CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Pulling up in front of the Solberg Avenue building, Kristoff got the kinds of looks he was used to in situations like this. This area housed a bunch of fancy condos, and the security was pretty tight. Besides the Hayeses, Ambassadors and Ministers lived here, and Aegiria nobles and elites who had estates around the island kept homes here for when they needed to be in Solrighavn. All the parking was valet, and there was a large, covered pull-through in front of the double doors manned by two security guards.

A valet began to hesitantly approach his delipidated Jeep, but Kristoff waved him away and propped one bare foot up on the dashboard, ready to wait for Cass as long as necessary. To amuse himself, he watched the security guard’s reactions to his presence.

The old CJ-7 had been one of his winter projects. Each autumn he bought a rundown Jeep or truck online, had it shipped over, and spent the too-cold-to-go-hang-gliding months in his garage rebuilding it. This one wasn’t quite finished, because as soon as it had warmed up enough to go out on the bay, his sloop had taken up all of his attention. The CJ-7 had once been blue, and would be again someday—maybe not ‘til November or so—but for now the rust spots were pretty noticeable. The seats were still original too, with the rips and duct tape on the canvas, but the roll bar was back in one piece again and the engine was purring.

Welding and soldering were almost as fun as rock climbing.

So, yeah, his new baby was looking a little rough around the edges, and he matched, in his frayed cargo shorts and t-shirt advertising an American sunscreen company. Sitting there, his foot propped on the dash—why bother with shoes, if he was going to take them off as soon as he got onboard anyhow?—he gathered up his hair and knotted it on top of his head with an elastic.

Viking warrior, huh? He grinned, remembering Cass’s description of him. More like samurai with this topknot…

One of the frowning security guards was gesturing towards the Jeep, and had already unclipped his walkie-talkie—Uh-oh, guess he thinks he’s going to come over and make me move—when the other one caught his arm and whispered something in his ear. Kristoff couldn’t tell what was being said, of course, but the incredulous look the first guard sent the second made him grin. When both guards looked his way, he gave a jaunty wave.

Guess there are benefits to being a prince, even if they didn’t recognize me right away.

Still, it was lucky Cass chose that moment to exit the building, looking stunning in a flowy pink sundress and flip flops. Not the best choice of an outfit for sailing, but he looked forward to seeing what the wind was going to do to that skirt. She carried a bag over one shoulder and looked a little disoriented to see him at first.

Shaking himself, Kristoff reminded himself to quit staring, and hopped out of the Jeep, not even minding the warm asphalt against his soles. He hurried around to meet her, and taking her hand seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“Hi.” He smiled down at her, surprised by how happy he was to have her here with him.

“Hi, yourself.”

While the guards whispered beside them—he caught the words “Hayes” and “stepsister”—she looked him up and down, and smiled a little bemusedly.

“Are you sure you’re Kristoff?”

“What?”

“You don’t look a thing like the man—the prince—I had dinner with. That man was sexy as hell in a suit, you know.”

He wasn’t sure if he should be proud or offended. “And now?”

Her smile turned impish. “Now you look like a beach bum.” She made a show of dragging her eyes down his ratty t-shirt and shorts, and lingering on his bare feet. “I’m surprised they let you wait out here.”

He laughed and pulled her towards the Jeep. “They almost didn’t.”

When they reached the vehicle, she stopped for a moment, then burst into laughter once more. “You are a constant surprise, you know that, Kristoff?”

He could get used to the sound of her laughter. “Allow me, m’lady.” There were no doors on the CJ-7, so he couldn’t open it for her, but he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the seat. It would’ve only been an eight-inch climb for her—and there was a step—but he liked touching her, and he loved the little squeal of delight she gave before she giggled and settled herself.

On the short drive down to the marina where he kept Älskvärd, he caught himself stealing glances at her. Her brown hair was contained in a thick rope of a braid hanging over one shoulder, and her hands had to keep tucking her skirt under her thighs to keep it from blowing every which way. Still, she was smiling, and her joy was infectious.

Or maybe it was his joy which was infectious. He loved the way she was true to herself, didn’t try to hide it. She might be a little clumsy or embarrassed by it, but she didn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t. And her passion, her intensity, when she was speaking about something she loved…it was enchanting. She was enchanting.

Kristoff was utterly charmed by this soon-to-be stepsister of his, and he couldn’t wait to have her all to himself for hours today.

At the marina the security guard at the gate waved him through lazily, and he pulled into a parking spot close to the gangway to the docks, easing the long gear shift into “park”.

But his mind wasn’t on the Jeep when he hopped down and hurried over to the passenger side to help her out. Cass had already slid out by the time he arrived, and he was disappointed he hadn’t had the chance to touch her waist again. The impish look she sent him said she might’ve known that.

Which meant he was smiling again as he collected her bag and his well-stocked cooler, and took her hand in his. As they walked out onto the dock and down one of the finger piers, he pointed out various types of boats, and landmarks in Solrighavn, which sat right on the bay. Holding hands, strolling along the hot concrete, not a care in the world…he felt right. The salty wind ruffled both of their hair, and he breathed deep, knowing this was where he belonged.

He’d give up being a prince if it meant being able to sail every day. Especially with a pretty girl by his side.

Any pretty girl? Or just Cass?

Luckily he didn’t have to answer himself, because they came to his slip. “Here she is! My pride and joy.”

The Älskvärd wasn’t large—he could sail her alone—but he loved her compact beauty. Almost nine meters, bow to stern, she had a single mast and all the latest tech onboard. With the little cabin below—complete with a head and kitchenette—he could stay out for days if he wanted to. Of course, he rarely left Solrig Bay, and that was seldom for more than a few hours at a time.

Being a prince meant not being able to do whatever he wanted. Still, he was damn lucky.

Cass had been examining the Älskvärd, walking nimbly around the slip. When she came back to him—he was still standing starboard—he grinned. “Well? What do you think?”

She smiled up at him. “Yay! Boats!”

He burst into laughter, and God but it felt good.

“Seriously, she’s beautiful.” Cass pointed to the stern. “What’s her name mean?”

“Älskvärd is Swedish—I bought it off a guy from near Stockholm and sailed it back here. It means…” He paused, trying to find the best equivalent. “Sweet. Charming. No— More than that. Attractive, graceful.”

“Winsome,” she offered.

“Yeah, that’s it!” He studied her, standing beside his boat, the wind off the bay whipping her dress around her knees, and swirling little wisps of hair around her face. “Like you.”

Her chuckle was good-natured. “Hardly. I’m not at all graceful.”

“I dunno. You’re holding your own pretty well now.” She was balanced on the floating, bobbing finger pier with hardly an issue.

She scoffed, but there was a faint blush to her cheeks which told him she’d appreciated his comment. “I just hope I don’t freeze. I brought a sweater…”

“Yeah, we’re going to get up some speed. I’ve got all-weather gear below, if you get chilly.”

“Awesome.” She hitched her bag up her shoulder, and before he could offer to help, had swung herself over the gunwhale and into the cockpit. He grinned and handed her up the cooler before going around to cast off the nonessential lines.

From aboard, her call floated down. “Where do you want me to stow these? Here in the cockpit, or wait for you to open the cabin, or want me to find a place in the bow, or what?”

“I’ve gotta open up to stow the fenders, so just hold off—wait.” Kristoff straightened, a line dangling in one hand. “You’re talking like an old salt.”

Her face popped over the side. “Aye, me hearty,” she growled theatrically. “I was just about to practice me jig and sea-shanty-singing, but I’ve run outta grog and me wooden leg is givin’ me fits.”

He waggled the line at her good-naturedly. “Then it’s the plank for you, swab!”

“You wouldn’t do that to your first mate, would you?”

“I will if you don’t answer my questions.”

She grinned. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

He was still chuckling when he heaved himself aboard. “So, seriously. You’ve sailed before.”

“What makes you say that?” She blinked innocently up from near one of the port stanchions, where she was hauling in her third fender.

“Because you knew what the bow was. The last lady I brought on board called it ‘the pointy end’ and asked if I had a ‘potty’ in my ‘cute little boat apartment’.”

She cocked one finger. “Okay, first of all, I read.” Another finger. “Second of all, should I be bummed you brought another woman on board? Is this like, your favorite first date or something?”

Her expression might’ve been flippant, but there was something in her eyes which told him the answer mattered. So he softened his teasing to say, “No. The last lady I brought on board was my Aunt Marina. She threw up a half-hour into the trip because the water was—and I quote—‘too bumpy’. I had to have the whole boat cleaned afterwards.”

She looked mollified, so he crossed to starboard and began to pull in the fenders over there. “So, you learned all about boats from books, huh?”

“I grew up sailing the Long Island Sound every summer, where my Dad’s parents lived.”

Still squatting, he twisted until he could peer over the top of the cabin at her. “I knew I liked you.”

And the smile they shared felt like magic.

Later, after casting off—he liked a gal who know what to do when he called “Let go the forward spring lines!”—they motored out of the marina and into Solrig Bay. She looked impressed when he showed her all the cool features in the state-of-the-art Assisted Sail Trim system, and laughed out loud when he set the sail with a push of a button.

winches, then cleat them, but she teased him the whole time.

“Electronic sailing! You’re not even sweating! What’s the point, I mean really?” She threw him a smile as she settled into the bench in the cockpit. “You might as well just stay at home in front of a fan and play a sailing video game.”

He was standing at the wheel at the stern, grinning like a fool. Both sails were up, the wind was strong, and they were running for the distant cliffs. Sun on my face, wind at my back, and a beautiful boat beneath me. This is where I belong.

That feeling of rightness, of peace, bubbled up inside him, and he laughed. “You should see when we come about—this thing has auto-tacking.”

“Auto-tacking!” She threw up her hands with another grin. “That takes all the fun out of it!”

He thanked God he’d had the sense to get to know this woman better. “Come here.” He crooked his finger towards the wheel.

When she scooted towards him, he pulled her to her feet and drew her behind the wheel. She raised a brow at him—challenging him?—but took it confidently. He hovered for a moment, making sure she was keeping an eye on their surroundings and the sail above, before stepping back.

And just looking. Wow, but she was lovely, standing at the helm of his boat. His winsome beauty. Out here, just the two of them, he didn’t see any of the awkwardness or embarrassment he’d seen from her before. She was in control and full of joy.

“What?” she asked, not taking the time to look at him.

He liked that she was taking good care of his baby. “What, what?”

“You’re looking at me like I’m a prime rib and you’re a starving man. Or like I’m something—I dunno. Special?”

Chuckling, he moved up beside her. “I was just trying to imprint the vision in my memory, since I forgot my cell phone again.”

“What vision?” she kept her hands on the wheel.

“You, steering the Älskvärd. It’s just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

That got her attention. Her head whipped around so fast she might’ve hurt herself, and she studied his face. “Are you teasing me?”

“Not at all,” he murmured. “I had to make sure you knew what you were doing, before…”

He leaned closer, and it might’ve been unconscious on her part, but she leaned too, like she was drawn to him. His smile was most definitely wicked.

“Before…?”

The wind was steady, the commercial vessels were on the other side of the harbor, and the motored pleasure boats were staying away from their sails. This was his moment.

“See, I don’t think I can kiss a woman who doesn’t know how to sail. And you, Cass, know how to sail.”

She blinked, her attention totally distracted from the boat around them. “Kiss…” she repeated.

As good an invitation as any.

Kristoff had kissed a lot of women. Not as many as Viggo, of course, because there were a finite number of women in their small nation who knew how to sail, but he still knew his way around a lady’s lips. Kissing was just a way to kill time before the good stuff, yeah?

Apparently not.

Apparently, what he’d been missing was the sea wind, the salt spray, the rocking of the boat under them, and a woman who knew what she was really doing when it came to the kissing department.

Or maybe it was just Cassandra Hayes.

Because this kiss, this kiss, was like…it was like free-climbing up the Solrig cliffs, or gliding over the harbor with the gulls, or that second his parachute popped open after the exhilarating fall… This kiss was warmth and excitement and peace all in one.

Damn.

When they came up for air, her arms were wrapped around his neck, her chest was pressed against his, and he was keeping the wheel steady with his hip because his arms were busy holding her. Only the knowledge that they had hours together kept him from punching the command to lower the sails. He could be patient.

Still, it was fun as hell to have her pressed against him as they sped over the waves. He loved to hear her laughter, and she asked so many questions about his country. When they passed the Royal Marina, where the family’s yacht was moored, they even talked about the coming wedding and all the plans.

As lunchtime neared, he brought them about and headed back for the marina. She begged to be the one to press the command to furl the sail, and from then on, she was hooked. By the time they’d settled the Älskvärd back into her slip—spring lines and fenders all placed to his satisfaction—she’d agreed that a fully-automated sailboat was pretty cool.

“So,” she said as she slouched beside him in the cockpit, wearing a breathless smile and wind-chapped cheeks. “Are we going to talk about the Regatta at all?”

“Oh, yeah. Our excuse for coming out here, huh?” He was arranging lunch—cheese, bread, fruit, sausage, and wine—on the small table on the port side. “What do you want to know?”

She was eyeing the spread. “Wow, you Aegirians know how to do lunch right.” She popped a grape into her mouth and stretched her bare feet across the cockpit with a sigh of pleasure.

Kristoff didn’t bother to stop his eyes wandering appreciatively over her legs. The wind had been brilliant all day, tugging playfully at the sundress, giving him glimpses of knee and thigh, and his palms itched to follow.

Instead, he just let her see his wicked grin, and her eyes widened.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking like a Viking who’s seen something he likes.”

That was it. No way he could sit across from her any longer. In a sudden lunge, he was tucked up beside her, and her legs were thrown over his. “When I see something I like, I pillage it,” he growled

She was busy giggling, so he kissed her.

And without a boat to sail, things got…hot. His hand did end up underneath her skirt, and somehow her lips ended up on his throat, and she was making sexy little noises under her breath that nearly undid him. If they weren’t careful, he was going to make love to her in the cockpit of the Älskvärd.

Not the worst idea in the world.

Still, no. She was Cass, and deserved better than that. If nothing else, there was no way he’d be able to look “Pops” in the face if the old man started asking about his boat.

“The Regatta,” he muttered, attempting to regain control.

He felt her grin against his skin. “Yay, boats.”

Man, he loved how easily she made him laugh. Disentangling himself from her—harder than he’d thought—he popped a chunk of cheese in her mouth, and settled in to explain the rules.

“There are buoys set up, but there are all experience levels participating, so that’s the most difficult part—keeping away from the weekend sailors, not the course itself.” Focusing on the race was helping him get his raging libido under control, and he cut the sausage as he spoke. “We’ve never had an accident though, because it’s more about the race than the winning.”

She gestured with her bread while she chewed and swallowed. “If you publicize the charitable donation of the winner’s pot, that might change.”

“Or, winning might matter even less,” he countered.

“Good point. What else is going on?”

He pointed to the west and south. “Spectator vessels moor along there and people pile on. There’s also spots all along the shore, and plenty of excitement—street vendors, music, picnics, that sort of thing. The people who go into the parks for the designated viewing areas have to buy a ticket, and a portion of those proceeds and the vending in the parks goes to the charity.”

“But people can watch for free?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Midsummer is a holiday everyone celebrates, this is just one event. There’re always fireworks over the harbor at night—my family has sponsored that for years and years—and parties and parades all over town. And we watch the fireworks from the yacht, where we host the winners of the Regatta.”

“Soooo…you?”

He snorted and threw a grape at her, which bounced off her shoulder and went over the gunwale. “I don’t always win. Two years ago Mack was sick, and I didn’t trust anyone else with my baby—rules state at least two people per vessel, no matter the size, for equality. But the winners’ party is for top placers in all the categories—boat size and age of the skippers are how we divide categories—not just the overall winner.” He shrugged, and took a bite of the cheese. “’S about having fun,” he said around the cheese.

She laughed at his manners, and they chatted for a while longer, her legs still in his lap while she asked questions and ate lunch. He liked how at ease she was with him—none of the shyness of before. It was like she knew where she belonged, the same as him.

He’d contacted the committee the day after Cass had made the suggestion, and although there was some opposition to the idea of giving the winner’s pot to a charity, he’d pointed out it was voluntary. When they all finally agreed to publicize it as a “challenge”, he was confident Enriching Children would get the money they needed to build that camp up at Mt. Viskan.

“They only agreed, you know, because they figure you’ll win,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” he drawled, “and so do I.”

“Have I ever told you how sexy confidence is in a man? Especially a man with a topknot?”

They both laughed, which led to another kiss.

Later, after he’d driven her back to her condo, he lifted her out of his Jeep with another deep kiss. She tasted like salt and sea and sun, the best things in his life.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly as he let her slide down his chest to stand on her own two feet. “You sure know how to make a girl feel lightweight.”

“It’s all the rock-climbing,” he deadpanned, nodding seriously.

“Thank goodness,” she replied, equally somber. But when she turned to grab her bag from the Jeep, she tripped over her flip-flop and slammed into the doorframe.

He managed to grab her before she rebounded, and pulled her tight against him. She wasn’t hurt, judging from the way she was laughing.

“Winsome, huh?” she teased him as she got back on her feet. “Graceless, more like it.”

He kissed her nose. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful or graceful woman than you on the deck of the Älskvärd, today.” It was true. She might be clumsy on land, but on the water she was perfect.

“Thank you for an amazing morning.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her again, just for good measure.

She was smiling when they broke apart. “I have to go shower before my appointments.”

“Wait.” He snagged her hand before she could head inside. The thought of her in the shower was pleasantly distracting, but that’s not what he wanted to say. “What are you doing tonight after work?”

“There’s a glass of wine, a movie, and some fuzzy slippers calling my name.”

“I’ve got wine and fuzzy slippers in my suite.”

She flashed a crooked grin. “I don’t believe you.”

“I will buy some fuzzy slippers if it’ll convince you to hang out with me. Please? Dinner and a movie, maybe?”

“And wine?” She squinted suspiciously.

“Anything you want, Cass. I’d just—I’d like to see you again. Soon.”

Real suave. He was a prince, and here he was blubbering like a nerd in a high-school movie.

But it must’ve been the right thing to say, because she blushed and bit her lower lip while she stared at his throat. Finally, she lifted her eyes to his. “Me too. So if you’re serious…”

How many times did he have to tell her before she’d understand he liked hanging out with her? “I’d like another date, Cass.”

“Then yes.”

She smiled, and Kristoff felt like the sun had risen again.

“Until tonight?”

“See you then.”

And as he watched her flip-flop her way into the condo building—only stumbling once—Kristoff found himself praying the sun would set faster…just so he could see her again sooner.