She took another sip, closing her eyes this time.
Hell, she was beautiful. Nothing about her would tick a casting agent or modeling agent’s boxes, but she was just…beautiful. Real-life beautiful. Sitting there, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the tea he’d made her, hair once again returning to its wild, curly nature… It was just Grace, there in the chair, tired but happy.
Grace. Who liked her tea hot with one teaspoon of sugar and who’d cried and cried when she’d learned her father had a horrible disease.
“Do you remember the day you found out your dad had MS?”
She opened her eyes at his low question, her eyebrows pulling into a frown. “Why?”
“I wanted… I wanted to say sorry for calling your hair orange. I started to come back over to your place to tell you that, after Mum dragged me and Harry out. But she caught me. Distracted me. Took me and Harry to the shops and bought us both whatever we asked for. I never got around to apologizing after that.”
She studied him, her expression unreadable. “What did you ask for?”
“A video camera. I came home and filmed a stop-motion movie about a praying mantis fighting with a cockroach over a crumb. My first movie ever.”
“So it’s fair to say I am responsible for giving the world the phenomenon that is Sebastian Hart, multi-award-winning director?” A light danced in her eyes. Mischief? Happiness? Or sarcasm?
He raised his mug to his lips. “It’s fair to say.”
He took a sip.
Okay, this is a really good tea.
“Is your mum doing okay?” Grace asked, watching him. “Does she still live in the same house?”
“Mum died last year. Heart attack.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. Grief filled her face. “I’m sorry, Seb. I’m so sorry.”
He waved a gentle, dismissing hand. “It is what it is. I’d bought her a house on the Harbor at Milsons Point a few years earlier. She spent most of her time in it complaining Harry and I never visited her enough.”
Grace let out a soft chuckle. She did know Alice Hart well, after all. Had grown up beside her. “What’s Harrison doing these days? Something with computers, yes? I think I saw an article once about him in the Sydney Morning Herald.”
“Harry is conquering the world one app at a time, although if you ask him, he’s bettering the world. You think I’m successful? Harry makes my yearly income look like spare change.”
“Ah, so I’m hanging out with the wrong brother, am I?” Her smile was playful. Jesus, how many beats did his heart skip? “Any chance Harrison could do something worth getting community service for?”
“You clearly don’t remember Harry that well. That brother of mine is a pain in the arse. You’ve got the best Hart, trust me.”
“I remember he was cute. Tall, dark hair, really nice shoulders, and he had these freckles on his nose and cheeks that just made me—”
“All right, all right.” He pouted, even as a hot shard of jealousy sheared through him.
She wriggled her eyebrows at him. “Seems I can still get you all riled up, can’t I?”
Oh, you have no idea.
Taking a sip of her tea, she studied him over her mug’s brim. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
Ask me to stay the night.
“What did you do to get community service?”
“Ahh.” He gave a sheepish grin. “I’m not overly proud of that.”
She didn’t say a word. Just waited.
Letting out a sigh, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
A small smile played with her lips. “No.”
“Fine.” He shifted himself in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. What was the worst that could happen after he divulged his crime?
She could ban me from seeing Cody again? From seeing her again…
His chest tightened. She watched him.
“During James Dyson’s bachelor party, I might have had one beer too many. It’s not something I do often, but then, it’s not every day one of your best mates is about to get married, is it? The four of us—me, James, Thomas St. Clair, and Harry were walking down George Street, and I saw a hat in the Hugo Boss window I wanted to try on. So I…”
He paused, swiped at his mouth, and rubbed at his neck again.
“So I threw a shopping trolley through the window and did just that.”
Hell, saying it aloud… Yeah, he really had been behaving like a dick.
“A shopping trolley?”
He nodded. Was that censure in her voice? Contempt? Or disbelief? Even when they were teenagers, he’d often had difficulty discerning her reaction to him.
“You threw a shopping trolley through the window of a Hugo Boss store in Sydney to try on a hat?”
“I’m not proud of it.” He wasn’t. Not at all. But he’d done it. And for some reason, charming and quipping away Grace’s condemnation like he had with the judge didn’t feel…right. Or good.
“Did it look good on you?”
He blinked. “Not really.”
She laughed.
“Okay, so that’s not the reaction I expected.”
“I know you, Seb. I could lecture you about being a narcissistic bastard until the cows come home, and it won’t change who you are.”
His throat thickened. It hurt that she still went to that term. A lot. Damn it, how did he make her change her mind? And more to the point, why did he want to?
Settling back in the chair, he swallowed. “So now you know, you’re not going to ask me to leave? Or ban me from being Cody’s big brother?”
She studied him silently. And then took a sip of her tea, the tea he’d made her. “No.”
He actually let out a ragged breath.
“Yes, I’m as surprised and confused as you are.” She smiled. “But Cody seems to like you, so…” She shrugged and took another sip of tea.
“And I like him. He’s a good kid.”
“He is. I’m very lucky.”
I’m lucky to be sitting here with you. He stopped the words before they fell from his lips. “Tell me about his dad. Your husband.”
She grew still, her expression unreadable. “Why?”
Why, indeed. Because he needed to know who the man who’d captured her heart was. Because he wanted to understand where Cody came from, and why she was in the situation she was now. Why she was working so hard her best friend signed her son up for a support program.
“I’m a storyteller. I like hearing stories about people. About life.”
She studied him, chewing on her bottom lip.
“I’m not going to be horrible. Promise.”
Taking another sip of her tea, she closed her eyes. “Okay. Gary was amazing. I met him at McDonald’s. We both got after-school jobs working there and started on the same day. We began dating when I was in my final year of high school. You’d moved to New York by then to study film. Dad thought he was wonderful. Mum loved him.”
“And you?” His voice was scratchy. Husky. His chest tightened.
The most beautiful and at the same time sad smile curled her lips, and she studied the surface of her tea. “It was love at first sight. He was wearing Star Trek socks. I was gone from that second.”
A dry, low laugh tore at Sebastian’s throat. He’d spent one whole afternoon mercilessly teasing Grace about Star Trek when she was fifteen. Why had he done that?
To see her get angry? Or to make her interact with you, even if was to shout?
“He was the most courageous and honest person I’ve ever met,” she went on, focus fixed on her tea. “When I got pregnant—three months out from graduating—he didn’t run, didn’t bolt. Didn’t try to pretend it wasn’t his. He didn’t blame me, even though it was my fault because I’d forgotten to take a contraceptive pill one morning. He asked me to marry him, got down on one knee and everything in Mum and Dad’s backyard. We got married, he was accepted into the fire bri
gade, and I started uni studying a pre-hospital care degree. We moved into a tiny little apartment near the station house, and he worked the shifts when I was home, and looked after Cody when I was at university. And he never complained, and he never stopped loving me, and I…” She stopped. Squeezed her eyes closed. Sebastian’s heart tore at the crack in her voice. “I miss him so much every day I sometimes wonder how I can still breathe.”
She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. A tear escaped her lashes, trickling a slow path down her smooth cheek.
“And I promised him after he was killed I would never replace him, and I get angry at him every day for not being here.”
Sebastian swallowed. What did he say to that? He’d wanted to know why Grace’s husband had left her with such a tight financial situation she had to work so hard, but only a bastard would ask now, and he wasn’t a bastard.
Not totally, anyway.
“He sounds amazing,” he said, voice huskier than before.
“He was. Not just to me, but to Cody. He was a brilliant father.” She smiled, returning her gaze to her tea. “Thank you for making me this by the way. It’s good. You shouldn’t dis your tea-making abilities.”
He swallowed again. “Thanks.”
Silence stretched. Not awkward, just silence.
He took a sip of his Earl Grey. His normal way of dealing with other people’s grief, other people’s stress, was to walk away from it, but right now, the thought of walking away from Grace made his heart clench.
But he would have to eventually. He wasn’t here for a relationship. He was here…
For what? Community service doesn’t involve dinner and late-night cups of tea, or trying to make neighbors jealous or—
“Gary didn’t plan on dying.”
The bizarre statement jerked him out of his unsettling thoughts. He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
She sighed, eyelids low. She was looking exhausted again. “His life insurance wasn’t up to date. That’s why I have to work so many hours. His old station house raised a lot of money for me and Cody after he died, after they discovered the situation with his insurance, but…” She sighed again. “That’s why Cody’s life isn’t as wonderful as it should be.”
She licked at her lips and met his gaze, her face set. He recognized the expression. That expression had been a part of his life a long time ago, and it didn’t surprise him at all now how much he’d missed it.
“I didn’t gamble away Gary’s money,” she went on, looking at her tea again, “or spend it foolishly. I haven’t neglected Cody or only thought of myself. Gary just…never got around to updating his policy to cover a wife and a child is all.”
He pushed himself to his feet, made his way to where she sat, and lowered himself until he perched his butt on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of her. “Grace, not for one second did I think Cody was assigned a big brother because you were failing as a mum. Nor have I thought you were failing as a mum because you were a failure at finances. We may have fought constantly when we lived next door to each other, but I’ve never thought you negligent or pathetic. Even back then.” He placed his hand on her knee, holding her stare with his. “Do you hear me?”
She didn’t move. Not for a long moment. And then she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you.”
He turned, aching, craving the feel of her lips on his, but she was gone before he could claim them. She settled back in her chair, sipping at her tea, her gaze lost to something he couldn’t see.
Let me stay the night.
The words filled his head, but he caught them before they formed in his mouth. Those were words that didn’t belong to him and Grace. They could never belong to him and Grace. Instead, he straightened to his feet, carried his mug to the kitchen, and placed it on the counter. “I have to head off now.”
“Okay.” The word was a low whisper, her tone as distant as her gaze.
Christ, he wanted to go to her. Wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, press his face to that insane, amazing hair of hers, feel her warmth beneath his palms, have her heart beat against his chest. He wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh. He wanted to take away her grief.
Instead, he headed for her front door, opened it, and stepped through it.
“Sebastian?”
Her soft call halted his feet. His heart smashed up into his throat. He caught his breath and turned around.
She stood on the other side of the threshold, within his reach and yet so far from it. A lifetime of being given what he wanted, of taking what he wanted, and here he stood, sliding his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smiled, acting relaxed, casual. He should be an actor. “For what?”
“For what you are doing with Cody. For dinner. For…” She faded off.
Fuck it.
He closed the minute chasm between them, cupped her face in his hands, and gently placed his lips on hers.
Just that. No more.
Stepping backward, he smiled again. “Just in case generically good-looking Justin is watching.”
A shaky laugh fell from her. “I don’t want Justin.”
Who do you want?
He forced out a low chuckle. “Wasn’t the plan to make him jealous?”
An indefinable light shone in her eyes. “That was your plan. To convince me to say nice things about you to Judge Myers.”
His gut clenched. So did his chest. He chuckled again. Bloody hell, he sounded like a lunatic. “Ahh, that. Yes. I still need you to do that, ya know. Just in case you thought otherwise.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Go away, Seb. You bother me.”
Oh, Grace. If only you knew how mutual the feeling is.
“Your wish…” He bowed deeply, grinned at her, and hurried off the porch, heading for his car. At the driver’s side door, he stopped and turned back to her. “Oh, and Grace?”
“Yes?” she called from the porch.
“The red-carpet premiere of Samantha and Dave is tomorrow night at the Opera House. I’ll pick you up at five.”
He opened the door and climbed into the Range Rover before she could respond. He knew she was off work for the night because he’d seen her work roster attached by magnets to the fridge door. She worked the morning shift for the rest of the week until Sunday, when it was another double shift. He’d intended to go solo, as was his tradition. He’d never attended a premiere of one of his own films with a date. But more than anything, he wanted Grace on his arm tomorrow evening.
Almost more than anything. At that very moment in time, what he wanted more than anything was to pull her into his arms, kiss her senseless, and then carry her back into her house and discover everything about her he never knew.
Everything.
He started the Range Rover and pulled away.
And no matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t look back.
…
“Red-carpet premiere?”
Shelli gaped at her.
Grace sat on the edge of her bed, dressed in a bra and panties, holding two shoes. Neither matched.
“Red-carpet premiere.” She held up the shoe in her left hand, a black patent-leather pump she’d only ever worn once…to Gary’s funeral. “These ones?” She held up the other shoe, a bright red stiletto sandal she’d bought to wear to a staff fancy-dress Christmas party. “Or these ones?”
“I remember those shoes.” Rory waved his toe at the red shoe from where he lay stretched out on her bed. “You wore those when you lost our bet on who would become the new prime minister.”
“You made me go as a stripper.”
Rory laughed. “You were going to make me go as the new prime minister in drag if you won.”
“Can we come back to the fact you’re going to the red-carpet premiere of Hart’s new movie at the Opera House. In”—Shelli checked her watch—“less than an hour? And you’re only
just now telling us.”
Grace scowled at the shoes in her hands. “I did tell you I was going out and needed help with babysitting and picking what to wear.”
“Bit of an important detail to omit during the text convo, though, don’t you think? BTW, I’m going on a date with Sebastian Hart to his film premiere.”
“It’s not a date.”
Which is why her pulse was pounding, her stomach was rolling, and she was fretting over what shoes to wear with the dress she’d picked. Which was why she wished she had stupid amounts of money to spend on a new dress, because the simple blush-colored silk slip—a hand-me-down from Shelli last year—wouldn’t be even close to good enough for the evening. Which was why she should have said yes to the personal shopper Sebastian had sent to her house earlier.
Which was why she’d spent longer on her makeup then she ever had, even pulling out the mascara.
She was starting to hyperventilate. Oh God, what was she doing? What was she—
“Hey!” Shelli dropped onto the end of the bed beside her and rubbed her back. “Hey, hey. No stressing, hon.”
Rory scrambled to her other side, plucked the shoes from her hands, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Did you know,” he said, as if she wasn’t currently trying to suck all the air in the world into her lungs in one desperate attempt, “that the average film-premiere attendant has had cosmetic surgery on at least fourteen point five percent of their body?”
Grace blinked at him.
“According to some magazine I found in the staff room the other day,” he continued, expression solemn and wise. “So for the first time ever at a film premiere, there will be an attendant who’s had zero cosmetic surgery. You, Grace Wilder, are a groundbreaker. Unless you’ve had a nip and a tuck without telling anyone.”
Grace laughed, hugging him back. “Rory, if you weren’t gay, I’d marry you.”
“Okay, now you’ve remembered how to breathe correctly”—Shelli slapped her on the back a few times—“it’s time to finish getting ready. I can’t believe Hart gave you such short notice and expected you to have a dress suitable.”
“Well, he did send a personal shopper here, but that was about five minutes before I had to go to work. Besides, no one is going to be interested in me, and the dress you wore to that kids’ charity ball last year will suffice.”
The Irredeemable Billionaire (Muse series) Page 10
