Page 11 of Wilde Sanctuary

“The weather service is predicting it won’t clear until morning.”

She blinked up at him. “So you’ll stay until morning.”

He stepped towards her. “You’re still not seeing the problem, beautiful.”

“So tell me.”

He hesitated before meeting her confused amber gaze. “Charlie, there’s only one bed.”

Chapter Five

Charlie

He was right. There was only one bed. There wasn’t even a couch, just a couple of armchairs that weren’t that comfortable for sitting in, so she couldn’t imagine trying to sleep in one.

Charlie looked towards the bedroom. This morning she’d hoped that’s where they’d end up tonight. But the animosity Rhett had shown towards her when he’d realized who she was changed things, even if he had apologized and calmed down.

She sighed and headed back to her armchair and the abandoned glass of wine. She sank onto the seat, trying to get comfortable and failing dismally. The sounds of the storm raging outside making her jumpy.

“Did you purposely find the most uncomfortable chairs for this cabin?” She asked, stuffing a cushion against one hip to stop the hard wood of the arm from digging into her butt.

Rhett laughed, the sound so unexpected that she gave a little jump. Her eyes shot to his, watching as he padded on bare feet to the other armchair, draping himself on the seat in a way that reminded her of a king on his throne.

He lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, the tee shirt he was wearing stretching over his broad chest. Dear god, he was stunning. Charlie felt her breath catch as she took him in. Legs splayed open, his thighs stretching the denim tight.

She remembered what it felt like to be riding on top of those thighs, his hands gripping her. Squeezing her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She shifted slightly in her seat, heat pooling between her legs. It was becoming harder and harder to remember that she didn’t want to have sex with him.

She didn’t. She really didn’t.

It would be a bad idea. A really really bad idea.

He smirked, one side of his mouth kicking up and a dimple appearing in his cheek. That damned dimple! Why did he have to have them? She’d always found dimples irresistible.

One of his hands was gripping the back of the armchair behind his head, the other draped casually over his thigh. He reached down and cupped the bulge in his pants, and she jerked her eyes away.

Oh god, she’d been staring! How embarrassing.

“You can keep looking, beautiful. I don’t mind at all.” His voice was a deep drawl that sent shivers over her skin.

She looked away and harrumphed, eliciting a laugh from him.

Charlie needed to get control of the situation. She was here for a reason, and she needed to get the job done.

“Did you read the proposal?” She asked.

His formerly casual expression shuttered to something unreadable, and he shifted to lean forward, elbows resting on his knees. “No.”

It was her turn to smirk. “Let me guess. You left the whole folio on the floor.”

He grunted, his lips pressed into a thin line. She felt a rush of sympathy at his situation. It mustn’t be easy running the typeof business he ran. It was seasonal and physically demanding. Getting qualified help in a small town would be difficult unless someone was willing to move to the area.

“It’s not about the money for you, is it?” Her head tilted to one side in consideration. Most people didn’t have a clue what it was like to be her. All they saw was the money. Sure, she’d not wanted for anything material her entire childhood. She’d gone to the best schools and had everything she could ask for. The latest clothes, music, a new car every birthday after she got her license. She had been the envy of all her friends, though it was difficult to call the people she was forced to associate with because of who their parents were, ‘friends’. During college she’d had a blissful two weeks living in the dorms like a normal person until someone found out who her father was.

When she’d gained control of her trust fund at 21 years old—not needing to work a day in her life—she vowedshe’d not touch a cent.And she hadn’t in the five years since. Charlotte Sinclair might have the world at her fingertips, according to most, but she wanted to earn her way through life, not buy it.

Rhett’s expression shifted, his lids heavy with dark shadows under eyes rimmed in red. He sighed and rubbed his neck, stifling a yawn. He sat back in his chair, shifting to throw a leg over one arm as if he’d long ago figured out how to sit comfortably in them. She supposed he had, if the furniture hadn’t changed since he’d come here as a boy with his grandfather to go fishing. Which it looked like it hadn’t.

Charlie smiled at the thought, watching Rhett as he watched her. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. He nodded, as if finally coming to some internal decision.

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