Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,24

and more.

Sliding off the seat, Chey ferried her plate and glass to the sink. Rinsing it along with her glass, she set each in the dishwasher, helping herself to his facilities. He'd made it, the least she could do was clean up.

Stepping up behind her, right at her back, he leaned over to set his plate and glass in the sink. The dishwasher still open at her side, Chey froze when he leaned so close. She could feel the heat bleeding off his body, the warmth of his breath graze her throat. It was dizzying.

“Did they give you a phone?” he asked, bracing a hand against the counter. He didn't move otherwise, crowding her space by the sink.

Chey stayed facing forward, looking out the little window with a view of the trees. “Yes, they did.”

“Here. Let me give you my number and I'll take yours. That way, I can contact you directly and we can plan the canoeing trip.”

She glanced aside and up. Sander studied her eyes, a back and forth tick before dipping to her mouth. Chey would have bet half her paycheck that Sander was about to kiss her. Did she want him to? The man who had tackled her off the horse, the man she'd just slapped only yesterday?

Or was she reading too much into it?

“All right. I just need to grab—oh. It's with my camera equipment. In one of the bags.” It took all Chey's willpower to keep her gaze on his and not glance at his mouth.

“Not to worry. I'll write mine down. Shoot me a text later and then I'll save yours to my phone.” He grinned, all teeth and sudden charm. Turning away, he opened a smaller drawer in the kitchen and took out a notepad along with a pen. With slanting, sharp script, he wrote down his number, tore the paper off, and handed it to her.

Chey watched Sander the whole time. How his muscles played under the shirt, the ease with which he moved. He was entirely too distracting. Accepting the paper, she glanced down at it, before folding it twice and sliding it into the front pocket of her jeans. “Thanks.”

He put the pad and pen back and closed the drawer. “Thank me when we're on the river.” Winking, he started clearing the remains of their meal off the counter.

“Here, I'll help--” Interrupted by a series of hard knocks—two short, followed by three more—Chey glanced at the door.

Sander set down the plates in his hands and drew his gun before the second knock rang through the cabin. His demeanor changed, becoming predatory and alert. There must have been a signal in the pattern of the knocks because he lowered his weapon and held it down against his thigh.

“They're here early. C'mon. Don't worry about this. I'll get it,” he said, indicating the left over dishes.

“I thought I had another couple hours?” Chey discovered she was disappointed to be leaving earlier than planned.

“You sound disappointed you won't be staying,” he pointed out with a devilish grin.

Chey scoffed and followed him toward the door. “I wanted to hear more about the trip and what things I might be photographing.”

“Mhm.” He didn't sound convinced. At the door, he issued brisk words in his mother tongue. A sharp answer came from the other side. Swinging the door open, he traded another few terse sentences with a man dressed in a dark business suit. After a moment, Sander nodded once, a curt gesture, then glanced at Chey. “He'll drive you back to the castle.”

The suited man glanced from Sander to Chey, then stepped aside to indicate he wanted her to go first. Parked not far from the cabin, a rugged Jeep sat with the engine idling. Chey hadn't heard it pull up.

“All right. Thanks again for...everything.” Chey glanced once more at Sander, who cut her a brief smile, and stepped out to the porch.

From there, the suited man escorted her to the Jeep, head on a swivel to study his surroundings, and opened the door to the passenger side. Chey climbed in with a murmur of gratitude for his help. He closed the door with a quiet thump, rounded the nose of the Jeep, and got in. Chey watched Sander, who stood in the open doorway, until the Jeep swerved around and headed away down a narrow path in the opposite direction.

Questions about the intentions of the shooter lurked in the back of her mind all the way back to the castle.

Chapter Five

Chey stood in