U.S. Male by Kristin Hardy Read Free Book Online Page B

until I was about six.”
    “No kidding. Was your father Danish, too?”
    Bax shook his head. “American. He was a marine, an embassy guard. We lived all over Europe until I was about sixteen.”
    “Wow. You must be one cultured guy.”
    “I have my moments.” The elevator appeared.
    “So do you wish you lived over here?”
    He shrugged and opened the door to let her walk into the car ahead of him. “I’m not sure I know. I don’t exactly feel like an American, but I don’t really feel like a European anymore. I’m somewhere in the middle.”
    “I know what you mean,” Joss said as they got into the tiny car. “I grew up in Africa.” An experience she wouldn’t have traded for anything, but one that had left her homeless in a way, and always searching for more.
    “Really?” He looked at her with interest. “How did that happen?”
    “My parents are doctors,” she explained. “We lived allover. Zimbabwe, Botswana, Tanzania, mostly out in the bush.”
    “What was it like?”
    “It was amazing, the animals and the landscape and the people. I loved it. There was always something new. I was free there, you know? No rules.” And it had been so hard to get used to life in the real world.
    “Ah. Now it all makes sense.” The car stopped on their floor and they got out.
    Joss gave Bax a quick smile as they stopped at the door to the room. “Are you saying that I’m not good with rules?”
    “I’m saying that you like to make your own.”
    He stood there in his jeans and denim shirt, his jaw darkened with stubble from the long flight, looking just about good enough to eat. Joss took a step toward him and flowed into his arms. “Let me tell you about my rules,” she began.
    “Good afternoon,” someone said cheerfully from behind them. They turned to see the bellhop walking toward them with their suitcases on the shiny brass birdcage luggage cart. “Welcome to the Royal Viking Hotel.”
    Joss gave Bax a rueful grin as the bellhop opened up their door.
    It was like walking into a room in some eighteenth-century palace. Glossy white paneling with gilt moldings spread across the walls. White and gold swags of fabric framed the wide windows that overlooked the waterfront. Rich aquamarine damask covered the reproduction antique chairs—surely they were reproductions, she thought feverishly—as well as the coverlet of the half-tester bed. And what a bed, high and wide and piled with pillows, just made for all manner of aristocratic decadence.
    She looked over at Bax and their eyes met. And desire throbbed through her.
    The bellhop came through the door with their last bag and set it down. “Let me just get your suitcases,” he began reaching for the luggage rack.
    Bax took it from him and set it aside. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said smoothly.
    “Well, then, I can show you—”
    “Nope, won’t be necessary,” Bax told him, turning him around and ushering him toward the door. “In fact, I think we’re all set.” Bax slipped a twenty-five kroner tip in his hand and closed the door in front of his startled face.
    “Now.” Bax walked back toward Joss and tumbled her onto the bed with him. “What was that you were saying about rules?”
     
    W HEN J OSS opened her eyes the following morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. The big bed was empty but for her, the room silent. Yawning, she found her way to the bathroom, with its aqua and white tile walls and gleaming chrome. By the time she’d brushed her teeth and washed her face, she was feeling almost human.
    Wrapping herself in one of the hotel’s thick terry robes, she wandered over to the window to look out over the water. Beyond, in a pastel fantasy, lay the island of Gamla Stan, the oldest part of Stockholm. It beckoned to her from across the water. Forget about the room, however gorgeous it was. She wanted to be out there, exploring.
    In time with her thoughts, there was a rattling at the door and Bax