Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)(10)

Joy makes the requisite intros.

“So, this is the woman who says days should be eaten,” Griffin remarks, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“So, this is the man who’s so enchanted my friend.” I give him a look over the top of my glasses.

He wraps an arm around Joy, possessively. “The enchantment is entirely mutual.”

The way he looks at her stirs something inside me. It’s a reminder that love doesn’t have to be tainted. He stares at her with adoration, but respect too. It’s such a missing ingredient in some relationships, and I can see he has an abundance of it.

We chat briefly about his work, the hotel, the city. He seems honest enough. I shoot him an approving nod. “You’ve passed my test for the night.”

He exhales heavily. “Whew. I was worried.”

Joy laughs and grips his shoulder. “By the way, have I told you Elise is in charge of all the inquisitions in my life?”

“No. I’m in charge of the fun,” I correct, laughing too.

Footsteps crunch on the stone path behind me, and a man’s voice drifts across the sultry night air, his accent British. “Fun? Did someone say fun? I believe that’s my middle name.”

I turn to see a strikingly handsome man striding across the patio to join us. Well, I do believe I’ll be enjoying the eye candy tonight. He’s tall, with legs that go on for days, a broad chest, and a face that ought to grace magazine ads with those carved cheekbones. I must enlist him to sell something. To sell everything in the world. I’d buy it all.

“Elise, let me introduce you to my mate, Christian. Feel free to ignore any and everything that comes out of his mouth. I know I do,” Griffin says, and we shake hands.

Christian claps him on the back. “The sentiment is fully reciprocated.”

“We work together. He’s a translator too, specializing in the Scandinavian languages.”

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.





7





Christian





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.