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“And in my line of work a rumor like that can, and will, result in plummeting stock prices and nervous shareholders.”
“Fortunately for you, it wasn’t common knowledge.”
“I commissioned Tyler to guard Vicki, not to divulge my private information to you.” Miles sounded only mildly annoyed. In fact, he sounded amused. Blaine would have considered something like this a humiliating breach in confidentiality. And then he would have gone home and taken his anger out on Charity.
“Tyler would never leak a client’s business to anyone. Not even to me. You know that’s not how we operate. I have other means.”
“I was ill,” Miles confirmed, with a dismissive shrug. “I’m here to recuperate. And I left the company in capable hands.”
“Your brother’s?”
“Jesus, no. Bryan’s. Hugh is assisting him. They’ve got it covered.”
“You’ve been calling them every day, haven’t you?” Sam asked, on a laugh, and Miles grinned.
“I speak with Bryan once a week but after a very brief, uninformative update, he starts talking about his fucking golf swing or his tennis serve. He knows I find both sports tedious and will do anything to avoid hearing about them.”
“Good for him.”
“Yeah, even my assistant won’t tell me anything other than ‘it’s all fine’.”
Sam laughed again. “How’s Tyler working out?”
“Swimmingly, if the amount of complaining Vicki has done since he’s started is anything to go by.”
“That’s my boy.” Sam nodded. “Listen, my fiancée, Lia, would have my balls if I don’t invite you around for dinner sometime. She’s been on me to give you a call since she heard you were in town. She’s keen to meet you. Charity, I know she’d love it if you joined us as well.”
The latter seemed tacked on as an afterthought, and Charity smiled politely and uttered a noncommittal sound in response to the invitation. She would not be joining them for dinner. How would that even work? She was on nodding acquaintance with Lia McGregor and on friendly but impersonal terms with Sam. And Miles was her boss. It would be awkward as hell. What would they talk about?
She was saved from a proper response by Stormy. The pup, emboldened by the fact that Trevor appeared wholly disinterested in her, ventured out from behind Miles’s legs and confidently trotted up to the bigger dog for a sniff.
When she couldn’t reach his butt, she went onto her hind legs in an attempt to make his acquaintance in the time-honored canine way. Trevor, realizing what was happening at his rear, turned smartly to face her.
Stormy yelped and fell over backward before scuttling back behind Miles’s legs.
Both Sam and Miles hooted at the pup’s antics but Charity was, once again, captivated by the way the laughter transformed Miles’s face. The lines and
angles shifted attractively; previously smooth surfaces wrinkled and creased, the dimple deepened, his teeth, so white and straight, contrasted strikingly against the dark stubble.
She fell a little bit in like with her boss in that moment, and the consequences of that recognition alarmed her.
He and Sam were shaking hands again and Charity, still shaken by her revelation, automatically smiled when Sam told he’d see her soon.
“Let’s go, Trev,” he called to the dog and, with a final wave, took off at a breakneck speed over the dunes.
Stormy started to give chase but skidded to a halt and tumbled butt over head when Miles uttered a sharp, “No! Stay!”
He slanted a disbelieving look at Charity before lavishly praising the dog for her obedience and giving her a treat.
“I didn’t think she’d listen,” he admitted.
“I think your tone of voice shocked her into obedience,” Charity said, with a laugh.
“Too sharp?”
“It worked.”
“Let’s head back. I think she’s flagging.” He raised his eyebrows at her before lifting his shoulders with a sheepish smile. “And I know I’m flagging a lot.”
