Scandinavian.
A memory from a year ago sits up.
Something about Christian feels oddly familiar, as if he’s someone I almost met.
That would be crazy though. Besides, I wasn’t close enough to get a good look at the naked man’s face. And what a face this man has. “Are you from Denmark?”
“Born in Copenhagen, raised in London.”
“That’s quite a combo—a Dane with a British accent.”
His eyebrows wiggle naughtily. “That makes me the best of both worlds.”
Oh, I like my flirty Danish Brit. I like him a lot. He’s going to make my evening so entertaining.
Joy and Griffin grab a spot on a nearby couch, entangling themselves with each other.
“I adore Copenhagen. I visited there a year ago and took one of those canal tours.”
“What was your favorite part of the tour? Seeing the palaces? Hearing the stories of all our crown jewels?”
Perhaps I’ll shock him with my tale. “Neither. I most enjoyed when the boat glided past a private dock, where a very fit, very muscular man was doing handstands naked on the dock.”
His expression turns serious. “A little past the outdoor food market?”
I nearly bounce on my toes. “How did you know? Have you met the canal flasher? Is he the Mad Naked Handstander of Copenhagen?”
“Mad? No. More like fit, handsome, and well-hung.”
“You’ve been admiring his package too?”
“I’m familiar with his equipment.” His grin is downright wicked. Christian taps his chest. “That was me.”
I don’t move. He can’t possibly have said that. A strange jolt hits me, like the past has whiplashed into the present. “What? You can’t be serious?”
He gives a devil-may-care shrug that only the sexiest, most confident men can pull off. “I suppose it’s possible there could be other devastatingly fit men who live on the canal in Copenhagen and like to do acrobatics naked to shock the tourists.” He steps closer, his eyes lingering on me. “But would those men have asked you for a date? Would they have gone to The Jane, looking for you? Would they have been sad you didn’t show?”
An unexpected burst of excitement flares in me. It’s him. Christian is the man I almost spent my last night in Denmark with.
“You’re him?” I whisper, shock still lingering in my words.
“I am. And I went to The Jane at seven.”
“I did too,” I blurt out, desperate for him to think I’m also bold and daring. “I mean, I went to Jane.”
A smile curves across his lips. “I figured as much later that night. I didn’t think for a second you’d stood me up.”
I scoff. This man. I give him a you-didn’t-just-say-that look. “Cocky much?”
“I am. But that’s not coming from the cocky part of me.”
“What part of you is it coming from, then?”
“No part of me at all. It comes from you.”
I wait for him to explain more.
6CHRISTIAN
My little mermaid has swum back into my waters. I have half a mind to toss her on my shoulder and walk out of here right now.
But, there’s the little issue of not being a caveman.
Unless she wants me to be one in bed, and we’re not there yet.
For now, the gentleman is up, and the caveman is standing down.
“And why does that come from me?”
“Because a woman that bold, a woman who took pictures, a woman who shouted bravo, is a woman who’s going to show.”
A smile crosses her pretty pink lips. “Of course I wasn’t going to back out.”
“Damn, I wish we’d gone to the same Jane.” Finally, I can enjoy a close-up view of the lovely lady who caught my interest, and the view is worth the wait. Her dark hair curls over her shoulders in thick waves. Her chocolate-brown eyes are warm and inviting, and her black glasses intrigue me. I’ve always loved a woman in glasses. While I haven’t been pining for her for the last year—honestly, that would make me a pathetic twit—I am ridiculously pleased that our friends are friends. “And I’d like to know who the hell thought it was a good idea to have two Janes.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’d like to find that person and give him a piece of my mind. I’d like to tell him I was most dissatisfied to learn of the mix-up.”
I inch closer. “And if we’d seen each other that night, you would have been . . . most satisfied.”
