Page 46 of One Kind Hand

Charlie was overcome by how adorable the two of them were. “It’s time to send Isabel that selfie she’s been asking for.”

“Okay.” Austin didn’t hesitate to lean toward her. He turned Berto around and held the pooch up under their faces. He closed the few inches between them so his cheek touched hers. “Go for it.”

She snapped the picture, checked it, and instantly loved everything about the photograph. She and Berto were staring at the camera, but Austin’s head was slightly turned, his gaze on her instead. It was a definite keeper.

Did that mean Austin was a keeper too?

****

Not only was Charlie amazing at sex, but she cuddled in bed as if she had a doctorate in the topic. Her body fit alongside Austin’s perfectly, all her curves pressing against him just right. Her left arm was draped across his chest, her bruised elbow still looking colorful. He hoped it didn’t hurt her. He lifted his right arm, inspecting the angry, red scrapes and the black-blue patches. Rolling his wrist, everything was a little achy, but nothing that would stop him from filming today. Fortunately the clothing required for this particular role was long-sleeved so he wouldn’t need a long time in makeup, trying to cover his marred flesh.

Charlie stirred beside him, but only ended up burrowing deeper into the mattress. Her head rested on his shoulder so he couldn’t see her face and he wondered if her eyes were still closed. When she didn’t shift any more, he assumed she was still asleep. She appeared to be comfortable where she was—in his bed, his arms—and he loved everything about that.

After finishing their ice cream, they’d watched that documentary on honey bees from the beginning and the interest Charlie had shown in the subject had further turned him on. She wasn’t only a rocking body or a fun personality. She was an intellectual as well and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone with such . . . substance.

Quite possibly he’d never met anyone with such substance.

He pulled the blankets up farther so they covered Charlie’s shoulders and squeezed her closer. A soft sigh escaped her throat and Austin wanted Earth to stop spinning so they could freeze the day to enjoy each other’s company longer.

But alas, a phone chimed from a bedside table. Her phone.

Berto grumbled from his spot at Austin’s feet and Charlie’s head popped up as if her sleep cycle had been programmed to end at the sound of that chime. She frowned at Austin’s chest then looked around. When she met his gaze, the confusion sifted from her features and she gave him a sexy, good morning grin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose as Berto jumped off the bed and trotted down the hallway, probably in search of kibble.

“Did I hear my phone?” Charlie asked.

“You did.” He released her—reluctantly—so she could reach for the phone.

“Damn. It’s a client I frequently fly. He needs a lift. I gotta go.” She made a move to slide out of bed, but Austin snagged her hand before she could succeed.

“I understand.” Though the fact that the client was a he didn’t thrill him. “However, tell me we can have dinner tonight. I have to see more of you.”

“Have to, huh?” She tapped on her phone, no doubt replying to the charter request.

“Must.” Like the thought of not seeing her gave him a stomachache.

Or is it a heartache?

“I suppose having dinner with you wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.”

He launched out of the blankets and grabbed her around the waist, smooshing her still naked body to his chest and pulling a squeal out of her. “Imposition?” He descended on the delicious stretch of her neck, his teeth nipping and lips soothing.

Her hands came around his shoulders as he trailed kisses along her throat. How was he supposed to let her leave when all he wanted to do was spend the day worshipping her body?

“Wow. You make it hard for a girl to get on with her day.” She pressed a kiss to his lips when he raised his head. “But dinner is on for later. Something to look forward to.” She scratched her fingernails into his hair, her gaze meeting his.

“I want to take you somewhere special,” he said. “Do you own a fancy dress?”

Her fingers paused in their scratching and she narrowed her gray-blue eyes at him. “What do I look like? Some New England redneck who doesn’t own any fancy clothes?”

“Ah, so there’s that sarcasm?” He winced when she gave his cheek a light slap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I should have phrased it differently. I just wanted you to know dinner will be a more formal event than burgers and sweatpants.”

“Okay. You’re forgiven.” She smoothed her hand over his cheek as if erasing the slap. “Still no concussion symptoms?”

He shook his head. “I’m only dizzy about you, Badass Chopper Pilot.”