And again the drive took place in silence.

When they arrived at the house, Aleksander immediately went to Olivia’s bedroom.

Ava could hear his deep voice reading for her as she conferred with Sydney about the little girl’s health and then about inanities.

When Kira knocked at her bedroom door, informing them Mr. Maximilian was waiting for her downstairs, Sydney told her she had already eaten with Olivia, and Ava almost excused herself and forwent dinner.

She could still feel his fingers around her wrist, she could still see the turbulence in his eyes when he asked her what if they were dating. It made her want to hide.

But never one to hide, she freshened up and soldiered on to the dining room.

Even though Aleksander thought he had prepared himself, the sight of Ava climbing down the stairs to join him, sent a little shock down his spine.

Not that she had changed her practical clothes—she was still wearing the same black turtleneck and charcoal straight trousers—nor had she unbraided her glorious mane of blonde hair.

She still looked the stern and proper doctor. If not for the smile on her natural rose-pink lips that were oh-so-kissably full. And that small hint of intimacy—of impropriety—was enough to make him think of undoing her hair and kissing her.

They ate in silence, the few words spoken a mere formality and deference to Matthias and Kira serving them.

Aleksander set down his fork, lacking an appetite even though he wasn’t finished eating.

He stopped fighting the need to look at Ava and he allowed his gaze to rest on her.

Never in his life had he sat across from a woman more gorgeous than she. And she didn’t have a clue. She just had an undeniable sex appeal.

She was taller than most women, with a curvy body, with large and firm breasts, her waist narrowed and blended into her hips like an fit hourglass—and oh so much sexier than any model—and ended in long legs that no practical or stern clothes could disguise.

She was firm and decisive, and practiced her profession like a general in battle. Yet, there was something subtle and unconscious about her appeal; the tone of voice was soft and feminine, her caring smile to everyone, her constant concern for Olivia, and even the attention she gave to the worried, pregnant woman. Ava acted like a mother hen to all children and women—and also to some men, much to his chagrin. Not that he minded her tending Matthias, but he didn’t like the irrational twinge of jealousy he felt when he found her pampering his butler.

It had not been a pretense for his—or anyone else’s—sake. Their feelings and physical well-being were always uppermost in her mind and she selflessly tended to them.

Beyond that, she was soft-spoken, sometimes unsure and always classy.

And beautiful.

When last night he had caught her in the clothes she slept in—practical and comfortable as her day clothes—he had to physically flex his fingers to resist the urge to run his hand over her and feel her warm curves. She turned him on like no woman he knew. Much more than even Rachel, who had been the love of his life.

He had never had a thought of replacing Rachel because he knew that no person could replace any other.

But if I was in the market to find someone to step into the role Rachel has vacated? No one better than Ava.

That caused him to consider whether he could love again and commit himself and still be devoted as he was to Rachel.

Just thinking about the subject—and the possibility of it—was dizzying.

He’d cross that bridge when he got there. If he ever did.

He still felt that this was one hell of a mix-up and that she was what she said she was: a woman on her own, out to start fresh, not wanting or needing a man.

Not wanting or needing me.

Ava tilted her head to the side noticing his crossed silverware and barely touched food. “Aleksander?”

Their gazes locked. He was too aware of her worried gaze, of her lips subtly parted.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He had to take a breath before he could answer, and when he did it was in a raspy voice, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some air.” And some space.

After checking on a peacefully sleeping Olivia, Ava donned her winter coat and crept out onto the patio. The cry of a hawk had her gaze lifting to watch it circle.

As she followed it looping overhead, framed by a starlit midnight blue sky, she sighed.

She couldn’t begin to understand her employer. One moment, he was laughing with her, leaning toward her, almost wanting her. The next moment, he was brushing her off, pushing her away, saying he needed air.

She knew what he was going through wasn’t easy. She knew he was probably dealing with a million new emotions, warring with one another. But even though she’d dealt with her own demons, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so downright, well…infuriating. Hot, cold, inside, outside…he was never lukewarm. Aleksander only dealt in extremes.

The wind whipped snow off the ground, sent it swirling around her like sparkling dust while her boots left imprints in the snow on the iron-hard ground.

“Having a late night stroll, doctor?”

Ava jumped as the disembodied voice startled her.

She looked around, then spotted him. He was perched on the waist-high large rail fence, one foot on the center rail, the other one dangling.

He was staring at her and watching her silently from the first moment she went out there.

He looked her up and down. Wearing a heavy long wool black cardigan—and with her dammed hair braided—she looked ravishing under the moonlight. A woman who could bring him to his knees.

Her clothes rustled softly as she approached him. Feminine. Soft. Stylish.

Professional. Olivia’s doctor.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. To cover his confusion at the undeniable attraction he felt for her, he flicked on his lighter and lit a cigar before exhaling a stream of smoke.

It illuminated the strong features of his ridiculously handsome face in the shadows. A profile that held more than a hint of melancholy.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

He glanced at its tip, then back up at her through the thin haze of smoke. “I don’t.”

Well, you’re certainly smoking now. She stared with obvious puzzlement.

“Only when I am…pensive.” He put the lighter back in his coat pocket and finished his brandy. Standing up to his full height, he stepped closer to her. “Aren’t you going to lecture me? Go on. The floor is all yours, doctor.”

God, he can be moody; mean even. She opened her mouth just to snap it shut, feeling stunned. And then it dawned on her, he was as scared as she was.

She smiled briefly then said, “If you’d like, but we could try talking about something unrelated to medicine and make it really feel like I’m not at work for a moment.” She smiled again, hoping to convey that it wasn’t that she minded being at work under the present circumstances.

“Tell me about you,” he countered.

Ava leaned back on the fence and examined the sky and stars again. In her mind she had drawn a line that would permit the informality of first names, but not include personal details. But the look on his face made her change her mind. Why not? “What would you like to know about me?”

Aleksander blew smoke to the sky. “I guess the obvious—what made you choose medicine?”

“You’ve asked me that already.” She laughed. “Plus, I thought we were going to try a different topic.”

“You’re right,” he said with a self-mocking smile. “How about taking a walk and letting nature do the talking for a while?”

More silence? “Sounds good,” she said, straightening up and letting him take the lead.

He began walking, heading toward the back of the house.

Not much of a walk. As she followed, she heard a flapping sound and looked down to see the sole of her right boot had come loose and now with every step, half the sole would roll under her boot then flip forward like a big leather tongue licking the ground.

Darn it.

Getting a new pair of boots had been on her mental To Do list, but at a very low priority. The flapping of her sole was annoying and forced her to keep her gaze on the ground, despite the temptation to keep looking up at the sky. She’d never seen so many stars since she left Trondheim—maybe not even then.

Then they reached a trail and he moved a branch aside and held it till she was even with him before letting it swing back into place.

Every breath was loaded with the scent of pine when finally, there was a clearing up ahead. Since the trail was on an incline, the view opened up to one of the most beautiful scenes she’d ever encountered: down below the turquoise and green lake waters shone clear and transparent under the moonlight.

The next step she took with her right leg put her boot in line with a low branch sticking into the path and it caught between the hanging sole and the exposed bottom of her boot.

Just as Aleksander turned to warn her of a small drop on the path, she continued moving forward without the benefit of her right foot coming with her as she expected.

She tripped, fell down the drop he’d tried to warn her about, and collided with him.

Both of them ended up sprawled on the fluffy snow a foot and a half below the end of the trail.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as he held her firm.

But then she was laughing—partly from embarrassment and partly from the absurdity of the moment—and couldn’t answer that she was okay, aside from feeling very stupid.

He found himself smiling as he looked at her. The entire ridiculous situation, plus the contagion of her laughter and the incandescent gleam in her eyes, pulling him out of his dark cloud.

“There it is again,” she whispered, with a genuine smile on her face.

He stopped midway on starting to push himself up, rested on his elbows, and cocked his head. “What is?”

“You’re smiling.”

And with those softly breathed words, the world shrank around them, to the size of two heartbeats.

It must have been the brandy. Because Aleksander rarely felt this way lately. Sharp. Intent. Powerful. And aware of everything at once.

The petal pink flush of her face against her black coat.

The sleekness of her body over his own largeness.

Her blonde hair slightly dishevelled, strands escaping from the confining braid, that the breeze caught and twirled in a dance.

The tender sugary scent of magnolias.

Only there weren’t any magnolias around—or any other fragrant flowers which had survived the snow. Which meant he was breathing in the tender, narcotic sweetness of Ava herself.

With sudden clarity, Ava could hear an owl calling out and the crickets chirping and feel the crisp winter air on her face. She could smell the snowy grass and a clean, manly scent.

And more than anything, it was impossible for Ava to ignore the feel of his hands on her, impossible to ignore the need to be held, not lightly as he was holding her now, but closer, with his arms tight around her. Impossible not to want to renew the feeling of weightlessness of his kiss.

It was the thrill of the moment that pushed her enough to recover and lift herself off of him. Brushing away the snow from her clothes, she stretched out her hand to help him up, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m not usually clumsy.”

He took her hand and sat up, then froze for a second, not letting go. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt something like this. Leave it to him to finally find somebody he wanted, and have her be his daughter’s doctor—and a Viking Valkyrie doctor, at that.

“I am sorry,” he said, letting go of her hand. He stood and surveyed her hugging herself and stopped on her soleless boot. “You’ve torn your boot. And you’re cold.”

She shrugged. “Just a little.”

He shrugged out of his coat and draped its weight about her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said, grabbing the lapels and pulling the coat tight around her. The wool was still warm with the heat of his body. But the best part was how it smelled—intensely wonderful and intensely male. She inhaled deeply, surreptitiously breathing in the scents of cigar and brandy, wood and snowy grass. And that faint musk that was uniquely his.

She’d never been so thoroughly enveloped by another person’s scent before. It felt intimate. Almost like an embrace.

A sweet melancholy crept into her heart.

That was all she would get from him: an almost.