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.
She pivoted out of his arms and headed to the sliding glass door. On the deck, she slipped out of her sandals. He balanced himself in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame, his heart beating like native drums pounding out the rhythm of a sensual dance. Though they'd been taking it slow, she had to know how badly he wanted to feel every inch of her skin against his, to sink inside her, to hold her as he fell asleep and wake up clutching her tightly against him.
She flipped on the timer and bubbles rumbled up from the tub's jets. Grabbing a clip off the poolside table, she raised her arms to wind her hair into a knot that she secured in back. Sebastian found everything about her utterly erotic. Her dress still on, she stepped down into the water. "Perfect."
His suit jacket was way too hot against his skin. He'd kept it on because he'd had Braedon's check in his pocket, and he'd wanted to present it to her as if he were a hunter arriving home with a kill for his queen.
"Are you coming in?" Water frothed at the hem of her dress. Leaning over, she wet her fingers, then flicked them at him. Her playful smile tucked itself close to his heart.
"You first," he said, his voice harsh in his throat.
He silently willed her to strip off her dress. He'd never wanted anything so badly in his life--to see her glistening skin, her round breasts, smooth abdomen, and every treasure he'd dreamed of night after night.
Her smile was as seductive as Cleopatra enslaving Mark Antony. She curled her fingers into the dress's hem and teased it up even as she took another step down. She pulled it up, up, up and over her head as she sank into the swirling tub. He had a glimpse of pearled nipples and creamy skin before she tossed the dress on the deck and covered herself to the neck in bubbling water.
"Cheat," he said.
She laughed, the husky sound that drove him nuts. God, he wanted her. Her sweetness, her laughter, her heat. She was gorgeously naked in all that bubbling water. He didn't know if he had the capacity to join her without simply falling on her and taking everything he'd tortured himself with in the dark of the night. He almost couldn't remember why he hadn't already taken her to heaven. Could almost forget about his past, about needing to avoid toxic love at all costs. On top of that, he didn't want the sale of the rams to have anything to do with this moment.
Yet none of those reasons could stop him from kicking off his shoes and socks and tugging off his jacket. Buttons popped, skittered across the deck, and fell through the slats as he tossed his shirt. His pants came next and he kicked them aside before walking down into the water to join her, still wearing his boxers.
"Now who's the cheat?" she murmured softly above the churning water.