by Bella Andre
“He did?” Her mother sipped her tea.
“He gave a talk in Los Angeles to thousands of people, and he told them about your arthritis and how you force yourself to walk a mile a day. Then he challenged the entire audience to walk their own mile every day.”
Charlie started the dart, using a backstitch to secure it. She poked a finger, then sucked on it so the material wouldn’t stain.
“That’s sweet of him. But a mile isn’t very much.” Mom pointed at the dart. “Go over it once more with a backstitch.”
Charlie switched directions, rolling the material over her index finger. “It depends on how far your mile is, doesn’t it? And how hard it is.”
“I suppose.” Her mother was quiet for a long moment. “How long is your mile, Charlie?”
She tied off the thread and snipped the ends, laughing a little as she admitted, “I’m not even sure what my mile is.”
Was it the chariot? All her art? The commissions? A big-money art career? Was it Magnolia Gardens for her mother? Maybe it was the pleasure she got from teaching. Despite yet another letter from the school she’d shoved into the drawer just yesterday without making a firm decision, teaching her students how to create art from what everyone else thought was junk had always made Charlie feel good.
But was that it? Or could her mile be falling recklessly for Sebastian? Not part of the way, but risking it all, every ounce of her heart and soul.
“It’s all right, dear,” her mother said as though she could read Charlie’s confusion in the frown on her face. “You’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.”
But she didn’t. She only had a little over a month until the chariot had to be completed. After that, she wouldn’t see Sebastian day in and day out, wouldn’t have dinner with him, discuss her day with him. Wouldn’t have the pleasure of knowing he might drop by for a kiss at any moment, when just the sight of him would brighten her entire world.
“Let’s finish the sewing,” her mother said, “and think about the rest later. I have an idea for fixing the beads on the purse too.”
Yes, Charlie thought. Finish the sewing. Worry later.
Or, better yet, she could try to make herself believe what Sebastian had told her dozens of times since they’d first met—that everything was going to work out beyond her wildest dreams. In which case, there would be more parties like this one to deal with, more dresses to find and fix, more hours of work to squeeze in—
Stop. She was borrowing trouble again. Especially since she was only a fraction of the seamstress her mother was and needed one hundred percent focus to get it right.
Putting her head down, she began to sew as though her life depended on it. And right then, if it meant managing to make Sebastian proud of her at the big hotel gala, it felt as though her life and her future actually did depend on this one dress.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For the night of the gala at the Regent Hotel, Walter Braedon had comped Charlie and Sebastian the penthouse suite, so they headed over early that afternoon to dress for the evening.
It had been nearly a week since they’d seen each other. With business to take care of in England, Sebastian had literally ached by the time he’d finally pulled her into his arms again. All he wanted, all he’d been able to think about for a week—hell, ever since the moment he’d met her—was her lips beneath his, her body quaking in bliss against him as he buried himself as deeply inside her as he possibly could. But though the sparks between them blew as hot as ever, he knew she was nervous about tonight. It had been tempting to take her mind off it in every sexy, delectable way he could think of, but his arrival at the airport had run late, and they’d had to head straight to the Regent.
Sebastian approached the hotel slowly, coasting past the rams in the center of the circular drive so that Charlie would get the full effect of her incredible creations. She gasped with sheer awe, one hand squeezing his arm, the other covering her mouth.
“Oh, my God.”
“I agree. They’re pretty damned spectacular.”
The animals reared against each other so that you could almost hear the clash of their horns. They battled on a splendid pedestal of mountain boulders surrounded by a garden of rock and exotic cacti, as though they were out in the wild rather than in the center of downtown San Jose. He pulled up beneath the portico. The Regent was grand, its gold front doors framed by huge columns and a flagstone entryway containing ferns, water lilies, and rippling fountains that sounded like music. Braedon had created a flawless setting.
“My rams.” Her voice trembled. “Here, in the middle of a palace. I can hardly believe it.”
When she turned to him, tears sparkled in her eyes, and his heart bubbled over with joy. He’d done right by her in finding the Regent and Walter Braedon. This was what he’d hoped for her, to see her work displayed for thousands. He hated the huge stumble he’d made with her over the cost of the velvet dress, but all of that was forgotten in the wonder on her beautiful face.
Under the portico, after the valet took his car, Sebastian hugged her tightly. “Believe, Charlie.” He took her hands in his and held them to his chest. “I always have.”
“Somehow it’s even better than seeing the dragon outside the church. I’m not even sure why.”
But he was. Just as he’d said on stage in Los Angeles, sometimes people were too close to things to see them clearly. She’d seen her rams only in her yard, and the dragon in front of a modest church. For the first time, she was viewing her work as it was meant to be: the centerpiece for all to marvel at.
Once inside, Sebastian checked them in while Charlie gazed raptly at replicas of Rodin’s famous thinking man and his embracing lovers at the foot of the stairs. One day people would study her work with that same rapt attention. He would make it happen for her. He would give her everything.
She pivoted suddenly and caught him watching her, their eyes locking across the expanse of marble, the lovers kissing behind her.
He wanted her just that way, naked and in his arms. But they hadn’t even shared a bed yet. That thought consumed him as they rode the elevator to the top floor. The penthouse had two bedrooms, each with an ensuite bathroom. But they never got a chance to think about keeping one of those bedrooms locked, because a call from Europe came just as they entered the suite.
He’d had to take it, chafing the whole time at business coming between them for nearly two hours. Charlie had long since excused herself, taking the second bedroom. Now, as Sebastian finished dressing for the gala, he silently cursed the unused beds in the two rooms. The unrumpled coverlet mocked him as he padded over the plush carpet to her bathroom door and knocked.
“Ready, Charlie?” It took another rap on the wood before she answered.
“No.” There were muffled sounds he couldn’t identify, then she called out, “Go ahead without me. I’ll be down in a minute.”
He’d planned to make an entrance with her hand on his arm, but on second thought, it was better that she come down on her own. She shouldn’t be the woman on Sebastian Montgomery’s arm, but the magnificent artist who’d created the astonishing sculpture in the front garden. He would be just a footnote to the night. This evening was her turn to shine at last. And yet he still wished he could experience every moment of the night right along with her.
“Okay,” he said, working hard to erase the reluctance from his voice. “I’ll see you there.”
Downstairs, between the alcoves of Roman statues, the curved wall of the enormous lobby was lined with buffet tables. Tuxedo-clad waiters and waitresses passed around trays of champagne. More than two hundred guests were already milling, their voices rising up to the mezzanine level. Later, there would be dancing upstairs. At the foot of the grand staircase, Rodin’s masterpiece was still thinking and his lovers were still kissing.
But thirty minutes later, Charlie had yet to put in an appearance.
“Sebastian.”
The voice jolted him. His focus on t
he elevators down the hall to his right—and Charlie’s impending entrance—had excluded everything else.
Will Franconi clapped him on the shoulder. “Where’s your artist?”
“Still getting ready.” And Sebastian, who had mastered patience early on in his career, was nearly out of it.
Decked out in a black tux, Will had his arm around his fiancée, Harper Newman, who wore a floor-length gown with a cropped jacket. She glowed as brightly as the gold of her dress, her cheeks pink with adoration as she gazed up at Will. The same love gleamed in Will’s eyes, making them a shade bluer than seemed possible.
As Sebastian gave Harper a kiss on the cheek, he silently noted that he’d never seen his friend truly happy until he’d met Harper a few months ago. Will had battled his demons and won. Considering how bad Will’s childhood had been, it was a hell of a feat.
“Saw the rams out there.” Judging by his intense expression, Will was impressed. “They’re powerful. Unique. Superb.”
“Especially with the lights coming up from below,” Harper agreed. “The rams could be real, actually fighting.”
Sebastian’s heart swelled for Charlie. “Make sure you tell Charlie that when she comes down. She needs to hear how her work affects people.” Maybe she’d start to believe she deserved all the success he felt should be hers. He glanced at the bank of elevators, barely able to tamp down his impatience. “What’s Jeremy up to tonight?”
“He’s staying with Mrs. Taylor,” Harper said. “He’s going to watch Steve McQueen in a special version of Bullitt with scenes deleted from the original car chase.”
When Harper smiled, Sebastian saw the light Will had fallen head over heels for. Yet for Sebastian, Charlie’s light was even brighter. So bright and so beautiful that he had to wonder who was really helping whom? Long before he’d come into her life, she had been creating magnificent works of art and taking care of her mom. Yet for him, it seemed as though he’d merely been marking time until he found her.
Before Will could launch into an account of how he’d acquired the prized Bullitt DVD, Matt Tremont joined their group. Once the runt of their Maverick litter, no one would ever have guessed it by the breadth of Matt’s shoulders and the width of his chest. Still the brainiac who’d built a robotics empire, he’d bulked up somewhere along the way until he was a force all on his own.
“Hey, Harper.” Matt leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You’re looking fabulous.”
“She always does,” Will agreed, playing his fingers through her hair in an unconscious gesture of possession, desire, and most of all, love.
“Thank you, Matt.” Harper’s smile was a mile wide as she asked, “How’s Noah?”
“He’s great. He can’t stop talking about the last time he saw Jeremy. No one makes him laugh harder than your brother.”
Everyone adored Matt’s five-year-old son. Susan especially, who’d made it clear more than once that she couldn’t wait to have more grandchildren to spoil rotten. And that her boys were taking far too long to get the job done.
“Nice gig,” Matt said to Sebastian. “Food looks good too. Looking forward to meeting the artist. Her rams are mind-blowing.”
“Glad you think so, but we know you’re really here for the free food.” It didn’t matter how far they’d come, some things were ingrained—no matter how much food you had, it was hard to forget what it was like to be hungry and all out of options.
Sebastian glanced past Matt’s shoulder to the elevator bank. Still no Charlie. “You see Evan or Daniel yet?”
“Whitney corralled Walter Braedon, so Evan’s with them.”
Will scowled. “Whitney always goes for the major players first. Especially if photographers are nearby.” Men and women with cameras were everywhere, snapping pictures at the front entrance as celebrities and the who’s who of the Silicon Valley elite arrived, dripping with jewels and designer gowns.
“And Daniel’s right over—” Matt waved his hand like a snake charmer. “—there.”
The fifth Maverick was making his way toward them, a plate of appetizers in his hand. Running a conglomerate of home improvement stores and producing his own do-it-yourself TV show, Daniel was dressed for the part as always, in khaki pants and a camel-colored jacket with leather patches on the elbows, his hair overly long. Sebastian wondered if he would manage to unearth a tux for Will and Harper’s winter wedding in Chicago, or if he’d just show up grinning in a plaid work shirt and boots. Truth was, none of the Mavericks would care if he did. Each of them wanted only happiness and a good life for the others.
In addition to taking over the world together, of course.
“Harper.” Holding her hand, Daniel kissed her cheek. She was one of them now, a Maverick, as was Jeremy. “You’re as lovely as a Tahoe sunrise.” Daniel was building a cabin up at Lake Tahoe, so he clearly had the big blue lake on the brain. He was also right that Harper, with all the love shining out of her, was just as beautiful.
Then Daniel was looking past them all, up the stairs. “Holy hell. Will you look at that vision coming down the stairs.”
As everyone turned, Sebastian suddenly couldn’t breathe...and his heart all but shut down in his chest. Tonight, the woman he’d fallen head over heels for wasn’t Charlie the strong, pretty tomboy. She was Charlotte.
But no, he realized, as his heart—and brain—slowly stuttered back into action. She was both Charlie and Charlotte. Radiant and alluring. Intelligent and creative. Brilliant and beautiful.
And he’d never wanted any woman more.
“She’s coming over to us,” Matt said, his voice sounding very far away.
All Sebastian could see or hear or feel was Charlie as she descended the stairs with elegance and style. She’d piled her hair on top of her head, a few locks falling carelessly free, brushing her shoulders. Gold drop earrings dangled from her lobes, glittering in the light of all the chandeliers.
“Her dress,” Harper said. “It’s stunning.”
As far as Sebastian was concerned, stunning barely scratched the surface. The corset-style top fitted her like the fingers of a tight glove, the thin straps holding it up nothing more than decoration. A teardrop necklace nestled seductively in her cleavage. The strip of bare midriff below the top dried up his mouth. The waist cinched and the skirt flared over her hips, then fell in graceful, swishing folds to her calves, the scalloped hem longer in the back than the front. Even her ankles in the strappy high-heeled sandals were perfection.
“Is that—” someone, maybe Harper, started to ask.
Sebastian could only nod, unable to do more than stare in awe at the woman who had stolen his heart.
The outfit she’d chosen was as striking as anything she’d tried on in the designer shop, even the pearl dress, as much as he’d loved her in it. But it wasn’t the outfit that stunned her audience.
It was all Charlie.
The lobby had fallen into complete silence. No one had ever seen anything like her. In the span of sixty glorious seconds, Charlie Ballard had completely transcended the surgically enhanced society mob. To top it all, every single thing about her was real, inside and out.
He’d cherished her beauty all along, beneath the jeans and the T-shirts and the glorious never-seen-a-salon hair, but now he realized there were more sides to her than he could have imagined. Everyone had different facets, some they kept locked away. Sebastian had those hidden features too, like the part of him that needed to draw. He’d never been brave enough to let any but his closest friends see his sketches, but tonight Charlie was bravely letting all her hidden qualities and talents shine.
He was dying to show her off, to drink in the sweet seductive sound of her voice, to learn everything he could about her. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her, to touch her, inhale her scent, kiss her.
And—finally—make her completely his.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Charlie had spent way too much time on her hair, but she wasn’t used to the curling iron, let al
one piling the mass of hair on top of her head. She’d had to watch several YouTube how-to videos to figure it out. But the time and effort had been more than worth it for the look on Sebastian’s face as she walked down the stairs.
She felt gloriously happy—every cell in her body yearning for Sebastian. At least, until she realized that the lobby had gone silent and absolutely everyone was staring at her. The pounding of her heart spiked higher as she gripped the rail and froze in place for a few moments.
Oh God, what was I thinking, trying to pull this off?
Feeling more than a little desperate, she looked back at Sebastian again. And suddenly everything was right. The admiration and pleasure in his eyes told her in no uncertain terms that she actually had pulled it off. As she’d fussed with her hair, her makeup, and her dress, she’d decided not only to play the siren for one night, but also to enjoy it. Now, with Sebastian’s gaze fortifying her and giving her the strength she’d momentarily lost in the face of this huge crowd, it was time to make good on that decision. No matter how difficult she found it to be at the center of all those assessing, judging gazes.
She was going to have fun, damn it! Even if it killed her.
As she descended the final step, Sebastian drew her against him. His murmured, “You take my breath away,” sent shivers through her body. She wished she could wear this dress only for him, and that he would sweep her away to their penthouse suite before she had to deal with the throng, all of them staring avidly.
At least she was lucky enough to meet his closest friends first. Sebastian had given Charlie the lowdown on the Mavericks during the drive over. Still, there were an awful lot of names and faces to keep straight. It didn’t help that his strong, protective hand was caressing the bare flesh of her back below the corset, making it difficult to focus on anything but the urge to drag him back upstairs and let him strip off her dress the way they both so desperately wanted.
