by Bella Andre
Charlie didn't say anything at all, but the look in her eyes said she thought he'd just moved mountains for her mother. He wished he could do more than this one small thing. What the hell use was his money if he couldn't make Francine feel better?
"It takes the wax four hours to melt the first time. And you should toss the used wax from your hands after it cools instead of reusing it. I'll make sure more wax is delivered on a regular basis." He'd read all the instructions. "Would you like to set it up in your room?"
"Oh yes, please. I'll get one of the aides to help me this afternoon."
After filling the paraffin wax, he and Charlie took Francine to lunch, then a drive, along with a stop for coffee and a bit of cake. By the time they returned, the wax had melted. They helped her dip, put on the plastic gloves, then add the mittens that would help retain the heat.
The bliss on Francine's face was worth every moment he'd spent scouring the internet, and the kiss Charlie gave him melted his bones like the paraffin. He would do anything to make things better for them. He hadn't been able to save his parents, but he would for damn sure make life easier for Charlie and her mother.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With Sebastian, Charlie had quickly learned, everything moved fast. The following Monday, though he'd already been out of town for the past several days, he told her, "I've got a gig down in Los Angeles and I'd like you to come with me." He'd held her hand and looked at her with his dark, hot eyes. "I knows it's time away from your work on the chariot and horses, but I miss you and don't want to leave you again so soon."
If a heart could have turned over, that's what hers did, just as it had every time he surprised her with yet another of his sweet thoughts or actions. His consideration was innate, bred into him with years of caring for his parents even when they hadn't wanted it.
Now that she knew exactly what selling more pieces could do for her mother's way of life, Charlie had been toiling maniacally since Sebastian had sold the rams. She couldn't work on the chariot twenty-four seven without the risk of making both creative and technical mistakes that would be difficult to correct. So, during what she called her creative breaks, she'd started a couple of new projects, mostly animals for the menagerie she now believed someone might actually want. Sebastian had also arranged for the T-Rex to be brought over to the new studio and she was working on finishing that too.
The truth was that by the time he'd asked her to come to L.A. with him, she'd been feeling tired and a little burned out--a rare thing for her, when she'd always worked at a steady but reasonable pace. A day watching Sebastian do his thing would be pure pleasure.
So now here she was, occupying a special reserved seat in the front row of a sold-out fifty-thousand-seat auditorium. They were all here for Sebastian. People chattered and programs fluttered as the audience began taking their seats for his grand entrance. She'd left him backstage with a kiss--a really hot one that she could still feel tingling on her lips. As an usher escorted her to her seat, her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty, as though she were the one about to stand up in front of all these people. Whereas Sebastian had been as calm as if they were having a quiet dinner on his terrace.
Charlie couldn't say what she'd imagined one of his presentations would be like, but this was mind-boggling. The stage stood in the middle of the arena. Cameras were trained on the center, with its single stand for a glass and a carafe of water, while special lighting beamed down. Sebastian told her the workshop would be filmed for later syndication to TV stations, as well as DVDs and audio downloads.
He'd called it a workshop, but this was like a rock star's performance. Since Sebastian had slowed down to just a handful of appearances a year, the place was packed. Everyone clearly wanted a piece of him.
The lights dimmed, voices hushed, and that was when she realized she'd gotten it wrong. This wasn't a rock concert, where fans shrieked and screamed. It was the symphony, where a reverent silence fell and everyone in the audience waited, breaths held, to be swept away by the magic. Just as Sebastian had swept her away so many times since she'd first met him.
A spotlight snapped on, illuminating Sebastian, who was halfway down an aisle to the stage. The clapping started then, rising until it was deafening. Charlie jumped to her feet too, beating her hands together. She'd understood that he was a celebrity with beaucoup bucks, but she hadn't understood this, the adulation, the way people reached out to touch him as he passed.
Then he was in front of her, leaning in for a quick kiss and flashing that killer smile, leaving her dazed, until she blinked and realized he was now on stage. His dark suit and white shirt were beacons in all the lights shining on him. His sable hair gleamed, and he was utterly gorgeous.
Who wouldn't listen to a man like him?
He raised his hands and waved people back to their seats. "Welcome." His voice boomed out of the microphone clipped to his lapel. There were indistinguishable shouts in return.
"Today is all about you. About your life and what you want it to be. I don't have guiding principles to give you, just a little common sense. But here's the thing about common sense. Sometimes we're just too close to see it. And sometimes we need help from outside ourselves to understand it."
He moved around the stage, circling slowly so that he could address the full audience. The lights were blinding, and Charlie wasn't sure how much he could see. Until he paused in front of her and smiled. That was when she knew he saw everything. Absolutely everything.
"So let me ask you. Do you believe in yourself? Do you believe you deserve happiness and prosperity? Because that's where you have to start."
Four big-screen TVs were mounted above the stadium seating. He was up there in brilliant Technicolor, and she watched his larger-than-life image as he moved around the stage. Most people would have been dwarfed by the huge screens, but Sebastian looked stronger than ever. Charlie couldn't help a fleeting wish that his parents had lived to see him on stage, just once, to see that he'd made something amazing of himself. And that he hadn't given up, even though they'd disappointed him time and time again.
"Opportunity doesn't suddenly come your way once you start believing in yourself," he continued. "It's that you finally recognize the opportunities already there because you believe they deserve to be there."
He'd walked into her yard full of scraps and sculptures and offered her the world. But he was right--he'd been there because she'd had the guts to stomp up the parish steps of that Chinatown church and tell them they needed her dragon. One opportunity had brought her another. And another.
Best of all, it had brought Sebastian.
She read the same thoughts in the people around her, the way they were all looking inward, acknowledging the things they'd done right, considering the changes they needed to make.
"Some of you probably know about my childhood. About where I came from. It wasn't pretty. Wasn't fun. Wasn't happy. So if I could do it, if I could learn how to believe that I deserved happiness, then you can too." He spoke to her. He spoke to everyone. Fifty thousand people were completely silent, no whispering, no chattering. No one left for a soda or a hotdog or to use the restroom. They couldn't bear to miss a thing, drinking in his every word.
Wanting to believe.
Listening to Sebastian, watching him, feeling him, Charlie wanted to believe too. In this moment, he made her feel as though she truly could do anything. Better yet, he made her feel that she wanted it all too. That she should ignore her hesitation to reach out and grab the glittering brass and diamond rings, and go for it with all she had. Maybe the thought of being a huge star in the art world still didn't sit quite right with her, but she could learn to be comfortable with the thought of being successful. She could do it. Sebastian helped her believe.
"It's not about the money." He laughed, holding up a hand. "I know what you're thinking. Yeah, right." He brushed his palms down his expensive suit. "Seriously, though," he said with a twinkle in his eyes, "money is great, and I hope al
l of you make a lot of it doing what you love, but in the end it's not about the money. Not if you get rich but hate your job while you're doing it. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" He was greeted with shouts of agreement. "You deserve to enjoy what you do. You deserve to have a job that's a vocation, that has meaning, that gives you satisfaction, and makes you feel like you're giving something back." He paused again with impeccable timing, letting the audience ponder. "Let's talk about how to figure that out."
An hour and a half seemed like mere minutes as he offered up a clear-cut pathway to opportunity and success. But Sebastian went a step further--he made it personal too, by telling everyone more about his parents, his struggles, about never feeling he was good enough. Then he told them how he'd had people who believed in him, like his adopted mom and dad, Susan and Bob, and his friends. He explained that they'd helped him learn how to believe in himself.
"You don't have to do this all alone. But you can make changes." His voice rang out. "You can do anything. Absolutely anything." He stepped back, drank from his water glass, and for a long moment, he held the big tumbler in front of him, staring, until he turned back to his audience, his fans, his devotees. "We're almost done, but before I leave, I want to tell you about a lovely lady I met a few weeks ago."
Charlie's heart did a somersault as his eyes found and held hers for a split second.
"Francine is the sweetest thing. Tiny." He held out his palm to demonstrate her height against his chest. "She's friendly, upbeat, always with a smile or a laugh even though she has severe arthritis and uses a walker to get around. Most people would be in a wheelchair or bedridden. All her finger joints have been replaced." He held up the tumbler. "Imagine not being able to hold this glass in one hand. Imagine that even two-handed, this glass would slip out of your fingers." He let it slide until it almost fell, catching it at the last second. "Imagine you couldn't jog down the stairs, that your ankle bones had disintegrated and the only thing holding each foot together was a steel bolt and some staples. Imagine your vertebrae had to be fused just so you could hold your head up. Imagine the shocking pain. And yet--" He held up the glass again, pausing. There was complete silence, unbroken by even the whisper of fifty thousand breaths. "And yet, every single day you get up and you walk a mile. No matter what." As Sebastian set down the glass, he said, "Do you know how much farther a mile is for her than for you and me?"
Charlie knew. Sebastian obviously did as well. Though he was a good thirty feet away on the stage, she could feel his anguish at not being able to help as if it were her own. Which it always had been. Until he walked into their lives and tried to help in any way he could.
"Francine tells me that if she didn't walk, she'd be in a wheelchair or a bed. Use it or lose it." He made air quotes to show that they were Francine's words. "There are days she doesn't want to. Days when she can barely move because the pain is too great." His voice dropped almost to a whisper that echoed in the auditorium. "But then she gets up, aims her walker, and starts that mile."
Emotion squeezed Charlie's chest as he said, "So I ask you, can you walk a mile? Every day, rain or shine, pain or gain, because you know you have to just to stay alive, just to breathe. Can you walk that mile?"
And Charlie began to cry.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Charlie couldn't hear Sebastian's closing words as everyone in the auditorium rose to their feet with thunderous applause, their unspoken answer to his question perfectly clear: Yes, they would all walk that mile. Simply because Sebastian Montgomery believed they could.
On the way out, he grabbed Charlie's hand and they were propelled down the aisle to a small reception in the green room. Everyone wanted to touch him, as though something magical might rub off. He was polite, friendly, and accepted compliments with humility.
The most amazing thing of all was that he acted no differently at the reception than he had on stage. He was the same man who'd walked into her studio and said her art was magnificent. The same man who'd told her all about his parents and upbringing after dinner at his house. The same man who'd driven her wild with need every second of every day since they'd met.
He had power no matter where he was, but it didn't come from arrogance. It had come from walking many long miles, the way her mother continued to do every single day.
Two hours later they were ushered out and into a waiting helicopter that flew them to the airport. In the VIP lounge, finally alone with Sebastian for a few moments, she said, "Thank you for letting me see you in action."
"It was my pleasure." He reached out to stroke her cheek. "I've been privileged to see what you do. I was hoping you would enjoy this."
She shook her head, knowing he shouldn't be comparing the two of them. "I make art. But you--" There was no other way to put it. "You inspire the world."
"You inspire too, Charlie. More than you know. Especially now that everyone will see your sculptures once you take your rightful place at the top of the field."
As always, when he talked about her impending ascent to the top of the art world, her stomach twisted. Frustration bubbled up in her for a split second before she could shove it away, along with the question she'd been asking herself for weeks: Why do I keep having these doubts?
But today of all days wasn't a time for doubts. Not when Sebastian's tribute to her mother had been beyond beautiful. It had never been clearer that compared to the struggles other people went through, Charlie had absolutely nothing to complain about. So what if she was worried about her life changing--and about whether or not she could fit into Sebastian's world the way he obviously wanted her to? She'd have to get over her doubts.
"My mother will love that you told her story." She touched his arm, admiring the play of strong muscles beneath her fingers nearly as much as she'd admired him on that stage. "It means a lot to me to know you understand."
"I didn't plan what I said, but with you watching me, all I could think about was how much you give to her, and how completely deserving she is. Both of you possess an indomitable spirit."
"If I'm indomitable, then why am I so nervous about the grand opening gala at the hotel?" The words were out of her mouth, with more already falling before she could stop them. "Why am I so terrified that everyone will see my rams, and then they'll look at me and I'll be cursing myself for not wearing the right dress?"
Pulling her to her feet, he said, "You're gorgeous just the way you are."
His words made her belly flutter. They both knew better. "I can't wear jeans to a gala."
"Then we'll go shopping."
He was sweet, but like a typical guy, he still clearly didn't get it. "The other women will all be salon-prepped and wearing designer outfits that cost as much as a condo on Maui."
"I have a condo on Maui," he said as the corners of his lips twitched, "and I can confirm that some of those dresses cost even more." She was glad that the laughter bubbling up helped to untwist the knots in her stomach. "So let me take you shopping," he said softly, as persuasive as he'd been on stage.
"You've already paid for the chariot." For an amount she still had trouble wrapping her mind around. When she threw in the money he'd negotiated for her rams... Honestly, her head was still spinning. "A dress isn't part of the deal."
He circled her slowly, trailing his fingers across her neck until he'd pulled her hair back at her nape. "Think of dressing up as part of your job. Showmanship. Salesmanship." His warm breath in her hair made her legs weak. The kiss on the tender flesh of her neck made her knees tremble. "You'll amaze them," he whispered as he pushed her hair to the other side and kissed her just below her ear, then licked her. "Soft velvet," he murmured, circling her waist with his arms. "Silky lace."
Suddenly, she couldn't think straight, especially when he drew her back against him and all she could feel was hard, sexy male.
"Let them see you in all your glory, Charlie."
His hands skimmed her flesh, his mouth crumbling her will and his honeyed words seducing her
. She succumbed to the reckless urge, spinning around to kiss him breathless, not breaking apart until Sebastian's private pilot cleared his throat and let them know he was ready for them to board the plane.
*
"I've got so much work to do on the chariot. But you seem to be able to talk me into anything." Charlie mock-scowled as she stood in front of him in the designer showroom wearing a red floor-length gown with a slit up the leg. "Except this dress. It clashes with my hair."
Sweet Lord, Sebastian was hot for her. He'd watched her dress and undress for forty-five minutes, zipped her into six different outfits, four of which he'd liked, none of which Charlie would consider. Now he was a heartbeat from throwing her over his shoulder, locking them together inside the nearest storeroom, and ripping the dress off her so he could finally do everything he'd been fantasizing about for weeks. Touching her, Tasting her. Taking her.
It had taken him four days since their L.A. trip to arrange a shopping expedition. Not because of his crazy schedule, but because Charlie had thrown herself back into the chariot and horses, working with total focus around the clock. What amazed him wasn't her work ethic, but the way she dealt with screwups. When something wasn't going right, she simply laughed at herself, then moved to another piece to clear her head. Whereas Sebastian had never been able to go back to a drawing once it had gone wrong. To date, he had four sketchbooks stocked with the woman he still couldn't bring into complete focus or total understanding.
He hated that she wouldn't accept just how extraordinary she was. Up on that stage, he'd spoken directly to her, told her everything he believed she was capable of, that she could do anything.
But he wasn't sure she'd heard him.
Right now, however, he had to agree that despite the display of elegant leg, the red dress just wasn't Charlie. "Try something short and sexy." He gave in to the urge to run his hand down the outside of her thigh. "To show off your incredible legs."
Charlie raised an eyebrow as she sauntered to the rack of designer dresses. "Now I know why you brought me here," she teased before riffling through the dresses.