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UNACCUSTOMED TO HEARING his mistress in the throes of rapture, Thursday valiantly galloped into the room, barking and doing a fine impression of a vicious attack dog. Unfazed by Thursday’s ominous warning, Varik rolled over to the edge of the sofa bed and sat up.
Extending his hand, he smiled, speaking calmly in Norwegian, inviting Thursday closer. He praised the dog, clapped Thursday’s flanks and scratched him behind the ears. Soon Thursday was on his back, tongue lolling and belly exposed. A moment later, the dog happily nestled himself in a corner with a rawhide bone.
Varik had succeeded in winning him over for all time, just like he’d done with Delaney.
She smiled at her chocolate-stealing canine protector and then at the man who’d just turned her world upside down in the most remarkable way. Reclining next to her again, he tucked Delaney close, spooning her from behind. She heard herself sigh for the umpteenth time since they’d been together. She couldn’t help it. He was just so perfect, so right, so made to order.
Life would never be the same after Varik. It couldn’t be. She may as well become a nun after this. Why bother having sex with any other man? Once you’ve been made love to by a well-schooled Viking, what could possibly compare?
The memory of tonight’s scintillating lovemaking would last her a lifetime. On cold, frosty nights, when she was ninety and her old bones creaked, good old Thursday would huddle at her feet and Delaney would sip hot cocoa. Opening her special, private photo album, she’d recall this one magical interlude with her fantasy Viking come to life.
Another sigh.
“Thank you, Varik.” He stroked her skin and nibbled her ear in response and she melted against him. “It was a beautiful, sexy fantasy. You made it so romantic too. You’re worth every cent they pay you.” Delaney entwined her fingers with his, pretending Varik had enjoyed their time together even a tenth as much as she had.
“No. Thank you,” he insisted. He turned her on her back, kissing her deeply, tenderly. “For make Varik great happy.”
The next kiss was even better, embellishing her memories with richly woven fantasy that she’d lock away in a secret part of her heart forever.
He knew exactly what to say to set her heart aflutter, to build her self-esteem. His kisses were extraordinary, far too incredible not to be the product of superior kissing education. She envisioned a large room with a banner emblazoned across the front reading Acme Escort School: Kissing 101. There’d be sizeable pull-down maps of the anatomy, flowcharts depicting the correct placement of the tongue within the mouth and how to move it in such a way that it drives the kiss recipient mad.
A roomful of hunky men would take notes as they watched instructional videos, then they’d practice their techniques on anatomically correct blowup dolls. For their final exam, they’d demonstrate what they’d learned on a human subject. Delaney shook away the image of a sexy chick outfitted in a leather bustier, fishnet stockings and stiletto heels floating across her mind.
“Something is wrong?” Varik stroked her arm from shoulder to fingertips. He was on his side, head braced on his hand, gazing at Delaney with thoughtful attention.
“No, nothing at all.” She caressed his face, studying every inch of it and committing it to memory. “I was just thinking how sad and lonely it will be tomorrow when you’re not here.”
His hands cupped her face and he gazed into her eyes. “No sad. No lonely. Varik here now.”
Delaney wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, drawing him close. “I know,” she whispered, kissing him, thinking how unfair it was to burden a stranger with her insecurities. He might get paid to pacify sad, lonely women, but she really didn’t want to taint their time together by being too needy. It was important to focus on the moment instead of what she’d be feeling after he left.
“This Delaney?” Varik picked up the Lifestyle section of the Northwest Suburban Gazette from the edge of the sofa bed, tapping her photo. Delaney had folded the paper to the page with her “Delaney’s Diary” column earlier.
“Yup. That’s me.”
“I read when Delaney putting Mrs. Julenissen.”
“You read my column while I was getting ready?” Utter astonishment was evident in her voice. Her own husband couldn’t be bothered to even glimpse at her writing and here a complete stranger had taken the time to look at her column, even though the man could barely speak English.
“Could you understand it?”
“Some.” Varik held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. He crinkled his brow as he asked, “What watching submarine races mean?”
Delaney’s fingers flew to her lips and she laughed. “Oh that...well, it’s from a story my mom told me about a date she’d gone on back in high school. The boy drove them down to the lake, telling her they were going to watch the submarine races. And my naïve mom believed him.”
“Ahhh,” Varik’s head bobbed and he grinned. “Han lurte henne...eh, he fooling her, ja?” Delaney gave a confirming nod. “Good writing. Funny.”
Her eyes welled with tears. Cupping his face, she smiled. “Not only are you the sexiest Viking ever, you’re also a truly sweet soul. Thank you, Varik.” She gave him a chaste kiss. What a gem Grandma Bekka chose for her.
“Now I read hver dag.” Catching Delaney’s confused expression, he amended, “Every day.”
She knew there was no way Varik would ever bother reading her newly syndicated column again but just the fact that he’d say something so kind and thoughtful touched her heart.
A glint from his finger caught her attention. Awestruck, she lifted Varik’s hand toward the light.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before. Where did you get this?”
Turning his hand left and right, Varik wiggled his ring finger. “Hjerte onske ring.” He appeared to be concentrating as his eyes closed in a long blink. “Heartwish,” he translated a moment later, opening his eyes and smiling. “From bestefar...grandpa.”
She heard Varik’s intake of breath when she held up her hand, wiggling her fingers.
“I have one too, from my grandmother.” The rings were nearly identical. It was clear that her ring and Varik’s shared the same stone, halved, which validated her grandmother’s story about Odin splitting the stone in two.
Good grief, what in the world was she thinking? There was no such thing as magic and certainly no such entity as Odin.
“Great magic inside,” Varik claimed. His grandfather must have touted one of those magical tales about the ring’s supernatural history too. Tracing along the broken edges of her stone and his, Varik pointed out, “You half, me half, see? Same stone. Odin break.”
“Uh-huh,” Delaney replied, not wanting to be the one to burst the guy’s bubble. So he’d been told the same mystical story. She changed the subject to avoid further conversation about their doubtless dime a dozen rings.
Varik made the wondrous evening even more special by remaining with her long enough to snuggle and talk. The extra time in her Viking’s arms made the experience flawless. The head honchos behind the escort service were no dummies. They’d obviously made it their business to study the female psyche, learning how to create the most satisfying and romantic experience from beginning to end. She’d have to find out the name of the business and send them a letter praising her Viking’s thoughtful, considerate performance.
“Do you have a business card with your name and the name of the escort service? I want to let them know how pleased and satisfied I am with your...um...your level of professionalism and expertise.”
“Business card?” Varik thought for a moment. “For job?” Delaney nodded. “No. Card come later.”
“Are you going to tell me your real name? It’s okay, I promise I won’t tell.” She winked and her fingertip trailed a path across his chest. She couldn’t help touching him. They had so little time left together.
“Name Varik, I tell you before.” He flexed, treating her to a bold pop of muscles. “And I bold.” His beautiful smile followed.
She threaded her fingers through his long, sun-streaked hair. The Brunhilde helmet must have slipped off during some point in their escapades. It was a miracle neither of them was impaled by those sharp horns.
“Apparently they instruct you to keep up the pretense so the fantasy remains as genuine as possible for the customer.”
“Sorry,” he frowned, “not understand.”
“It doesn’t really matter. They must have someone on staff who can translate for you and the other foreign employees. Maybe an English teacher? Otherwise it would be awfully difficult for you to understand all the particulars for each assignment.” She smiled at Varik’s clueless expression. “Translator? English teacher?”
“Learn English, ja. Varik cousin teach.”
“Your cousin?” Delaney’s eyes widened. “So this is a family enterprise, hmm?”
“Ja, family.”
He pointed to the wall clock. “Sorry to go. I must be play.” Feathering a kiss across Delaney’s lips, Varik got up and gathered his Viking outfit, slipping into it as she watched in fascination.
So he was off to play with someone else. Well, at least she’d had him all to herself for this brief, enchanting interval. She’d miss his skilled, sensuous mouth, the exquisitely satisfying sex. Varik was every orgasmic fantasy she’d ever had, rolled into one perfect package.
The only minor flaw being that he was a male prostitute.
He clasped her arms, bringing Delaney to her feet. After embracing her, he said, “Put clothes now. Take Varik play, ja?”
Delaney’s perfect little fantasy bubble burst at his insensitive request. “What?” she was surprised how much her voice sounded like a whimpering child. “You expect me to deliver you to your next play date?”
“Thank you.” He put on his horned helmet. “We go now.”
She jumped when her phone rang.
“You want who?” she said after answering. “Mr. Jenssen?” She looked at Varik who smiled and thumbed his chest. She held the phone out and he took it, speaking to the man on the other end, probably the dispatcher from his escort service telling Mr. Jenssen he was running overtime. Her sigh was louder than she’d intended as she padded into her bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
“Lock man call, tell when coming,” Varik told her when she returned. She followed him into the living room.
“Who?” She cocked her head, trying to decipher what the heck he was talking about.
Varik shook his head in seeming frustration. “Smith lock.” He made a twisting motion with his hand. “Eh...locksmith,” he corrected as he opened the front door and motioned to the townhouse unit a few doors down—the one that had been for sale for the past few months.
Delaney peeked around the hulk of male flesh, noting the for sale sign now read SOLD.
“Varik house.” He proudly slapped his hand against his chest.
A jiggle of panic zigzagged up Delaney’s spine.
“Your house?” He nodded and she broke out in goose bumps that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature outside. “You live there?”
“Ja.”
“Wait...you’re my new neighbor? I have a Viking for a neighbor?”
She must be hallucinating. The stress of Thursday defiling her chocolate cache, followed by sizzling hot, mind-boggling sex with Varik the Bold had been too much for her. Maybe she’d fainted and was dreaming all this and didn’t realize it. A quick pinch to her arm dissolved that theory.
Varik nodded. “Neighbor.”
Her heart, brain and all internal organs imploded, oozing out of her toes to mingle with the putrid mess Thursday had left on the floor.
Still in possession of her vocal cords, she asked, ever so slowly to make sure he understood, “Are you telling me you’re not a male prostitute? You’re not a paid escort hired by Rebekka Eriksen’s estate?”
Varik frowned. “You prostitute?”
“No! You are...” she bit her bottom lip, “aren’t you?”
“Varik, prostitute?” He roared with laughter. “Delaney make funny joke.”
Finding it difficult to breathe, Delaney heard a strangled sort of gack sound sputter up from her throat.
Oh God.
Oh God, oh God, oh God...
“Be happy. We neighbor now. Make much sex all the time.” He cupped her face, sweeping a gentle kiss across her lips. “I be last Viking in play for childrens. Lock out. No key drive auto to play. Need go house of play. Go Delaney auto now, ja?”
That was the most he’d said at one time since the Viking first appeared on her doorstep.
“The community theater,” a dazed Delaney muttered beneath her breath.
“Ja! Theater. Help Varik to play, please.”
Excruciating realization emerged with an icy chill. “The annual winter play at the community theater,” she said, recalling the ad in the paper and the posted flyers. “The Last Viking. You came to my house because you’re locked out and need a lift to the theater?” Suddenly feeling crowded by his proximity, she took an involuntary step backward.
An enlightened grin spread across Varik’s features. “Yes. Need a lift. Keys inside house. Sorry. Never be so stupid to do lock out before.” Then he grabbed Delaney and kissed her, holding her tight against his chest. “But so happy we be sex together.”
“Happy? Happy!” The unspoken rage of all her Norwegian and Irish ancestors combined swelled up inside her. “Well of course you’re happy, you imposter! After you pretend to be my Valentine birthday Viking and drag me off for a cavalier roll in the hay. Of all the audacity!” She shoved him hard enough to elicit an ooph and catch Varik off balance so that he slipped off the icy front door stoop and fell backwards onto the frosty grass next to the walkway.
Delaney gasped as Varik’s head clunked against the ground and his Brunhilde helmet skidded across the frozen lawn while he lay spread-eagle.
In her righteous state of ancestral rage she’d killed him!
“Oh my God! Varik, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Are you all—” Rushing to his side, she slipped on the same patch of ice he had and went sailing, landing face to face on top of Varik with enough force to knock the wind out of them both.
Varik bellowed a groan. Not a sexy kind of groan, but more of a ‘you crushed my balls and I’m dying’ kind of groan. And because of that, Delaney was relatively certain the thunderous foreign chatter that followed meant something other than ‘Don’t worry, Delaney, I’m all right.’
The good news was that he was still alive.
For the moment.
As soon as she could move, Delaney rolled off Varik and knelt next to him. “I am so sorry, Varik.” The only sign he was alive was the pained grimace etched across his handsome features. “Should I call a doctor?”
Opening his beautiful blue eyes, Varik did his best to crack a smile. “No. I strong. Not cry, Delaney.” With obvious discomfort, he reached up and wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. “I okay. Must be play now. Help Varik play?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Once she got to her feet, she extended her hand, tugging Varik into a sitting position. He struggled not to show pain. The sour brine of humiliation and embarrassment spurting through her cells all but pickled Delaney’s insides. Varik finally stood on his feet and gave her a half-hearted thumbs-up.
“Okay, don’t move. Just stay right there.” She patted the air. “I’ll be right back.” Carefully maneuvering on the ice, she reached her front door. “I’m going to open the garage.” Talking to herself out loud like she was a crazy woman, Delaney grabbed her purse and keys, heading through the kitchen to the garage. When she opened it she saw the injured Viking straighten, standing tall, as if to show he felt no pain.
One glimpse at her Volkswagen Beetle had Varik’s jaw dropping.
“This Delaney auto?”
Eyeing Varik’s considerable height, she knew what he must be thinking. “I got it used. It’s all I could afford,” she said with a shrug. Although she had her doubts he’d be able to fold himself into the diminutive car, since it was barely big enough for her own tall frame, she added, “It’s a lot bigger inside than it looks.” Varik didn’t look convinced. She wasn’t either.
“If Varik fit, maybe Varik never get out,” he astutely noted.
“Well this is your only option. Come on. Be careful not to slip.”
Conveying a leery expression, Varik followed her to her car, doing his best to make baby steps resemble a manly stride. She felt terrible about accidentally on purpose knocking him down.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor? I don’t think you’re in any condition to act in a play.”
Full of bravado, he insisted, “Varik fine.”
As the Viking struggled to fold his impressive bulk into the passenger seat of the small car, Delaney watched his muscles bunch and cord. It would have been a challenging enough task on its own, but to tackle it after she’d almost killed him made it more demanding.
“You must be freezing,” she said, eying the pelts of wet fur covering just a portion of his gorgeous body once he’d managed to fit inside and close the door. “It has to be twenty-something outside.”
Varik gave a nonchalant shake of his head, stopping when it connected with the roof of the car. “I be used to cold. I come from—”
“No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” Delaney raised her hand. “You really are from Norway, right?”
“Oslo.” He beamed a perfect white-toothed smile.
Her sigh of acceptance filled the car. “What about your real name. It can’t possibly be Varik.”
“Ja, Varik Jenssen.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not possible. Varik is just a made up name from a Viking storybook I read as a kid. Do you have any idea how incredible the odds are of your name actually being Varik? I mean, it would be too weird...like something right out of a science fiction movie.”
“Too much words. Not understand.” He pointed to her chest, revealing a knowing grin. “You be cold.”
Delaney looked down at the telltale signs of coldness beading through her T-shirt. In all the commotion she’d forgotten a coat...or a bra.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” she instructed, although she was the one doing the driving. “Just forget anything sexual happened between us because, trust me Mr. Jenssen, it is never, ever, going to happen again. Got that?”
“Angry Delaney pretty. Want Varik make pretty teats warm again?”
Delaney’s jaw dropped. She socked him in the arm, determined to ignore the sudden crackle of desire. “I am not a cow. I don’t have teats. You mean tits.” As soon as the offensive word slipped past her lips, Delaney couldn’t believe her own ears. She hated that crude term. “What I meant to say was—”
“Big tits,” Varik said, clapping a hand on her breast.
So angry...or was it aroused...? So angrily aroused she could barely drive, Delaney slapped his hand away. “The word is breasts.” And, God, how she wanted his attention on them again. “Don’t talk to me while I’m driving. And don’t touch me. Anywhere. Ever again.”
Indifferent to her angst, he chuckled. “You love Varik mannlig kjonnsorgan.” He grabbed his crotch. “Make Delaney happy.”
Sucking in an audible gasp, Delaney nearly ran the car off the snowy road. “What!? Oh my God, I can’t believe you just said that.”
“In English is...cock, ja?”
“For heaven’s sake...the correct term is penis, not—” She grumbled aloud. “Why am I even having this conversation? Never mind. Just forget it.”
“Varik love you skjede too.” Now his hand covered her crotch. “Mean posse in English.”
“It’s pussy. I’m not a sheriff,” Delaney corrected, lifting his hand from between her thighs. Uttering a groan, she thumped the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Dear God, what the hell am I saying? I sound like a porn star...” She let out a gargantuan sigh. “Look, just knock it off, Varik. You’re not funny or amusing or charming in the least,” she lied. “Whether it’s in Norwegian or English, I absolutely do not want to hear about tits, cocks, pussies, or any other body parts. Understand? That’s just plain crude.”
“Crude?”
“Yes. C-R-U-D-E, crude. Derogatory. Disrespectful. Insulting. Offensive. In America those terms you used are considered dirty and improper language in mixed company. Understand?”
“Varik nedsettende...stotende.” His eyebrows knitted. “Very sorry for dirt words. But we make excellent sex, ja?” His concerned expression transformed into a self-satisfied smile.
“I especially do not want to talk about sex! Oh, good grief. Look, Mr. Jenssen, I am not that kind of woman.”
His eyebrow lifted. “What kind?”
“The kind who...look, I don’t even know you. We’re total strangers. For Pete’s sake, don’t you understand? I thought you were a—”
He grasped Delaney’s hand and pumped. “How you do? I Varik Jenssen. You neighbor. Now you know me.” His endearing smile was hopeful.
Delaney hated that she laughed just then. “Varik, you are positively incorrigible.”
His pleasant expression morphed into a frown. “Not know this word. Mean handsome? Big mannlig kjonnsorgan?” He jiggled his jewels. “Sexy man?” His eyebrows bounced devilishly.
In the blink of an eye she was back to fuming. “Stop. Just stop right there. This conversation is finished. Over. The end. I’m not kidding. I mean it.”
Sure, it was flattering to have someone resembling a Norse god coming on to her, especially when he wasn’t being paid to. But Varik wasn’t flirting because he thought she was beautiful or nice or smart. It was because she was an easy lay. A lonely woman who’d dragged him in off the street and jumped his bones. The guy probably figured she was the neighborhood slut or a cheap hooker who just happened to live down the block. She couldn’t blame him a bit.
“Why angry?” He rubbed her thigh, trailing his fingers up until they rested atop her perfectly satisfied posse. “I not make you excellent sex? Make happy travel to Valhalla?”
Excellent? The word didn’t begin to do justice to what she’d experienced. There was no word, no phrase, no definition sufficient to describe the magic of being in his arms.
Lifting his hand from her crotch, she plopped it in his lap. After opening and closing her mouth a few times without uttering a word, she snapped it shut and looked straight ahead as she drove.
Pulling up to the community theater, she turned to him. “I’m not angry with you. Not really. What happened isn’t your fault, it’s mine. Try to understand, Varik. I am mortified, ashamed, embarrassed beyond words. I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at you again without being reminded of my stupidity and how I threw myself at you.”
“Eyes so sad.” Varik brushed away the tear trickling down her cheek. “Not understand why sad be in Delaney eyes.”
Having him be so sweet and endearing was almost more than she could bear. The big Viking just didn’t get it and she was at a loss as to how to make him understand her abject humiliation. Maybe he’d figure it out when she was nowhere to be found tomorrow morning.
Dear Diary: Of course it was a chore gathering up all my worldly possessions and sneaking out of town before dawn, but I managed...
“You’d better get inside the theater,” Delaney told him. “You don’t want to be late for your play.”
“Takk...eh...thank you.”
She was glad she got to see his knockout smile once more. It was something she’d never forget. When Roger smiled, his lips quirked momentarily. When Varik smiled, it reached his eyes and his whole face lit up.
Unable to return his smile, Delaney said, “You’re welcome.” She wanted to add that it was her pleasure, but thought better of it. “Goodbye, Varik.”
“Before goodbye,” he said, his gaze intense as he clasped her hands, “need ask Delaney.”
“Yes?” She did her best not to succumb to a dejected sigh.
The killer smile again. “You eat me tonight, ja?”
For the fortieth time that night, her eyes bugged and she gasped in outrage. “Oh my God! I will do no such thing! That does it, Varik. Get out of this car.” He didn’t move. He had the nerve to just sit there smiling at her. “You can just wipe that smartass grin right off your face, mister Viking imposter, and get out of my car. How dare you suggest that I—”
“Kveldsmat.” Varik gestured as if shoveling food into his mouth with a fork. “Supper, after play,” he said. “You eat, me eat. Food.”
“Oh.” Delaney’s tiny voice warbled like a baby chipmunk. Could she possibly be any more of a moron?
His lips quirked into a smile, soon followed by full-blown laughter. It was a beautiful sound and he was a beautiful man and, Lord help her, she did want to eat him.
“Understand now. Delaney so funny.” He caressed her cheek. “Make me smile many time.”
She touched his hand as he cupped her face. “Are you asking me to have dinner with you? Like...like a date?” She was pretty sure she batted her eyelashes just then. If she were a game show contestant, this is when a neon sign with EASY spelled in big block letters would flash overhead.
“Ja.” He nodded. “Dinner date.” He gestured to her and to himself.
Delaney couldn’t help smiling.
Dear Diary: This is no ordinary man. Varik is something special. He can make me swoon one moment, get my hackles up the next, and somehow manage to leave me laughing an instant later. Maybe I was wrong and he doesn’t think I’m a tramp. Maybe he just thinks his new American neighbor is exceedingly hospitable...
Her hopeful smile grew. Maybe she wouldn’t have to skip town after all. Maybe they could start over, begin anew, forget they’d ever—
“Then after dinner date, we be no clothes and make more excellent sex. Ja?”
“Get out of the car, Varik. Now.”