31
Nora glanced up at the clock as they finished filming for the day. It was already seven thirty.
They had prepared several batches of saffron dough, and Henrik hadn’t criticized her once. In fact they had worked together in total harmony and had a really nice time. Hassan and Emil had closed the café and gone home. Nora had to stay to work on the Lucia buns. It was going to be a long night.
“There’s still a lot to do,” Henrik said, as if he had read her mind. “I’ll stay and help.”
Elnaz gave them a meaningful look as she put on her jacket.
Once the TV team had left, there was an awkward silence between them; they were suddenly very aware that they were alone. The last time that had happened, they had kissed. However, Nora couldn’t forget what Henrik had said earlier.
After a while, Henrik spoke. “Once again, I’m really sorry for what I said about your mother.”
Nora looked at him warily. “What made you change your mind?”
“I didn’t want to be fake or a complete shit any longer.”
“It’s about time.”
“I want to stick to what’s authentic.” He looked at her for a long time. She shivered, but she had no intention of letting him off the hook so easily.
“So you’re done with humiliating and ridiculing people?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he picked up a bag of flour, scattered a generous amount across the baking table, then tipped out a batch of golden-yellow saffron dough. He began to knead by hand, ignoring the mixer, and Nora did the same by his side.
“I realize it’s hard for you to understand all these twists and turns, and I truly apologize for everything I’ve put you through,” he said as he worked. Nora couldn’t take her eyes off his muscular forearms. “But ...” He broke off, looked up at the ceiling. “How can I explain without it sounding totally sick?” he said, mostly to himself. He looked at her, honesty shining from those dark-brown eyes. “This is the way it’s been my entire adult life—a pretense in front of the cameras, while something completely different is going on behind the scenes. I play a role in Let’s Get Baking . Our aim is to get a bit of a rise out of people—although I have to admit we’ve never taken it so far in the past.” He sighed.
“So why did you go along with it this time?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t really understand it myself ...”
“Is it just because of the ratings?” She was genuinely interested; she wanted to know what drove him to behave the way he did.
“Yes, that’s part of it. But another reason why I’ve accepted Don’s ideas is that my father is trying to blast me out of the water. He’s sold a new show to TV24, which is apparently going to air next fall at the same time as Let’s Get Baking —in the slot we’ve had for almost five years. That’s no excuse for the way I’ve behaved, but it’s the truth.”
Nora nodded slowly. Somewhere deep down she had known that there was something else behind it all. She respected the fact that Henrik wanted to save his show—after all, she was prepared to go to more or less any lengths to save her business—but she had sensed there was more to it.
“Do you really need your father? Do you need the company?” she asked. “It sounds like a toxic relationship you ought to get out of.”
He shrugged, continued kneading. “Baking and my job have always been my passion, and the family business has been a part of that. It’s what puts fire in my belly, what I live for.” He thought for a moment. “Without Eklunds and my family, I wouldn’t be here. It’s my father’s work that’s built my career and made me who I am.”
“I don’t agree. You’ve become who you are thanks to your own TV show. Not Eklunds.”
He remained silent for a long time, considering what she had said.
“Are you okay?” she prompted him eventually.
Then he looked at her. “Thank you for listening. I have to say it’s fantastic to stand here and bake with someone like this. To talk .”
“Don’t you talk best when you’re kneading dough? I’m sure I’ve heard you say that several times.” She gave him a teasing smile, knowing perfectly well that it was just something he said for TV.
“That’s kind of the Eklund family mantra on TV,” he conceded. “ We talk things through over a bubbling boeuf bourguignon, and conversation flows freely when we all crowd into the kitchen for family dinners, and kneading a batch of dough solves every problem. ”
“You do realize that’s how everyone thinks of your family? I’ve always assumed that you all hang out together on weekends, trying out new recipes. Baking vanilla and rhubarb buns, then eating them in Hasse and Anita’s lush lilac arbor with homemade raspberry juice.”
“Sometimes we do just that,” he said with a weary smile. “But only for the cameras.”
Living life in the public eye as Henrik did, constantly playing a role, must be exhausting. Nora thought about his ex-girlfriend and how the media had gone crazy over their breakup. She realized she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of his ex. It didn’t exactly make sense since this thing between her and Henrik was nothing more than a flirtation for the show. His attractive ex shouldn’t bother her. And yet she found it hard to let go of the knowledge that Bente Hammar had cheated on Henrik, and that maybe he still hadn’t gotten over the beautiful, bohemian, enchanting Bente.
They began to shape the dough into S-shaped buns and arranged them in rows on the baking trays, working methodically and settling into a good rhythm.
“I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed working with a participant as much as this,” he said after a while. Nora grabbed a handful of raisins and placed two on each bun, then moved on to the next tray. And the next. She was getting close to him, and when he didn’t step aside, she looked up at him. She was right beside him now, and he looked down at her. She wanted to kiss him, taste him, feel that rough beard against her cheek. Oh God, she really wanted to kiss him. Instead she turned and quickly brushed each finished bun with lightly beaten egg, then slid the first tray into the oven.
Henrik followed her example, and soon all the trays were in the oven.
They continued shaping buns, working methodically in silence. The heat was making Nora perspire, and she could feel how pink her cheeks were. The cold outside meant the windows steamed up, condensation trickling down the glass.
“What would you have been doing this evening if you weren’t working?” Henrik asked after a while.
Nora sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to think. “I guess I’d have watched a movie, maybe met up with my friends. Or stayed home with a glass of wine.”
“A glass of wine would go down pretty well right now.”
She smiled tentatively. “I have a bottle of wine up in the apartment—shall I go and get it?”
“Great idea—why not? Lucia buns with wine.”
She ran upstairs, taking the opportunity to drag a brush through her hair and freshen up her mascara. She grabbed the bottle, then at the last minute dashed into the bathroom and slipped a couple of condoms in her pocket. Please don’t jinx this now.
She went back down to the patisserie and poured the wine into two tumblers. They raised their glasses in a toast and took a sip before carrying on with their work. The silence between them was tense, as if each of them was waiting for the other to make the first move. After the second glass of wine and the third batch of baking, Henrik turned to her.
“Nora ...” He looked at her with those dark eyes, and she held her breath.
“Yes?” A second later she was in his arms, and they were kissing hungrily.
He pushed her up against the baking table. His hands were inside her top. She untied her apron, took it off, did the same with his. She fumbled with his T-shirt, slipped her hands inside it. His skin felt burning hot beneath her fingers. His upper body was soft and hard at the same time, and she caressed his broad shoulders before pulling off his T-shirt. They carried on kissing, his beard scratching her cheeks, his hands gentle as they moved over her body. She kissed his neck and inhaled the smell of him, which made her feel a little dizzy, and then she focused on the sensation of his touch. He stroked her breasts outside her bra, then continued downward. He took hold of her T-shirt, pulled it off. Given the heat of the room, she felt pure relief, and his kisses on her hot skin were almost cool.
The edge of the table was chafing her back and she shifted her position slightly, but then he lifted her onto the table, slipped down her jeans in a single movement, left her sitting there in nothing but her underwear. He stopped and looked at her.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said.
She gazed at him standing in front of her, bare-chested. He was muscular and broad-shouldered but not bulky. He just looked strong. And. Absolutely. Fucking. Fantastic. She wanted to feel every inch of him. She drew him close, caressed his hairy chest, his back. His hands were inside her bra now, stroking her breasts as she undid his jeans. She pushed them down, along with his underwear. He was touching her panties now, his fingers finding their way beneath the lace. She whimpered, wanting more, wanting him to touch her where it was most sensitive.
She ran her hands slowly up and down the soft skin of his cock. He let out a small groan, and now he was exploring her most intimate places. She laughed when he stroked her clitoris, and soon her whole body was trembling.
He pulled her close, yanked off her panties. Then he stopped. “Shit, I haven’t ...”
Nora took a deep breath. “Pass me my jeans.” He grinned, picked them up, and handed them to her. She took a condom out of the pocket, opened it slowly. He put his lips to her ear, whispered, “So you planned this?”
She smiled. “Well, I was hoping ...”
She slid the condom over his cock with a smooth movement that made him moan.
He thrust into her, moved slowly inside her, then faster, stroking her clitoris all the time.
They both came quickly, neither waiting for the other.
He slumped over her, and she sank back against the table with her head on the bag of flour behind her. Henrik was breathing heavily, and then after a moment he kissed her gently on the neck and lifted her off the table. They sank down onto the floor. Fortunately Emil had both swept and mopped before he left.
“Is it the booze and the crap ventilation system, or is it very hot in here?” he said.
Nora laughed and kissed him. “It’s definitely not your sense of humor that makes you so sexy.”
“So you think I’m sexy?”
“Is there a woman in this country who doesn’t?” She rolled her eyes. It was a well-known fact that he was handsome, and to hear him fishing for compliments was ... kind of sweet. She kissed him again, she couldn’t get enough of those wonderful lips, the feeling of that prickly beard against her chin.
“It’s just that you gave me a different impression—that you thought I was the most hateful person on the planet.”
“You can be hateful and sexy at the same time.”
Nora’s head was spinning from the physical exertion involved in both sex and baking, the stuffy air inside the bakery, and the emotions sizzling between them. Henrik suggested a walk, and she quickly agreed.
V?stervik was dark and deserted. Not many people were out and about at three o’clock in the morning in the middle of the week. They wandered along the main street, over cobblestones still covered in snow. They carried on toward the sea. The sky was clear, studded with stars.
The nearer they got to Henrik’s hotel, the more her heart raced. She really wanted to spend the night with him. She wanted to have him, over and over again. She turned toward him and saw that he was watching her, which made her feel warm inside.
Henrik was different from all the other men she had known, but this could never turn into something serious. Filming would soon be over, and he would go home to Stockholm. She wasn’t into serious relationships, and she was pretty sure he couldn’t be over Bente yet. Maybe Nora was just some kind of rebound for him? Oddly enough, the thought was painful. However, there was one way to numb the pain. She stopped and kissed him, in the darkness and the icy cold. Her desire sparked to life again, pushing aside all other thoughts and feelings.