Page 5 of One Weekend in Vienna

“I’m certain I’m in good hands.”

“The best,” Sophie trills pulling out her phone. She frowns at the screen. “Hmm. It looks like the photographer is pushing up the schedule.”

“What?” I pull out my own phone, noting that a weather warning has been issued. Sure enough, the photographer has texted us to suggest that the weather might impact the lighting for the outdoor skating tomorrow and suggesting that we do it tonight while it’s still clear.

“But the model won’t be here until tomorrow afternoon,” I say, pushing down the panic that bubbles in my chest. I need this campaign to go perfectly.

Sophie is tapping away at her phone. “The model is only for the skating, right?”

I nod. “Yes, the main feature is Max, but the photographer wanted the balance of a female model for the rink shots.”

Sophie eyes me up. “You’re the right height, Anna.”

I blink. “I’m not a model.”

“Ernst just needs a tall blonde in white Luxx gear. It’s just to set up the shot. You probably won’t even be facing the camera.” Sophie throws an apologetic glance at Max. “Sorry, Max, a little snafu in scheduling. It looks like we’ll be shooting skating in the night market this evening.”

“Hey, you just tell me what to do.” He bumps my shoulder. “I’m sure Anna can make it work.”

I grit my teeth. “Oh, I’ll make it work.” I’ll make it work and I’ll be negotiating a bonus to boot. “The outfits have been delivered to your room and are hanging in individual bags. You’ll need to change into the one labelled “A”.” I fire off two texts, grateful for the foresight I had to book the service staff rooms at the hotel for today through to Monday. I wasn’t willing to risk a traffic delay. “Hair and make-up will be at your suite in an hour.” I glance up. “Does that give you enough time?” I feel a little bad, the man just landed, did the whole handshake thing and now we’re putting him to work. I’ve done that flight a few times and not after going a few periods in a grueling hockey game. He has to be tired.

Max nods. “I’ll be ready.”

“Good.” I bite my lip. My foresight didn’t extend to booking a room here for myself. I shake my head. It’s fine, I’ll change in the anteroom of the corporate suite we’re in. We have it as the headquarters for the campaign and because the model wasn’t arriving until tomorrow, her outfit is here. I swallow. We might be the same height but we’re probably not the same size.

I turn to leave, pausing at the warm hand that falls at the small of my back. I freeze when I realize Max has fallen into step next to me. He’s barely touching me, but a buzz travels up my spine anyway.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine, we’ll adapt.”

“Ah, a problem-solver. I always suspected we were kindred spirits.” His voice is low and the buzz intensifies in my body.

I freeze at my reaction. We’re in a room full of people, my boss, and her bosses. I feel like this weekend is my final test for the promotion I’ve been working my butt off for and the last thing I need is Max Walker making my belly quiver. My back stiffens and I arch away from his touch, glancing over my shoulder. “Trust me, we’re not,” I say.

It doesn’t matter that his touch is electric, or that his blue eyes make me feel like I could drown in them; I need to remember he’s just another smug, overconfident hockey player. And not just any smug, overconfident hockey player – he’s my brother’s nemesis.

His eyebrows lift in mild surprise, and I can’t tell if I’ve amused him or challenged him. Either way, I’m determined not to let him see how much he’s rattling me.

“This is just business, Max, please try to remember that.”

But as I walk away, I feel his gaze on my back, the heat of it no less than when he was touching me and my treacherous heartraces. And I can’t help but think I might be the one needing the reminder.

3

MAX

If Anna tugs at her clothes one more time, I won’t be held responsible for my actions. The white outfit looks incredible on her, and I can absolutely see why Sophie suggested she stand in for whatever model they hired. She looks like an ice queen with her hair down and styled in long, bouncy curls I want to wind around my hand. Her legs go on forever in whatever magic tights the Luxx brand created.

I heard her complaining about the fit to Ernst before he helped zip her into a coat that committed the outrageous crime of covering up her world-class ass. I’m somewhat a connoisseur of the female form and even I’m in awe when I look at Anna. She’s what my father would call “statuesque”, and I’ve never been quite sure what it meant until tonight. Anna is tall and looks like she could go a few rounds with me but the curves she keeps trying to cover with that coat look soft and welcoming. Here in the warm glow of the square, with Christmas music playing and trees dressed in twinkle lights and velvet bows . . .well, the whole scene is designed to make me want to unwrap Anna like the present she is.

It's far colder here than in Las Vegas, but the golden ambience of the lights strung around every pole and garland softens the chill of the night air. With every breath I take, the scents of the nearby market wrap around me like a warm scarf – chocolate, mulled wine, cinnamon, roasted chestnuts – the whole place smells like the best kitchen you could ever dream up. Even I have to admit there’s something different about Christmas in Vienna. I see a couple of teenage boys walking, hockey sticks over their shoulders and a pang hits me. Now isn’t the time for me to be focused on anything other than my game.

It's not all bad, though.

Anna is next to me, leading me toward the rink with that tight-lipped, no-nonsense look she’s perfected. She’s trying hard not to meet my gaze, as she looks ahead to where Ernst has set up his camera. Her whole demeanor screams her annoyance, and I can’t figure out how Ernst is going to magically make it appear as if she’s enjoying my company. Well, that’s his job. I know how to show up and do mine.

I sit and pull on my skates, watching out of the corner of my eye as Anna tries to sit on a different bench. Her coat bunches up and as she bends over, she can’t get the fabric out of the way. She stands, pulls off her gloves and tugs at the zipper.

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