by Dara Girard
But it was several minutes into the meal when it became clear that everything wasn’t fine.
“Do you not like the food?” Mrs. Mensah asked him.
All eyes went to Sebastian’s still empty plate.
“No, it all looks wonderful,” he said, glancing down at Percy and Julius who still sat staring up at him.
“Do you want someone to make up a plate for you?” Before he could reply, she nodded to her daughter. “You’re closest to him. Give him something.”
“No, really I can—”
But Naomi took his plate before he could protest, sending him a glance that it was best not to argue. The cats walked to the other side of his chair.
“More rice,” her mother chided. “Do you want him to be as skinny as you?”
“Like that’s even possible,” Naomi mumbled as she added another large spoonful.
Her father made a low noise of disapproval, making it clear he’d heard her comment.
She set the now full plate in front of Sebastian. “Enjoy.”
“I will.”
They waited.
He lifted his fork.
They continued to wait. The cats slowly swished their tails.
Sebastian lifted the fork to his mouth then looked around. “It’s delicious.”
“You haven’t even tasted it yet,” Naomi said. “Hurry up.” She stiffened her features to mimic a look he usually gave her. “Your food is getting cold.”
“Don’t rush him,” her mother said.
Sebastian took a bite then nodded. “Wonderful.” He set his fork down.
“You’re not going to finish?”
“I will.” He cleared his throat then glanced back down at the cats.
“The cats are making him nervous. Naomi, put them away.”
“No, they’re fine,” Sebastian said, covering Naomi’s hand before she could stand, her skin prickled at his touch. “I’m sorry, this is new to me. I usually eat alone.” He gestured to their plates. “Just keep talking and eating and pretend that I’m not here.”
“That’s not how dinner works,” Naomi said, half wanting him to remove his hand, half wanting him to leave it there all evening. “You gather with people and talk and eat—together. That’s the entire point.”
“But if you’re feeling awkward,” her mother said, “we won’t look at you while you eat.”
He was no longer just covering her hand; he was absently drawing little circles with his forefinger on the back of her hand. It shouldn’t have felt sensuous, but it did. She swallowed and pulled her hand away annoyed at herself and him for making her feel this way. “Mom, that’s impossible. Look at the size of him, he’s a little hard to ignore.”
“Naomi!”
She sent him a firm look. “Eat or I’ll feed you myself,” she said reminding him of the threat he’d first made when he’d brought the chicken soup.
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a quick grin. “All right,” he said, then took another bite. His pace was still slow and a little awkward, but he made his way through the meal until nobody noticed.
At the end of dinner, Naomi and her father sat in the living room and got into a discussion about lymphoproliferation while Mrs. Mensah began to clear the table. Sebastian stood to help her.
“No, I’m fine. Ack, that daughter of mine,” she said with a note of frustration and affection as she sent her daughter a look. “She should be helping, but she’s oblivious. I blame her father.”
“They seem to have a great relationship,” he said with a hint of envy.
“They do, heaven help me. What does your father do?”
“He was in the real estate business. He passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We looked alike, but weren’t alike in many ways.” He reached for the dishes.
“Please leave me and join them. I can tell that you want to.” When she saw him hesitate, she added, “My husband will be disappointed if you don’t.”
Sebastian tentatively sat down across from Naomi and Dr. Mensah amazed by their easy interaction. His father was bold and loud, while Mr. Mensah was quieter and reserved, but firm in his opinions. His father cared and loved him, but also loved to dictate to him rather than listen. As he grew older their conversations became more stilted, especially when he decided not to follow in his father’s footsteps. His father couldn’t understand Sebastian’s career choice and the distance between them became larger. His father was savvy, bright, but thought the ivory tower of academics was for wimps. Sebastian respected him, but couldn’t always relate to him.
Many times Sebastian didn’t feel as if he could relate to most people. As a child he’d grown used to eating alone, first because he was in the hospital a lot, then at school no one would eat with him, after that he ate alone from the fear of being teased about his size. He remembered in high school one fat girl who only ate salad, loudly complaining that she didn’t know why she couldn’t lose weight.
He’d wondered the same thing, until he caught her one day sitting alone in a fast food restaurant stuffing her face with cheeseburger and fries like an addict inhaling cocaine. He felt sorry for her and the guilty secret she kept. Another kid, nicknamed The Brick, made eating a performance art. He proudly stacked his tray with everything the cafeteria had to offer that day and consumed everything like a giant sinkhole swallowing up a house.
Sebastian wanted to eat in peace. He didn’t want to be like the girl and pretend he didn’t know why he was overweight, he liked to eat, it was that simple. But he didn’t like people watching and commenting either. Even as he grew and slimmed down a little, he’d gotten into the habit of eating alone, except with his family. Eating with others had become awkward. He didn’t feel easy with groups anyway and eating with them only made things worse.
But the Mensahs were different. Once he started eating nobody made a big deal of it. They didn’t comment when he took another crab cake or a third helping of cornbread. He realized even Naomi’s mention of his size didn’t bother him. For some reason, with them he didn’t feel sensitive about it.
Sebastian glanced down when he felt something nudge against his leg. He looked at one of the cats, Percy he guessed, and bent down to stroke him. Julius nudged his other leg. Sebastian switched his attention and stroked the cat under his chin. He sat back when he felt he’d petted him enough, but both cats wanted more attention. They jumped up on the couch on either side of him and curled up. He stroked one and then the other until they began to purr.
Sebastian would have spent the remainder of the evening just petting the cats and listening to the conversation, if Dr. Mensah hadn’t asked him a direct question about his opinion about natural resistance to infection, which he quickly answered. Naomi disagreed with his response and soon the three were involved in a passionate, heated discussion that lasted until Mrs. Mensah had to interrupt them to announce dessert.
For Sebastian, the evening was a success. Even Naomi seemed amazed by how well he and her parents had gotten on. That night he stared at his reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the man who stared back at him. Keep it together Scott. You’re close.
Phase two of his plan was in place.
But it was no longer all he wanted.
Chapter 13
“Who is that?”
Naomi followed Dr. Vera Conklin’s cool hazel gaze to where Sebastian sat in the small café. Few things could escape the older woman whose crisp dark suit emphasized her boxy frame. Her sun-washed, blonde hair with streaks of grey was pulled back from her face in a bun and clear framed glasses gave her the appearance of the brilliant woman she was. She’d gotten her doctorate in cell biology and with her former husband, Niklaas, was known in the field for her research into bacterial infections such as listeria. Naomi had asked to meet her mentor for lunch and although she’d given Sebastian the day off, he’d decided to stay three tables away. “He’s my new personal assistant.”
“I didn’t know you needed an assistant.”
> “Neither did I until he showed up. He’s better than he looks.”
“Couldn’t you have found someone a little more…” She waved her hand searching for words.
“I didn’t find him. He found me. It’s a long story. Just pretend he’s not there.”
“That’s impossible. He’s quite unforgettable. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you two coming into together. The way he held the door open for you was almost medieval.”
“He’s not that bad,” Naomi said feeling a little defensive. He was being courteous not medieval. Was it wrong for him to hold the door open for her? And he was hard to ignore, even more so than before. His appearance wasn’t as shabby as it had been in the past and he’d gotten his hair cut and his beard trimmed. When had that happened and why hadn’t she noticed it sooner? She wasn’t the only one to notice his improved appearance, catching the waitress sneaking glances at him.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Vera said with a note of caution. “But he looks a little bit like Sebastian Scott.”
“Probably because he is.”
She stared at Naomi wide-eyed for a few seconds then closed her mouth and shook her head. “Get rid of him immediately.”
“You think I haven’t tried?” Naomi said with a laugh, even though she didn’t want him to leave anymore.
“He can’t be on your project.”
“He’s not.”
“What if people find out?”
“How would they? I won’t get my funding yanked because of a personal relationship.”
“How personal is it?”
“I just told you. He’s my assistant. Nothing more.” Although she had imagined what it would be like if it became something more, especially that one night only a week after he’d had dinner at her parents, when she’d gone downstairs for a late night snack and found him lying face up on the kitchen floor…
“Oh my God,” she cried, racing over to him. “Sebastian, are you okay?” She felt for a pulse.
She heard him mumble something.
“What? Where are you hurt?”
“Stay away from me,” he said. “I’m a little drunk.”
He was splayed on the cold kitchen floor wearing only his dark blue pajama bottoms. She could guess that he was more than a little drunk, even though she didn’t smell much alcohol on him. Was he really that much of a lightweight when it came to drinking?
“Come on,” she said. “Let me help you up.”
He didn’t move. “I don’t think I can keep this up. I can’t do it anymore.”
He was ready to quit? Had she worked him too hard? A part of her heart lifted, then fell and she faced the terrible truth—she didn’t want him to.
“You just need to rest,” she said, struggling to lift him up. His skin felt hot beneath her fingers and soon her nightgown felt like a flimsy barrier between him and her own nakedness. He fell back against her, his back resting on her breasts, the heat from his skin seeping through the cotton fabric.
“Naomi, I—”
She didn’t want to hear him say he wanted to quit. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.” She tried to push him forward, biting her lip when she felt the urge to press her mouth against the expanse of his back and shoulders.
He sighed then straightened, moving away from her. “I’m sorry.” He turned to her, his compelling brown eyes holding her still. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He didn’t scare her. He made her heart pound, her hands tremble, her blood rush. She wanted to feel his skin next to hers. She wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers again, but this time deeper and longer. And he didn’t seem drunk—he looked sexy and sober. Or was that just her imagination? She hugged herself to keep herself still. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m sure. I do that sometimes. I get hot and like the feel of the cool tiles against my back.”
His back. His beautiful, broad back. Oh to be the tiles on the kitchen floor.
Sebastian rose to his feet then held his hand out to lift her up. She didn’t move, continuing to stare up at him. “You’ve lost weight.” He’d always been big, but over the past few weeks he’d become more toned and with his shirt off it was easy to notice.
“Hmm.”
“Is that a yes?”
He wiggled his fingers with impatience. “Come on. Get up.”
She took his hand, but surprised him by pulling him down towards her. Unfortunately, she used more force than she’d planned and he lost his balance and fell on top of her. He lifted his head and his startled gaze met hers and she realized it was the first time she’d seen him without his glasses.
He swore and quickly rolled off of her. “Are you okay?”
Her body still tingled from the feel of his body lying across the length of hers. The contact was brief, but memorable. And for one wild moment she’d wished the kitchen floor was her bed and he was pressing her down into the mattress.
His face appeared above hers, like a prince in a fairytale offering a kiss. “Naomi?”
She blinked and had to resist the urge to pull him down again and press her lips against his. “What?”
“I asked if you were okay.”
She quickly sat up, and scrambled backwards when he reached for her. She couldn’t trust herself if he touched her. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
He stared at her for a long moment his eyes unreadable, then gritted his teeth and surged to his feet. “No, I’m not.”
“What’s wrong?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and said under his breath, “I shouldn’t have started this.”
“Started what?” she whispered.
His mercurial gaze held her and for a brief, wild moment she saw hunger in his eyes before a shutter dropped down and she knew she wouldn’t hear the answer. He opened the fridge. “Do you want me to make you something?”
She stood, desperate to leave. She needed space from him. “No, I’m fine.”
“But you came down to get something.”
“I changed my mind. Good night.”
She’d been awkward around him since that night. He’d also been more quiet than usual and although she tried her best to make his job easy, twice remembering her own lunch, canceling a few impromptu meetings and appointments so he didn’t have to scramble to keep her schedule organized, it didn’t matter.
“He’s still not good for you,” Naomi heard Vera say.
She knew that. But it wasn’t her reputation she was worried about. Every day she thought about him more and more. What had happened before that night in the kitchen? He hadn’t mentioned wanting to quit again, but he didn’t seem as happy about the arrangement as he’d once been.
But perhaps she’d been looking at it all wrong. Maybe he missed doing what she did. Maybe seeing her go to the lab brought up memories of what he’d lost.
She wanted to help him, but how? For days she’d wracked her brain for possibilities. What could she offer him? He didn’t need money. He discussed her project, but only in passing. It hadn’t been his area.
His area. That’s when she thought about Vera and knew she could offer him something he couldn’t get on his own. Vera’s former husband had also worked at BioCorps on the same project with Sebastian. Although divorced, Vera and Niklaas had parted ways on good terms. What if, with her friend’s help and her former husband’s insight, they could help Naomi uncover what really happened? Perhaps Sebastian could be vindicated and get his reputation back.
“I might be good for him,” Naomi said. “I asked you here for a reason.”
Vera shook her head. “I don’t like that look.”
“I need your help in finding out more regarding the BioCorps scandal.”
“No.”
“Even back then you felt sorry for him.”
“I did. We all did. His was a career ended before it even had a chance to begin.”
“Your husband knew him.”
Vera waved her finger. “Let it go, Naomi. There�
��s nothing to find. You’ll only hurt him in the process.”
“All I want—”
Vera stood. “I won’t help you. No one will. Sebastian Scott is poison and his career is better left buried.”
Chapter 14
He’d miscalculated.
Sebastian let his coffee grow cold as he sat in the café keeping his distance from Naomi and Dr. Conklin.
He’d thought a couple months as Naomi’s personal assistant would have been easy, but they’d been hell.
Hell because he was fighting an attraction that he hadn’t anticipated and it only grew stronger every day. And if he didn’t get it under control, he wouldn’t achieve his goal. He’d nearly lost it a week ago when Naomi had found him on the kitchen floor. He hadn’t been drunk that night, but he wished he had been.
He’d developed the habit of cooling off on the kitchen floor when his life had imploded five years ago: Discovering that erroneous data in the research that had eventually led to the debacle within BioCorps had kept him up at night. He’d suffered major night sweats and only the cool tiles in the kitchen could give him any relief.
This time it wasn’t just his job on the line. It was his heart. Naomi wasn’t even his type. Sure, he thought she was pretty…
He inwardly groaned. Even that was wrong. His feelings were subjective and unquantifiable but he thought she was beautiful. He swallowed up the sight of her like a man coming off of a hunger strike. Every look, every glance, he devoured. He couldn’t get enough.
When they talked, no matter the subject—microbes, food, world events, movies—his mind felt alive. With her, there were so many things he didn’t have to explain, it was a relief to finally be able to converse in the field he’d loved after years of feeling like he’d been in a desert. He’d tired of talking profit, loss, absorption rate and capital gain. He could have talked with her for hours…but then he’d made a mistake and looked at her mouth. And then he couldn’t stop looking and wondering and wanting.
He wanted her.
His mother had warned him, but he needed Naomi if he wanted his plan to work. He needed her to like him, to depend on him, but now that was becoming more and more of a goal than a strategy. It wasn’t rational to buy a new suit, to start getting his hair trimmed every week. He’d even taken up jogging. He’d never jogged before, but he had energy he had to get rid of because every time she brushed against him, he thought he would burst into flames.
