So this was Nicole’s celebrity stepson! Or was that infamous?
He had reacted so oddly when he found out that Nicole was not going to be back until Monday at the earliest. From what Nicole had told her, they were not close and never had been, but he did seem genuinely concerned that she had been delayed.
What was it that he wanted from her friend and employer that he could not ask over the phone, or in an email? What was he here for?
Whatever the reasons, this real live version of Sebastien Castellano looked as though he needed a good meal followed by decent sleep in a soft bed.
Failing that, a power nap in a warm garden would do him good.
Which meant two things; first she had to head off attacks from both the dogs who had disappeared once they had been fed, and her son who should be arriving home from school at any minute.
Turning carefully on the balls of her feet, Ella lifted her basket of peas as quietly as she could—and almost dropped them when Seb’s cell phone started ringing.
He stirred twice, sighed loudly, and sat up, quickly grasping onto the cell phone, flicking it open and saying, Yes, before his eyes had even come into focus.
The image was of someone living on a knife edge and suddenly her envy was replaced with pity.
The familiar ring tone broke the deep sleep Seb had been enjoying and he yawned widely and uncreaked his neck muscles as he checked the caller identity and blinked a few times.
‘Matt? How are you doing? Oh. Insect bites? Ah, yes. The infamous Camargue mosquito. Should have warned you about those. Sorry, mate.’ He chuckled briefly with a closed mouth before getting back to business. ‘I take it you’ve had a call from PSN Media?’
Seb’s left hand rubbed vigorously along the line of his powerful jaw and the longer-than-normal designer stubble, then his mouth curved into a knowing smile. ‘I knew they would come around on the employee benefits in the end. You’ve done a great job, Matt. What’s that? His private yacht? Trying to impress us, is he? Interesting.’
His hand lifted, then dropped onto his knee. ‘If Frank Smith wants to fly a corporate lawyer down from Paris on Monday morning so that we can sign the contract on his yacht, then I’m happy to turn up and enjoy his hospitality—providing the numbers add up.’
Then a sniff. ‘Right. In that case, we’ll go through the fine print Sunday evening before dinner. Close the deal Monday. Thanks. You too.’
The fingers of both hands clenched hard into his palms as his brain reeled with the implications of the news.
Yes! PSN Media had come up with a compromise on the benefits package. And the chief executive of PSN Media was remarkably choosy when it came to inviting people onto his private yacht. This was a first. It was actually going to happen!
And he knew exactly who to share it with.
In an instant he swiped his finger across the touch screen on his top-of-the-range cell phone, found the contact number he was looking for, and the call was answered in his Sydney office within three rings.
‘Hi, Vicky. Seb. It’s good news. You’ve got the green light to start planning the phase two Foundation projects.’
Seb smiled at the shriek of delight and laughter that burst out from the talented project manager he had hired to look after the Helene Castellano Foundation.
‘Thought you’d like that. I’ll be back in the office next Wednesday and want to see the projected timelines and budgets some time before Friday’s meeting. Think you can manage that? Thought so. What else are weekends for, right? Thanks, Vicky. You too. Yes, it is brilliant news.’
Seb closed his eyes, shook his head with a relaxed grin, then stretched out the length of his body on the lounger like a cat waking from a long sleep, with both arms behind his head.
Vicky was the best in the business and one of the most passionate and enthusiastic people he had ever met. She had chosen to spend her retirement making best use of the contacts she had made during forty years in investment banking. This time next week she would have a dream budget to work with and Seb could get on with the hands-on work implementing the communication systems.
All he had to do was ensure that the offer on the table was signed with no last-minute problems.
Then he would really feel like celebrating. It might be winter back in Sydney but he didn’t see any reason why he could not take his team down to the beach for the day! They had worked for this just as hard as he had. They deserved a decent party before the real hard work kicked in. He could not wait to get back to Sydney and get the ball rolling!
He allowed himself a smile.
Then spun around, suddenly conscious that he was not alone, and for a few seconds he had to work out where he was. Then his fists clenched in anger at the intrusion into his private business and thoughts.
He had let his guard down for a moment. Stupid!
Ella recoiled for a second with Seb’s sudden movement. A handful of pea pods fell onto the patio stones and she leant down to scoop them up.
Only as she did so Ella recognised that three things had become quite apparent.
Two of them were attached to her chest and she was pointing them quite brazenly under strained cotton and a low-cut sundress at the man whose eyes were now at the same height as her own.
Idiot! She was not used to having men around the house. She really had to think about her clothing for the next week if she wanted to avoid this happening again.
And then came number three. Sebastien Castellano was looking at her.
Amber eyes the colour of beech trees in autumn met hers, flashed with startled energy and widened slightly in surprise that he was being observed so closely. And then those eyes seemed to warm as though melting in the summer heat.
Suddenly she understood what the fuss in the gossip columns was all about.
His eyes were not just amber, they were the deepest dark caramel brown flecked with gold, with a dark centre that pulled you in, like a pool of deep, deep water so dark she would be scared to dive into it for fear of never reaching the bottom. Or of never being able to swim back to the surface.
She had seen a tiny glimpse of that look when he had looked down the front of her dress earlier—which had been completely her own fault. And he had been gentleman enough to look away as soon as he could. But now she was taking in the full blast and the depth and intensity were only too clear.
Ella could feel the beat of her heart in her neck and wrist respond to the power of something very primal that came from a very masculine man who had started to relax once the tension of answering the call had ebbed away, warm and stretching sensuously in the sunshine only inches away from her.
He didn’t say anything, or move from his recliner, he simply turned his head and looked back at her. The moment stretched until she could feel it like an elastic band pulled tighter and tighter until she was frightened about what would happen when all of that energy was released.
Heart racing, she opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance, because in that fraction of a second doors started slamming all over the house, a car crunched away on the gravel drive and a distinctive voice called out in the local French dialect, ‘Mum-m-m! Milou got out again!’
Seb stared at the dog-shaped apparition that joggled towards him to make sure that he was not still dreaming, and blinked hard a couple of times.
Nope. He was awake.
The child’s voice had emerged from behind the huge armful of dog that had grown tired of being carried, and the bundle of fur and paws had now decided to come alive and was struggling like a wild thing to be free now he was home.
The child made it as far as the table before he released the furry creature that dropped into a heap of low woof and flying fur and dust onto the patio tiles.
Seb wasn’t dreaming after all. And the creature looked remarkably like the old griffon hound that had almost ended up under his tyres on the path.
The cherub of a dark curly-haired boy who emerged tried to brush some of the dog hair from his scho
ol shirt, looked at the mess and claw marks, then looked up in astonishment as he realised that there was a strange man lounging on one of the recliners.
‘Daniel Charles Bailey Martinez. You. Have not been doing your job.’ Ella was bending forward now, her head tilted to one side as she spoke to her son.
The child looked up from the dog towards Sebastien, and then back to his mother, shrugged and turned around, dropping his shoulders.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘Don’t apologise to me, young man. He made it as far as the traffic this time. If Mr Castellano here didn’t have good brakes on his car, your old pal Milou might have been injured, and you—’ she was pointing now ‘—you would have to explain how Milou came to be taking a nap in the middle of the road. And that would be. Serious. So, you know what to do.’
She gestured with her head over one shoulder towards Seb, and nodded.
The cherub moved slowly forward with his head down, sidled one step at a time until he was standing in front of Seb, shuffling from side to side, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his school trousers.
‘Thanks for not killing Milou.’
Seb looked at the little boy’s head, then at the dog lying on his back at his feet, waiting to have his tummy tickled. Seb was so used to people around him showing due deference he was not accustomed to a child’s version of an apology. He quickly recovered as best he could and replied with a, ‘No problem,’ in English, before wondering how that translated to child talk.
The child glanced up and whispered in an excited voice, ‘Did you have to screech your car? I mean, did you have to skid and everything?’
‘Dan!’
His head dropped again.
‘I was just asking!’
Dan glanced up at Seb and gave him a toothy smile, which would be breaking hearts in the very near future. It was a signal between boys.
‘Matter of fact I did have to screech my tyres. Grit was flying everywhere. It was like being in one of those rally cars. Even had to skid a bit along the grass.’
‘Cool!’
‘Oh, I give up. Boys!’ Ella turned back to her peas while Milou chose that moment to issue a loud yawn and settled down to sleep after his exciting adventure.
Dan sidled up closer to Sebastien and looked once at Ella, who gave him one single nod before asking in a low whisper, ‘Is that your car outside? It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen.’
Seb bent down from the waist so that he was at the same level as Dan. Interesting. Apparently he had just been given security clearance from Ella.
‘Yes, it is my car, but your mother is right, mate.’ Seb shook his head. ‘I would have felt just awful if I had hurt your dog. I only just managed to turn away in time. Were you supposed to be making sure he didn’t make it to the road?’
There was a nod but, from the way the boy’s bottom lip was quivering, Seb took the initiative and moved to a different question. He was not used to children at the best of times and he certainly didn’t have the training to handle tears.
‘Tell me about the other dog. The younger one. Where does he live?’
The little boy glanced back towards Ella and Milou, twisted his mouth from side to side, made a decision, and replied in a big gush, ‘Milou is really old now, but Wolfie is a puppy and lives next door at the farm and comes to see us sometimes. Want to see where Wolfie gets through the fence?’
Dan’s eyes brightened and he clutched at Seb’s sleeve. ‘Maybe you can help fix the fence? That way Milou won’t squeeze out in the gap? Can you? Can you fix it? Please?’
‘Dan! Please don’t pester Mr Castellano,’ Ella whispered in a kind voice, but Dan had taken firm hold of Seb’s sleeve and clearly needed a reply.
Seeing as a working knowledge of hand tools and do-it-yourself carpentry were not skills that Seb considered priorities in software and communication systems design, he decided that mending fence panels was not a job he was qualified to undertake. Besides, Mr Ella Martinez would probably be back from his day job or whatever other task took him away from home on a Thursday afternoon, and could no doubt do a far better job.
So he replied with the first thing that came into his head.
‘Why not wait for your dad to come home and then you can fix the fence together? I’m sure he’ll do a far better job than I can.’
There was a sudden intake of breath from the tiny brunette sitting at the table, and as Seb glanced up her hands had stilled over the peas and her lips were pressed tight together as she stared intensely into the basket.
This was not a good sign.
Then Dan was shaking his head at him and tugging at his sleeve more urgently, demanding his attention.
‘My daddy is in heaven! And Milou is very naughty! Aunty Nicole is having a party. And there are going to be lots of cars and vans and things and that means…big trouble.’
Dan sighed twice between these two final words and released Seb to lift both hands in the air.
Seb paused for a second in appreciation of the simple, devastatingly logical thinking of a small boy. Whose daddy was in heaven. And whose fence was broken, and probably had been broken for quite some time.
Perhaps he could apply the same simple childlike logic to the simple request for help? This was Nicole’s house. He was Nicole’s former stepson. In a strange way that sort of made him responsible in Nicole’s absence. Not that he wanted to be responsible but…?
Decision made. Seb swung his legs down from the recliner and nodded. ‘I can see that could be a problem. How about you show me how Milou made his escape? Then maybe between the two of us we can come up with a plan to keep him safe from now on. What do you say?’
The little boy glanced back towards Ella and Milou, twisted his mouth from side to side, made a decision, and said, ‘My name is Daniel. What’s yours?’
‘Well, back in Australia my friends call me Seb. How about that?’
‘Okay,’ Dan replied with a shrug as he meshed his little fingers into Seb’s open hand and tried to drag him off towards the barn.
Seb stood in silence and glanced down at Dan’s small fingers clasped tightly around his. He hadn’t been expecting that. Some of his team were married with children but the majority of the technical experts who worked with him in design were single men. He was not used to having children around him in his workplace or his daily life.
Especially children who insisted on holding his hand. He could not recall that ever happening before.
This was going to be a first. But he was up for new experiences. He could handle it.
‘Come on, Seb,’ Dan called out, and tugged at his hand. ‘Or Wolfie will break Milou out again.’
Ella watched as Seb paused for a second, dumbfounded, before closing his fingers around her son’s relatively tiny fist and walking slowly back out to the sunlit garden. Dan’s little dark head kept glancing up as he chatted nonstop about the fence and the gaps between the trees, and how his mum and Yvette had fixed them high on one side, but Wolfie had jumped on the fence when he came to see Milou and it all just went squish, and…
Seb nodded but did not reply. He had opened up a personal organiser one-handed and was probably looking for the telephone number of a local odd-jobs man at that very minute. This of course was what she should have done. If she had thought of it.
How could he get a word in? Dan had said more than enough for both of them.
Oh, Dan.
Ella hadn’t been expecting that outburst about his dad. Dan was wonderful with adults he knew, but he sometimes found it difficult to approach men. Especially strangers he had never met before.
She sat and watched the unlikely pair for a few seconds in silence. The tall business executive in the designer clothing, wearing shoes that cost more than her week’s wages, was giving his full attention to a little boy who was revelling in the simple fact that he had a man to talk to for once.
A man who did not have other children to deal with and play with.
A man D
an could talk to and keep all to himself. Even it was only for a short while.
And her heart broke for her fatherless child who would never know the love his father had felt for him. One day she might find someone who loved both her and Dan, but in the meantime she could only hope that Dan did not become too attached to Seb in the short time that he was going to be with them.
Perhaps having Seb in the house for a few days was not such a good idea after all?
CHAPTER FOUR
SEB turned over in bed, pulled an overstuffed pillow over his head and decided that there was no way he could go back to sleep.
His body clock was still set on Sydney time, and it was too dark and quiet in his old room for his brain to calm itself long enough for sleep. His mind was still racing with the exhilaration of the events of the last two days and he had tossed and turned most of the night. Twice he had reached out to the bedside table and typed a couple of notes on his personal organiser.
He was totally exhilarated at the prospect of completing the deal with PSN Media—but more than a little frustrated that he had come all the way out here to see Nicole only to find her still on holiday. Both of which had conspired to rob him of sleep.
Seb tossed aside his pillow.
Back in Sydney Nicole was famous for being the least sporty person he had known, which was quite an achievement in that city. And now she was trekking in Nepal? She certainly had changed in the last three years—it would have been nice to catch up. But unless Nicole managed to get back to France in the next thirty-six hours, he was going to leave without seeing her. And he was sorry for that.
But now it was time to make a move.
Untangling himself out of the mess of twisted bed covers, Seb tested the temperature of the cool floor tiles on his bare feet and shuffled across the room in his T-shirt and shorts to open the window. It would not take him long to repack his hand luggage.
It had made sense for him to stay here overnight but he could work a lot more effectively back in Montpellier with Matt and a hard wire connection to the Internet rather than a wireless telephone connection.
The Last Summer of Being Single Page 4