“Ingrid!” Kat put her hands up, shaking her head as her cheeks colored again. It was like Ingrid could see all the insta-fantasies that had started playing out in Katrin’s head the minute she’d touched Erik’s hand. “I’m not looking for anything like that. Definitely not.”
“Oh, sure! I know.” Ingrid rushed to smooth over the awkwardness of their chat. “I just felt like I should say something, you know, since you don’t know him very well and he has sort of a reputation…”
“I get it.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt after everything you’ve been through.”
“No worries,” she told her sister-in-law, offering her a confident, reassuring smile. “Nothing’s going to happen between me and Erik Lindstrom, so don’t worry.”
As Ingrid put her arm around Katrin’s waist and they walked through the front door, Katrin tried to convince herself that it was only the sadness of saying goodbye, not disappointment over Erik, that made her heart feel so heavy.
Chapter 2
The drive to Katrin’s apartment was quiet and Erik was grateful.
Get a hold of yourself.
Now.
Right now.
But, man, he was incredibly distracted by his introduction to Katrin Svenson.
When Jenny had shared Katrin’s story, in his mind he had pictured someone used up and beaten down by life’s hard times. Some pathetic, battered girl that a man could risk losing. Someone from whom a man could easily walk away and abuse in the process.
His first impression of Katrin Svenson, however, was that any man who actually wanted to be tied down would be crazy to let her go.
She was a little thing: no more than five-foot-four. Petite, like a gymnast or ballerina, her spare build was emphasized by a shapeless sweatshirt on top, though clingy yoga leggings hugged her pert little ass like a glove. Her bright blue eyes were magnified, instead of hidden, behind her unfashionable glasses, and her blonde hair severely slicked back into a prim bun at the base of her neck, only enhanced its long, graceful lines.
She might have been grubby, but she was neither used up nor beaten down. She held herself with a quiet dignity that belied everything she had endured at the hands of Wade Doyle, and it made Erik’s breath catch with admiration for her courage. If he felt vaguely protective before meeting Katrin, his natural instincts had amplified considerably after being introduced to her. He felt downright defensive now, like it’d be a tremendous pleasure to smash his fist through Wade Doyle’s face.
He glanced over at her as she gestured to him to turn right. Her eyes were clear and blue, and she seemed bright. Whether that was due to actual smarts, he wouldn’t know until he got to know her better. He frowned at the dark circles underneath her eyes—he could see the exhaustion and wariness behind them.
Gazing back at the road, he dissected their meeting. Her eyes had distracted him initially, but Erik had still been respectfully in control of his actions until he took her hand in his. There was that brief zap before the heat of her skin melted into his, followed by the almost-otherworldly feeling that a life force was exchanged between them.
He had never felt anything so intense upon meeting another person in his entire life. She must have noticed it too—the sudden and fierce connection between them. His heart had started thumping like he’d never touched a girl before.
Erik was so surprised by his reaction to her, so utterly stunned by the sudden intensity of it, he had stared back at her mutely until she had politely asked for her squished hand back. He had no context or explanation for what had happened between them. But, his head was completely turned around, and for a man who was accustomed to being in absolute control of himself, it made him incredibly uncomfortable.
To make matters worse, her smile caught him totally off guard, making him almost dizzy as her face was transformed by two crater-sized dimples that caved in both cheeks, giving her previously dignified demeanor an unexpectedly impish, playful quality, a glimpse of how she would look when she was teasing. And he liked it. A lot. A lot more than he should.
For whatever reason—likely owing to the well-established fact that most men are latent Neanderthals—as he held her hand, bewildered by her eyes and undone by her smile, he had a quick mental fantasy of her leaping into his arms. She was so small, he could easily hold her, and she would wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Erik would press his lips to hers, claiming her, so that no man would ever try to hurt her or take her away from him or—
Whoa, Erik!
He glanced over at her again, almost worried that she could hear the thoughts ricocheting around in his brain, but she stared out the windshield impassively. The brief image was so real and so developed, he could almost feel the imprint of her legs around his waist, and his cheeks flushed.
You only have one job to do, Erik. Drive her to Skidoo Bay. Don’t get distracted by a pair of dimples, goddamnit.
She told him to turn left and his body warmed up further from the lilting tone of her voice, soft and gentle, almost musical. He pulled into the driveway she pointed to and cut the engine of his car.
“This is it,” she said with a small, polite smile, and it bugged him that it was nothing like the unguarded one she’d given him at Ingrid’s. He wanted to see that one again. “Do you want to come up for a few minutes?”
He looked at the two-car garage
