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Before going to resign he had to go hitch Sunrise at the stables.
To his surprise, Takis was waiting for him — the usually relaxed face of the Greek billionaire was hard with disappointment.
“Where have you been, Chuck?”
“Was I meant to be here?”
He wracked his brains before realizing thatyeshe was meant to be here. He was meant to be meeting his new assistant.
“Sheep been killed,” he offered. “Coyote. Wanted to try to track them down.”
“Them?”
“Pack hunters. Sure to be more than one.”
“Not good news.”
“I’m about to drop some more bad news on you, I’m afraid.”
He opened his mouth, but as he did, the stable door opened.
“Found your way back from the bathroom?” Takis asked the new arrival.
She turned to look at him, and as she did, her warm brown eyes widened until they were so big Chuck worried she’d strain them.
Holy fuck.
Millie Reynolds?
Takis glanced between the two of them. “You two know each other?”
When she opened her mouth and said, just in the way he remembered, “Charles?”, memories flooded him. He was swept away by a river of feeling, deep and fast and irresistible.
“Millie?”
“You look, um, different,” Millie said.Shedidn’t — she was the same gorgeous creature, elegant and poised, with an inner warmth that shone through.
He opened his mouth, trying to think of the right thing to say.
Before he had the chance to say anything, though, a sudden realization flashed across Millie’s face and she cried, pained and terrified, “Please don’t tell my dad I’m here!”
CHAPTER THREE
Halfanhourlater,in the sanctuary of her comfortable room, Millie was still shaking.
Charles. Charles was Chuck. Maybe he’d always been Chuck.
She had a vague memory of her father refusing to call him Chuck, probably because it was too American-sounding for the types of clients his stables worked with.
Charles North sounded much more respectable than Chuck. Charles North wasn’t a rough, grizzled cowboy who looked like he was cut from wood. No — Charles North was a well-spoken breeder and trainer of the finest equines in the United Kingdom, a supplier of horses to royalty and to the aristocracy.
Not just that — he was one of her father’s closest friends.
After much protestation, Chuck — she was going to have to get used to the new name — had promised not to tell her father that she was here.
“Haven’t spoken to Boris in years anyway,” he’d practically grunted.
Although at first she’d been terrified to see Chuck, that fear had quickly turned to excitement.
