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

“Yes,” he agreed somberly. “And, worse, I’m right all the time.”

She made a sound, something between a sob and laugh and moved out of his arms.

He plucked his handkerchief from the front pocket of the dinner jacket she still had draped over her shoulders and offered it to her. She took it with a soft m

urmur of thanks and used it to dab at her cheeks and vigorously blow her nose.

“Hope you weren’t expecting this back?” she asked tartly, taking one last swipe at her nose, and he chuckled.

“You and Charity are very much alike, you know?” he pointed out, with a wry shake of his head.

“I used to think so,” Faith said with a heavy sigh.

“Come on. Let’s get in out of the cold.”

“Today was weird.” Charity shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of the plush sofa in their quaint cottage. Because of her earlier tension and dread, she hadn’t paid much attention to the accommodation Miles had arranged for them. This place was simply fantastic. Beautifully furnished, comfortable, and luxurious.

She sank onto the large sofa and absently rubbed the back of her neck, wincing at the knots she found there. Miles was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. He paused in his search for whatever to stare at her assessingly.

“Tea?”

Charity snorted in amusement at the prosaic question. It was so typical of Miles.

“You do know that’s your go-to remedy for everything, right? Last year, when your sister fell and twisted her ankle? You immediately called for tea. When your brother’s boyfriend dumped him the year before? Extra sugar in the tea.”

“It does cure all ills,” he murmured sagely, and filled the kettle.

“I don’t need tea, Miles.”

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and lifted his head to look at her. God, he was so wildly beautiful. It was unfathomable to her that she had once found him anything less than gorgeous. Jaw dark with day old stubble, hair shaggy and in disarray thanks to the wind. His white dress shirt was open at the collar and rolled up to his elbows. The expensive fabric strained at the muscular shoulders, proof of how much he had bulked up since his illness.

He was amazing, caring, concerned…and so damned present.

What the hell was she going to do without him?

It was a distressing question, best left for another day, but it still sent a shudder of anxiety down her spine.

She was going to miss him so fricking much. And she didn’t want to spend the time she had left with him, nursing anger or grudges. He was here now.

And she loved him.

“I need you.”

His dimple deepened. Making an appearance before the actual smile graced his lips.

When he spoke, his voice brushed the air like silk floating on a gentle breeze, “I told you earlier, my love, you have me.”

Her eyes welled up, and he made a dismayed sound in the back of his throat. She held out her hand to him, and he was across the floor, and by her side in an instant, his hand in hers.

“Can you just hold me?”

He made a gruff sound and sank down beside her, gathering her close, as if she were the most precious thing in the entire world. She melted into that hold, hating how much it comforted her.

He was humming, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. The notes were melodic, and unrecognizable at first. But the tune organized itself into something familiar.

And a little… incongruous.

“I’m Too Sexy?” she asked with an incredulous blink, and lifted her head to stare at him.