by Bella Andre
"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."
"Wait," she said, still trying to process the news. "How could he know about my rams?"
"I went over to your place to take pictures this morning after my plane arrived. Before my meeting with him." He pulled a photo from his inside breast pocket and slid it across the table.
Her head was spinning as she said, "I've never heard of the hotel."
"It's almost completed. And it's going to be a palace. Everyone pulling into the circular drive and heading to registration will see your rams battling for supremacy of the garden."
Her head felt as though she were on a Tilt-a-Whirl at the thought that her sculpture would be seen from the road, not only by visitors to the hotel. "But how is that even possible? Especially if you only just took the pictures this morning?"
"I've been keeping my ears open. And visualizing what I want for you. I can see your whole path already, just how acclaimed you're going to be."
"I know you keep saying that, but--"
"You saw your dragon outside the church in Chinatown, from the minute you walked by and the vision came to you. And then you went into the parish office and sold it to them because you knew it had to be there. So you made them see it too."
"That was your meeting today?" He was probably expecting her to jump up and down with happiness. And she would. After the shock had worn off. Because she'd never honestly thought her rams would ever leave her property, especially not to grace the entrance of a fancy hotel. Reminding herself that it was great news, she added, "The one you mentioned on the phone last night."
"Should I have brought you, Charlie?" He looked worried, obviously having noticed that she wasn't jumping for joy just yet. "Should I have told you that I was meeting with a big hotel about your art?"
She wasn't at all upset that he hadn't included her when she'd have been a nervous wreck. It was tough selling herself. The only time she'd ever done it was with the dragon, and even then she'd known she wasn't going to charge them a thing for it.
"Maybe next time I should go, just to try to get more comfortable with it all." Even the idea of it made her feel more than a little nauseous, but if she was going to swim in the big pond, she'd have to get used to fancy meetings with fancy people, wouldn't she? She held back a shudder at the thought and finally made herself smile. "But today, I'm glad you simply showed up with good news. Thank you. For everything."
He covered her hand, his heat streaking through her, deep inside and all the way to her heart. "I believe in what you create. I want everyone to see it." He gave her a wry grin. "You haven't even asked how much."
"I'm afraid to." She was half serious about that. More than half.
"Don't be." He grinned again as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a check. "Fifty thousand."
The bottom dropped out of her stomach and she felt herself plunging fifty thousand feet as she took the check from him. The work had been done months ago. It was almost like free money. Free money she tried to tell herself her work deserved--and that it hadn't all just come about because Walter Braedon wanted to impress Sebastian with his purchase. She'd never been insecure before, and Sebastian was endlessly telling her how great her work was. But she'd never envisioned truly wealthy people ever liking sculptures made from transformed junk.
"I figured the rams were a less complicated project than the chariot and horses," he explained. "But the decision is up to you. We can still negotiate for more money."
"No," she said almost sharply. "I'll take it." And all the extra months at Magnolia Gardens that she could give her mother. Because in the end, that was what it was all about, wasn't it? Having the resources to take care of her mother in the best possible way. But it was also about Sebastian's incredible support for her and her art. "Thank you. For believing in me."
"You're worth more than you could ever imagine, Charlie, and soon everyone's going to know it."
The next step was obvious, even for someone as non-commercially minded as she was: The more she created, the more Sebastian could sell for her. Sometimes she needed a break from one project when the juices weren't flowing right, and she let her subconscious mull over the problem while she turned her hand to something else, which meant that even while she was building the chariot and horses, she'd still be able to work on a few smaller projects.
She had a moment of hesitation at the thought of becoming a mass production line. But she already knew what Sebastian would say to that--that she was being self-defeating, letting fear of success and the unknown get the better of her. Besides, she would never let herself turn into a sculpture factory. So why was she still borrowing trouble? She needed to shoo away all these storm clouds that kept gathering over her, when from anyone's vantage point her life was getting better and better by the second.
"Braedon's staging a grand opening gala in three weeks. He wants us there, and you'll be the celebrated artist."
"Me?" For all her self-talk about not letting fear get the better of her, the fear came roaring back in an instant.
"I want to show you off."
"I thought you wanted to show off the rams?"
"You're a package deal. You created magnificence and you are magnificent."
For a moment, it felt as though the reflection in his gaz
e belonged to the woman he wanted to see, not necessarily the woman she was. She liked simple things, and while she stood up in front of others all the time as a teacher, she definitely wasn't used to the kind of attention he was talking about. She'd seen pictures of him on the Internet, the glittery world he walked in, the beautiful women dressed to the nines with sculpted figures and salon-bred features.
Whereas she was just Charlie, a tomboy.
But Sebastian was now her patron and he walked in a world she wasn't prepared for. Which meant she'd better start preparing now. Because Lord knew she didn't have a single thing to wear.
And after everything he'd already done for her and her mother, the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him in any way.
*
As Charlie took the time to read carefully through the contract for her rams, Sebastian could easily visualize her dressed in haute couture and covered in jewels. She would outshine anyone in San Francisco society circles.
"It looks good," she said when she finished reading, then took the pen he handed her.
He appreciated that she hadn't just scribbled her signature without reading it the way most people would have. Still, he couldn't help but notice that her normally steady hand shook slightly as she signed. Susan's words suddenly came back to him: I wonder if you should be careful how hard you push her.
But making a sale for Charlie wasn't pushing, it was helping. He knew the difference. After all, hadn't he helped hundreds of thousands of people in the past twenty years? Then again, Charlie was more important than anyone else had ever been.
When he looked up at her again, he realized she'd finished signing the contract, slipped the $50,000 check into her bag, and was staring at him. "Is everything okay, Sebastian?"
"Now it is." Pushing away the doubts that had no business hanging over them tonight, he stood, took her hand, and pulled her to her feet--wanting to sweep her away. She was as spicy as the fajitas, her bare shoulders shimmering in the sundress. "I missed you," he whispered. He took her mouth with a long, sweet kiss, then pulled back and raised a wicked eyebrow. "You made a lot of innuendoes on the phone last night, about hot tubs and no swimsuit."
"Mmm," she purred. "I checked the tub earlier, and the temperature is perfect. I like it hot." The t sizzled on her tongue.