Amid the Ashes EBOOK

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CHAPTER 1

“You want to come over right now?” Johanna Strand pressed her phone to her ear, her pulse kicking into high gear as she stood at the doorway of her house.

“If you’re not busy.”

The smooth-as-melted-chocolate baritone on the other end of the phone line belonged to Anton Einarson, the son of her biggest real estate client. “We finally found the missing key to that outbuilding. I wanted to hand it over to you personally, but I’m sitting outside your Havdal office and looking at the closed sign,” he said. “So, I need to bring the key to you.”

Johanna bit her lip, her stomach doing cartwheels. Of course she’d love to have Anton over. He was attractive and unattached, and she knew her radar wasn’t off about the flirtatious vibes he gave off while they worked together. But she was on her way out to meet two of her friends, who were waiting for her to teach them how to make her signature meatball casserole.

Anton’s voice slid into her ear. “If you’re unavailable, that’s fine. I can get you the key some other way, although I know my father wanted the buyer to have it on handover. Plus, I want to put it into your hands myself.”

Johanna glanced at the bag of groceries at her feet, her breath quickening. Bethany and Reidun would understand. Being north of forty-five, it was getting harder and harder to meet unattached men who were also gainfully employed, free of bad habits, and reasonably attractive. Plus, of course, she had an obligation to her client. Right? “Sure, I’m free,” she said.

“Excellent.” The rumble in his voice made her skin tingle.

“You said you live near the Berghaven harbor, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Text me your address, and I’ll see you soon.”

She ended the call as her gaze flew over her living room. It should take him about thirty minutes to drive around the fjord from Havdal to Berghaven. Although her robot vacuum kept the floor presentable, the layer of dust she’d been ignoring sprang out in front of her, along with the smudges on her windows. And the bathroom needed cleaning. But half an hour should be enough.

She opened her messaging app and texted her address to Anton.

As soon as he replied with a thumbs up, she stepped toward the kitchen. Her foot brushed against the shopping bags. Oh no, Reidun and Bethany were expecting her right now. She really ought to call to cancel, but explaining would take too long and the minutes were ticking away until Anton got here.

Opening her text app again, she added Reidun and Bethany’s numbers to a group message.

JOHANNA: Really sorry, but something urgent has come up with a client, and I can’t make it today. Can we reschedule? Promise to make it up to you.

Reidun was the first to reply, pinging back in seconds.

REIDUN: Seriously? Your boss better be paying you well. I’ll accept your apology only in cupcake form.

Smiling, Johanna picked up the grocery bag and headed to the kitchen. As she set the bag on the floor, her phone buzzed again with Bethany’s understanding reply. She had the world’s best friends. She knew they’d be okay with her pulling out at the last minute.

There was no time to unpack the grocery bag properly. Not if she was going to make her house presentable.

She grabbed a duster and attacked the coffee table in her living room.

Cleo, her tortoiseshell Norwegian Forest cat, wound herself around Johanna’s ankles.

“No time to give you cuddles now, sweetheart,” Johanna said. “Company’s coming.”

She whipped through the house like a whirlwind, flicking away dust and shoving books and papers behind cabinet doors. She cringed as sweat broke out on her forehead. With less than twenty minutes to go until Anton came, she didn’t have time for a shower. And the windows needed a spot clean.

Johanna glanced around the room. Perhaps she’d done too much. She didn’t want it to look too pristine, because Anton might suspect she’d had to tidy up for his visit. It should look as though she kept a reasonably clean home without having to make any special effort when a guest just happened to drop in. She should mess it up just a tiny bit.

She went to her bookshelf and retrieved the newspaper and book she’d just tidied away, putting them back on the coffee table. Hm, maybe not that paperback romance novel. She picked up the book again, glancing at the couple embracing on its cover. That looked rather lowbrow. Didn’t she have a literary tome somewhere?

She replaced "Her Duke’s Forbidden Secret" with a beautifully bound hardcover edition of Knut Hamsun’s "Under the Autumn Star." Much better.

Her hand flew up to her head. She’d had a hair appointment a couple of days ago, so her short, dark curls should be okay. But should she change her clothes? Maybe a pair of designer jeans instead of these jogging pants. And if she wore jeans, this T-shirt would have to go, too.

Cleo’s green-eyed stare met her when she came back into the living room wearing a different outfit. The cat sat on the purple armchair she’d claimed as her own, her fan-like tail curled around her body.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Johanna said. “There’s nothing wrong with putting my best foot forward.”

The doorbell chimed, and Cleo weaved between Johanna’s feet as they walked down the hallway.

Anton grinned as Johanna opened the door, his gaze sweeping over her from head to foot and back again.

Her cheeks warmed. Changing her clothes had been a good call. These jeans, bought as a treat to mark a ten-pound weight loss, showed off her trimmed-down physique.

Anton, as usual, was impeccably dressed, his crisp blue shirt setting off his slate gray eyes. “Thanks for letting me stop by. Ooh, what a big cat. Has someone been overindulging in the kitty treats?”

“She’s not fat,” Johanna said. “She’s a Norwegian Forest cat. They’re naturally big, and their fur is very fluffy.”

“It does look really soft.” Anton stooped to touch Cleo’s head.

The cat hissed, swiping at his hand with fully extended claws.

Anton leaped back, swearing as Cleo darted past him and out the door.

Heat flooded Johanna’s face. “I’m so sorry.” She should have warned him not to pet the cat. Cleo often took a sudden dislike to people, especially men. She’d hated every guy Johanna ever dated. “Did she hurt you?”

He examined his hand. Its smooth skin was unbroken. “No, thankfully not.”

“Please come in.”

He walked past her and into the living room. “Thanks for seeing me. I admit I’m curious about what the home of a hot-shot realtor like you looks like.”

“Hot-shot? You flatter me.”

“It’s the truth.” He turned to face her. “Friholmen was languishing on the market for almost two years before you took over our portfolio. My father was very impressed by how quickly you sold it. Between you and me, he thinks you’re going places.”

He winked, and her stomach fluttered. His father liked her work? “That’s very kind of him. But I can’t take all the credit. The property sold itself once those updates were in place.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Johanna. I like a woman with a bit of ambition.” His gaze met hers, jolting her heart rate. “You suggested all the changes. You’re far more than an average realtor. There’s something really special about you. That’s partly why I came by today, besides handing over the missing keys, of course.”

Her knees suddenly weak, she sank onto the closest armchair, then mentally kicked herself for forgetting to offer him a seat. Was he going to ask her on a proper date?

Smiling, he lowered himself onto a chair opposite her. “You went above and beyond, and it shows. First things first. Here’s the key.”

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, his fingers brushing hers as he handed it over. “My father insists that we offer your agency a quick sale bonus, and he told your boss that a major chunk of it should be yours.”

Anton grinned, clearly waiting for a response.

Her heart sank. She’d been waiting for something else. Like an invitation on a date, a question about whether now that they were no longer working together, he’d like to explore a different side to their relationship. Not a pat on the head for her business skills.

She recovered from her disappointment just as his grin began to falter. “Wow, thank you. I’m very grateful. Please pass my thanks on to your father. Like I said, Friholmen practically sold itself. It was a privilege to work with such a wonderful property.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He stood, flicking a cat hair off his dark blue pants. “I guess that concludes everything. I’m headed to Bergen on business tomorrow, so this is goodbye.”

She took the hand he offered, his grip surprisingly flabby for someone so tall and muscular. “Thanks. Um, safe journey back.”

“You’re welcome.” He glanced around the living room. “By the way, I like what you’ve done with this place. Down-to-earth, lived-in, shabby chic. Suits you well.”

She trailed behind him as he headed toward the door.

Passing the kitchen doorway, she glimpsed the grocery bags with the ingredients for the cooking party she’d canceled. She’d given up an evening with her friends so she could get firmly friend-zoned by Anton. Poetic justice.

She waved him off as he headed toward his Jaguar.
A raindrop splashed onto her cheek, and Johanna scanned her porch and front garden. Where was Cleo? Her heart sank as her gaze fixed upon the house next door. Cleo had better not have gone there again.

Sighing, she headed toward her neighbor’s house.