Present day...
"OK, I'll go with you to your brother's place," Kajsa said, their eyes locked.
She slowly lifted her hand and tucked one heavy and smooth coffee-coloured curl behind his ear.
"Let's eat." His voice was low.
He moved away from her and turned to the sink. Kajsa jumped off the counter - and had to grab to its edge, suddenly unsteady. A surprised laugh burst out of her.
He gave a questioning glance. He'd already put his spectacles back on and was standing, their plates and one glass in his hands.
"You make me weak in my knees," Kajsa announced blithely and picked up the second glass. "We do need to eat. Where's your brother's place?" she asked, walking towards the table.
"The County of Fleckney," he said, following her.
Kajsa faltered and looked at him over her shoulder.
"I spent three years in secondary there," he explained. "My brother went back after uni and got married. His husband is local."
"Isn't it where the Holyoakes are from?" she asked, sitting down. "John and his brother."
"That's how I met them."
Kasja was so distracted by the growing sense of excited anticipation to learn more about Danny Carter - and even to even meet his family - that she didn't realise that he'd poured them wine and was now peering at her attentively. She gave him a questioning look. His face remained just as impassive - and then she understood he was wondering why she wasn't eating.
"I'm sorry, I was waiting for you to plate your food first," she said with an embarrassed chuckle. "It's a habit. Too many formal dinners in my past, I suppose."
She picked up a large platter with what she knew was called mezze - an assortment of appetisers, including two large bowls, one with tabbouleh, and the other one with fattoush.
"Funny enough, this is the second time in the last fortnight that I'm discussing Fleckney with someone," she said, sending a forkful of the bulgur salad into her mouth. "Oh, it's delicious!"
He nodded and then raised one eyebrow. By now, Kajsa had learnt that that was his way of asking her to elaborate. His manner of communicating didn't bother her at all, although she often wondered these days if there was anything that could affect this man enough to make him chatty or even ramble.
"Two weeks ago I was introduced to John's cousin, Roy Amaratunga. The actor," she explained.
Carter nodded again. "When I knew him, he was Rupert."
Kajsa laughed softly. She dipped a piece of flatbread into muhammara, took a bite, and hummed, savouring the perfect balance of flavours.
"He's a celebrity now," Carter murmured and lifted a lid off a large glass dish. "Pilaf?"
"Yes, please." Kajsa watched him plate her food. "I'm quite a fan. I saw a few of his plays on stage, and some of his past roles are very good. Did he grow up with you too? He's a few years younger, isn't he?"
"I wasn't close with the Holyoakes at school," he answered in an even tone. "Will contacted me when he was enlisting. Later, we were on tour together in Iraq."
"Were you in active service then?" she asked, and he lifted his eyes at her. "I know he was, but I wasn't sure about you," she continued. "I remember John mentioning you started your career in IT in the army. Do military computer scientists participate in combat?"
"I was in the Royal Signals. Battlefield communications and networks. I've handled more cable than weapons," he said and bit into a triangle of flatbread.
She didn't fail to notice how evasive his answer had been. She, of course, wouldn't press, although asking about his past wasn't a matter of being nosy. Neither was she judging. She simply wanted to know him better. Nonetheless, she reminded herself that she was the last person to pry in someone's secrets.
She felt his attentive gaze on her, and she gave him a small smile.
"I have been in combat," he said quietly.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Kajsa said quickly.
"After that tour, I was medically discharged. I was injured and had long-term complications," he said and scooped some pilaf on his fork. "I don't mind telling you. And at some point you'll need to know. There are scars."
Kajsa stopped chewing and stared at him. She'd seen him with short sleeves, and she'd only ever touched his torso through a shirt - so it was clear now that she'd get a chance to see his scars only in certain, much more intimate circumstances. Her cheeks flushed. They continued eating in silence for a few seconds, and then he cleared his throat.
"I was injured in a hand-to-hand combat. After my surgery, I had vascular complications and developed kidney issues. I'm fully recovered, though. Just need to watch my diet and stay active," he stated in a mundane tone. "I've also gone through therapy for my PTSD. I'm not on any medication, except for occasional sleeping aid."
"You sound like a personal ad," Kajsa joked and giggled at his surprised expression. "Although, I would focus on your merits as opposed to your past medical problems. You should mention your photography, your hoovering capabilities, and your talent for washing vegetables," she sing-songed.
He smirked and shook his head. "Shouldn't people know the worst about each other from the start?"
"Perhaps. I'll prepare my list as well," she answered, finished her pilaf, and sighed. "I'm full, but the kibbeh looks so good! No, I shouldn't," she said and pulled her hand back from the platter. "It's just such a pity!"
"There's also pudding," he said, and Kajsa emitted a dramatic groan.
"Don't tease me!" she said. "I'm not that fond of sweets, but I bet it's something delicious!"
"It's a set of sample pieces. All sorts of popular sweets."
"Halewit El Jeben?" Kajsa asked, and he nodded. "Oh what a waste!" she whined and snickered.
"You can just eat tomorrow," he said, getting up and picking up their plates. "I'm taking tomorrow off, so if you're free, we can stay in Fleckney longer and then come back here for dinner."
She assumed he'd just leave for the kitchen - but he stood near the table, watching her calmly. She wanted to ask 'and then?' - and of course, she didn't.
"How can I say 'no' to such a lovely dinner two days in a row?" she murmured and smiled at him.
He turned around and headed to the kitchen.
"Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, please," she answered.
Admittedly, she hardly needed any stimulant, considering how fast her heart was beating.
***
"Would you need anything in Tesco?" he asked while they were drinking his excellent Turkish coffee.
"No, thank you." She licked the foam off her upper lip. "I've texted Berg with our plans. He's got my overnight bag in his boot. He'll drop it off." She glanced at the clock on a hub on his desk. "In fifteen minutes or so."
Carter froze with his cup raised to his mouth. "Is he alright with you going with me?"
"He's my bodyguard and driver," Kajsa snorted. "Not my guardian. I am an adult, you know."
Carter's lift eyebrow twitched sardonically.
"Do you often get to use the bag?" he asked nonchalantly and took a sip.
"Never to go on an overnight date," Kajsa answered cheekily. "It's just there in case of emergency, but it's never been used, actually. I promise you, I'm not in any real danger of being assassinated or abducted. I'm not famous or important enough."
"You've got a stalker," he reminded her.
Kajsa watched him put down his large hand on the table, and her fingers twitched on the tablecloth.
"It's not that uncommon, though, is it?" she said. "Women constantly get this sort of abuse, no matter who they are."
"Did they find out who he was?" Carter asked, his gaze on her hand now as well.
"It's not even definite yet that the person you photographed was a stalker," Kajsa answered. "According to Berg, he's an office worker, his firm is located in the building across the street from the publishing house. Technically, he didn't break any law, he's never contacted me directly, or appeared anywhere but around his workplace." She shrugged. "It's possible that it's a coincidence. And again, even if he was following me around, or stared at me for longer than normal, that's not something out of the ordinary for most women."
Carter frowned, and she impulsively leaned forward and covered his hand with hers.
"I'm glad you were there," she said. "And I feel safe knowing you're watching over me. And Berg is extra careful, so don't worry."
Carter slowly moved his hand under hers, palm up, and closed his fingers around it firmly.
"How soon will he be here?" he asked.
"Ten minutes or so," Kajsa answered. "Why?"
Carter pulled - and she readily slid off her chair. He deftly deposited her on his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Ah, I see you've got an idea how we can kill time meanwhile," she drew out.
His hot palm lay on the back of her neck. He didn't kiss her right away. Instead, he tilted his head and peered at her face, as if studying it in detail. Her cheeks were starting to burn again. His long eyelashes and his clouded darkened eyes were right in front of her - and she couldn't look away. His hand travelled onto her jaw, and he stroked the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
"Could I take your photo someday?" he asked.
"Oh, I'd love to have–" Her thoughts jumbled, because he'd just kissed the other corner of her lips. "My portrait– My portrait taken by you–"
She twisted her neck and caught his mouth, unable to wait anymore.
"I wasn't thinking of a portrait," he murmured a few minutes later.
No buttons had been opened, but he'd completely destroyed her hairdo. She was now straddling him, her dress bunched up around her hips. He lightly brushed his fingers down her back, along her spine, and then up - and then they danced on her nape, under her scattered hair.
"Well, maybe, afterwards, I'll take a portrait as well." He rubbed his nose to the underside of her jaw. "Since you can show a portrait to others."
"As opposed to what?" Kajsa asked, running her fingers through his hair.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered and kissed her.
When her phone beeped letting them know Berg was downstairs, Carter groaned and dropped his head back. His strong neck on display right in front of her made pulling herself together even harder.