Claiming His Treasure

Chapter Three

"Your strap fell," he said.

Oh. On their layover at Gatwick Airport, she'd taken the opportunity to purchase something other than her ratty sweats to wear, but the options had been limited. She'd finally settled on a tank dress with "LONDON" printed across the chest, but it was at least a size too big.

She reached for the strap, but Jackson had finally decided to move. Her fingers brushed his, and she yanked her hand away while he fixed the strap himself. And then he lingered, letting his rough, calloused thumb rest against the bare skin of her shoulder.

When she tilted her face up, she saw a look she knew all too well. A look that even now made her stomach flip-flop. Jackson had never been afraid to make it clear when he wanted something. And the want in his eyes right now was as intense and as raw as it had been the very first time he'd grabbed her and crushed her against him in need. It was the same look he'd shown her on that very last night, when he'd made love to her as if the world were ending before disappearing into the dawn without a word.

No.

She jerked away from him, stumbling backwards away from that touch. From that look.

"Charlie," he said, and there was something in his voice—a rawness, an edge—that made her shiver.

She backed away another step. "I can't."

"You can't what?" There was a touch of humor in his voice now, though his eyes were still dark with hunger. Suddenly, he frowned. "You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

"No," she admitted. "But that doesn't matter." Honestly, she'd only been on a handful of dates since Jackson had left her—and none of them had been good. But he wasn't allowed to walk back into her life after all these months and act like he still wanted her. He had left her.

She could feel him staring at her, though she'd dropped her eyes to her sandals—another airport purchase—and shifted further away. In her mind, she could still see those handwritten words he'd left her: I hope you find that man who can love and support you the way you deserve to be loved and supported. I'm sorry I ever let you believe that man might be me.

He'd walked away. Broken her heart. And given her the biggest bullshit explanation in the history of bullshit explanations. She refused to put herself through that again.

"Charlie," he said, softer this time. He closed the distance between them once more, and her heart nearly stopped.

Be strong, she told herself, though she was finding it hard to move or speak.

But a car suddenly stopped at the curb in front of them, and a man climbed out. Jackson went on the alert immediately, spinning around and placing himself between her and the new arrival.

But almost as quickly as he'd tensed up, his shoulders relaxed.

"Leo," he said with a laugh. "Fuck, man. You scared the shit out of me."

"Well, good morning to you, too." The other man came up and clapped Jackson on the back, grinning. Even considering the very complicated things Charlotte was feeling toward Jackson right now, it was hard not to notice how attractive this stranger was—and it didn't help that he was wearing nothing but a pair of tattered khaki shorts. He'd clearly spent a lot of time in the sun, and his deep tan only emphasized the hard planes of his wide chest. His dark, wavy hair flopped across his eyes.

And then those eyes moved to her.

"So this is her, is it?" he said, still grinning as he looked her up and down. "The little troublemaker?"