by Chloe Cox
“And you think that’s why they cancelled the booking?”
He nodded.
And Charlene felt the other shoe drop.
“That’s why Gavin wanted you tagging along!” she said.
“Affirmative.”
“And he didn’t tell me? I’m going to kill him.”
“Understandable.”
For a second, she just stared at him. She felt like she was dreaming. Here was this unbelievably handsome man, square jaw, heavy cheekbones, blazing blue eyes on top of a mountain of muscle. A Dom. The Dom, if she were being honest. And he was standing in her sunroom as the light faded to gold and the setting sun shone in his hair, looking at her like he wanted her while promising to protect her. It was all too perfect. She couldn’t trust it. Especially because when it came to Luke Logan what she really needed was protection from herself.
And now he was telling her that the only two dangerous men she knew in real life, Alan Crennel and The World’s Worst Ex-Husband, might…
“You think there’s a connection,” she said dully. “Between Crennel’s weird wedding sabotage fetish and Jimmy showing up at my front door.”
“It crossed my mind,” he said.
“That’s literally insane,” she said.
Silently, Luke took a step toward her, and she shivered at just the memory of his touch. She would absolutely lose it if he touched her again. She didn’t have the strength left to fight how she felt. But he only pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, his eyes studying her again. Seeing everything.
“It really is insane,” she said again, but she didn’t believe it.
“Not if he’s after something specific,” Luke said.
Charlene looked up and, too late, wished she hadn’t. Because she didn’t want Luke to see the rush of humiliation she felt when she realized that he was right. That her ex-husband was exactly the kind of man to get involved with Crennel, that Jimmy would try to use her for…something. God knew what.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Luke said, his gravelly voice as soft as he could make it. “Crennel is dangerous, and so is your ex.”
Charlene felt something important inside her start to dim. He was right.
“So what am I supposed to do?” she asked. Even though she knew the answer was nothing. There was never anything you could do if Jimmy Walters or any other man like him decided to make you his target.
“You’re not getting it,” Luke said, and this time he was smiling slightly. “You’re not supposed to do anything. Not unless your bodyguard orders you to.”
Now she snapped to attention.
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
“As a heart attack,” Luke said. “I’m not going anywhere, Charlie.”
God, she liked it when he called her that. Only people who knew her real well called her that.
“You have a business,” she said.
“So do you.”
She forced herself to meet his Dom eyes.
“Let me guess,” she said slowly. “It’s not up for discussion?”
Luke grinned, cracking that handsome, craggy face with the one dimple.
“Now you’re getting it,” he said.
Charlene tried to swallow, her mouth dry. She licked her lips. She did anything, anything, while she tried to figure out how to get out of this. Because she would definitely, inevitably, completely lose her mind if Luke Logan insisted on bossing her around for her own safety.
And she couldn’t stop him. Not because she couldn’t say no—Charlene knew that if she were serious, and she asked Luke to leave, he’d be gone. He was a Club Volare Dom, and he didn’t mess around with consent.
No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Because she didn’t want to. Because she did want him. And because when Luke had held her, that was the safest she’d ever felt in her whole damn life.
She glared up at him.
“I’m not your sub,” she said.
He smiled.
“Yet.”
Oh holy shit.
“You are cocky, huh?” she said.
He only raised an eyebrow. A sexy, sexy eyebrow.
“You’ll have to go to lots of stores with lots of frilly things in them,” she warned.
“I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”
Charlene licked her lips again, and that did not help. She knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow, but right now, her body was on fire.
But bodies lie. And she had to be strong.
“Ok for tonight,” she said, because she really was afraid that Jimmy might come back. “And then we’ll revisit.”
“Good. Because I’m putting you to bed.”
“What?”
“Don’t argue,” Luke said, and it was that damn voice again. She had to look at him. She had to listen to it. “You’re exhausted.”
And after he said it, she realized it was true. Again. It had been an emotionally trying twenty-four hours, and the only thing keeping her on her feet was this freaking magnetic attraction to the huge Dom standing over her.
Damn, that was annoying.
“Consider it an order,” he said, and her breath hitched.
She said, “Where are you going to sleep?”
Which was an incredibly dumb question, since it was her house, and she had extra bedrooms.
But Luke just looked at her with that same combination of determination and amusement.
“Down here on the couch,” he said. “Close to the door. Just in case Jimmy gets any ideas.”
And then his eyes softened, and he just watched her, and suddenly Charlene found that she couldn’t breathe. She felt naked. She felt like he could see everything.
“I know you don’t trust anyone, Charlie,” he said. “But you can trust me.”
She blinked, and found she was blinking back tears. She had no idea what to say.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He smiled, just a little bit.
“Now get your ass upstairs,” Luke said. “That is an order.”
Chapter Eight
Luke was up with the sun, restless, needing to move. There was a lot to do if he was going to make Charlene feel safe in her own house again. He put the sunroom back together to a military precision, everything as it was. He did a sweep of the house, put in a call in to Wanda at the company with special instructions, then surveyed the property, all before Charlene was up.
It gave him time to plan, but also to think about his own reaction. He hadn’t hurt her ex the previous day, but he’d damn well wanted to. That part of him that had learned to fight, that had learned to protect at all costs—it was still sharp. Still something he had to watch.
So Luke made damn sure he was there when Charlene did get up, just so she’d know there was someone on watch, even if she didn’t need to know all the things he was watching out for.
“I made coffee,” he said.
And looked up.
Jesus Christ, but that is a beautiful woman.
Her eyes still sleepy, her hair a mess. In tiny little shorts and another shirt with a big scoop neck hanging over one bare shoulder. Luke grabbed his steaming hot coffee mug and inhaled, deeply. Being around this woman was hell on his self-control.
And from the looks of it, she wasn’t prepared either.
“Hi,” she said.
And they stared at each other.
Fuck me.
Charlene blinked, turned away, busied herself with getting a coffee mug. Unconsciously pulled her shirt back over her shoulder, then realized she was doing it—and stopped. That he could see the conflict in her made his Dom instincts light up, and he knew it was strange for her to have someone in her house. Her space. She didn’t know how to deal with it.
“Thank you,” she said while she poured coffee. “Again. For last night. Yesterday.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You’re not
…I mean, we didn’t talk about this at all,” she said, and turned around to lean against the counter, facing him. Still couldn’t meet his eyes, though. “I know you have like, an entire company to run, and I don’t want you to put yourself out just because of my ridiculous drama, and—”
“Stop,” he said.
She did. And she looked up. Immediately.
Goddamn. What he could do with that.
“I’m here because I want to be here, because I want you to be safe,” he said. “I will leave if you want. It’s your house, your boundaries. I’ll respect them. But don’t call yourself ridiculous. And know that if I have a problem, I will take care of it.”
Charlene looked down and tried to fight off a smile.
“Ok, but also a part of me is just wondering, like, logistically, how you’re doing it,” she said. “Because if I’m being honest, I’m totally freaking out about the restaurant right now.”
“I’m an engineer,” he said. “I engineered a company. The damn thing nearly runs on its own.”
“Maybe I need engineering lessons,” Charlene said, shaking her head.
She bit her lip.
Luke thought about all the different kinds of lessons he could give her, and nearly growled.
They stayed like that, a kitchen table between them while the air around them sparked, until a car horn blasted from the driveway, and Charlene nearly jumped out of her skin.
“It’s ok,” Luke said, standing up swiftly, going into protective mode. “That’s Wanda.”
Charlene nodded, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “Who’s Wanda?”
“Wanda’s going to be partner in a construction firm,” Luke said, grinning. “Only I haven’t told her yet. And she’s here because I asked her to bring me a few things to help sort you out. Don’t worry about it.”
Charlene raised her eyebrow and Luke smiled—he knew she thought nothing on Earth could make her not worry. And he knew she was wrong. He could come up with a million ways to make her forget about her worries just off the top of his head.
When she’s ready.
In the meantime, he had work to do.
He winked at Charlene, just for the hell of it, then went outside to meet Wanda. He was careful about how he closed the door, and took another look around the property now that the sun was all the way up. It was a nice piece of land. It was a nice house. And Charlene deserved nice things.
He nodded at Wanda, who was unloading the supplies he’d asked for from the back of the company truck, then something in the garden caught his eye, and he stopped.
That damn cigarette butt.
Jimmy Walters had flicked his cigarette butt into Charlene’s well-tended, well-loved garden, and it was still there. Luke remembered the look on her face when Jimmy had exhaled on her, and felt the reaction down to his bones. He knew what it was like to have a smell do that to you. Trigger all those memories, those feelings. Ironically, it was why he’d started smoking when he was younger—to cover up the combination of beer and whiskey in his father’s house.
Well, he didn’t need it now. He’d thrown his own cigarettes out without much thought. But he hadn’t taken care of this last piece of evidence.
He bent down, picked up the butt, put it in his pocket to throw away later. No way that son of a bitch was going to leave his garbage in Charlene’s life anymore.
“You get everything?” he called out to Wanda.
“‘Course,” Wanda said. “You gonna tell me why you need all this stuff? Or what’s happening? Or—”
He grinned. “Relax, grasshopper,” he said. “All in good time.”
Wanda rolled her eyes.
“I mean, I can tell what this stuff is for, but when did we get a contract to make some lady’s house into Fort Knox?”
“We didn’t,” he said. “This is personal. And I’m going to be hands-off for a little while.”
“What does that mean?”
She was nervous. Luke smiled—Wanda had no reason to be nervous. She’d handled herself on construction crews without his help, and she was brilliant. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner to help grow his business, to free him up to do more of the stuff he loved. But even if he knew all that, Wanda didn’t yet. She still doubted herself.
The only way she was going to see she was ready is if he threw her in the deep end.
“That means you’re going to be running the show for a little while,” Luke said. “You still call me, check in. I’ll be around. But we only have a few projects right now. It’s the perfect time.”
Wanda looked at him wide-eyed for a second, then put her game face on.
“Got it,” she said. “And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “You unload everything?”
“Almost.”
Luke heard the door behind him, and turned around to see a bewildered Charlene on the front porch. He looked back at the pile of electronics equipment Wanda had piled at her feet. Yeah, that might look a little weird.
“Hi!” Wanda said. “I’m Wanda.”
“Hi,” Charlene said. “I’m Charlene. And confused. What is all of this?”
“This is how we make sure you never feel unsafe in your own home ever again,” Luke said.
He was installing a security system. Not just that—a security system that he designed. Luke had tried to explain it to her, but when he started talking about the custom app he was going to make for her phone to control all these gizmos and everything, she’d known she was in over her head.
“So wait, it contacts the police?”
“If you want.”
“That seems…” Charlene swallowed. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Luke gave her that look, that Dom look that said he didn’t want to hear her talk about being trouble again.
“I can have it contact me first, if you want,” Luke said. “You can have an option. Put whoever you want in there.”
Charlene had nodded and then gone back inside to finish feeling overwhelmed. It was almost impossible not to feel overwhelmed around Luke. She had like two minutes max before being around him would start to overload every neuron and synapse in her brain, and then she started to worry that her clothes were about to melt right off her body, and then there would just be no fighting it.
That man was dangerous.
Because he had her feeling safe. And protected. And he did it all while being very…Dommy. And then Charlene found herself wanting to be helpful, and it was all very, very confusing. Because while Jimmy never had quite this effect on her, he had been her husband, and her Dom. And that Jimmy had showed up at her house still terrified her, and…
And was an excellent reminder of why Charlene couldn’t really trust herself or BDSM.
So Charlene had fled inside while Luke did whatever it was he was doing outside, and she’d buried herself in wedding planning and restaurant stuff and charity planning. It’s not like she didn’t have work to do. It’s just that she was finding it somewhat hard to concentrate.
Because she could see him through the kitchen window, digging holes and rigging up wires and such. Working hard, in the sun.
And he had taken his shirt off.
Oh Lord.
That was just entirely unfair. And Charlene knew she was kind of running away, mentally, from the stress of the past few days, but good Lord did Luke make that easy to do.
The man was built like…she didn’t know if she’d ever seen anything like him in real life. He looked like one of those athletes on television, his muscles sliding and straining under the skin, his whole body moving with animal confidence. The sweat dripping down his back, the sun glinting off his shoulders…
Oh my God, it must be a hundred degrees out there.
And she hadn’t done anything. Charlene was mortified. She got a tray and then couldn’t decide between sweet tea or lemonade or water, and then just put all three of them on there—the man should have as many drinks as he wanted—and a towel, and, and, and…
She practically ran out the door.
And then at the sound of the door closing behind her, he looked up, and she nearly dropped that tray to the floor.
The sun fizzed through his hair, danced in his eyes. Showed in deep relief every single muscle it was possible to have on a human body. Let her see, in detail, the fine hairs on his chest, trailing all the way down to the defined V at the bottom of his eight-pack abs. Charlene didn’t think she could speak.
“Thanks,” he said, and picked up the pitcher of tea. Just drank straight from it.
Muscles in his throat moving, his Adam’s apple, his…
“What’s wrong?” he said, putting the pitcher down. He was studying her again, with that intense Dom gaze. It felt like he had x-ray vision. Like she had to answer.
“I’m not your sub,” she blurted out.
Luke looked at her, smiled. Wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“Now why do you think you have to keep reminding me of that, Charlie?” he asked.
“Because,” Charlene said without thinking, “you act like…”
“Like a Dom,” he said.
She forced herself to look at him. Good Lord, his eyes were hypnotizing.
“Yes,” she said. “Like a Dom.”
“I am a Dom.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“And that’s a problem for you,” Luke said. He was smiling now.
Charlene felt like she’d walked into a trap.
“It’s…complicated,” she said.
“You sure about that?” Luke said.
Charlene had no idea what to say. Even if she had, her brain wasn’t paying attention.
Goddamn, that grin is sexy.
“I have to go inside,” she mumbled, then stared at her own empty hands in horror. It took her what felt like a full second to actually get her feet moving, to turn around and walk back toward her own front door.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She should be freaking out about Jimmy. She was freaking out about Jimmy, even as she made her way back into her kitchen, the heart of her house. It was just that freaking out about Jimmy didn’t look the way she always thought it would. Instead it looked a lot like crushing on Luke Logan.