The Best Next Thing

He glanced down at himself. He had been in the en suite, stripping for his shower, when he had returned to his room for a fresh razor blade. He had just caught a glimpse of Stormy—the sneak—dashing off with his clean briefs in her mouth, and immediately gave chase. Consequently, he was barefoot and wearing nothing but his unbuttoned jeans. Not quite dressed for company, and he couldn’t imagine what his housekeeper would say if he entered her private quarters naked but for a pair of low riding jeans.

Still, who knew what Stormy was getting up to in there? He shook his head and, before he even realized his mind had been made up, his feet were carrying him toward the door. He flattened his palm against the wood and slowly pushed it open. The well-oiled hinges didn’t make a sound and he popped his head around to do a quick recon of the area. The door opened into a cozy open-plan kitchen and living room. Charity was seated at the round dining table, her back to the door, laptop open and books spread out in front of her. His eyes darted around the dimly lit room, but Stormy was nowhere in sight.

That was when he realized that Charity was talking. Her voice was a gentle hum against the backdrop of the jazzy music coming from her laptop, and he strained to hear what she was saying.

“…so much trouble. I appreciate it, honestly, but you have to stop bringing me these gifts. What would Miles say if he knew of your infidelity?”

“She’s done this before?” He couldn’t prevent himself from uttering the incredulous question and, sure enough, at the sound of his voice, Stormy’s furry little head popped up over the back of Charity’s sofa.

As for the woman herself? She gasped in horror, shoved to her feet, and swiveled around to face him.

She was wearing fuzzy slippers and a thick, comfy looking robe. A pink robe. The soft, feminine color was flattering against her exquisite brown skin. Her hair was bound in a loose, soft braid that framed the oval of her face attractively.

She was absolutely stunning.

She had one hand clutched at the neck of her robe, holding the two sides protectively closed, while she stared at him through wide, shocked eyes.

“M-Mr. Hollingsworth!”

“Uh uh, none of that now, Mrs. Cole. You’re so busted! Don’t think I didn’t overhear you referring to me as Miles ten seconds ago.”

Her face bloomed with color, and he suppressed a grin.

“I’m sorry for intruding, but my dog has absconded with one of my delicate unmentionables. Not for the first time, it would seem.”

Her full lips twitched, and the almost-smile encouraged him to continue in a similar dry vein. “So, am I to assume that you have an impressive collection of my odd socks and undies?”

“I do not,” she denied. “I return them every morning while you’re out on your walk.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“These past four nights or so.”

He sucked a resigned breath in through his clenched teeth while he considered that information. “This is my fault. I’ve been leaving her uncrated while I shower. And she’s always in the room, right where I left her, when I return from the bathroom.”

“Oh, these visits are usually very fast. She drops her “gift”, begs for a treat, and then dashes back out. I probably shouldn’t have rewarded the behavior. Would I be correct in assuming you thought you’d misplaced the missing items?”

His eyes dropped to Stormy who had bounded off the couch and was now at his feet, rolling around on her back. She stopped in mid roll and watched him with a comical tilt to her head, mouth open and tongue lolling.

“Quite,” he said, with a chuckle.

Charity found it hard to catch her breath with Miles right there, in her private domain. He was shirtless and shoeless, her gaze dropped to those long, masculine bare feet, and she wondered how the hell she could find the sight of his unshod feet so sensuous. Perhaps it was the way his toes kept digging into the plush pile of the rug—as if he were enjoying the texture of it—or maybe she just liked how earthy and approachable it made him seem.

Her gaze skittered up to his chest and then darted away. In the week since she had seen him in his swim trunks, he had put on even more weight and muscle mass. Those broad shoulders now had more power to them, as did his long, corded arms. And his chest…God, after a week of being around him, having him within touching distance but never allowed to indulge in what was becoming an obsessive need; the urge to pet and stroke every inch of that naked expanse was much stronger in her tonight.

She watched him all the time. When he was working in the garden, chopping wood, walking with Stormy. She loved seeing him with that dog. He was endlessly patient with the pup. A far cry from the curt, commanding man she had considered him to be in the past.