Tim with him instead of Lydia. Because Lydia was the first woman who’d tempted him since Grace—and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to resist.

Two hours later, the plane landed and they disembarked. It was raining, and Lydia was glad of her coat as they hurried across to the terminal.

‘There’s a saying in Norway: God made the country so beautiful, he must wash it every day,’ Jake said, as if reading her mind. ‘Oslo’s beautiful at night, when all the lights reflect on the wet ground.’

She could imagine it. ‘I was expecting it to be darker than this.’

‘The polar nights, you mean?’ He shook his head. ‘We’re in the south of the country, so at this time of year there are six hours of sunlight—it’s not that much different from London. Dusk and dawn are a bit longer, maybe. Further north it’s twilight, but it’s still light enough to read by at midday.’

‘Takk,’ she said.

He looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought you said you didn’t speak Norwegian?’

‘I learned a couple of phrases last night. To be polite.’

He gave her an approving smile. ‘Good thinking. That’ll go down well at Pedersen’s. And if you want me to teach you…’

She completely missed the rest of his sentence. Because for a moment she could imagine him teaching her something, and rewarding her with a kiss. That beautiful, beautiful mouth lowering towards hers, teasing her and tasting her and arousing her until…

‘Lydia?’

‘Sorry. I was distracted by the scenery,’ she said. It wasn’t a total fib. Just that the pictures happened to be in her head, not outside. ‘You were saying?’

‘You’re happy with the agenda?’

‘It’s fine. No questions.’

‘Good. Oh, and keep a note of any calls you make to England from here. Andersen’s will reimburse you.’

‘Why would I call England?’ she asked, mystified.

‘Your family. To let them know you’ve arrived safely,’ he suggested.

It hadn’t occurred to her. She hadn’t even told her parents that she’d be out of the country; the gulf between them had widened over the years so that she spoke to them maybe once a fortnight, and saw them even less.

Though she had told her godmother and her best friend that she’d be away. She’d promised to send postcards and take lots of photographs, especially of the Northern Lights.

‘I’ll call them later,’ she prevaricated, not wanting to admit how difficult things were between her and her parents. ‘My father will be in court at this time of day, and my mother will be in a briefing meeting.’ And even if they weren’t, they’d be too busy to talk to her.

‘Then, if you’ll excuse me?’ he asked.

Jake was calling his parents?

Now that she hadn’t expected.

He tapped a button on his phone. ‘Mum? Yes, it’s Jake. We’re at Oslo Airport, safe and sound, so you can stop worrying now.’ He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corner. ‘OK. Since Dad’s on the golf course, you can tell him for me. I’ll call you tonight.’ His smile broadened. ‘I love you, too.’

When had she last said, ‘I love you,’ to her parents?

Then again, when had they last said it to her?

Jake’s ease with his family unsettled Lydia. Particularly when his next call was conducted in Norwegian—and he had the same sweet, loving smile on his face when he said, ‘Jeg er glad i deg.’ She didn’t need a translation. This was obviously the Norwegian side of his family, and he was close to them, too.

He glanced at his watch as he put his phone away. ‘Our meeting’s at three, Norwegian time,’ he said. ‘Which means we have an hour and a half. It’s going to be quickest for us to buy your boots here, then catch the shuttle train to the hotel—it’ll take twice as long to get there by taxi. We’ll have just about enough time to check in and unpack before we go to the office.’