If that meant letting this animosity ride out for the duration of our meeting, then so be it.
I nodded my consent. He didn’t move immediately. His arms remained folded, his piercing gaze narrowed at me for a stomach-tingling stretch.
Then, lips firmed in a line of displeasure, he went to work, sorting out forty pictures with jaw-dropping efficiency. ‘I think these will work for what you have in mind. They have an element of each topic you’re discussing, and, together with the interactive video in the digital version, I think your message will be heard.’
I stared down at the pictures he’d chosen, added another ten of my own, and, refining down again, halved the photos and rearranged them in the order I envisaged them laid out in the magazine.
We both stepped back and admired the mock-up, and he nodded. ‘That’s even better.’
I wanted to preen at his compliment, but I couldn’t even give myself that little leeway. ‘I’ll leave them there for now, and come back to it in a while. See it with fresh eyes.’
He nodded. ‘Good idea. You don’t want to saturate your senses before you make a decision.’
I turned to the rest of the images, totalling over eight hundred. ‘It seems a shame for all of these to go to waste.’
‘They’re yours. Do with them as you will.’
Again there was a distinct timbre in his voice that caught me on the raw. I looked over and he was staring straight at me.
Hunger tore through me. I licked my lips and his eyes darkened, his gaze rapt on my gliding tongue. Face tight, he took a half-step closer. I averted my gaze from him, back to the photos, terrified of the wild leap of my heart. ‘I can make a coffee-table book, donate the proceeds to charities in Alaska?’
I felt his gaze linger on me for a few seconds more before he answered. ‘You have enough here for two books, easily. Even make it an annual thing.’
The idea thrilled me, but even more was the thought of a possible future collaboration with Jensen.
Terrified of the frenzied leap of my senses, I focused on the pictures, killing the idea of an extended connection with Jensen. There wouldn’t be a different outcome in the future. I would always disappoint and fall short.
He joined me, handing me images on one subject, then the other. Within a short time, I had over three hundred photos for the first coffee-table book. He reached for the last set of photos at the same time I did. I jumped back, the electrifying effect of his touch lighting through me.
His face froze over and he reached for his jacket. ‘It’s getting late. I need to be somewhere else.’
‘Where?’ I asked before I could stop myself.
He shrugged. ‘I have a prior engagement.’
A vice clamped around my heart. Was it business or pleasure? Was he seeing someone else? So soon?
What right did I have to be distressed by it? I’d pushed him away. Still, the thought of him leaving strangled my insides. ‘We’re not done here.’
He paused, raised a mocking eyebrow at me. ‘Aren’t we?’
‘We have an executive chef in the building. I can order something for us to eat while we finish up here.’
If anything, his expression grew more remote. ‘You sure you want to risk indigestion by spending more time with me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll want to get personal again?’
‘It’s a professional courtesy, Jensen. That’s all.’
His smile lacked any trace of warmth as he leaned forward, right into my personal space. And, God, he smelled so good, looked so mouth-watering, I wanted to leap across the gap between us, press myself against him and never let go.
‘What makes you think I’ll play by your rules of professional courtesy?’ he rasped.
Because he brimmed with integrity. Because not a single time during our cabin seclusion had I had reason to call his character into question, the way I did so many people in my life. ‘Because I know I can take you at your word.’
He hissed in a breath. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Graciela? I won’t let you toy with me.’
My heart kicked hard. ‘I’m not—’
‘Did you decide some time in the past week that you weren’t quite done with me as you purported to be? That perhaps I’m good for one last fuck, maybe two?’
Until I witnessed it for myself, I would’ve deemed it impossible but Jensen’s gaze was both sizzling and frigid as it swept over me, lingered on my face, my breasts, my hips and legs before returning. He wasn’t bothering to hide his hunger and each look triggered, until I couldn’t stand it any longer.
When I stepped back, he followed. I didn’t order him away, couldn’t even get my tongue to work, the electricity zapping through me freezing my vocal cords.
My hip bumped the table, halting my momentum.
Slowly, he raised his hand, brushed the pulse leaping at my throat with his knuckles. My nipples immediately puckered and I bit back a moan.
He tossed his jacket away, and captured my wrist. Holding my hand within his, he turned my wrist, his gaze on the fingers he was running over my racing pulse. ‘So tell me, did you miss me, min elskerinde?’
I gasped, my senses cartwheeling at hearing those two words fall from his lips even while I was searingly aware I was foolish to open my heart up to it. ‘Don’t call me that,’ I forced out. I wasn’t worthy, not if I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be. Open. Wearing my pain on my sleeve. Vulnerable to seismic emotions that would eventually consume me whole.
He exhaled long and deep. ‘Why not? You’re my mistress, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.’ His gaze still downcast, he
