One Night in Stockholm: Short, Steamy Romance - Episode #1 of 4 (Stockholm Diaries, Alice) Read online

  One Night in Stockholm

  REBECCA HUNTER

  Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Hunter

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9964556-7-1

  Cover Design: The Killion Group

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to all the readers of Alice and Jonas’s story in all of its phases, including Alice Gaines, Julia Mills, Jane George, K.D. Hazzard, Tess Rider, Amanda Clay, Ella Swift, and my sister Leah. This story was a lot more complicated to write than I thought it would be. Thanks for being there along the way.

  Thank you to my husband, whose knowledge for the Swedish penal system helped make Jonas possible. He would probably like me to clarify that he was not, in fact, an inmate. Some things are best explored through fiction.

  And lastly, thank you to the vibrant cities of Stockholm, Paris and New York, where these stories take place. I love every one of you.

  THE PUB WAS noisier than Alice had hoped. Her stomach growled. She had considered skipping the stop to her hotel room, but in the end, a quick shower and comfortable clothes ranked even higher than filling an empty stomach. The long, sleepless flight across the Atlantic, the fast food and the odd hours meant that by the end of the day, her stomach pressed uncomfortably on the waist of her formerly fitted skirt. For once, she was happy to go out to dinner in jeans. She hadn’t even bothered to blow out her hair, and every time she turned her head, the red, springy curls bounced into view. But tonight, it didn’t matter. Stockholm wasn’t New York.

  She signaled the bartender.

  “English?” she called over the din.

  He wrinkled his brow, then nodded. “Yes.”

  “A burger and a glass of red wine please?”

  The creases in his brow grew deeper. Alice waited, but the bartender just stared at her.

  She tried again. “A burger and a glass of wine please?”

  He nodded and turned away. Hmm. Did that mean I’ll order that right away or I give up?

  Leaving the fate of her dinner in the bartender’s hands, Alice scanned the room for a reasonably private booth. She planned to get some reading done over dinner, but if the pub was already this loud at six in the evening, the likelihood of working seemed slim. Maybe the mini-bar in the hotel room would have to do.

  Alice slid into the last booth along the windows, away from the noise of the television. She pulled out the stack of manuscript excerpts she had picked up at the Stockholm Book Expo and flipped through the pages. There it was. The latest by the elusive Jonas Hällström.

  She stared at the cover page and frowned. He was supposed to be at the event in person. Her face flushed. She had even lingered at his publisher’s table, assuming the author of a truckload of bestselling dark thrillers would actually show up. But he didn’t.

  Alice slipped his manuscript to the bottom of the pile. Where was her wine?

  She looked across the pub for the bartender and froze. A guy was staring right at her. His hands were shoved in his pockets, emphasizing his broad, thick shoulders, the kind that belonged in a gym or a boxing ring. He gazed at her, wide-eyed, as if he was surprised to see her. As if they knew each other. But that was impossible. Alice knew no one on this side of the Atlantic. So why did he look so familiar?

  The guy started across the room, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. Hints of tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his white t-shirt, and his whole body radiated fuck you. Everything except those eyes.

  He stopped in front of her table, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes were even more intense close up. Bright blue with long, dark lashes and laugh lines that crinkled the corners. Wide and full of surprise. Neither of them moved. His gaze fell to her lips, her throat, pausing as if he were committing her to memory. She couldn’t look away. She took a deep breath, inhaling the warm scent of his body.

  “Do I know you?” she finally asked, breaking the spell.

  “Sorry.” He stepped back a little.

  She blinked and let her gaze fall to his thick biceps and muscular forearms. The kind she would never let herself come close to back in New York. But here he was, close enough to touch.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he murmured. “You just look like…”

  A crease formed between his eyebrows, and his deep blue eyes searched hers. She waited for the end of his sentence, but it never came.

  And now she was staring at him.

  “Nice to meet you, whoever you are,” she said, straightening up.

  That earned her a smile. “I’m Jonas.”

  He reached out a large, warm hand, scarred at the knuckles. Alice tried not to stare. She really did. He couldn’t feel her pulse thumping in a handshake, could he? His accent was a mix of Swedish and something else—Irish? And his voice was low and husky, like he had already smoked a lifetime’s worth of cigarettes.

  Wait. Was this…? The grainy photo on the back of his books didn’t do him justice. He was a lot bigger, especially up close.

  “Jonas Hällström?”

  He froze. His eyes darted across her face for a moment before he relaxed.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “I’m surprised you recognized me.”

  Alice swallowed and tucked a rebellious lock of hair behind her ear. For ten years she had succeeded in being the kind of woman who didn’t look twice at a guy like Jonas. A guy with sexy, dark eyes and a deep voice who looked like he could beat the crap out of anyone in the room. Shit. Apparently, she still hadn’t rid herself of her taste for dangerous men.

  But she was in Stockholm. No danger in getting hung up on the wrong kind of guy when she was leaving the country tomorrow. She could just talk to him. Nothing more.

  “I’m Alice,” she said in her practiced business voice.

  The corners of his mouth turned up.

  “I know who you are, too,” he said. “Alice O’Connor, Acquisitions at Boars and Allen Publishers. You picked up my manuscript today.”

  Oh. Of course. He wasn’t actually flirting with her. This was about his book. But her heart pounded wildly at the way he said her name—Ah-leez. And the way he had stared at her just minutes ago had nothing to do with business… did it? The heat tingled at the base of her neck. Damn. She was blushing. She brushed a few wild curls off her face. Of course she had left her hair ties behind.

  “Can I sit?” he asked.

  This was her chance to say no. To end it all right here.

  “Yes, of course,” she said.

  Alice expected him to sit on the opposite side of the booth, but instead he slid in next to her until his leg rested against hers. And he smelled good. No, good wasn’t the word. Delicious. He was newly showered, and she inhaled a whiff of his faint aftershave before she could think better of it. Her heart pounded double-time. He rested his arms on the table, and she tried not to stare. Really, she tried.

  “I didn’t see you at the book expo today.” Definitely not. She wouldn’t have missed a guy like this.

  “I was there, practicing my charm, as my publisher likes to say.” He gave a wry smile.

  “And now you’re about to try it on me?”

  “I already am. Can’t you tell?” Those intense blue eyes sparkled.
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br />   “I’m overwhelmed.” She let out a little laugh. “What’s the book about?”

  “Nothing you’d be interested in.” He ran his hand through his hair, and for a moment, his smile faltered.

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “How do you know what I’m interested in?”

  Jonas’s eyes widened, and he looked at her carefully.

  “I don’t,” he said softly.

  He kept his gaze fixed on her, and Alice was no longer sure they were talking about his book. A warm flush crept up the back of her neck. This guy gave off a kind of wild energy that had no place in the sterile, florescent-lit book expo.

  Sometime during this conversation, he had moved closer again. She drew in a breath. What was she doing?

  Nothing she couldn’t walk away from.

  Jonas cleared his throat and straightened up. “But my book has turned out to be what you American publishers call unmarketable.”

  “Sweden has a population of nine million people, and the U.S. has 300 million,” she said. “If the book found a market in Sweden, why not in the U.S. as well? The numbers are on your side.”

  He chuckled. “I like the way you think.” Slowly, his smile faded until he was looking at her so intensely she had to look away.

  “You’re not what I expected,” she said softly.

  He let out a long breath. “So, Alice O’Connor, what are you doing here without anything to eat or drink?”

  Alice shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I ordered something, but maybe you need to teach me some Swedish? I thought I’d have better success with my English at an Irish pub, but I guess not.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “I can go get you a beer.”

  She frowned. “I don’t like beer.”

  “What kind of American doesn’t like beer?”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “This kind. 300 million people, remember?”

  “Got it,” he said. “What would you like?”

  “I ordered a glass of red wine, but I can get it myself,” she said.

  He looked at her carefully. “Alice, I’d really like to get your wine. I have dinner here a couple times a week, so I’m pretty sure I can communicate with the guy behind the bar.”

  How could she say no to that? She started to thank him, but when she met his gaze, she stilled. In his eyes was a silent question, though Alice had no idea what that question was. Or maybe she did.

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “A hamburger,” she said in what she hoped was some semblance of a normal voice.

  He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  He slid out of the booth and walked over to the bar. Instinctively, she put her hand up to her hair. Why hadn’t she blown it straight? After her quick get-yourself-together shower, it was probably a frizzy mess. Alice took a deep breath.

  Forget the hair. Just talk about his story. And think about snow. And ice.

  But she lost any gains in cooling her thoughts as soon as Jonas sat down next to her again. He pushed a glass of wine in front of her and took a sip of what looked like water.

  “Thanks. Nothing for you?” she asked, her voice throaty and suggestive. Damn.

  His eyes widened, filling with heat. Then he shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  Alice sipped her wine, hoping to tame some of her fluster. His leg rested against hers again, but she didn’t move away. Why wasn’t she giving this man her well-practiced frostiness right now? She had honed these skills back in high school, when she was still tempted by guys like this.

  Alice swallowed and turned to Jonas.

  “Aside from the fact that you live nearby, what are you doing here? Have I stumbled onto Stockholm’s secret writer hang-out?”

  Jonas shook his head. “I saw you through the window.”

  She bit her lip. He was studying her again, and he wasn’t shy at all about staring. Each time she met that gaze, it was hard to remember what she wanted to say.

  “Why did you want to talk to me?” she finally asked.

  He leaned back in the booth, the amused grin returning. “There’s no good way for me to answer that, is there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I can tell you what you think I’m doing here,” he said. “You think I’m sitting here to somehow win favor for my book, to convince you by less than noble means to take it back to your boss and sell it to him. And if I said that to you, you’d believe me, but that would be the end of this conversation.”

  Jonas kept his eyes fixed on her as he spoke. He rested his arm on the table and turned to lean closer. His full lips were only inches from hers, soft and inviting. Alice drew in a quick breath. This guy certainly was sure of himself.

  “But if I told you the truth, you might run, too. For different reasons.” He sighed, but his mouth quirked up. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Alice could barely concentrate on what he was saying. When he spoke again, his voice, seductive and low, spread through her body, awakening it. Was he playing with her? She turned her head to hear him over the noise of the pub, avoiding his gaze. His hot, sweet breath caressed her cheek as he spoke. His hand grazed her cheek as he set a strand of her hair free from behind her ear.

  “When I saw you this morning, I had to meet you,” he said, his voice a whisper now. “But by the time I got to the table, you were gone.”

  His dark eyes sparkled. He had seen her at the Stockholm Book Expo. Noticed her.

  “Now I get a second chance to use the charm I was working on,” he said, leaning back, his voice now casual again. “And it may be my last chance. You’re probably not in Stockholm for long.”

  Alice shook her head slowly. “I’m leaving tomorrow for Denmark.”

  “Ah, well…” His voice drifted off, and he took another sip of his water. “That’s not much time. But I think I can work with it.”

  Alice sat up a little straighter. “What do you have in mind?”

  Jonas let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a rush through her. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

  Alice’s face burned again. It must be the accent. His sexy mix of Irish and Swedish made everything he said sound just a little dirty. What was she interested in? Before she could think better of it, her gaze wandered to his soft, full lips and the thin scar along his jaw. He didn’t get a scar like that from writing.

  “You’re pretty intense,” she said. “You know that?”

  Jonas chuckled. “I’ve heard that before. It’s all or nothing.”

  “But it seems to work well for you.”

  “Sometimes.” Jonas sighed. “Certainly helps with the writing. But it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble, too.”

  Yep. It had taken her only seconds to figure out that he was trouble, and now he had confirmed it. But she was leaving tomorrow, so did it matter? Maybe. Before she could ask what kind of trouble, the bartender came by with two burgers. He slid them forward and said a few, incomprehensible words to Jonas before returning to the bar.

  Jonas turned to her. “I got one with cheese and one without. Just in case.”

  “Without, please,” she said.

  He set one of the burgers in front of her and turned his attention back to his own. Now she was grateful he sat next to her instead of across the table so she could eat unwatched. Between bites, she snuck glances at him instead. Sitting next to him, he looked even bigger. All that don’t fuck with me muscle was impossible not to notice. Her body hummed with awareness of his thick thigh brushing up against hers. His knuckles bore the kinds of scars that were all too familiar. She had seen the kinds of fights that gave scars in her old neighborhood. But there was something different about him, too. Unlike the guys from her neighborhood who fought, he wasn’t restless. He seemed perfectly content to quietly eat next to her.

  He finished first and turned to the game on the TV, letting her finish her burger in peace. A couple guys passed by and nodded to Jonas, a
nd he nodded back, but his eyes were harder, colder.

  Alice took her last bite and pushed away her plate. She tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear and searched for something safe to talk about, something that wouldn’t show her fluster. But the same question nagged at her: Why was she still sitting here with him?

  No good answers came, so Alice grabbed the pile of manuscripts on the table and lifted his from the bottom. He turned back to her, and his expression softened.

  “So you’re Jonas Hällström, author of a bunch of very successful thrillers,” she said. “And now you’ve written an unmarketable book. I’m intrigued.”

  Jonas took a deep breath and frowned a little. He crossed his arms and looked right at her, all flirtation gone. “I’ll give you the very short version. It’s the story of a relationship between a Swedish man and a red-headed American woman, but it’s dark, with lots of sex.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes. “Are you making this up?”

  “What makes you ask?” Some of the seriousness from his expression faded.

  The corners of her mouth turned up. Was he joking?

  “Okay,” she said, “international relationship, dark, lots of sex—doesn’t sound hopelessly unmarketable to me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what my publisher thought, too. But, apparently, if a novel about a destructive relationship with dark sex is by a woman, it’s considered romance. The same kind of story written by a man is misogynistic porn.”

  Alice gave a little snort of laughter. Hopefully it sounded light. Hopefully it hid the catch in her breath at the words dark sex. Damn. That curiosity was supposed to be buried long ago. What she really needed to focus on was the destructive relationship part of that sentence.

  Wait, he was talking about his book, not him, right? Or maybe not. Alice’s heart pounded harder.

  Her smile faded as she met his gaze. He was looking at her intently, studying everything she did. He was letting her know he liked what he saw. And she liked what she saw, too. A lot. If she was leaving for Copenhagen tomorrow, did it matter what came next? Maybe she could just give it a try. Something she could never, ever do back in New York.