The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)
“You’re here. How? Why?” She couldn’t quite organize her thoughts. She wasn’t even sure if she was speaking to an actual person right now or a fabrication created by her exhausted mind.
“I’m here. I think how is fairly self-evident. It’s the why that’s tricky.”
“Why would you think it’s self-evident?” she asked, her voice teeming with resentment.
“Fine. If you need the boring details…” He shook his head in exasperation. “Car, plane, car. Can we get back to the why now?”
“Why did you stop messaging me?” Her words held a festering undertone of resentment.
“Turns out, even a semi-retired chairman of the board can’t just up and leave his company twice in one year for extended ‘personal reasons’.” He used air quotes on those two words. “I had urgent business to take care of before I could free up the time to come here. Besides, I didn’t think our text messages were filled to the brim with urgent, unmissable content.”
Ouch.
She plucked at the hem of her blouse and twisted her mouth as she stared at him for a long silent moment.
“The cat memes were funny,” she offered timidly, and his lips twitched.
“Not much you can say about a cat meme. They don’t exactly open up avenues of conversation, and I wanted to talk with you.”
“We were talking.” Okay, that came out sounding defensive. Perhaps because it confirmed everything Faith had said earlier.
“We were not talking. We were doing some strange dance, and I didn’t know half of the steps.”
She stared at him wonderingly, still not entirely sure he was real.
“Charity! Are you listening to me?” Aah, that impatient tone was unmistakably Miles.
She felt her lips part as her face bloomed into a smile.
“You’re really here?” She was still clutching the platter of canapés in her hands and, in a lightning fast move, he plucked the tray from her grasp and set it aside. He bridged the distance between them enough for her to feel the delicious heat of his body, and inhale the woodsy fragrance of his aftershave, mingling with the slight musk of his sweat…evidence of the long flight he had just taken.
“I’m here, sweetheart. Hat in hand, heart on my sleeve, wanting to know what the fuck is up with all those cat memes?”
She sobbed and launched herself into his waiting arms.
“You’re
here! I can’t believe you’re here!” Her words were muffled against his neck, and she clung to him tightly, terrified that he’d disappear if she let him go.
“I wanted to be here in time for the party. But we had a weather delay at Heathrow. I’m sorry I missed it. I wanted to celebrate with you.”
“George knew all along, didn’t he?”
“He did. A driving service took me from the airport to the house, and George picked me up from there when he dropped Amos off.”
“I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Are you?” His arms tightened around her.
“Yes.”
“We need to talk, Charity. Are you expected at home tonight? George told me your parents are staying with you. Or…or, do you think we could…”
“Let’s go to your place. Oh my God, the house has been closed for months. Did you remember to have the utilities switched on? There’s probably no food stocked…”
“Charity,” he interrupted her panicked flood of words with an indulgent chuckle. “That’s no longer your job. Stop worrying about it. Everything has been arranged.”
“How? You’re so used to me taking care of ev—” The rest of her words were muffled by the delicious pressure of his mouth on hers. She parted her lips and happily welcomed his tongue home. She groaned when he palmed her face and tilted her head back to deepen the kiss.