“Relax.”
That’s exactly what I do, letting him work his magic hands on my tired feet in silence. Holy guacamole, this man is perfect. And off limits, unless I want to lose my job, which I can’t afford.
“You’re spoiling me,” I say.
“It makes you smile. I like your smile.”
“Sebastian. . .”
“Stop saying my name like that.” His voice has turned low and breathy.
“How am I saying it?”
“Like you’re begging me to stay away from you and kiss you at the same time.”
I have no answer, so I look away from him. Even as I try to focus on the beautiful nature surrounding us, I feel my body succumbing to sinful sensations.
After a few minutes, Sebastian asks, “Do you know that this is the first Saturday I haven’t worked in years?”
I feel my eyes widen. “Why change that now?”
He shrugs, as if the answer couldn’t possibly matter. He stops the massage, instead trailing his fingers over my bare ankles, turning my skin to goose flesh. He fixes me with his eyes, burning my control away.
“I like spending time with you.”
“I said no flirting.”
“That’s not flirting. It’s the truth. You have an enthusiasm that lights you up permanently. I feel carefree around you.”
“Are you seeing someone?” I blurt, attempting to take my feet out of his lap, but he grips them firmly.
“You’re breaking your own no-flirting rule.” A satisfied grin stretches across his features.
“It’s not flirting,” I counter. “It’s a question.”
“I wouldn’t be here with you if I was seeing someone. I’m not a fan of cheating.”
“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” I ask, not really buying it. He is Sebastian freaking Bennett, the CEO of the most beloved jewelry company in America.
“I’d date you, but you’re putting up a good fight.”
“Stop it, Sebastian. You’ll get me fired.”
He pulls me so abruptly to him my ass almost lands in his lap. I stop short of that, planting my palms firmly on the bench, trying hard not to acknowledge that the only things separating his crotch from the backs of my knees are his jeans and underwear. Unless he’s wearing no boxers.
Maybe I should check
. Where did that thought come from? I have no business checking if he’s going commando or not.
“How about I get your boss fired?” he says.
“You can’t do that,” I murmur.
“You have no idea.”
I push myself out of his lap, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Seriously, why are you single? I’ve seen how women look at you. They’d fall in your bed in a second.”
“Yes, and then they find out who I am.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely confused.
He twists the watch on his wrist, rolling his shoulders. “When you have as much money as I do, women start seeing your bank account instead of you.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re hot—kind of hard to overlook that.”
“Why, thank you.” The wry grin that melts my insides returns.
“I’m sure women don’t
do
you just for your money.”
“
Do
me? Why would
you
do me, Ava?”
“Hypothetically speaking?”
“Of course,” he says solemnly.
“Because you’re fun, kind, and caring.” Realizing this must sound like
I want to have your babies
to a man, I try to downplay it. “But mostly because you’re hot.” I lick my lips. “I bet you can do some very hot things in bed.” My face reddens. I never meant to say the last sentence out loud; but apparently, my mouth didn’t get the memo from my brain.
“I can tell you exactly what I’d do to you,” he says, making me shiver. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“No, thanks.” My voice is undependable, while he looks perfectly composed. Obviously, he’s better at this game than I am.
“I can assure you, the reality would be much more delicious than you can imagine.”
I sigh at how much like a promise his words sound. This man won’t tire until he has me, and I’m not sure I mind anymore, risks be damned.
Clearing my throat, I push myself a few inches from him and say, “See, plenty of reasons for women to want you. They can’t all be after your bank account.”
“If they aren’t in the beginning, they learn quickly. I’ve been burned plenty of times.”
“Maybe you’ve gotten burned because you’re too hot. Are you sure you’re not paranoid?”
“I wish I was. I envy my parents. They had nothing when they were young, but they found each other, fell in love, and stayed that way. Wish things were that simple now, too.”
I open my mouth to reply, then clamp my lips shut. I’m not sure what to tell him. Sure, I gave up on believing in happily-ever-after too, but that’s because the men I’ve been with couldn’t keep it in their pants.
Looking to switch the topic, I say, “Look, they’re selling popcorn.”
Before Sebastian has time to reply, I jump in my flats and run to the popcorn stand. By the time the popcorn guy hands me a bucketful, Sebastian is by my side, opening his wallet.
“I’ve got this covered,” I say. “You already bought my sandwich.”
“You won’t pay for anything while you’re with me.” Holding a ten-dollar bill between his fingers, he stretches his arm to the vendor. I block his hand.
“Sebastian, this is not a date.”
“Nope, it’s me being a gentleman,” he says. My insides squirm, even as I try to hold my ground.
“I’m not letting you pay.”
He looks at me with narrowed eyes. “I’m not asking for permission.”
I throw my hands up in despair. “Are you going to go caveman on me every time I don’t agree with you?”
Sebastian drops the money on the counter, telling the vendor to keep the change, and drapes an arm around my waist, pushing me away from the cart.
“I’d like to go caveman on you somewhere else. I picture us in a bed, you under me. You’d love it.”
“I thought we said no flirting,” I say weakly.
“You said that. I never play by anyone’s rules except my own,” he whispers in my ear.
Thankfully, he says nothing else as we fall into step, heading toward the next stop on my itinerary. I become aware of the throbbing in my feet almost immediately.
“Let’s do the rest of the itinerary another day. I won’t even be able to stand tonight at the show if I don’t rest my feet. Can you get me back to the apartment?”
“Sure,” he answers. We walk toward the exit of the park.
“Your turn,” Sebastian says after a while. We’re nearing the parking lot where we left the car. “Why aren’t you seeing anyone?”
I deflate at his choice of topic. “Kind of hard with my job. I travel too much and I can’t make long-distance relationships work. My last two exes cheated on me. I’m not keen on repeating the experience, so no more long-distance for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I must be doing something wrong,” I say as we reach his car.
“Don’t you blame yourself.”
“Fool me once, shame on me.” I smile sadly. “Fool me twice. . .”
“Listen to me.” He tilts my chin up, pushing me against the closed door. “The world is full of assholes. Just because you’ve encountered a few doesn’t mean you don’t deserve someone better.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I needed to hear that.”
“You deserve someone who makes you happy and fulfilled. Someone who worships you.” He watches me with such honesty I have no choice but to believe him.
“Why do you say all the right things?” I murmur. “It makes resisting you very hard.”
“So stop resisting me,” he says as he opens the car door for me.
Once inside, he says, “Let’s go up the Twin Peaks. I know it wasn’t on your list, but the view is great from there.” Looking at my shoes, I sigh, but nod.
We drive up the North Peak, and once we get out of the car, Sebastian hands me a windbreaker. It’s so long it’ll even cover my ass. “Trust me, you’ll want to put this on. It’s much windier here than in the city.” We both put a jacket on, and I follow him to the viewing place. The sun hovers above us, and a sea of mist stretches in front, floating above the city, while a green blanket stretches over the hills in the distance.
It’s amazing.
Despite the jacket, I shiver. So when Sebastian slings his arms around my middle, moving his chest against my back, I don’t pull away. I nestle in his arms as if it’s the most natural thing, and he rests his chin in the crook of my neck, his hot breath caressing my skin. I find myself wishing we could stay like this for hours, but all too soon, it’s time to go. Smiling, Sebastian takes my hand, leading me to the car.
***
We drive to my apartment in silence. When we reach it, Sebastian stops the car and gets out. Even though I could easily let myself out, I stay put, choosing to watch him open the door for me. I enjoy being treated like a lady.
I’m about to tell him I’ll see him on Monday, when a gust of wind rustles my dress. Sebastian’s eyes widen.
“You’re wearing lace underwear and expect me not to flirt?”
“You’re not supposed to see it,” I say, horrified.
“Who is supposed to see it?” he says with a growl.
I snap my gaze back to him. “What?”
“You said I’m not supposed to see it.” He places his hands on the hood of the car, trapping me between his mouthwatering biceps. “Who is, then? Who are you wearing lace for?” He’s jealous, and it’s unbelievably sexy.
“Myself,” I say boldly. “Isn’t a girl allowed to do that?”
“Mmm, you’re not a girl. You’re a woman. A fucking gorgeous one.”
“No, I’m not,” I say dismissively.
His brow furrows. “What?”
“Well, I’m okay, I guess. Pretty.”
“You are gorgeous. Just agree with me once, woman.” Leaning into me, he adds, “If you don’t, I’ll kiss you senseless.”
“Okay.” I’m almost out of breath. “I agree with you.”
“See you tonight at the show.”
“You’re coming?” I ask.
“Yeah. What will you wear?”
“I bought a crazy fancy dress. I love it.”
He steps back, freeing me. As I step by him toward the building entrance, he says into my ear, “Wear lace underneath the dress tonight. It turns me on.”
Chapter Twelve
Ava
Crazy fancy is
the
term for the show, and I’ve been to some fancy events in my life. The location is one of the most famous restaurants in San Francisco, with a beautiful garden surrounding it. Organized mayhem reigns inside. The back of the restaurant has been transformed into a runway with large screens on either side of it. There are no rows of chairs¸ like in a traditional fashion show. Instead, there are round tables scattered in the room. Most tables are for four, but there are some larger ones as well. Still, the place maintains a warm and welcoming feel by having candles on each table.
Looking at the people milling around the room, I grow prouder of my attire with every passing minute. I’m wearing a dark blue sequined designer dress I bought on sale in a boutique downtown that was surprisingly well stocked. They had some mouthwatering dresses from the latest collections, but I only tried on the items they had on sale. I’m saving the bulk of my salary for the down payment on an apartment.
I inspect everything about my surroundings. Part of my job will be to help put together the next collection show. I am pondering what I can do different while maintaining the essence of the show. Of course, Gemma, the event coordinator, can give me all the details about this, but experiencing it firsthand always beats looking at lists and video recordings. I take my time observing the decor, the way people react to it, and to each other, as well as the things—or people—the press is most interested in. The main collection shows always have excellent coverage. All the major fashion magazines, business magazines, and even the occasional lifestyle magazine cover them. I wasn’t expecting so much press for a buyer show, too.
Most of the reporters are still waiting for the show to begin, but several are cornering the guests. Among the cornered ones, I see Logan and Pippa. She doesn’t seem to mind the spotlight, even though her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Logan looks downright annoyed as the reporter throws question after question at him. A few feet away, I recognize the party brothers from the pictures I saw from the last show. God, this family has some extraordinary genes.
Logan joins me a few minutes later. “Ava, you look great.”
“Thank you. Is the press done with you?”
“Ah, if they had it their way, they’d never be done.” Shaking his head, he puts his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know why I’m always surprised that they can’t talk to our PR people and leave me and my family alone.”
“Speaking of family,” I say as nonchalantly as possible, “where is Sebastian?”
Logan raises his eyebrows. “He’s not coming. At least, he hasn’t told me he is.”
My shoulders slump, and I try my best not to look too disappointed, but I’m not fooling Logan.
“Did he tell you something else?” he asks.
I give a noncommittal shrug and excuse myself, mumbling that I need to find my table. Why am I so disappointed? It’s as though he promised he’d be here.
I was so eager to see him, though. I’m wearing lace underwear, like he asked me to. I mentally slap myself. I’m wearing the lace
for me.
I look for anyone else I might recognize, to take my mind off Sebastian. I spot the marketing department sitting at one of the larger tables, and wave at them. Martha sits with them. They are finally starting to warm up to her.
I’m heading to them when I feel my phone vibrate in my tiny purse.
I take it out, and my stomach jolts as I read the text message.
There is a room to the left of the bar. Get inside.
It’s from Sebastian.
I drop the phone carefully in my bag, looking over my shoulder as if I’m preparing for a clandestine mission. Giddy with anticipation, I stride toward the bar, eyeing the door Sebastian meant. It’s flanked by a massive bodyguard, but he gives me a once-over as I approach and opens the door for me.