by Bella Andre
He could do the same for Charlie’s mom. She might not ever jog down a flight of stairs, but if she could live without pain, it would be worth it.
Susan put her hand over his on the arm of his chair. “You’ve got a different look about you too. Let me guess...you’ve found someone special, haven’t you?”
He didn’t even try to play it cool, not when Susan was the heart-and-soul guru for all the Mavericks. She saw all, knew all, understood all.
“Her name’s Charlie.”
“Charlie.” There was a smile in Susan’s voice. “I like her name.”
“It’s short for Charlotte. But Charlie suits her so much better.” Anticipating her next question, he said, “I hired her to create the sculpture for the lobby.” He didn’t have to explain which lobby. He talked with Susan at least once a week, but he hadn’t yet mentioned Charlie because he’d hoped to have her figured out before being peppered with questions.
“An artist. Like you. That’s wonderful.” Susan was always so generous with her praise, even though she knew he’d never think of himself as an artist. “She’s made her way into your sketchbook already, hasn’t she?”
“You always know way too much.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’re my boys.”
He’d always been amazed that Susan had never made a distinction between the children she’d given birth to and the rest of the Mavericks. She loved them all equally. In many ways, he believed the Mavericks had needed her more even than the children she had carried inside her.
Daniel and Lyssa understood from the beginning that they were loved. Whereas the rest of them had to learn to believe in it.
Sebastian knew his parents had loved each other—and him too, as much as they were able. But that love had destroyed them. And it might have destroyed him too, if he hadn’t found Susan and Bob and the Mavericks.
“I’ve filled a couple of pads so far.”
“That tells me she must be very special.” She pinned him with an undodgeable look. “And also that you’re still trying to figure out something about her.”
Yep, Susan knew him through and through. “She’s gorgeous, she’s talented, she’s smart. She teaches classes at the local college in addition to making her own art.”
“She sounds fascinating. So where’s the but?”
“She’s gotten nowhere with her career even though her work is amazing.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe there’s nothing to get.”
He didn’t get that either. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe she’s already happy with her life.”
Susan said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world. But Sebastian had spent his life motivating people to embrace their greatness and fulfill their potential to the utmost, so he knew there had to be more going on for Charlie. “She’s certainly not unhappy, but she’s told me she’d love to see her pieces displayed for everyone to enjoy.”
“Still, I wonder if you should be careful how hard you push her.”
“Push?” He frowned. “I’m helping her.” Though he had to admit he was pushing about Francine. “Her mom’s got arthritis. Really bad stuff. Charlie’s letting me bring in a new doctor, but she won’t allow me to pay for a better home for her mother to live in.”
“Charlie sounds independent. That’s a big part of what you like about her, isn’t it?”
“It is.” He loved Charlie’s strength, her ability to take care of herself, her loyalty to her mother, and her passion for her art, for life itself. He also loved the femininity she usually hid under her face shield and safety apron, and couldn’t wait to keep drawing it out of her. “She’s starting to be okay with me helping her mother, which is great. But I’m still determined to work out what’s holding her back.”
“Her? Or you?” At his raised eyebrows, she said, “You’ve made your life about helping other people let go of their walls, their barriers. But what about your walls? Your barriers?”
No one but Bob, Susan, and the other Mavericks ever talked this straight to him. And Charlie too, who never couched her thoughts in smoke and mirrors.
Still, it was reflex to say, “I don’t have walls.”
Susan had the grace not to laugh out loud at his lame protest. But she did shake her head. And perhaps give a small eyeroll.
“Okay,” he said in a grudging voice, “I might have a wall or two.”
This time she did laugh, but she also reached for his hand. “All of you have done a marvelous job of transcending your childhoods. But some things are hard to shake, Sebastian. You watched two people who loved each other destroy the very person they loved most.” Susan had spent twenty years trying to get him to accept that he couldn’t have fixed his parents, but now her mouth turned down at the corners. “Love doesn’t have to be like that.”
“I see you and Bob. Will and Harper. I get that love can work. But for me...” He looked into the garden, where Bob was still spraying the roses. “Charlie’s different. Special. I don’t want things to go wrong, to turn toxic. That’s why I’m being careful. Taking things slow.” And working like hell to try to figure her out through his sketches.
“The thing is, honey, you don’t always know when it’s safe to take a risk until you’ve already taken it. Until you’re already all in. Even if you haven’t figured everything out yet.” She paused as if to get the rest of her thoughts completely in order before she spoke. “It’s nice to think that we can control whether or not we fall in love with someone, but when love is big enough—when it’s truly meant to be—it happens whether you’re ready for it or not, even if you haven’t yet switched from red to green.”
He was trying to take in what Susan was saying, knew she and Bob and Will were the lucky ones and that he should listen to their advice. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “What about Evan and Whitney?” Now there was a marriage not made in heaven. Hell, if you looked up the term toxic relationship, you’d find a picture of Whitney right beside it. “Evan took a risk with her, but wouldn’t it have been better if he had taken things slow and looked at her personality and their relationship from every angle first before marrying her?”
“Honey,” Susan chided, “she’s had three miscarriages.”
Sebastian turned fully in his seat. “I feel sorry for her and Evan. Of course I do. But that doesn’t give her a license to be a horrible person the rest of the time. She’s a lost cause and Evan should get out. Now.”
“He’s caring for her for the sake of the baby that could be—and the mother that he believes she’ll turn into.”
He filled his lungs, then let the breath out on a deep sigh. “I just hope he can figure things out. And be happy. Because we all know she isn’t making him happy, no matter how hard he tries to make her happy.”
“It will work out for him. I know it will.” Susan gave him a big smile, which lit up her whole face. “And I can’t tell you how happy I am to know you’ve met someone special.”
He leaned over and was kissing her soft cheek, when Bob stepped back on the porch and asked, “What am I missing?”
“We’re talking about true love,” Susan told her husband.
“Don’t push,” Sebastian said in an undertone.
“I meant Will and Harper.”
“Liar.”
She laughed. “Now, how can you say that about an old lady?”
“Because you’re not old.”
“He’s right,” Bob said with a grin. “You’re my spring chicken.”
Bob and Susan were meant for each other. So were Will and Harper.
Was it possible that he and Charlie were too?
Or was he doomed to follow his parents’ and Evan and Whitney’s examples?
All Sebastian knew for sure was that he’d never felt like this about anyone or anything. Only Charlie. And that had to mean something.
Something big.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Sebastian.” Charlie hugged the cell
phone to her ear and tried to pretend she was hugging him instead as she curled up on the sofa in the bungalow. “How are Bob and Susan?”
“They’re doing great and I’m glad I got a chance to visit.” Affection laced his voice. “But I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” She’d never played coy with him, and she wouldn’t start now. He’d been gone only three days, but it had felt like much longer. And even though they’d both been so busy this past week that they hadn’t actually managed to see much of each other, when they did, it was absolutely explosive. She definitely wouldn’t mind a little more exploding soon. “Was your business successful?”
“Yeah. A good deal all around. I’m heading out first thing tomorrow morning.”
She felt lightheaded with happiness at the prospect of his return. Sebastian was a different kind of man. She liked hot, fast, and all-consuming. But what he’d done to her was so much more—because he didn’t even need to take her clothes off or put his hands on her to make her feel that way. With Sebastian, she could want, need, and feel half crazy while they were simply hunkered on the floor sifting out the best bits of broken china and discussing their placement in the mosaic.
She’d always believed she worked better alone, but today she’d realized how much Sebastian had been feeding her creativity these past weeks. Between the zillion daily meetings that were an integral part of running his billion-dollar empire, he often called from the office to ask about her progress. Recently, she’d even punched his number on her cell a couple of times to bounce an idea off him. He always answered, no matter what he was doing—and his ideas were always so good that she’d continued to wonder if he had a secret background in art. In the evenings, he marveled at her day’s work. She’d come to crave his visits to her studio. Just as much as she’d come to crave his kisses, his touch. Him.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, as if she’d voiced her thoughts.
She gave a mock gasp. “Don’t tell me you want phone sex?”
His lascivious chuckle vibrated across the airwaves and started her engine revving. “It depends on what you’re wearing.”
“Well,” she drawled, “I’m getting into the hot tub soon. And I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Lord.” She loved the passionate growl in his voice. “I wish I were there.”
“I do too.” Last week, when they’d broken the dishes, then fallen together onto the workbench as he’d kissed her senseless, put his hand up her skirt, and made her scream with pleasure—it had been perfect. “Which is why you should go to bed now, so you can get up early to come home.”
“As soon as my meeting in San Jose is done, I’m coming straight to you, Charlie.”
“Good, because I’ve got so much to show you.”
“Don’t tempt me, or I’ll wake up my pilot right now and we’ll fly all night.”
“Not that.” She laughed, a throaty sound that spoke directly to how much she wanted him. “Okay, that and the mosaic.”
“I’ve been thinking—instead of waiting for the chariot and horses to be finished, I’d like to take pictures of the lion, the elephant, and all the works in your yard to see if we can find interested buyers.” He was matter-of-fact, as if it were going to be the easiest thing in the world to find other people who would love her work. “I know you’ve probably been looking for buyers for years, but I have a new pool of patrons you might not have met before.”
That was certainly true. He had a pool of billionaires. She had a pool of...no one. The idea of Sebastian thumbing through his list of high-powered contacts in search of buyers for her art shouldn’t make her frown.
After all, he was all she could ever hope for. A wealthy patron sweeping into her life to make her a big star. And he was right that it didn’t have to wait until the chariot’s unveiling. It could happen today. If she was lucky, she’d never again have to worry about where her mother was living. And she’d actually be able to make a full-time living from her art.
Ever since she’d met him, she’d felt dreamy and sexy and desired. Sebastian wanted her talent, and he wanted her. So then what could possibly be making her stomach twist like this?
What the heck is wrong with me?
Forcefully pushing aside the dark cloud threatening to storm above her, she said, “Pictures are a good idea.” One she’d never thought of for some reason. And even though phone sex was a good idea too, she felt unsettled enough by the idea of Sebastian showing pictures of her sculptures to potential buyers that she simply said, “Sleep well, Sebastian. I’ll see you soon.”
The low, sexy rumble of his echoing “Soon,” was the last thing she heard before she put down the phone.
Her mail had been forwarded and even though flyers, car insurance quotes, and credit card advertisements seemed utterly unimportant—and she’d much rather daydream about Sebastian’s mouth and hands on her—she made herself go through it all just in case there was an important bill or letter for her mother’s care to attend to.
There was nothing concerning her mother, but there was an envelope from the college. Her heart started pounding hard as she opened the letter asking which sessions she’d like to teach in the fall quarter. She stared at the page. She’d known it was coming eventually, but that was before she realized how different everything would feel here in Sebastian’s world. Inside his workshop while working on his commission. The truth of the matter was that if Sebastian’s plans for her came to fruition, she might not be able to fit in classes. Because she’d be too busy creating.
Honestly, though she wasn’t sure she would ever be a fan of the spotlight—she’d never been in one, so there was no way to know for sure—Sebastian’s belief in her and the excitement of what she was creating were certainly addictive. When he told her she was a genius, when he marveled at some new piece of the sculpture that she revealed to him, it was as thrilling as the touch of his lips on her mouth or his hands on her body.
As much as she loved teaching, in a way it seemed like an old life calling her back. A life that was a million miles removed from Sebastian. A world apart from everything he was offering—an art career that could be so much bigger than this one project, so much bigger than teaching twenty students two nights a week in a crowded garage where the fuses sometimes blew if too many of them used their tools at once.
She shoved the letter out of sight in a kitchen drawer. She didn’t usually put things off, and she’d always loved teaching. But there was so much on her plate right now. If she didn’t want to end up with her head exploding, she really only had room for two things.
The chariot.
And Sebastian.
* * *
Charlie always thought better when she was using her hands to create something. But by early evening, her arms and hands were starting to ache from lifting and positioning all the heavy metals for her sculpture, and she didn’t want to risk injuring herself. Besides, she wanted to celebrate Sebastian’s homecoming in a personal way. Though her mother had done her best to pass on her fabulous cooking talents to Charlie to no avail, she decided she could successfully pull off a Mexican dinner for them both—rice, beans, tortillas, salsa, and grilled fajitas. She lit candles and gave the margaritas a burst in the blender to fluff them up. Even if her meal wasn’t amazing, at least her drinks would be.
As she punched off the blender, she heard the helicopter. Her heart tripped over itself and a swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach. And when he knocked, then opened the door, she threw herself at him. His kiss was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, and his arms around her made her feel like she’d come home.
He framed her face. “You were supposed be waiting for me in the hot tub.”
Her feelings suddenly seemed too immense to voice. “And here I slaved over a hot stove for you,” she said in a teasing voice.
“You cooked?” He would have done a good job of looking touched if a smile hadn’t sneaked through.
She nuzzled her forehead against his chest. “
Come on, we should eat the fajitas while they’re still sizzling.”
He let her drag him to the table. “How did you know I was craving Mexican food?”
“I can read you like a book, Sebastian.” She was joking, but the look he gave her made her pause in her tracks.
“Can you really?”
She licked her lips, surprised by how serious their conversation had become in the blink of an eye. “Sometimes I think I can. But other times...” She bit her lip, not wanting to say that she sometimes felt he was holding back. “Other times I think it’s just that we’re still getting to know each other better.”
“I’d very much like to know you better, Charlie. So much better.”
“Well,” she said as she turned to grab the margarita pitcher and tried to lighten the tone, “we can both learn something more about each other tonight. Do you prefer blended? Or should I make you one on the rocks?” She already knew that despite his parents’ disease, he didn’t have a problem with alcohol himself.
“Blended is perfect tonight.” Even though it struck her that he hadn’t actually told her which he preferred, he was already raising his glass to toast. “We have something to celebrate.”
She had something to celebrate, all right: Sebastian, close enough to touch and breathe in. He was completely scrumptious in a tailored suit so deeply navy it was almost black. “Your fajita is losing its sizzle.” She wanted to relish his surprise, whatever it was, so she quickly put caramelized onions; red, yellow, and orange peppers; mushrooms; and grilled meat onto a spinach tortilla, then topped it all with rice, pintos, and guacamole.
He watched her as if he’d never seen a fajita assembled, with nearly as much awe as he watched her work on the chariot in her workshop. “You sure are good with your hands, Charlie.”
She flushed all over under his sensual gaze, as if he’d stripped her down and had his hands everywhere. “So. Your surprise.”
“I found a buyer for your rams.”
“You did?”
“I did.” And he looked positively thrilled, as thrilled as she knew she should be. It was just that she was so shocked, all the way down to her toes. “Walter Braedon owns the new Regent Hotel in downtown San Jose. He wants the rams in the central garden at the entrance.”