And damn, she was sexy tonight, too. She was just a friend, but she was rocking her costume. A sticker-covered pink-and-purple helmet topped her curly pigtails, and her dress was a short and tiny purple skating costume with a pleated skirt that did nothing to cover her panties. She wore striped pink-and-purple stockings up to her thighs and kneepads and elbow pads, and looked every inch the part of a hot roller derby girl.
Well, except for the black eye. That was distressing.
But she grinned as she skated up to him and then turned so she could stand at his side. “Yeah, it’s a legit black eye. I ran into an elbow. Got myself a shiner.”
She sounded so casual about the abuse. It worried him, even though it wasn’t his place to bring it up. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m cool.” Chelsea’s gaze swung out over the party. “It is wall-to-wall in here tonight. I thought Hunter wasn’t social?”
“He’s not, but it seems like Gretchen is determined to let the entire world know that she loves the man.”
Chelsea looked over at him and chuckled. “She’s proud of him.”
He fought back the flare of lust at that knowing look she sent him. She was a friend, and she’d made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He wasn’t either—not really. He was still shuddering from Lisa’s ambush the other day. But her dress was slightly open in the front, revealing some enticing cleavage, and her ass was incredible in the spanky panties she wore underneath her teeny skirt. He was a guy. He couldn’t help it if he was aroused at the sight of a sexy woman, even if she’d friend-zoned him. “Nice outfit.”
“Thanks,” she said, gazing out on the crowd. “Borrowed it from a buddy.” She scanned the room and edged closer to him when a few guys gave her hot looks in passing. “I like your costume, too. What are you?”
“Guess.”
Her gaze moved over him, the nerdy, button-up shirt with the pocket protector he wore, the ill-fitting slacks. The slicked down hair and heavy glasses with tape in the middle. He fished a calculator out of his pocket and held it up, then gave her an expectant look. Chelsea’s nose wrinkled. “Someone from that TV show with the guys? Big Bang Theory?”
“Wrong. I’m a mathlete.” He’d deliberately gone for something unattractive and low-key in the hopes of avoiding attention. So far, it’d been a big bust, too. He was still a little too famous for his own good, and the ladies here tonight were on the prowl.
Chelsea looked him up and down, and then began giggling behind one sports glove. “Mathlete? Are you serious?”
“What, do I not look sufficiently intelligent?” He would not be wounded by her laughter, especially not when it was so charmingly adorable. He found himself grinning at her.
“A mathlete with these guns? Please.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed his muscles. “You’re too built.”
“I am perversely flattered and offended all at once,” he said in a lofty voice, pocketing his calculator once more.
“You should be,” she teased. Her hand still on his arm, she gave the room a worried look. “Man, it’s crowded.”
“Not a big fan of parties?” He was surprised at that. She seemed so effortlessly comfortable in her own skin.
A waiter passed by with glasses of champagne, and she deliberately turned away from him. She wrinkled her nose and looked at Sebastian instead. “It feels more like a meat market than a get-together with friends. I think I saw a Sexy Elmo earlier.”
“I think she showed up with Sexy Cookie Monster and Sexy Chewbacca.”
She leaned in close, and he noticed she smelled of cherries. “They’re stealing all my ideas. Here I’d wanted to be Sexy Chewbacca. Thank goodness I went home and changed, eh?”
He grinned. “The horror of being the same sultry Wookiee as another woman.”
“I know.” She shifted on her skates and then leaned in again, her breast brushing against his arm. “Thank goodness I wore skates. I can make a quick getaway if anyone tries to lay some moves on me.” She grimaced. “Again.”
“Let me guess, accosted as soon as you walked through the door?” He wouldn’t be surprised. Though there were girls in skimpier outfits here tonight, Chelsea looked incredible. He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only man in the room who couldn’t stop staring at her ass, black eye or no black eye.
She nodded and sighed. “It’s like you can’t wear what you want without expecting some jackass to leer at you.”
Damn. He was doing his best not to leer himself. But if she didn’t want her incredibly fine ass stared at, he’d defend her. “Want me to put an arm around you so we can be each other’s Safety Date?”
She slid her hand around his waist and looped her fingers into one of his belt loops. “That sounds incredible. Thank you, Sebastian.”
“Hey, I benefit, too. The last thing I want is Sexy Cookie Monster showing up after three champagnes and wanting me to show her my Big Bird.”
Chelsea giggled again.
He slid an arm around her waist and she sighed with contentment. “I really appreciate this, Sebastian.” She leaned her helmeted head on his arm and then looked up at him, the picture of an adoring girlfriend. It was a good fake-out. She was actually really damn good at looking attentive. “Should I call you Bastian?”
“Only if you want me to call you El-sea.”
“Sebby?”
“Chelly?”
Her snickers turned into full blown snorts of laughter. “Do you not have a nickname?”
“My mother calls me Nugget. Now you see why I hate nicknames.”
“Aw, Nugget’s adorable. Was it because you were a fat baby?”
He gave her a baleful look, for a moment forgetting all about the party that surged around them. “Are you kidding? She started calling me that four years ago.”
Chelsea’s horrified laughter was smothered behind a gloved hand. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. My mother is very big about making her show entertaining.”
“I’ve never watched it.”
“There’s very little reality in her reality show. Unless you’re heavy into designers and rich women getting into fights at the nail salon, you’re not missing much.”
“It sounds awful.”
“That’s because it is awful.”
“Is that why you’re hiding in the corner with me?”
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you just quote Jane Austen at me?”
“I did.”
“And you’re single how?” she teased. “I swear ovaries just melted everywhere.”
“One of my sisters is a huge fan.” He grimaced. “Was. Was a huge fan. They made her change it to something trendier for the show. Now she’s obsessed with sparkly vampires because they were paid to promote it.”
“I thought . . .”
“That we’re rich? We are. My sisters have trust funds, and my brother and I are inheriting more than any human should. They don’t need money. They just like the attention.”
“Oh.” She tried not to look revolted at the thought and failed. “And let me guess, everyone that you date wants to be on the show?”
Someone actually got it. For the second time since meeting Chelsea, he was shocked at how astute she was. “Bingo. They don’t want me, they want a man-sized ticket to notoriety.”
Chelsea gave a delicate shudder. “You poor thing. Don’t worry. I only want you for appearances.” She patted his arm.
“Which is why we’re perfect together.” He nodded at a distant table full of food. “Enough about my mother. You want something to eat?”
“God, I would love that.” She gave him a grateful look and released his arm. “I haven’t eaten anything all day and I feel like I could chew the arm off of the next guy that comes up and asks me if I’m a skating stripper.”
He laughed. “You want to come with or continue to hide back here?”
Her expression brightened. “Can I hide? Will you hate me if I do?”
She looked so pleased at the thought of remaining in the corner that he couldn’t deny her. “I won’t hate you. I can get you a plate. What do you want?”
“One of everything.” She patted her flat stomach. “No girly appetite here.”
Sebastian grinned. “All right, I’ll be back. And . . . champagne?”
Her expression grew a little distant. “No alcohol, actually. Just water for me.”
Interesting. “Water it is. Be right back.”
Sebastian made his way through the crowd, and as he did, he found himself constantly greeting friends or avoiding couples who were already in the process of hooking up. Chelsea was right—it was a big meat market here tonight. Even the bridesmaids and groomsmen were hooking up. He watched Magnus disappear into the gardens after a pirate girl, and Greer was currently plastered to Asher.
Unless, of course, they were also safety dates for each other. He glanced back at Greer and Asher and saw Asher stick his tongue down the tiny woman’s throat, his hands cupping her ass through her spangly costume.
Nope. That was definitely not a safety date. Never mind, then. He was relieved he and Chelsea were on the same wavelength, at least. He grabbed a tiny plate and started piling it high with food. There were all kinds of snacks, from sweet to savory, and three kinds of shrimp. He wondered if she had any allergies, and glanced back where he’d left her.
Two guys had approached her—not surprising given her bright yet sexy costume. But instead of the polite disinterest he expected to see on her face, she looked downright panicked. Her back was pressed against the wall and the look in her eyes was not one of interest but of helpless fear. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she looked ready to hit someone.
And his protective instincts surged. Ignoring the person who tried to get his attention, he tucked the plate against his chest and muscled his way back through the crowd toward her. One of the guys leaned in, and just as he did, Sebastian swooped between the men and Chelsea. “Here you go, Snookums.” He leaned in and pressed the plate of food into her hands, and to stake his “claim” he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Then he looped a hand around her waist and gave the men a challenging look. “New friends?”
“We were just leaving,” the one dressed as a baseball player said. He nudged his buddy and they wandered away.
Chelsea had a blank look on her face, and she shoved one of the mini cupcakes into her mouth. “Thanks.”
“You okay?” Sebastian studied her, and she seemed . . . strange. Like she’d shut down all the fun she was having earlier.
“I’m good.” She chewed and gave him a close-lipped smile. “Appreciate the save.”
Again, he wondered at her black eye and the brief flicker of terror he’d seen on her face when the guys cornered her. “You sure?”
“Yep. Thanks for the food. You want some?” She offered the plate to him but couldn’t look him in the eye.
Now his protective instinct was in an all-out war with common sense. It was more than just a guy looking out for a girl. He liked Chelsea as a person, and she seemed to be struggling. And a weird sort of idea blossomed in his mind.
He dismissed it.
Looked at her again as she nibbled on a cookie.
The idea wouldn’t go away.
Sebastian kept considering it. Chelsea was perfect for him in a lot of ways—the biggest being that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He needed a relationship to get Lisa off his back . . . but didn’t want one.
He studied Chelsea’s black eye and the way she nervously eyed the crowd. Gone was her ease, and she moved a little closer to him when he put his arm back around her waist.
She trusted him. He wondered if she’d be up for the nutty plan that kept running through his mind. Won’t know unless you ask, his mind whispered. So he leaned in again when the music started for a new song, and again, the scent of cherries touched his nose. Why did she have to smell so damn good? It was distracting. “You want to escape to a balcony or something?”
The look she gave him was utter relief. “That sounds awesome.” She handed her plate off to a server, licked her thumb, and smiled at him.
And he was going to have mental images of her licking her thumb all night, wasn’t he? Then he thought of the way she’d stiffened in utter fear and chided himself for being a jerk. It was clear she was afraid of some guy, and Sebastian wanted to fix it.
Sure, fixing it might be a little self-serving, but he figured they could kill two birds with one stone.
Keeping his arm firmly around Chelsea’s waist, he steered her toward the edge of the room. The balcony was full of people, and someone appeared to be having a fight out there. Bad place to talk about what he intended. So he kept steering her, heading down a hall. It was cordoned off with a velvet rope so no party guests would enter, but he suspected Hunter wouldn’t mind. He pulled it aside and gestured for Chelsea to enter the room.
She skated in, and he winced mentally at the sound of her roller skates on the hardwood flooring. Well, if they fucked it up, he supposed he could just pay for it. He didn’t care. Right now he just wanted privacy with her and a place where they could talk.
The room they’d entered was a sitting room of some kind, full of dainty chaises and old paintings on the walls. Big windows were covered with heavy drapes and a cabinet of old antiques covered a back wall. It looked like a very stiff, stuffy parlor that didn’t get much use. There was a glass case in the center of the room with an old, open book under it. Probably something expensive and rare. He didn’t care. Sebastian shut the door behind him. “Sit anywhere.”
“No balcony?” she asked, but thumped down on an overstuffed lounger with a curling low back.
“It was busy,” he said. “And I wanted to talk to you in private.”
She stiffened, the defensive look returning to her face. “That’s never a good sign.”
He shrugged, keeping his pose casual, and sat across the room from her. “It’s nothing bad. I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to get married.”
Chapter Seven
Chelsea could feel her eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say . . . married?”
Sebastian nodded and clasped his hands together, lacing his fingers. “Not in the way you think, though. I should probably explain.”
“Explaining’s good,” she said faintly. Oh, no. Here she’d thought Sebastian was safe, and he wanted to marry her? Marriage meant sex. Ugh. She really, really did not want sex right now. Maybe not ever again. Mostly, though, she was feeling a sense of loss at the moment. He was supposed to be her safety date, damn it. What was this marriage crap?
She was perilously close to crying at the moment. Crying . . . or hitting something. First, the party made her nervous. Bad memories. Second, no Pisa. Third, those guys had cornered her when she was feeling vulnerable and she still felt rattled and unhappy and on edge.
And now a marriage proposal? From someone she’d put in what she considered “the safety zone”?
This sucked.
Sebastian raised his hands. “Before you freak out. I’m not in love. We’re still each other’s safety date. We’d be taking things just one step further.”
Recognition dawned on her face. Oh. That must have been why Sebastian felt so safe to her. “You want me to beard for you. I get it.”
“What? No!” He looked rather offended at the suggestion. “I’m straight.”
“Okay, then I’m super confused.”
“Confused that I’m straight?”
“No, confused that you want a beard when you are straight.”
He flung himself up off the chaise and began to pace. “It’s not a beard. I’m not gay, and I don’t need a wife to make me look straight.” The look he shot her was reproachful. “If I was gay, I wouldn’t give a shit who knew. But I have a crazy ex-girlfriend and a contract
problem.”
“And . . . this means you need a wife.” She was having trouble connecting the dots. How did someone go from “girlfriend issues” to needing a fake wife?
Sebastian tapped his hands behind his back as he walked, clearly agitated. “Maybe this is a stupid idea. But the show? The Cabral Empire? I’m locked into a contract that says I can be on television if one of the primaries is on screen. Normally I can avoid them when they’re filming, but this time, they’ve decided that this season’s story line is that I should get back together with my ex. And that means she’s going to ambush me at every turn.”
Comprehension dawned. “And if you’re married, you ruin that plot, right?”
He looked grimly satisfied at the thought. “Exactly.” He continued to pace. “The reason I suggested it to you is because we’re comfortable around each other, and we both want the same thing—no romantic entanglements. I’m afraid if I dated someone else, she’d read more into it than there would be. That even though it’s a marriage of convenience, I’d somehow change my mind and we’d become something else. I don’t want that.”
Chelsea shuddered at the thought.
“See?” His eyes lit up and he slid onto the chaise next to her. “That reaction is exactly why we’re perfect for each other. You don’t want me. I don’t want a relationship. We could get married and continue on just as we are, and no one would bother us anymore. If you had a ring on your finger, guys would leave you alone. If I had a wife, Lisa would leave me be, and that damn show could take a hike. What do you think?”
The Billionaire Takes a Bride Page 5