by J. K Harper
Stepping away from the journal and the table, he looked at Lacey. She felt herself swirling into the depths of his fascinating eyes as the tingling bits of her body told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't really in control at all. Oh, wait. No, he meant the exhibit. She would be in control of the exhibit. The one she was standing in right now. Of course.
“Absolutely, Mr. Bernal.” Her voice didn't even shake as she answered him. That had always been one of her face-saving little quirks in life—her voice never betrayed her nerves, not even when she'd been defending her bold, unprecedented dissertation in grad school. The one that her advisors had thought was either brilliant or a disgrace.
The one that had gotten her noticed by Sebastian Bernal and led her to this very moment. This moment of genuinely wet heat between her legs as one of the richest men in the world, one of the biggest playboys, and definitely the most mysteriously intriguing man she'd ever met, stared at her with eyes filled with a dark promise of sensuous fulfillment that teased her dreams every night.
The sort of fulfillment that would only get her heart broken and make her lose her beloved job in the best case scenario.
Tipping her chin up and forcing herself to look as accomplished and in control as she could at 2a.m. after a long, exhausting day, she said, “Have a good trip. I'll see you Saturday night.”
The faintest etching of a grin shadowed his lips. “You will indeed.” He turned and began to stride back down the hallway, then paused and swung back to her. “Oh, and Ms. Whitman?”
“Yes?” Her heart thumped like the dumb thing it was as his broad shoulders filled her vision again.
“Wear something to match your curves. I'd very much enjoy seeing them on display as well.”
Unable to stop herself because it was late and she was both tired and caught off-guard, Lacey gaped at him.
“You don't show them off nearly as much as you should.” His gaze, still that of the world-renowned Casanova he was, took a leisurely track of her body from head to toe and back again. “Good night, Ms. Whitman.”
With that, he left for real, taking all the air in the room with him and leaving Lacey almost gasping from the innuendo.
Head ping-ponging, Lacey gave up on staying any later. Time to go home. To her lonely bed—and, she knew without a doubt, some seriously sexy thoughts about the powerful, and powerfully hot, man who'd totally soaked her panties again, without even touching her.
Chapter Five
Sebastian crossed his arms as he waited for Ash's response. His expectations were not disappointed.
"Damn, Sebastian." Ash gave a low whistle as he shook his head in admiration. "You've been very busy these last several years, haven't you?"
Satisfied, Sebastian nodded as he reverently reached out to stroke the gold piece closest to them. A hefty gold cross bedecked with sparkling, colorful gems, it had been a gift from Queen Isabella of Spain to the Bernal family back in the 17th century. Sebastian's great-grandfather many times removed was one of those exploring the New World for the glory of Spain. Of course, neither his queen or anyone else knew that as a dragon shifter, he had quite an advantage over most of the other explorers of the time. In her gratitude for all that Sebastian's many times removed ancestor had done for the crown, the queen had bestowed many riches upon the Bernal family during her reign.
Riches that had been stolen amidst ugly bloodshed in the very early 1900s during what was the darkest period of the Bernal family lineage. Yet Sebastian had managed to repatriate many of the stolen artifacts since, including the sizable cross that he'd manage to buy back from Malcolm Kerberos in San Francisco the other night. It pained him to use part of his own fortune to pay for his own family's belongings, but he'd made a vow to his parents before their untimely deaths that he would do everything in his power to get back the precious items that were not merely dazzling pieces of gold so desired by most dragons.
These objects were imbued with a power far deeper than that. The loss of which power had led to his parents' subsequent weakening and slow, painful deaths when Sebastian was barely out of childhood.
If he didn't recover the entire Bernal hoard, Sebastian himself was in danger of the same fate.
"It's tough being an undercover agent," he said, earning a chuckle from his still enamored best friend, who was taking visual catalog of the rest of the carefully displayed items in Sebastian's most private, secure room at his family's ancestral hacienda well south of L.A. "But it's been worth it. You understand why."
Ash nodded, his expression going grave. As fire dragon shifters, Ash Connolly's family was just as old and powerful as Sebastian's. The ethnic lineage was quite different, however. Ash was of pure Irish ancestry, although his particular branch of the family had called America their home for well over a century now.
One only had to look at the right-hand side of Ash's face, which even in the presence of his best friend he kept carefully turned away, to see how well Ash understood the true power of a dragon's private hoard. Or rather, what the loss of that hoard could mean. Ugly, misshapen scars ran from his scalp down his neck to disappear under his shirt. Sebastian knew perfectly well that the burn scars ran all the way down the entire side of his friend's body. He had been there during the horrific event that had scarred Ash for life. It was an event that insured Ash would have a reminder for the rest of his days that some choices were, indeed, worse than others.
"Well," Ash said, his lighter tone indicating a change in the direction of the conversation, "I'm suitably impressed. How many more artifacts to go?"
"Only one more." Sebastian's voice was grim.
Ash glanced at Sebastian, his left eyebrow raising even though the right eyebrow couldn't follow suit. "I had no idea you were so close. Do you have any idea where it is?"
Sebastian shook his head. "No. Well, I have a suspicion that bastard Malcolm Kerberos knows something about it." His expression darkened again at the thought of the under-handed, truly evil dragon shifter who pretty much ruled Northern California. "I've tried to sniff it out of him the past several years, but of course I can't appear too interested. That will set off his alarm bells. He'd either figure it out, or demand a price so outrageous it could actually bankrupt me."
Ash snorted. "Not sure that would ever be possible, Seb." He used Sebastian's childhood nickname, which made Sebastian roll his eyes. Ash and the hacienda caretakers, who had raised Sebastian after his parents died, were the only ones in the world ever allowed to call him that without fear of reprisal. "He's got to know perfectly well that you have hidden accounts around the world, just like every dragon shifter. You're worth a hell of a lot more than anyone truly realizes." He gave his friend a shrewd look at that, shaking his head as a half grin pulled up the working side of his face.
True enough. All dragon shifters used human-run bank accounts for various reasons, most commonly so they could blend in with the ways of the modern world. But there were shifter-only run firms at which no human could ever open an account. Those firms housed the true wealth of all dragons. Excepting, of course, the private hoards each dragon kept securely locked away at some locale or other. Ancient habits died hard, not to mention the reasons for the actual power behind the legendary keeping of gold by dragons.
"True," Sebastian admitted. "Even so, I just can't afford for him to get suspicious at this point. If he figures it out, he'll be able to destroy me."
A long, grim silenced stretch between the two as they quietly surveyed Sebastian's secret hoard. Then Ash shrugged. "For all his wily ways, you're a hell of a lot smarter than that bastard, Sebastian. And more patient. So. How's the nightlife going lately?" He wagged his eyebrow up and down in a lascivious manner, causing Sebastian to chuckle.
Clapping his hand on his friend's back, Sebastian gestured towards the door. They exited, and he very carefully set the wards that made it secure against any shifter before they headed out to the sweeping veranda that encircled the stunning hacienda that had housed the Bernal family since t
he late 1700s. "I have a hell of a nightlife. Gold aplenty to gaze upon, the company that allows me to pursue my passions, wine, women, and song every night, and not a care in the world. It's a dragon's life, right?"
Ash laughed, although there was the slightest wistful undertone that caught Sebastian's sympathy every time. Ash had been a hell of a handsome guy before his disfigurement. Ever since then, even though his massive wealth would still make him a catch for many women, Ash had shunned all female company. He kept himself fairly hidden away from the entire world. Many dragons had solitary lives anyway. Ash seemed to be somewhat content with his lot. Even so, Sebastian knew his friend craved genuine female company. The kind that would never judge him.
Sebastian knew better, though. He'd experienced the worst of women. They all judged, and they easily found him lacking. It had taught him to never trust them except strictly in bed.
Thoughts of a tousled mass of golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and teasing, luscious curves that tormented his dreams every night, even when he was with other women, surged to the surface. He felt his dragon rumble deep inside him again, but he sternly forced it down. Never again.
"Indeed it is," Ash said agreeably, gazing out over the sprawling, vast lands of the Bernal estate. "Still playing the field of an endless parade of Hollywood beauties?"
Sebastian chuckled as they seated themselves on the spacious cedar wood Adirondack chairs on the veranda. He poured them each a brandy from his private collection. "You know it." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded overly cheerful. He caught Ash's inquisitive glance but ignored it. "New lady every night. That's all the silly things are good for."
"I happen to know you have some very brilliant women working for you, Sebastian.” Ash's voice sharpened. “Don't pretend to be a jerk around me. I know you better than that."
Taking a long sniff of the enticing aroma from the hundred-year-old brandy, Sebastian shrugged in feigned nonchalance. "For me personally, that's all they're good for." Ignoring his dragon's disagreeing rumble deep inside, he took a long, luxurious sip of the brandy, holding it in his mouth as the rich taste exploded across his tongue. "A willing woman at night, and a good brandy with my best friend on my day off. Oh, fine," he snapped with some exasperation as Ash still eyeballed him. "Of course there are brilliant women working for me. There are brilliant women in the world, and there are definitely many women out there who are good for far more than a night's tumble. I acknowledge that. But not for me."
Another slightly uncomfortable beat passed before Ash said, point-blank as usual, "They're not all like Melusine.”
Just hearing that wretched name was enough to make Sebastian grind his teeth.
Folding his arms across his chest, Ash went on, “She was a truly nasty piece of work. You just haven't met a good woman yet. The right one.”
“Oh, spare me that crap.” Sebastian glared at his brandy. “Not every shifter meets his mate. I neither want nor need one of those.”
Ash stayed silent for a moment. He wasn't in a position to argue that particular point, in any case. Yet, observant as always, he pressed on with the one thing Sebastian couldn't deny. “Fine. But what about that one who works for you? The one you tell me understands the family history? The one you hired because of her, and I quote,” and here Ash emphasized with actual finger air quotes, “'brilliant mind as well as sharp grasp of the nuances of how the historical legacy left by my ancestors' people continues to shape this state today'?”
Sebastian frowned. He'd said precisely those words in a New York Times article from last year that had announced Lacey's new position at the Center. “You and that photographic memory of yours are really a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?”
Ash shrugged. “Could be. But really, it's why you keep me around. So you don't forget anything. Besides,” he added, giving Sebastian a searching look, “you gushed about her a bit more than you usually do about hires who are somewhat down the hierarchy. She's not even a department head. It was pretty easy to tell you were more interested in her than you wanted anyone to actually realize.”
Just thinking about Lacey and her genuine love for his own family's history, let alone those luscious curves, was again enough to derail Sebastian's thoughts momentarily. He had to get that woman into bed. It had never taken him this long before. Then again, he did respect the fact that he didn't want to lose her as a valuable employee of the Bernal Center.
If only she wasn't so damned beautiful. So damned enticing in a way he still couldn't fully explain. “Well,” he growled, battling away the thoughts of her, “you're wrong.”
Ash laughed, taking another sip of his brandy. “Fine, my friend. Whatever you say. So,” he added, knowing Sebastian well enough to understand that while he'd made his point, the subject wouldn't go any farther at the moment, “Madrid later today?”
“Yes.” Eager to move the conversation away from the vexing, utterly captivating woman he couldn't seem to keep off his mind, Sebastian thankfully grabbed the opportunity to move the talk away from her and her highly distracting, exquisite existence.
Chapter Six
Lacey awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of her phone chirping at her. She ignored it for a moment before suddenly snapping up her head, trying to focus her bleary eyes on the arms of the beautiful old clock nestled atop the desk across from her bed. It was just before 11a.m. She didn't feel completely rested despite the late hour. Then again, she hadn't gotten home until three in the morning from her final nitpicking at the exhibit. Glancing at her phone, she frowned at the flashing PRIVATE on its face. It kept ringing. Suddenly fearful one of the higher-ups at the museum was calling to tell her something terrible had happened, she lunged at it, swiping her finger across the screen to answer.
"This is Lacey Whitman," she said in a voice that sounded nothing at all like one belonging to someone who'd just woken up moments before. She'd always had the ability to sound cultured and in control at almost any moment, even if that wasn't remotely close to the truth.
"Hello." The deep, dark rumbling voice on the line made every single female thing Lacey had clench in a delighted quiver. Sebastian. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since the other night. Just thinking about their interaction now intensified the warm flush sweeping through her body.
"Did I wake you?" The caress of his voice through the telephone was like a rich molasses flowing over Lacey's skin. Despite the heat the mere sound of his voice sent through her body, a cool shiver of excitement rippled through her as well.
"Of course not," she lied through her teeth. "The exhibit opening is tonight. I'm—in the middle of last minute preparations." She rolled her eyes at herself as she glanced down at her rumpled bed, in which she lay wearing nothing more than a tank top and a cute pair of boy shorts.
"Somehow, I don't think that's quite the case at the moment." His knowing tone made the thrilled shivers intensify. "I know you were at the museum extremely late again last night. I'm also enjoying thinking about you possibly just waking up right now. Imagining you in your bed."
Was the man a mindreader? Lacey swallowed hard as she thought of Sebastian thinking of her in bed. "Mr. Bernal," she began, voice still steady and cool despite the leap of her pulse.
"Sebastian," he said. His voice dropped another notch, sounding both serious and devilishly teasing at once. "You want me to call you Lacey, you must call me Sebastian. Especially when we are alone at the moment, so to speak.” His voice lowered even more, teasing her very nerve endings. “I'm bringing something back from Madrid for you."
A long, charged moment filled with crackling energy held space between them. Lacey caught her breath as a dozen thoughts rattled around her head at once. Suddenly, Sebastian's low laugh filled her ear.
“Don't get too excited, Lacey.” Despite his words, his tone wrapped around her name again in a way that pretty much made her legs shake, even though she was still lying down. “It's something related to work. I think you will very much appreciate it.
It's a token of my thanks for the excellent work you have done for the Center so far.”
“Oh.” Why did she feel so disappointed in that very sensible answer? She was the one worried about him coming onto her. About his playboy reputation. About her own job security. She wanted this to just be professional, right? “Well, I look forward to seeing what it is.”
Another short, deep laugh. "Good. I do very much look forward to seeing you this evening, Lacey. You've done an outstanding job on the exhibit. I want to see you shine on its opening night."
Her skin prickled again, this time with a combination of desire as well as a rush of gratitude at his sincere approval. Knowing that she had done well not just for her own sense of accomplishment, for the museum's glory, or even just for one of the last living descendants of an ancient line, but for Sebastian himself, filled her with a heady sort of pride.
"I'll see you this evening. Lacey," he added again in the deep rumble of his voice. It somehow managed to reach through the phone, drop straight between Lacey's legs, and nuzzle her right there, causing a sensation of heavy softness that was achingly aware of how badly it wanted to be touched. To be really touched—by him.
Swallowing as she squirmed slightly on her bed, Lacey managed to utter a crisp goodbye before he hung up. Wide-awake now despite the few hours of sleep she had managed to grab, she lay in her bed with her thoughts still awhirl. Her body shivered from the delirious non-touch of his voice.
Just as she was about to motivate herself to swing her feet to the floor and get going, her phone buzzed again. She glanced at it and saw an email from a dealer she often had been in touch with over the past year. The subject line of "New Californio piece needs authentication" had her sitting up straight in bed and opening the email to read. A private client the dealer often worked with had a piece he wanted to authenticate before he decided how and to whom to sell it. The dealer would be in Los Angeles early the following week. Would Lacey possibly be available to help him authenticate the item? He was fairly certain it was genuine, but being as she was one of the few up-and-coming experts in the field, he really wanted her to have a look at it herself.