"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?"