His publicist could wait. As could the rest of the texts.
The microwave beeped at him, the forty seconds of tea reheating finished. Grace hadn’t returned.
He removed her tea, closed the microwave door, and then turned around. Still no Grace.
“All right.” He levered his arse away from the counter. “Let’s take the tea to her.”
Why?
Because she looked wiped out, and it didn’t sit well with him. He preferred Grace giving him hell.
“Grace?” His soft call sounded like a shout as he walked down the hallway toward her bedroom.
A muted light spilled from its open door. A soft sound floated out from within.
“Grace?” He paused at the door, his breath caught in his throat.
She sat on the end of the bed, eyes closed, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “Do you know what’s weird, Hart?”
Shaking his head, he moved to the bed and sat down beside her. She looked up at him over her fingers, and then closed her eyes again. “I didn’t know how crappy I was at being a mum until I saw how Cody smiled at you tonight. When he was half asleep.”
“He smiled at Justin as well.” Even saying that felt unsettling.
She dropped her hand and let out a sigh.
“Do you like him?” Saying that felt even more unsettling. It shouldn’t. But it did. “Justin, I mean.”
“He’s a good neighbor. And a friend. I don’t know…maybe he’s what Cody needs. A male role model in his life he can look up to.”
I could be that.
The thought stole his breath. What the hell was wrong with him? He could not be that. He didn’t want to be that.
Did he?
“And you want it to be the man who brings you hot chocolate at the end of your shift? Justin of the bland good looks?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. I don’t… I mean, no. But I think…I think I’m not being fair to Cody. I think he needs…someone.”
As conflicted as he was at the idea of Justin being that someone, it made sense. Justin could be just what Grace and Cody needed. With the right push.
The right incentive.
Gut in a knot he didn’t understand, he handed her the cup of tea. “Grace, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let me help you.”
Chapter Three
Somewhere in the distance, in the darkness, Taylor Swift sang something about haters.
Grace groaned. Sheets. Pillow. Bright green numbers on her alarm clock telling her it was 6:05 a.m. More singing. Off in the distance. A male voice.
Her heart smashed into her throat.
Oh God. Seb.
Sitting bolt upright, she stared at her open bedroom door. Sebastian Hart was singing a Taylor Swift song in her kitchen at six a.m.
Mouth dry, she closed her eyes, pulled in a steadying breath, held it for five, and released it. Nope. That wasn’t going to do it. Her heart was still thudding away like a jackhammer.
Opening her eyes, she focused on the open door and the singing wafting down the hallway.
Sebastian Hart. Singing. About haters. In her kitchen.
She had to face the fact he was in her house now. The question was, had he been in it all night?
She remembered being bone-tired exhausted. She remembered being emotionally drained.
She also remembered being far too aware of the warmth that radiated from his body as he perched on the end of the bed beside her. A part of her wrung-out brain had pointed out to her he was the first man to join her on her bed since Gary. Another part had pointed out he was the first man to join her on this bed ever, given she’d replaced the bed and mattress she and Gary had shared six months after the funeral.
She remembered all too well being overwhelmed with the sudden, inexplicable and very disturbing urge to drop her head to his shoulder and just soak up—via osmosis—some of his warmth and confidence and calm.
And God help her, she remembered him offering to help her.
After that?
Nothing. Until Taylor Swift started singing.
So she’d fallen asleep. But what had Sebastian done when she had?
Twisting on the bed, she looked at the side she never slept on.
Her stomach clenched. Crap. There it was, the telltale signs of another body in the bed—crumpled indented sheets and a creased pillow.
Someone had shared her bed with her.
Not someone. Sebastian.
“Oh God.” She dropped her face into her hands.
She’d fallen asleep when he’d been offering to help her…with what?
You’d told him something about Cody needing a male role model. And then, when he offered to help, you’d slumped back on the bed, laughing, even as you closed your eyes…
And that was it. That was all she could remember. Sleep had clearly ambushed her right in the middle of Sebastian offering to…what?
“No idea.” Lifting her head, she pulled another slow breath and looked at the door. A few feet away, Sebastian continued to sing. He’d moved on from Taylor Swift and was now lamenting—along with Twenty-One Pilots—how all his friends were heathens.
She rolled her eyes, lips twitching. As a singer, he made an amazing director.
A new voice joined in, with equal enthusiasm.
Oh God. Cody.
Grace scrambled from the bed and bolted from her room. How could she forget Cody had a school excursion today and needed to be at school early? And she was lounging around in bed listening to her old next-door neighbor sing, and thinking about how warm Sebastian had been and how much she’d wanted to…
She stumbled to a halt in the living room. How the hell did she process what she was looking at?
Sebastian grinned at her from beside the dining table, a plate stacked high with toast in his hands. “Morning.”
He wore the same clothes as he had yesterday, jeans low on his hips, his T-shirt untucked but otherwise still emphasizing just how incredibly well-built he was. His feet were bare. His hair stood up in a crazy just-got-out-of-bed way. The stubble on his jaw yesterday had turned into one of her deepest sexual fantasies—facial hair that wasn’t quite a beard, but no longer a five-o’clock shadow. Gary had been fastidious about shaving. He’d wake, shower, and shave before he even said good morning. Grace had always put it down to being a firefighter, but even when on holidays, the stubble would be off before she got a chance to enjoy its feel against her fingers, her cheek, her inner thighs.
Oh God, Grace. What are you—
“Good morning, Mum.” Cody—sitting at the table, dressed in his school uniform—reached for a slice of toast. “Seb made breakfast. Want some?”
As if invited by the word “breakfast,” the distinct aroma of freshly buttered toast and freshly brewed coffee assaulted her.
Her mouth filled with saliva. Her stomach growled.
Sebastian frowned before plonking himself into the chair next to Cody. “When was the last time you ate, Grace?”
Grace. Not Tinsel Teeth.
Ignoring his question, she crossed into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. It boiled within a second.
“I just boiled that.” Sebastian’s voice wafted to her from the dining table. “I thought you’d like a cuppa when you woke.”
She would like a tea. Was it petty not to like one half prepared by Sebastian?
“Why are you in your work clothes, Mum?”
Pulling in a slow breath—her third of the morning—she turned and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I slept in them. I fell asleep before I could get into my PJs last night.”
Cody frowned and then looked at Sebastian. “Did you sleep in your clothes, too?”
Sebastian flicked a quick glance at her. “Yep.”
“Did you sleep with Mum?”
“Okay, bug.” Grace shoved herself from the counter and waved her hands at Cody. “You’re going to miss the excursion bus if we don’t get moving. Hurry up. Go brush your hair. You can eat your toast in the car.�
��
“I can? Cool. Is Seb taking me?”
“Yep,” Sebastian said.
“No,” Grace corrected. “I’m taking you. Sebastian has to go.”
A new frown tugged at Cody’s forehead. “I thought he was taking me. Isn’t that why he had a sleepover?”
Oh God, she had to shut this down. Now. This was—
“I had a sleepover to make sure your mum ate breakfast this morning.”
She looked at him, a hot lump filling her throat. Damn him, this was not the Sebastian Hart she remembered or wanted in her life.
And you want any kind of Sebastian Hart in your life?
No. She didn’t. She had to get rid of him. He was too…disturbing.
“Okay.” Cody pushed his chair out and smiled, first at Sebastian and then at her. “She forgets to eat a lot. Always makes me eat, though. Especially my veggies.”
And with that, he shoved the slice of toast into his mouth and ran from the room.
Grace stared at the spot he’d disappeared, cheeks hot. In the background, the morning radio DJ started talking about the weather.
“When was the last time you ate, Grace?”
Letting out a sigh, she turned to Sebastian, now watching her from the table. “Since when do you care?”
He shrugged, the typical Sebastian Hart response to a question he had no interest in answering.
Rolling her eyes, she moved to the table and dropped into Cody’s now vacated seat. The delicious aroma of toast threaded through her breath and, before she could help herself, she plucked the top slice from the stack and bit it.
Sebastian regarded her, expression enigmatic. “Tell me about Justin.”
She spluttered and damn near choked on the toast.
He picked up Cody’s Optimus Prime glass half full of orange juice and offered it to her.
Glaring at him, she took it, swallowed a mouthful, and handed it back to him.
“So? Justin. Tell me about him.”
“Tell me about why I woke up to find clear evidence you slept in my bed last night?”
Another patented Sebastian Hart shrug. “You fell asleep mid conversation. I stretched out, waiting for you to wake up so we could continue it. You didn’t. I fell asleep. Simple. So, again, tell me about Justin.”
Her throat tightened. “Why do you want to talk about my neighbor?”
Surely she should continue berating him for sleeping in her bed with her? Should kick him in the shins and demand he apologize?
He studied her, his expression enigmatic. Not smug and condescending—she knew what to do with that kind of expression—but curious and…cautious. Unlike any she’d seen on his face before. “You said last night Cody needed a father figure. I asked you if you wanted it to be Justin.”
“Why would I want it to be Justin?” She didn’t. Even if Justin was friendly, predictable, not at all self-absorbed or arrogant.
Unlike Sebastian, who was the most self-absorbed, arrogant man she knew.
And yet, he made you tea. And kept some dinner for you last night. And ordered food with vegetables in it for Cody because he thought you’d like that. And Cody thinks he’s incredible and…
Goddamn it. Just when she thought her life couldn’t get any more frazzled, bloody Hart comes back into it and throws everything for a loop. Bastard.
“I’ll make you a deal. You help me make Judge Myers think I’m amazing, and I’ll help you get Justin.”
She blinked at his statement. In her chest, her heart thumped way too hard and fast for six fifteen in the morning. “What?”
“You want Cody to have a father figure in his life. If Justin’s the one you want, I’ll help you get him.” Sebastian raised Cody’s juice to his lips, his eyes on her. “The second he saw me in your kitchen, he was puffing up, ready to beat his chest and claim you. Won’t take much to push him over the edge so he declares his feelings. I’ll help make that happen.”
“You’ll…” Scrunching up her face, she rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t… Justin isn’t…”
“But in return,” he went on, ignoring her fluster, “I want you to help me out with Judge Myers.”
…
“I’m not going to lie for you, Seb.” She dropped her hand and fixed him with a level glare. Now there was a spark of the old Grace. Why did that make him feel better for some reason? “And FYI, I don’t want Justin.”
“Sure you do. He’s nice and bland and perfect.”
“You realize you just insulted me, right?”
He waved a hand, warming to his plan. “I’ll help you snag Justin, and you help me with the judge.”
She rubbed at her face again. “If you suck at being a big brother, I will tell her.”
“Me? Suck?” Clearly, she’d forgotten who he was. “I’m not going to suck. I will be incredible. Cody is going to be bowled over by how great I am. No, I’m not asking you to lie. Just…” He paused. How did he put this without irritating her? “Don’t be your normal cutting self when talking about me to Judge Myers.”
She arched an eyebrow. Oh wow, he’d missed that look. That acerbic, you’re-an-idiot-Hart look she’d given him often when they were kids. If someone had asked him about the things from his childhood he missed, Grace Ford’s blatant disdain for him wouldn’t be on the list. But there, in that one eyebrow lift, her familiar face somehow different, somehow…compelling… Yeah, he’d missed it.
Or is it Grace I’ve missed?
No. Definitely not.
“So, nice Grace?” Her lips twitched and she rolled her eyes. “The one who doesn’t tell you you’re an egomaniac with a god complex? That’s who you want talking to this judge?”
He waved his hand in a there-you-go motion.
“And in return, you’ll what? Make Justin so jealous of you he’ll throw himself at me?”
“Bingo. Now you’re getting it.”
There was a glint in her eyes he recognized. “And you won’t…what? Go to jail?”
Crap, he’d walked into that one.
With a roll of her eyes, she pushed herself from the chair, collected a piece of toast from the stack, and arched another eyebrow at him. “Still the same Sebastian Hart. And here I was thinking you’d changed. I have to get ready to take Cody to school or he will miss the excursion bus. You can see yourself out.”
Shoving the corner of the toast into her mouth, she stomped from the room.
Sebastian took a slice of toast for himself, settled back into his seat, and bit into it. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not until Cody was ready to go to school at least. Clearly, Grace needed his aid, and he was going to give it to her. More than once, he’d offered to help her with her English homework, or offered to put in a good word so she could get an after-school job at his mum’s hair salon. Once, he even suggested they train together for the MS fun-run she’d signed up for. She’d never taken him up on any of his offers. She had no choice this time, though. Whether she liked it or not, he wanted to help her. And he was Sebastian Hart. He always got what he wanted.
Although, he’d wanted to wake this morning to a 99 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes for Samantha and Dave, but so far that seemed to not—
“Ready?”
He jumped at Cody’s excited whisper.
The young boy stood in front of him, schoolbag on his back, eyes twinkling with excitement behind spotless—if somewhat crooked—glasses.
He pulled a mock frown. “For what?”
Cody adjusted the straps on his shoulders and smiled. “To take me to school? Quick. Before Mum gets out of the shower.”
“You sure?” A thick pulse of something unfamiliar filled Sebastian’s chest. He wanted to take Cody to school, he said he was going to take Cody to school, and Sebastian always got what he wanted. So what was with his hesitation now?
Cody’s smile stretched wider, and he shoved his glasses up his nose with a finger. “Yes. We’ll just leave Mum a note and go. Then she’ll have time for breakfast and won’t be cranky about be
ing rushed.”
“You don’t think she’ll be cranky about you going?”
Oh, Grace would be beyond cranky if he took Cody while she was in the shower.
Cody shook his head and shrugged. “Probably. But can we anyway? Please?”
That thick pulse thumped hard in his chest again, worming down into his gut. What was it? Uncertainty?
Ha. Sebastian Hart didn’t do uncertainty. Sebastian Hart did what he bloody well wanted. And right now, at this very second, he wanted to drive Cody Wilder to his school.
Shoving himself from the seat, he grinned. “Grab me something to write a note with.”
“Yes!” Cody damn near leaped for the kitchen counter. A second later, he slapped a small notepad and a pen on the table in front of Sebastian.
Picking up the pen, Sebastian glanced at Cody wriggling beside him like an excited puppy, and then proceeded to write Grace a note.
Your son is mine. I will only release him back to you for one million dollars. If you can’t raise the one million, dinner tonight will be fine.
I’ll see you after Cody finishes school.
Seb.
Cody, reading over his shoulder, laughed. “Mum isn’t going to like that.”
“What? My dinner invitation?”
“You didn’t use please. Or thank you.”
“I’ll please her later.” Okay, that didn’t sound right. And it made the very male parts of his body tighten in ways those parts had never tightened before when thinking about Grace. What the hell? And what was with the dinner request? Why in the name of all things holy did he want to spend any more time with Grace than was absolutely necessary? And dinner tonight? He’d already arranged to catch up with Harrison tonight. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Gripping his backpack’s straps, Cody grinned, and then turned and bolted from the room. Sebastian followed.
And with every thudding step, he couldn’t help but wonder just how Grace liked to be pleased. Would she like it slow, sensual, or wild and uninhibited? How would she say thank you? In a breathy pant, or in a low, satisfied moan?
But more to the point, why the hell did the thought of being the one to please her, to give her the reason to pant or moan thank you, make his body tighten and his breath quicken?
The Irredeemable Billionaire (Muse series) Page 5
