The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)

“She has never spent a night without me,” he muttered, sounding distraught.

“Miles, she was a stray when you found her,

she has spent many nights without you.”

“She doesn’t remember that life. She’s attached, she’ll be a wreck without me.”

Charity suspected the dog would be quite fine. The man, however, was a completely different story.

His phone beeped and he absently glanced at the message and then glowered.

“Well…hell.”

He lifted the device to show her the screen, and Charity convulsed with laughter. Sam had sent a pic of Stormy in bed with Lia, who was obviously—like most sane people at this hour—having a Saturday morning lie-in. Something Charity would dearly have loved to do. The pup was fast asleep in the woman’s arms, and they both appeared snug and contented.

Miles muttered something beneath his breath. Something that sounded suspiciously like “traitorous little bitch.”

And Charity pressed her lips together in an attempt to curb her laughter.

“Let’s get a move on, George,” he instructed the older man brusquely, and George saluted mockingly before obeying.

“What is this?” Charity asked suspiciously, when George parked at a private airfield just outside of Plettenberg Bay. Miles had been closemouthed about their destination for the entirety of their twenty-minute drive. Fobbing off her questions with vague “you’ll see” type responses. Charity had assumed they would eventually wind up at some scenic and romantic location in Plett. But an airfield was a game changer. Had he chartered a plane to some remote place? The prospect was exciting and daunting at the same time.

“Where are we going?” she asked again, and he must have heard some evidence of the panic that she was trying to tamp down, creeping into her voice, because he paused in the middle of unbuckling his seatbelt to look at her.

His eyes were tender, and he brushed a thumb over her cheekbone.

“I want it to be a surprise…” he murmured. “But if you need me to tell you, I will.”

Charity worried her lower lip with her teeth, part of her needing to know where they were going but another, larger, part urging her to trust him.

She swallowed her panic and inhaled deeply, in an attempt to regulate her breathing and slow down her heart rate.

“Lead the way, Miles.”

“Fearless,” he whispered in admiration, and leaned in to give her a sweet kiss. For a second, she allowed it, until she remembered George, who had exited to get their overnight bags.

“George,” she muttered in self-conscious explanation, after withdrawing from Miles’s embrace.

He grinned unrepentantly. “If you think George doesn’t know what’s happening between us, you have a serious rethink coming. That man knows everything. And you can be damned sure that if he knows, Amos does as well.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands for a brief moment of chagrin.

“Buck up, Mrs. Cole,” he advised her cheerfully. “You don’t give a good goddamn what people think about you, right?”

“Sure. Right,” she agreed, not sounding at all convincing. “Whatever.”

He laughed and undid his belt before leaping from the SUV. He rounded the vehicle to help her down. George was whistling cheerfully as he accompanied them to a waiting helicopter.

Charity stopped and stared at the large, luxurious looking chopper. It was black and silver and had the words Chapman GPG Inc. emblazoned on the side.

“Greyson said we could hitch a ride on their company chopper. His brother and sister-in-law have just flown in from Cape Town, and the chopper was on its way back. He said we could borrow it for a quick detour on its return journey.”

“Sure,” Charity said breezily. “Just borrow a chopper from your new buddy.”

“Hey, I’m happy to return the favor anytime he’s in London.”

“God, who even are you people? I used to borrow clothes and money from my friends.” She rolled her eyes, and he laughed again, curling his arm around her shoulders and leading her to the chopper.