Free Heir Untamed by Danielle Bourdon Page A

and swallowed.
    Chey wondered if Sander was involved with anyone, a thought that struck her out of the blue. There were no signs a woman lived here with him, which meant little to nothing. He could be dating someone outside the compound, preferring to meet up with her on his off time away from the castle. A quick check of his left hand turned up no ring on his finger. It wasn't concrete proof that he was single, but it indicated he wasn't married, at least. Feeling the weight of his stare, she glanced up from her plate to find him watching her.
    Holding his eyes, she let the chemistry between them build until the air all but sizzled. Unable to deny the attraction, she finally concentrated on finishing her lunch. What were the odds that she would run into two attractive men on this trip? Mattias had the intrigue of Royalty going for him and Sander...was just Sander. Blunt, abrupt, cocky, self assured. Although they had a rocky start, she found herself enjoying his company more 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