‘Why don’t you stop by the sauna?’ Emir suggested as she shivered involuntarily.
She was shivering, but at the thought of all the battles ahead of her.
Battles she hadn’t looked for in a job she didn’t want—
No one must know that. No one would ever know that. She had accepted responsibility for the mine because there was no one else to do so, and had no intention of welching on that responsibility now. ‘The sauna sounds like a good idea. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it—’
‘I’m sure I will too.’
It would be interesting to see if Emir felt quite so confident by the time they left the sauna.
Shock at the sudden dramatic change in temperature as they climbed out of the Jeep rendered them both silent for a few moments. The sky was uniform grey, though the Northern Lights had just begun to sweep across the bowl of the heavens as if a band of giants were waving luminescent flags. It was startling and awe-inspiring and they both lifted their heads to stare. The air was frigid, and mist formed in front of their mouths as they stood motionless as the display undulated above them.
The ice hole was probably frozen solid, Britt realised as the cold finally prompted them to move. They kept a power saw at the hut and that would soon sort it out. The sauna hut looked like a gingerbread house with a thick white coat of snow. It was another of her special places. Taking a sauna was a tradition she loved. It was the only way to thaw out the bones in Skavanga. And it was a great leveller as everyone stripped to the buff.
‘No changing rooms?’ Emir queried.
‘Not even a shower,’ she said, wondering if he was having second thoughts. ‘We’ll bathe in the lake afterwards.’
‘Fine by me,’ he said, gazing out across the glassy skating rink the lake had become.
As his lips pressed down with approval her attention was drawn to his sexy mouth. There wasn’t much about Emir that wasn’t sexy, and she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him naked. So far their encounters had been rushed, but there was no rushing involved in a traditional sauna. There would be all the time in the world to admire him.
She left him to open the locked compartment where the power saw was kept, but Emir wasn’t too happy when she started it up. She turned, ready to give him a lecture on the fact that she had been cutting holes in the ice since she was thirteen, and stalled. That man could take his clothes off faster than anyone she knew. And could cause a ton of trouble just by standing there. How was she supposed to keep her gaze glued to his face?
‘I’ll cut the ice. You go inside. The sauna’s been lit for some time. It should be perfect. Just ladle some more water on the hot stones—’
She hardly needed steam at this point, Britt reflected as Emir pushed through the door and disappeared. He was a towering monument to masculinity.
And she was going to share some down time with him?
She’d always managed to do so before with people without leaping on top of them—
And they all looked like Emir?
None of them looked like Emir.
Having cut the hole in the ice, she stripped down ready for the sauna. She kept her underwear on. She’d never done that before. Not that it offered much protection, but she felt better. And maybe it sent a message. If not, too bad; for the first time she could remember ever, she felt self-conscious, so the scraps of lace helped her, if no one else.
She found Emir leaning back on the wooden bench, perfectly relaxed, and perfectly naked as he allowed the steam rising from the hot stones on the brazier to roll over him.
She sat down in the shadows away from him, but couldn’t settle.
‘Too hot?’ he asked as she constantly changed position.
Try, overheating...
And that was something else he didn’t need to know. Emir’s eyes might be closed, but she suspected he knew everything going on around him. If she needed proof of that, his faint smile told her everything. And as if she needed any more provocation with those hard-muscled legs stretched out in front of him, and his best bits prominently displayed—should she be foolish enough to take a look. She transferred her gaze to his face. His eyelashes were so thick and black they threw crescent shadows across his cheekbones, while his ebony brows swept up like some wild Tartar from the plains of Russia...
Or a sheikh...
Waves of shock and faintness washed over her, until she told herself firmly to give that overactive imagination of hers a rest. ‘I’m going outside to cool off.’
Emir went as far as opening one eye.