Page 40 of One Kind Hand

“I think that will be all,” Austin said. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Rayhill. Enjoy your evening.”

“You too.” Austin tapped his phone, hanging up. “Sweats are on the way. Would you like to shower before our food arrives?”

Charlie’s gaze flicked to where Austin’s fingers clamped on the edge of the granite island. Was he mentally viewing the same naughty visions she had when he’d been cleaning up?

“Sure.”

“I’ll drop your bag right by the bathroom door when it arrives.” He rounded the island, taking her hand and walking her to the hallway. He leaned toward her, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “I promise to do my best not to peek when you open the door to get it.” He gave her a little nudge toward the bathroom and turned around to sit on the couch again.

Charlie studied his profile as he grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table. That scruff on his jaw begged her to scratch her fingernails along it.

And those lips—ones that always appeared slightly puckered and ready to be kissed—made each backward step she took into the hallway feel as if she were walking against a wind intent on blowing her back toward him.

Somehow she got herself into the bathroom, but as soon as she looked at the shower and realized Austin had been naked in there, she flicked on the fan, sat on the toilet seat, and called Isabel.

“How was watching the filming? Tell me everything,” Isabel said.

“I have to watch Austin for signs of a concussion,” Charlie blurted, her voice a whisper.

“What? A concussion? What happened?”

Charlie gave her bestie the bullet points then puffed out a long, shuddery breath. “Now I have to stay the night and watch him, but I don’t think I can do that without having my hands all over him. My self-control is . . . well, I think I left it back in that underground tunnel. I mean, everything he does turns me on, Isabel. He looks at me and I’m sweating.”

“Okay. Ever think that maybe you’re having the same effect on him?”

“That’s what fucks with me,” Charlie said. “I think I am, but that doesn’t make any logical sense whatsoever.”

“Why not? You are a gorgeous, confident, skilled, sexy woman, Charlene Moyen. There is no reason why Austin Rayhill shouldn’t think you’re an absolute goddess.”

Charlie pictured her friend stabbing a finger in the air as she punctuated her pep talk. “But he’s a movie star. Do you understand the caliber of women he’s probably used to? I’m a backwoods bumpkin in comparison.”

“There is nothing bumpkin about you, Charlie. You may have grown up in the quiet mountains of Vermont, but you’ve flown all over in your chopper. You’ve seen as much of the world as Austin probably has. Don’t think for a single moment you aren’t worthy of him or I will drive over there, bulldoze my way up to his lavish suite, and slap you.”

“Whoa, easy there, killer. I called to get comforted, not bullied.”

“I bully because I love,” Isabel said. “Now turn on your own brand of Charlie Charm and make happen whatever you want to happen. When you’re flying, you’re in control. This situation is no different.”

The flying analogy made sense. She charted her courses, steered her chopper, reached her destinations. Tonight could be the same.

“Thanks, Isabel.”

“Anytime, bestie. Now send me a pic of something so I know you’re not playing a cruel practical joke on me about all of this.”

“Okay. Bye.” Charlie hung up and snapped a picture of the bathroom, most of which was covered in expensive-looking marble. She sent it to Isabel, laughing again when an emoji with bug eyes came back in response.

She put her phone on the vanity and studied her reflection. Her black sweater had dusty patches on it and she brushed at them, but some of it turned out to be dirt. Looking down at her jeans, she discovered they weren’t exactly clean either. She immediately hoped she hadn’t soiled the light tan couch in the suite’s living room. The hotel probably had people whose only job was to shampoo the couches on a regular schedule so she didn’t feel too bad. Her sloppiness was giving someone a job.

Her short hair was still curled, but not as springy as this morning. She decided not to wash it and gathered it onto the top of her head with an elastic she always kept on her wrist. Stripping quickly, she slipped into the shower and scrubbed, trying her best not to imagine Austin doing the scrubbing.

Yeah, that didn’t work out too well.

****

Austin turned up the volume on the TV to drown out the sound of the shower water. The shower water currently running over a naked Charlie. He could easily do something stupid if he let his hormones take the wheel right now.

“Relax, man.” He literally had all night to spend with her. He had the time to do this properly. No reason he had to storm into that bathroom, all animal-like, rip open that shower door, and press Charlie up against the slick shower walls to devour that oh-so-tempting mouth of hers.