by Francis Ray
“He sends his apologies,” the chauffeur informed her. “Work kept him at his office. He’ll meet you at Mr. Carroll’s house.”
“He expects me to meet all those people by myself?”
“No, Mrs. Lassiter,” the chauffeur quickly said. “He’s taking a taxi. As soon as I pick you up, I’m to call him.”
Something didn’t jibe. “I know his penthouse is only a short distance away from Mr. Carroll’s, but it doesn’t seem possible that he’ll have enough time to go home, dress, then meet us there. Besides, it’s only a thirty-minute drive from his office to here. How much work could he have accomplished in that short length of time?”
The young man appeared flustered. Clearly, he wasn’t used to people questioning Sebastian’s dictates. “If you wish, once we’re rolling I’ll call to let him know, then you can talk to him personally.”
“Why wait?” Picking up the hem of her gown, she went to the nearest phone located on the end table in the living room and dialed Sebastian’s private number at his office. After the tenth unanswered ring, she hung up the phone and turned to the chauffeur hovering in the doorway. “What number were you to call?”
“The one for his cell phone.”
She swallowed the growing lump of fear in her throat. “If he’s in his office, why would he ask you to call him on his cell phone?”
“Mrs. Lassiter, I’m sure Mr. Stone has his reasons,” he said. “If you’ll just come with me, he’ll explain everything when you see him at Mr. Carroll’s house.”
“No,” she said softly.
“No?”
“I’m not going,” her determination grew with each erratic thud of her heart. She had her answer.
There had been no appointment. Sebastian had left hurriedly because she had embarrassed him. He’d keep his promise to see that she went to the party because he had given his word, not because he wanted to. He’d probably continue to try and entice her to play Eleanor, but at arm’s length. The wrenching pain of loss was almost crippling.
“But Mrs. Lassiter … Mr. Stone is expecting you,” Eli said with some alarm in his voice.
“I’m sorry, Eli, that you had to drive down here for nothing, but I’m staying here,” she said, desperately trying to keep her voice normal. Sweeping past him, she went to the front door and held it open until he reluctantly walked past her.
“Good night, Mrs. Lassiter.”
“Good night.” Her entire body shaking as if from a chill, she closed the door, her head falling forward in despair.
“She did what?” Sebastian yelled into the cell phone.
“She refused to come after she called your office and no one answered,” Eli repeated as he sat inside the limo.
Sebastian said one crude word.
“I think she was about to cry, boss.”
“Hell …” Sebastian sank heavily down on the padded bench on Roscoe’s balcony. It had been so noisy inside, he hadn’t been able to hear. “Where are you now?”
“Still outside the house.”
“Good. Stay there. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Boss, you know taxis aren’t fond of coming down here.”
Sebastian stood, a determined look on his face. “With all the limos downstairs, I should be able to borrow one. Don’t move, I’m on my way. If Hope tries to leave before I get there, stop her.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Cry. Appeal to her goodness. Tell her I’ll fire you if she does.”
The man laughed, then sobered. “You wouldn’t do that, would you, boss?”
“I’m on my way.” The phone clicked dead.
Sebastian had no difficulty obtaining a car. Because they were used to seeing him calm no matter what, his frantic request had his friends quickly volunteering their cars and drivers. In minutes he was on his way and had Eli back on the phone. It didn’t make Sebastian any less anxious to hear the man say he had gone back and looked through the glass door, to see Hope, head bowed, sitting at the foot of the stairs.
Hanging up, Sebastian called Hope, as he had been doing since he’d gotten into the elevator to ride down to the front of Roscoe’s apartment building, but at the sound of his voice she hung up. Her actions would have irritated him if he wasn’t so worried.
Exactly twenty-seven minutes after he had gotten off the phone the first time with Eli, the limo Sebastian was riding in braked sharply beside Eli. Thanking the driver and handing him a hundred, Sebastian climbed out of the car. “She’s still in there?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sebastian rushed up the steps. The sight of her continuing to just sit there, head bowed, in a shimmering pool of gold tore at his heart. He jabbed the doorbell. “Hope. Let me in.”
Her head lifted. Misery and the glimmer of tears were in her eyes. From out of nowhere he recalled Jeremy saying that he’d only seen his mother cry twice. Sebastian had known her for less than three weeks and he had doubled that number.
“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he said, not knowing what the problem was but instinctively knowing he was the cause of her unhappiness.
Slowly she came to her feet. His pulse raced. She was going to answer the door. Lifting her skirt, she started up the stairs.
The sight of her turning away from him shook him to the core. “No,” he yelled, twisting the doorknob. To his surprise, the door opened. He didn’t waste time questioning his good fortune. He rushed through the door and toward her. He’d lecture her later on keeping the door locked.
She pivoted sharply on hearing his running steps. “Leave me alone.”
He kept coming until she was in his arms despite her protests. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
She looked away from him. “Please, just leave.”
“I’m not leaving. I can’t leave,” he said softly, his hand gently turning her face toward his. “I thought I could.”
Hope was afraid to believe. “What are you saying?”
Tenderly, he palmed her face. “That I care about you very much, but I was afraid of getting in over my head. In the past I haven’t had such a good track record with women. This morning at Della’s I wanted to sweep you away and make love to you.”
Her breath trembled over her lips. “You didn’t come for me tonight.”
“Because I was afraid I’d crack under the pressure of the close confines of the car and kiss you.”
“I affect you that much?” she asked, going soft in his arms.
“More than you know.”
Her bare arms wound around his neck. “Then why aren’t you kissing me?”
His lips fastened to hers, hot and sweet and gentle. A mating of tongues and spirits. After a long time he lifted his head. “I hate that I waited so long.”
She nipped his chin. “Same here.”
“You’re tempting a weak man,” he warned, nibbling on her ear. “A very weak man.”
Her breath hitched. “Is it going to get your mouth back on mine?”
“Come on, let’s see.” Taking her hand, he started down the stairs. Outside, he made sure the door was securely locked. Hand in hand, laughing like school children let out for the summer, they raced toward the limo. A grinning Eli held the door open for them.
Inside, Sebastian took Hope in his arms. “Now. Where were we?”
EIGHT
When Sebastian and Hope entered Roscoe’s penthouse, she was blushing and he was grinning broadly. He had taken shameful advantage of the private elevator to explore the softness of Hope’s sweet mouth. Each taste tempted, tantalized, beckoned him to return for another kiss, then another.
Hope was uniquely different from any other woman. Quite simply, he trusted her, and his feelings for her deepened with every beat of his heart. The only fear in his mind was the fear of never hearing the breathless catch in her voice when his arms were wrapped around her, never hearing her laughter or seeing her smile.
His arm curved possessively around her slim waist, he led her past the butler and enter
ed the immense formal living area where the guests were gathered. Seeing him, several stopped and openly stared. Roscoe, standing with a small group of people in front of a large-scale fireplace with marble surrounds and a hand-carved mantel, excused himself, then crossed the plush white-carpeted floor to them.
“Roscoe Carroll, meet Hope Lassiter,” Sebastian introduced. “The only woman, in my opinion, who can do Eleanor justice.”
“Welcome, Mrs. Lassiter,” Roscoe greeted warmly. “I was in the theater the afternoon you did the monologue and you were nothing short of brilliant.”
“Told you,” Sebastian murmured, a note of satisfaction in his deep voice.
Ignoring Sebastian, Hope smiled at their host. “Hello, Mr. Carroll. That’s quite an honor, coming from you.”
“Simply the truth,” Roscoe said. “Might I add that you’re even more stunning close up?”
Sebastian’s arm around Hope tightened a fraction, bringing her closer to his side. The jealousy he felt caught him off guard, but he didn’t shy away from it. Hope was his. “We don’t want to keep you from your other guests, Roscoe.”
Instead of leaving, the rotund man folded his arms, rocked back on the heels of his gently worn shoes, and smiled. “Trying to get rid of me, huh?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said flatly. He’d never been jealous because of a woman before, but he had never been a lot of things until Hope came into his life.
The older man chuckled. “Never thought I’d see it, but I guess I should have known when you were demanding the loan of a car and driver. Never seen you so frantic.”
Hope should have felt badly for putting Sebastian in such an awkward situation. Instead she was immensely pleased she had been able to crack through his legendary control, but she couldn’t allow him to be cast in a bad light. “My fault. There was a mix-up in communication.”
“Judging by your faces when you came in, I’d say everything was resolved,” Roscoe stated.
A soft smile on her face, Hope gazed adoringly up at Sebastian. “Yes, it was.” His arm tightened.
“Does that mean you’re going to take the part?” Roscoe asked.
Hope felt the stare of both men. “I haven’t decided. I’ve told Sebastian that I’ll give him an answer on Monday.”
“Let’s hope it’s the one we all want,” Roscoe said.
“It will be,” Sebastian said emphatically.
Hope remained silent.
“Come on and I’ll introduce you to some of the other guests,” Roscoe said.
It wasn’t long before the room was buzzing. Sebastian left no doubt in the minds of anyone they met that he wanted Hope for the part of Eleanor. As the evening progressed, she felt the heavy weight of the burden he had placed on her. Sebastian might believe in her talent, but it was obvious the others in the room didn’t. Excusing herself, she climbed the spiral staircase to the second-floor bathroom.
Her arm clutched around her churning stomach, she stared into the ornate gold mirror. If she took the part and the play flopped because of her, she had no doubts the critics would crucify both her and Sebastian. She’d damage both of their careers. Failure to a proud man like Sebastian would wound him deeply.
Failure would be just as devastating to her. She’d have to give up her dream of ever returning to the legitimate theater. No director would take the chance of letting her star in another production. The roles she’d be relegated to, if she could find them, would be few and the pay scale low. And by then she would have lost her secure job at Della’s and have to take whatever cosmetologist job she could find.
Sebastian had offered her a year’s salary, but as she told him, she couldn’t accept the money. As a result, if the play flopped, the secure life she had worked so hard to obtain for Jeremy would be gone.
All because she had let her heart rule her head. Her feelings for Sebastian went beyond caring. From the very beginning she was aware that she had allowed him to be a part of her life more for personal reasons than professional ones.
He simply overwhelmed her. She wanted to please him, make him happy, give him that which he most desired. She loved him. Denial was impossible. The gut-wrenching pain she felt told her more definitively than the misery in her eyes. With acceptance came fear. If she didn’t accept the role, would he still want to be a part of Jeremy’s and her life, or would he walk?
She was ninety-eight percent sure the man she had come to know in the past weeks had more honor than to walk out on them. The other two percent was tying her in knots. And if he did stick around, could their new relationship stand up to the test? Sebastian might continue to see her, but each time he did, she instinctively knew she’d see the disappointment in his eyes. She didn’t want that, wasn’t sure she could live with it.
She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. But hiding wouldn’t solve anything.
Straightening, she left the bathroom and started down the curved staircase. From across the room, Sebastian looked up and their eyes met. She couldn’t lose him when they had just found each other.
Her gaze fastened on Sebastian’s, she was almost upon the woman in her path before she realized it. Abruptly, Hope stopped. Recognition of the woman in the revealing, skin-tight red gown came almost immediately. “I’m sorry, Ms. Madison. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Obviously,” Margot said coldly, tossing her long auburn hair back. “So you’re the little hairdresser who thinks she can act.”
The statuesque black woman with short blond hair standing next to Margot giggled.
Hope never took her eyes from Margot Madison’s face. Beautiful and vicious. “I’m proud to be a professional hairstylist.”
“Really?” Margot said. She glanced at her companion. The two looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Do tell us more,” the blonde said, derision heavy in each word.
Hope folded her arms and smiled sweetly. “I’m not surprised you’d want to know. Your gray roots are showing and, Margot, your overprocessed hair looks like straw.”
The women gasped.
“You’re all right, Hope?” Sebastian asked, coming to her side and sliding his arm possessively around her waist. Margot watched the movement with tightly compressed lips and furious eyes.
“Fine. We were just discussing the merits of a good hairstylist. My schedule is full, but if you’d call Della’s House of Style in Harlem on 125th, I’m sure you could get an appointment with another stylist.” Hope waved her fingers. “’Bye now.”
Nodding, Sebastian started down the stairs with Hope. “Margot looked mad enough to go for blood. You’re sure she didn’t bother you?”
“Why talk about Margot when I hear there is a scrumptious buffet around here someplace?” she said evasively. With all the doubts running through her head, she didn’t want a reminder of the relationship Margot and Sebastian once shared.
Sebastian peered at her closely, but all he said was, “Do you think you could wait for about fifteen minutes to eat?” They stepped off the last step of the stairs.
“Sure.”
“Good night, Roscoe,” Sebastian called as they passed their host.
“Good night, Sebastian, Hope. Thanks for coming.”
“Good night,” Hope said automatically, then frowned. Sebastian was heading straight for the front door. “We’re leaving?”
“Yes,” he said, going past the butler.
“You’re taking me home?” Hope asked in disbelief as they stepped onto the elevator. The gleaming wood-paneled door silently closed behind them.
Sebastian pulled her into his arms. His eyes were fiercely possessive as he stared down at her. “No. I’m taking you to my place, where we can enjoy a quiet meal together and I can kiss you to our hearts’ content. Any questions?”
“The same one I always have.” She lifted her face to his. “What took you so long?”
“It’s lovely,” Hope said looking at the candlelit table on the terrace. On the pristine white linen t
ablecloth beside her plate was an orchid. Her finger glided over the lush, soft petal. “You always make me feel special.”
“You are,” he said, tipping her bowed chin upward to brush his lips across hers.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t ask, but somehow the question slipped out anyway. “Will I still be special if I don’t take the part?”
His face harshened. “You think this has anything to do with the play?”
Now that she began, she couldn’t seem to back down. “I’m almost positive it doesn’t.”
He backed up a step. “You think I’d stoop to something that low?”
“I don’t want to think that,” she cried, hating the flatness in his deep voice.
“I’ll take you home.”
A chill swept through her. She gathered the shawl closer to her body. “I can call a cab or Bridgett.”
A muscle leaped in his brown jaw. “I brought you, I’ll take you. I’ll call Eli.”
Hope watched a stiff-backed Sebastian walk back inside the penthouse. A stab of anguish pierced her. There was no way she could share the limo with him. Taking her courage in hand, she followed and saw him pick up the phone.
“Please tell Eli that I’ll meet him downstairs. Good night, Sebastian. I’m sorry about everything.” Not giving him a chance to reply, she hurried toward the front door.
When she was halfway across the room, an unrelenting hand closed around her forearm and turned her around. She stared up into a pair of stormy black eyes. “I said I’ll take you home.”
She shook her head from side to side. “Please don’t.”
“You’re trembling. What’s the matter?” Anger swiftly yielded to concern.
“I—I want to go home.”
“You think I’d hurt you?” he asked in mounting disbelief.
“That’s not why I’m trembling,” she said, her voice husky and unsteady.
His eyes widened with the knowledge. Desire, not fear. His head swooped down, his lips fastening on hers. Her lips parted on a whimpering sigh, allowing him full access to her mouth. He didn’t hesitate.