Because she could have sworn his face had begun turning as green as Ireland’s famous shamrocks late that Tuesday afternoon.
“Fuck, no,” he said. “And if all our seaweed consumption putsme off sushi, I’m suing the damn show and having them write a formal letter of apology to California rolls.”
Before he strode away, she spotted the slightest hint of a grin through that thick beard. Which meant...
He was... teasing her?
That had to be a good sign. Still, she wouldn’t push things. Until she knew for certain the hostilities were over, she’d let him come to her.
She intended to treat him the same way she’d treated the stray moose who’d accidentally wandered through the garden of her family’s summer home. In other words: with great caution. Because moose might be gorgeous and majestic, but they were also wild creatures. Unpredictable, sometimes cranky, huge, strong as fuck, and liable to lash out whenever anyone got too close.
That said, if he called her Pippi again, she would be forced to beat him over the head with a jar of pickled herring in an act of extremely Swedish revenge.
Suiting actions to intentions, she didn’t continue their conversation as they prepared for the first take of the day, and he didn’t either. Not until the countdown to action was about to begin, and his gaze, dark and clear and studiously neutral, caught hers.
“Ready?” he asked.
To begin filming? Yes.
For them to finally work together in harmony?
“Ja, Peter,” she said, smiling, and watched the faint smile he offered in response.
Embarrassingly, she almost missed her cue.
At sundown, Cassia and Cyprian were crouched by the shore. Using a knife salvaged from the shipwreck, they gathered sea urchins from the cold, rock-strewn shallows, then depositedthe creatures onto a swath of leather she’d torn off the leg of her pants.
Slowly, reluctantly, the Vikings were becoming a team, because they had no other choice if they wanted to survive. Also because they were beyond horny for each other, and no wonder. Jeanine’s work had only improved upon the bounty nature had already provided both of them.
“Cassia, dry off by the fire,” Cyprian ordered, his eyes lingering on her naked thigh.
Crouched low, she shook her head. “Not until we’re done here.”
Maria’s feet, bare and bruised from the day’s activities, had gone numb, but this was most likely the last take of the evening. She didn’t mind a few more minutes of discomfort. Besides, if she complained, Peter—still distant, but markedly more pleasant all day—might revisit his previous accusations of unprofessionalism, and she wanted all that behind them for good. Years spent in such intimate, unavoidable proximity with a colleague who didn’t respect her might not break her heart or her will, but it would be a pain in therumpa.
Cyprian took Cassia’s arm and hauled her upright. At that point, Maria was supposed to shoot him a narrow-eyed glare and stomp back toward their primitive shelter, her anger obvious, her unwilling pleasure at his protectiveness hidden from him but not the camera.
But she could no longer feel the craggy rocks beneath her soles, and she’d been crouching far too long. As soon as he released her arm, she lost her balance, slipped on a seaweed-slick chunk of limestone, flailed, and began to fall.
Only to find herself slammed against Peter’s chest, her breath squeezed from her lungs by the unforgiving pressure of his arms around her.
Gods above, he was big. Big and blessedly warm, and so strong.
It took him a moment before he loosened his grasp and let her lean back far enough to look up at him. Far enough to see the severe line of his mouth, the angry concern in his gaze, and the stony set of his jaw as he held her tight and safe in his embrace.
She opened her mouth to say—something. She didn’t exactly know what. Maybe an apology for ruining the take. Maybe a heartfeltThank you, Peterfor saving her from a painful fall, because she’d been headed for some very sharp rocks.
The cameras were still rolling, though.
What would Cassia say in this situation?
Maria had no clue. The heat of Peter’s body pressed against hers had burned away all her higher-level reasoning abilities. And he didn’t say anything either, just kept staring at her with those hot, dark eyes. His arm braced her back, his big hand gripping the nape of her neck. His other palm clamped low on her hip, his fingertips biting into her leather-covered ass, andfuck.
How did she still want him this much? Why?
She swallowed. Hard.
Slowly, his mouth dipped toward hers. A millimeter. Two.