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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Steamy Nights, Cool Lights

  Copyright 2017 by KT Grant

  Cover art by Insatiable Fantasy Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by KT Grant

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Blurb:

  Kennedy Segal travels to Reykjavik, Iceland for a once in a lifetime business trip to sign a multi-million dollar deal for Segal Holdings, her older brother’s billion-dollar construction management company. The first night she’s there, she meets an alluring woman only known as Marella, who tempts Kennedy in ways she has never been tempted before.

  What should have been a one-night stand, becomes more because Marella is also Svana Landvik, former European pop star who left it all behind to run one of the biggest breweries on Iceland.

  Kennedy’s mistake with Svana may ruin everything she has achieved, including the respect she has been striving for her entire life. But if Svana has her say, Kennedy may have a bright new future with a woman who wants much more than just a fling.

  Dedication:

  This book is dedicated to the island of Iceland. Thank you for welcoming me with your beer, waterfalls, hot springs and amazing culture and people!

  “A story is only half told if there is only one side presented.”- Icelandic Proverb

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Last stop, Reykjavik Hotel Marina!”

  Kennedy jerked in her seat as the shuttle bus screeched to a halt, and the driver’s booming yet friendly voice filled the interior. She rotated her head across her stiff neck and blinked her dry eyes as she assessed the frozen rain outside. Based on her research of Iceland, the weather could be volatile in the middle of February. Not happy to arrive to gloomy skies and sleet, she shivered in a gabardine trench coat unsuitable for the harsh winter. But what could she do on such short notice? As a lifelong resident of Los Angeles, California, she was more accustomed to seventy degree dry weather and not the close-to-freezing temperatures she’d already experienced in her short time in Iceland. Departing her plane down rickety metal steps outside the Reykjavik airport had been a literal slap in the face. The frigid wind had whipped around her from all sides, making her stumble and almost fall to the ground.

  What a lovely way to make an impression on her first trip to a foreign land.

  People exited the shuttle around her, including the older, she presumed, retired couple with Midwest accents who jabbered on behind her the entire fifteen minute drive from the bus depot to this last stop. But how could she fault them for their enthusiasm about their vacation? She was just cranky after an almost twenty-hour trip extended by a four-hour layover at JFK Airport due to snowy weather in the tri-state area. Bad weather had shadowed her entire journey.

  “It will be great to stretch our legs and get something to eat,” the woman said to her husband.

  Kennedy covered a yawn and nodded at the happy couple.

  “Enjoy your vacation! We sure will.” The man, dressed in a fleece hoodie, with a black wool scarf hanging from his neck, waved.

  She didn’t correct him, but her visit here was for work and not play, even though she had arrived two days before her big meeting. Her brother, Omar, wanted her to have some fun before she was stuck in a conference room for the majority of the week. The CEO of Landvik Brewery and Spirits had set up the meeting to finalize the business deal between their companies.

  She stepped off the shuttle as the rest of the passengers grabbed their luggage. The driver handed her hers from the back of the shuttle.

  “Enjoy your stay in Reykjavik, even with the rain.” He gave her a cheery smile, which she couldn’t help but respond to. She sent him one in return, and handed him a few dollars. Upon researching, she’d learned tips were appreciated even though she only had US currency and not the Icelandic króna.

  The man thanked her and directed her straight ahead to the entrance to the hotel. He then got on the shuttle, ready to go on his merry way.

  Her annoyance grew when she noticed the lack of a driveway or parking lot. The shuttle had parked on the street corner. Huffing, she rolled her suitcase and strode past what appeared to be a bus stop but soon realized was a plastic shelter for people to smoke under. She gave the marina a passing glance, taking note of the huge ships docked there, as well as the distant outline of a mountain covered by dark clouds. A few passengers she recognized from the shuttle snapped pictures. Why anyone wanted to take pictures of the gloomy atmosphere didn’t make much sense to her.

  Her trek didn’t take too long, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she walked through automatic sliding doors into a large room with an Ikea 70s vibe enhanced by wooden pillars and yellow-and-orange bucket chairs. In the middle was a mock street sign with arrows pointing toward the elevator, bar, restaurant, and other noteworthy rooms within the hotel. Beyond it stood a rustic electric fire pit with a wooden man sitting in front of it. The display gave her a laugh.

  As she powered up her phone, she noticed a wooden sheep with a fluffy wool coat near a column. First time she’d seen a stuffed sheep in a hotel lobby.

  “Omar is going to get a kick out of this.” She snapped a picture of the sheep then opened a text from him inquiring if she arrived. She replied with a yes, said she’d made friends with one of the residents of Reykjavik, and sent him the picture of the sheep. He wouldn’t answer right away because of the seven hour time difference between Los Angeles and Reykjavik. It was just about noon here.

  Fabian also wished her a safe trip, his note accompanied by a picture of him in bed, showing off his muscular chest. Just last Sunday, on Valentine’s Day, she’d spent the night with him. He asked her to marry him. Surprised because she considered their relationship casual, she’d told him she would give him an answer after they returned from Iceland. His message indicated he hoped to know sooner, perhaps when he arrived on Tuesday with Omar.

  Exhaustion hit her fast. As soon as she checked into her room, she would nap. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two since her flight left Los Angeles.

  A few feet away, women, dressed in dark jackets and skirts, sat at round tables, typing on laptops. They chatted with people who had suitcases lying next to them. While she waited her turn to check in, she checked email on her phone, surprised by how well she picked up the hotel Wi-Fi. But, then again, the hotel website had promised many hot spots in Reykjavik, and excellent Wi-Fi access in her room and in the lobby.

  When the people in front of her finished, she stepped forward and was welcomed with a smile and a hello in English
from an attractive blonde woman with the name Marta on her name tag.

  “Hello,” she said to the courteous woman who kept her friendly smile in place. Her eyes filled with warmth, and not the polite yet distant attitude Kennedy expected from those working in the service industry. “I’m here to check in under Kennedy Segal.” She handed over her printed hotel confirmation and passport.

  “Thank you for choosing the Hotel Marina. We’re always happy to have our friends from the United States staying with us.” The woman tapped on her keyboard and then sent Kennedy a wink.

  The wink took her aback. Marta didn’t wink at the guests ahead of her. Is she flirting with me? How would she know I’d be interested in her? Flustered by the attention, she cleared her throat and scanned the area. “Everyone has been so nice since I arrived in Reyk…. How do you pronounce the city?”

  “It’s Rey-ka-ja-vik, with a heavy emphasis on the Rey. It means smoky bay because of our hot springs,” Marta said proudly as she stared at the monitor.

  Kennedy took advantage of her focus on her screen to appreciate the Icelandic beauty as an image of the woman servicing her in an entirely different way in her hotel room sprang to mind.

  She groaned and shut her eyes. Jet lag had to be responsible for her risqué thoughts. The last time she’d had a reaction to any woman was back in college with—

  Something brushed her arm. She opened her eyes to see Marta staring at her in concern.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked in accented English.

  “Sorry. I’m a little dizzy. I had a long flight and not much sleep. It’s catching up with me.” Her face warmed in embarrassment.

  “You can rest in your room. It’s ready now. You’re on the third floor with an excellent view of the marina.” Marta held out a square key card and a brochure.

  She thanked Marta but added in a subdued tone, “I’m going to crash as soon as I get in my room.”

  “Crash?” Marta asked with an adorable wiggle of her nose.

  She needed to catch up on some z’s before she said something the young woman might take the wrong way. “Crash means nap.”

  “Aha, good. Our beds are soft and inviting.”

  A giggle caught in her throat at the innocent innuendo. “Good to know.” She took her key and backed away to leave.

  “If you need anything at all, just call and ask for me by name. I want to make certain your stay here is enjoyable.” An impish light came to Marta’s eyes to join her cordial smile.

  She just nodded, afraid to say anything else. What were the odds this woman would flirt with her, Miss Button Up, all work and no play executive? Her jet lag must be playing tricks on her.

  “Thank you,” she said with as much politeness as she could muster and then walked to the elevators. She was tempted to peer over her shoulder to see if the flirty, sexy blonde watched her leave. If so, then she would know for certain the hotel’s concierge was interested. She wouldn’t have minded a flirtation, or perhaps something more, if she were here on vacation. But business was the most important thing right now. She wouldn’t lose her head for a possible fling that might ruin her concentration on more pressing matters, such as making her family’s company millions of dollars.

  She entered the elevator without looking back. She wouldn’t disappoint Omar, her half-brother who ran one of the biggest construction management companies in the United States. She needed to prove to him once and for all she was a valued asset and not the twenty-year-old fuck up whose selfishness killed their father.

  ***

  “What? What?” Kennedy sat up too fast when her cell rang, experiencing whiplash and wooziness. She had forgotten to lower the ringtone before she settled down for her nap.

  She snatched her cell from the bedside table and blinked at Fabian’s name on the readout. “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe, I’m on my way to the gym and wanted to call you since you didn’t text or call when you arrived,” he said over some type of crackling wind in the background.

  “What time is it?” She squinted, wishing she’d unpacked her glasses. As soon as she got to the room, she’d used the toilet, taken out her contacts, and fallen into bed.

  “It’s nine in the morning, which is—”

  “Four in the afternoon here.” She rested her head on the padded headboard and let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time? Don’t tell me you’ve been on your laptop answering emails or making pie charts or something,” he said with equal parts concern and frustration. “I thought you were cutting back working on the weekends. You should be sightseeing and checking out the Northern Lights.”

  “You’ll be happy to know I’m not working. I took a nap after spending a total of twenty hours in the air or stuck between flights. Also, I can’t see the Northern Lights until it’s dark. The weather is pretty shitty right now, anyway.”

  “Cold and rainy, huh?” he responded with more sympathy. “It’s sunny and almost eighty here in LA. I have the top down on the Beemer.”

  “Must be nice,” she grumbled. She wasn’t a fan of riding with the top down. Her hair was difficult to manage most of the time. Last time, she almost had to schedule in an emergency haircut to deal with the tangles and knots in her hair from their road trip along the coast.

  “I miss you,” he whispered, followed by a pop and some static.

  He did not just kiss the phone. She snickered, now more awake. Fabian loved kissing her, whether on her mouth or in a text emoji. Doing silly things like that to make her laugh had been second nature to him over the twenty years she’d known him, first as Omar’s best friend and then as general counsel at Segal.

  “It’s weird being here without you or Omar.” She threw the covers back and got out of bed to stand by the window.

  “You did say you were fine going a few days early and meeting with the Landvik people before Omar and I arrived.”

  She pushed the drapes aside. The rain had stopped, and now she had a clear view of the ice-capped mountain in the distance. What a sight.

  “Kennedy, babe?” he grumbled.

  She sighed and set her forehead on the glass. Always with the babe. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. I won’t have a panic attack or hibernate in my room until Monday morning. I’m planning on grabbing dinner at the hotel restaurant and then taking a walk since the rain stopped.”

  “What are your plans for tomorrow? You can’t go to the Blue Lagoon until I get there,” he announced.

  “That tourist trap? I’m not big on swimming in a huge heated bath, shoulder-to-shoulder to people. I’ve read the reviews online, and I think I’ll pass.”

  He sighed. “Babe, it’s not like a community pool where babies piss or shit. It’s a must-do thing while in Iceland. I bet you’ll have a blast. I’ll even convince Omar to go with us.”

  She lifted her head from the widow and huffed on the glass. “I would pay big money to see Omar in a bathing suit in front of hundreds of people.” She and her brother were very different but alike in many ways. They weren’t fans of big social gatherings, such as public spas, even if it might be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

  “You both need to get out more. I’m not a workaholic like you two, and I like to have fun.” The wind in the background stopped, and there was a loud click and then a dinging on Fabian’s end. “You’re not into sleepovers, but I convinced you to have one at my house last Sunday.” His breathing deepened. “You also didn’t have any complaints about the orgasms I gave you.”

  “Fabian!” She traced her initials on the glass and then sat on a chair. Even though she might not have the same feelings for Fabian as he did for her, he was a generous lover. Most of the time, she didn’t climax from penis-in-vagina sex. He always used some sort of vibrator on her clit or went down on her, using his skills at tongue fucking or two or three fingers stroking her G-Spot. He never complained, but, then again, she always thanked him with her share of blow jobs, which wasn’t her favorite sexual practice by
far. It was a good thing he enjoyed going down on her as much as he did. She would hate to think she was selfish for withholding sex from him, which she never did.

  “I would ask if you’re up for some international phone sex, but I’m meeting my trainer in five minutes, and then I have brunch with Mama.” The growl in his tone didn’t fly over her head. She imagined him sitting with an erection in the gym parking lot, while speaking about such mundane topics such as his exercise and his own mother.

  “I don’t want to think of phone sex and your mother in the same sentence.” Ick.

  “Me neither, but it might take your mind off other things you don’t want to think of like the anniversary of Candice’s death. Seriously, how are you handling it?”

  She wished he wouldn’t bring her up. One of the reasons she’d volunteered to come to Iceland was to avoid staying at home depressed as she thought of Candice, her best friend and first love. She’d died eleven years ago this week. Last year had been bad for her, but Fabian had been there to support her. It was the first time they had sex. “I’m doing okay. The pain lessens every year.” She squeezed the back of her head where the tension took hold. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but was one of the reasons you asked me to marry you last Sunday to make me forget Candice?”

  “No!” he exclaimed. “I asked you to marry me because I want you to be my wife.”

  “Even with my scandalous past? What will your mother say about your getting engaged to a woman who’s had affairs with other women, let alone one who’s half-Jewish?” The handful of times she’d met his mother, it had been awkward. Even though his mother was American, she traveled to Argentina twice a year to visit relatives there. Then there was his father, so traditional she had overheard him talking to his eldest son about her nice childbearing hips, although he’d also expressed concern at her serving store-bought chocolate cake instead of baking her own.