There was nothing he wanted more than to see her again. Look into her eyes, see her sharp, witty smile. But if he was dragging his ass around like a lost puppy now, wouldn’t it be worse if he saw her again?

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Oh. Well. I...uh... I’d really like to see you and talk to you about something.”

“You can’t run it past me on the phone?”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He tapped his fingers on the desk. His self-preservation instinct was quickly being taken over by his overactive curiosity. “Did something happen at Aurora?”

“Let’s just meet, okay? I can come to you. You said you have a local pub nearby? Give me the address and I can meet you there, say, around seven?”

She wasn’t going to elaborate. Besides, the temptation to see her was too strong to resist. He gave her the name of the pub and the street it was on and they hung up.

Concentration shot, he got up from his desk and went to the window. The bottom floor of the three-story building served as Wolfe Security offices. There was more than enough square footage for his needs, since he had only three in-house staff and the rest of the employees were generally former military, like him, and on contract. Right now he stared out the window, barely able to make out the park benches on the perimeter of the park. This place was so...civilized. Unlike him. He’d grown up in Lewisham, certainly not a posh life at all. And it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the finer things. He did, in small doses. He knew how to carry himself and never wanted to go back to living paycheck to paycheck, wondering if there’d be enough for a takeaway after bills were paid. On the job, he got to fly to interesting places, eat great food, dress nicely, and all while doing what he was good at. He wasn’t complaining.

But there was an expectation that seemed to go along with that kind of living that he didn’t warm to. For all the rich had it easy, there was a definite push to “keep up” with each other and maintain a certain standard that he wasn’t made for. His bank account might say otherwise, but that wasn’t the kind of man he was, deep inside. He’d told her that back in New York, and nothing had changed.

Which made him even more uneasy about seeing Charlie tonight. What could she possibly want? He wondered if it had something to do with Amelie.

At five, he left his office and went upstairs to the living area of the house. The second floor held a kitchen, living room, study and bathroom. Upstairs were three more bedrooms, two with their own bathrooms. The decor was far more understated than the Pemberton apartment in Manhattan. No big bouquets of flowers or pieces of art. More wood and leather and less light and expensive fabrics. The floors were hardwood, not marble, and old and slightly scarred. This was not in any way a new house. It had been renovated and updated over the decades, but it was solid and didn’t try to cover up its history.

It was a lot for him, but the commute was right, since he only had to go downstairs to work and could avoid the tube or city traffic. And it gave him a home base when he wasn’t traveling. Now and then, his dad came over to hang out with him and eat greasy fish and chips from paper and drink a few pints.

He took a fresh shower and changed into clean jeans and a pullover, since the evenings were still cool. His hair was due for another cut; he’d had one on his return and usually he required a trim every six weeks. He ran his hands through the blond strands and frowned. Why was he worried so much about what he looked like, what she’d think? They were over.

At ten to seven he was at the door of the pub, hand on the handle, hesitating. Charlie didn’t know the depth of his feelings, so all he had to do was keep up the pretense that it had been a special week and a wonderful memory. He just hoped she didn’t pull out the “It would be great if we could be friends” line. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

So he squared his shoulders and pulled open the door, and scanned the room for a table.

She was already here. His heart stopped briefly as he caught sight of her, off to the left in a corner, her gaze on the door. Damn, but she was pretty, in a soft-looking sweater and her sleek hair tucked behind one ear. And her smile... She was smiling at him, a big, welcoming, I’m-glad-to-see-you smile that hit him right in the gut as he smiled back because truthfully, it was good to see her. More than good. Like all the weight of the last two months lifted off his shoulders somehow. Alarm bells started ringing in his head.

He went to her and she got up, and he kissed her cheek, trying to be welcoming and also platonic and failing miserably because the scent of her turned him into a marshmallow. “Charlie. It’s good to see you.”

Nice, warm, pleasant. But not too much. He congratulated himself, considering the way his pulse was hammering.

“It’s good to see you, too, Jacob.”

“Have you eaten? The food’s good here.”

“I did, yes. But you can order if you’d like.”

He didn’t want to be the only one eating, so he shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll get a pint, though. What can I get you?”

“Just a tonic water, slice of lime.”

He grinned. “No gin?”

“Not to

night.” Her smile was in place but there was something behind it that was intriguing. She wasn’t as comfortable as she tried to appear, and he wondered why. Was his local pub a little too “local” for her tastes? He ordered their drinks and then turned back to her.

“What brings you to the city?”

Charlotte paused, and then looked him in the eyes. “Truthfully, you.”

“Me?” He frowned. “Did something happen with Amelie? Do you need me to give a statement or anything?”

Tags: Donna Alward Heirs to an Empire Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net