“Yes,” I say shortly, and stand, brushing the dust off the back of my shorts.
As I walk over to close the windows, he says, “Leave them open. It’s pretty stale in here.”
“Sure,” I say, and beeline for the door. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
His gentle hand on my arm stops me. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.
I offer a bright smile. “Great, thanks.”
I can tell he’s not convinced, but he smiles back at me. “I won’t be here for dinner, actually. I wanted to let you know. I’m meeting a friend in the city.”
I stiffen, holding my smile with effort. “Okay, have fun. I’m going for a swim.”
Ducking past him, I walk quickly down the hallway, down two flights of stairs, around a corner, and through the living room to the back door. Once outside, my heart rate slows and I can breathe again.
A half-hour later, I’m on a lounge by the pool listening to Vera bitch about the man she’s been dating for the last three weeks. We chat every few days, and based on the pettiness of her complaints, he’s actually a pretty nice guy.
“Seriously, he takes longer to get ready in the morning than I do,” she says, finishing out the latest round of whining.
I smirk. “He’s a model, Vera. What did you expect?”
“Ugh, I don’t know. Anyway, enough about me. How’s the nervous breakdown going?”
I laugh. “Fuck you.”
She chuckles. “How are you really?”
“I’m good,” I say, and strangely, I almost believe it. “It must be all this smog-free air. I’m sleeping better, drinking less coffee, walking and swimming a lot. Haven’t had a panic attack since I got here.”
Not a major one, at least.
“That’s awesome,” she says with rare solemnity. “I’ve been really worried about you.”
“I know, and I’m sorry about—”
“Stop apologizing,” she interjects gently. “You were out of your mind, and obviously Sebastian is a huge emotional trigger for you.” A pause. “Have you talked to him since the night you got there?”
“No. He made it pretty clear he wants nothing to do with me.” I take a deep breath. “You still haven’t told me about the gala last night.”
“Oh! Jesus, I’m sorry, you must be dying to hear. It was beautiful. Perfect. Bethany and the committee told me to pass along their thanks. They raised all the necessary funds and then some.”
I grin. “That’s great news. Did the governor make it?”
“Yep, and Alex and Thea were there. They're so freaking cute. I kept purposely running into them, shamelessly plugging my friendship with you.”
I frown. “Huh? Why? They know we’re friends.”
“I was angling for an invite to the wedding! You know, in case you find a plus one in the interim.”
I almost fall off the chair. “What?” I shriek.
Silence, then, “Oh fuck.”
A discomforting mix of hurt and joy slices through me. “Oh my God, my brother’s getting married? Was she wearing a ring?”
“Oh yeah. A solitaire, nothing extravagant. But it was blinding.” She clears her throat. “I think he asked really recently. Maybe even yesterday. Sorry, Candace, I didn’t think—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly. “I’m thrilled for them! I’m sure Alex will call soon.”
“He definitely will. Hey, before I forget, he mentioned something about Nona’s birthday that I thought you’d want to know.”
Thinking of the small, surprise dinner party I’m hosting tomorrow night for her, I ask, “Did he say he was coming? I texted him about it but he never got back to me.”
“I don’t think so, no, but he said someone might be flying back from Cambodia for it.”
For the second time, I almost fall off my chair. I sent the email invitation to Sebastian, of course, but it hadn’t occurred to me that he might actually show.
“Are you sure that’s what he said?” I demand.
“Pretty sure. Alex mentioned that he was bummed he didn’t think he could make it, but hoped Sebastian could get the time off from filming.”
As if the man in question might suddenly appear poolside, I wrench my head around and survey the backyard, then stare at the house for signs of movement. Seeing nothing, I relax back into the chair, swallowing against the pounding of my pulse.
“You okay?” asks Vera with thinly veiled amusement.
“Great,” I say dryly, “except for the heart attack I just had.”
She laughs. “Not surprising. The few times I’ve been in the same space with the two of you—when you’re not being sedated for screaming at him—the sexual tension is off the charts. Are you going to sleep with him again?”
“No,” I say immediately, while my thighs quiver at the prospect. Then my rational brain kicks on, reminding me of our last conversation. And this time, I mean it when I say, “No, I doubt it.”
“Okay,” she says skeptically. “I’ve gotta run. Sorry about spilling the marital beans. Love you.”
“No worries, V. Love you, too.”
We hang up. I turn again, staring at the house until my eyes burn. Finally, when I’m convinced no one’s lurking inside, I walk to the edge of the pool and dive in. Twenty-five laps later, I’m sane again.
The rest of the day passes without fanfare, save for a phone call from Alex late afternoon. After squealing my head off, I run into the guesthouse and put him on speakerphone. Nona and I happily listen to a play-by-play of the proposal. By the time the call wraps up, we’re both teary. If there’s anyone who deserves a happily ever after, it’s Alex.
Since my dad is out on the town, Nona and I don’t bother with the big house for dinner, instead sharing pasta primavera and warm, crusty bread at her kitchen table. After, we watch trashy television for a bit, and when my eyelids start sinking I trudge upstairs to bed. I pass out within minutes, curled in the bed that’s become mine, and it doesn’t cross my mind—not freaking once—that maybe I should be sleeping in my old room tonight.
Which is why, when a male body slides under the covers with me several hours later, I scream bloody murder.
19
Or rather, I try to scream. The sound that comes out of me is a laughably weak yelp. Sebastian curses as he leaps out of bed, stalks across the room, and flips on the overhead light.
In other circumstances, his expression would make me laugh. I can’t recall a time I’ve seen him as genuinely astonished.
“Candace? What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
Nothing rational comes to mind. “It’s my bed now.”
His brow furrows with confusion. “I must be severely jet-lagged, because I think I just heard you say you’ve commandeered my bed.”
Sitting up and dragging the sheet with me, I shake my head into wakefulness. “Sorry, I didn’t think—I just heard today that you might be coming.” I look around the room, cluttered with my belongings. “Let me get my things.”
Sebastian looks around as well, his eyes widening. “Jesus, your shit is everywhere. I’m… well, I’m speechless.”
Lips quirking into a half-smile, he continues surveying how I’ve turned his tidy childhood room into an ungodly mess.
The reality of him actually standing in the room finally hits me, knocking half the breath from my lungs. His hair is still buzzed short, and he’s even leaner, like he’s lost weight for his current role. But these details are superficial—he’s Sebastian, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Emotions swirl through me, lust and need, nervousness and hurt.
I don’t want to be in a relationship where all we do is fight and fuck. Isn’t that what you said? Well, you’re right. That’s all we’re good at.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat lamely.
His eyes flash to mine, shining with wry humor. I’m so relieved by his amusement, his lack of animosity, that I just stare at him until he clears his throat.
“I’ll take th
e couch.”
My brain turns back on. “Don’t be silly, you won’t fit on that thing. Just… turn around so I can get dressed.”
Instead of turning, his eyes narrow on my bare shoulders. His throat bob as he swallows, and I quake when his burning gaze fastens on my face.
“Tell me you’re not naked in my bed, Candace.”
Heat floods my cheeks, my pounding heart seating itself between my legs. Fighting arousal and a growing need for impulsive, emotionally damaging decisions, I say tensely, “I swear to God, Sebastian, I really didn’t do this on purpose.”
He frowns a little. “I know that.”
“Okay, good,” I sigh out, then frown back at him. “So, turn around.”
He doesn’t move. Longing unfurls inside me, piercing bright. I remind myself that he doesn’t want me and said as much.
“Sebastian? What are you waiting for?”
“You have freckles,” he says softly.
I glance down, seeing them sprinkled over my shoulders and chest, then back up with raised brows.
“I’ve always gotten freckles in the sun.”
“I know. I just haven’t seen them since we were kids.” When his eyes find mine again, they’re melting chocolate, full of the same need I feel inside me.
“Sebastian,” I plead in a last-ditch effort for him to have more common sense than I do. Whatever feeling is in my voice, he hears it, and turns fast toward the door.
“Sorry,” he says tightly.
I slip out of bed and yank on a pair of sweats, then pull a sweater over my head. “Okay, all good.”
I grab the few necessities in reach—my phone, my wallet, car keys, and the near-empty journal I keep meaning to write in. As I spin toward the door, the journal slips from my fingers, hitting the floorboards before sliding across the room.
Sebastian picks it up, his fingers grasping the piece of paper sticking out of it. I close my eyes as he pulls the photograph free.
“Where did you get my senior picture?” he asks, voice slack with surprise.
“I, uh… found it the other day. Well, Nona found it. We were talking about… it.”
Sebastian winces. “You’re a horrible liar, Candy.”
My libido surges at the nickname, then plummets as he throws the photo onto the nearby desk. We stare at each other for a few moments; he looks away first.
“Thanks for the bed. Appreciate it.”
“Sure, definitely,” I stammer, and move toward the door. He crosses the room to sit on the bed, and out of the corner of my eye I see him kick off his shoes.
I’m halfway free of this nightmare when his voice stops me.
“Candace?”
My hand on the knob to close the door behind me, I turn with raised brows. “Yes?”
Whatever thoughts are sliding behind his dark gaze, he keeps to himself. “See you tomorrow.”
I nod and flee.
Nona is thrilled by Sebastian’s unannounced arrival—I hear her cries of surprise and pleasure through my open window, which faces the back of the property.
My father is pleased as well, greeting me when I walk into the kitchen an hour later with, “Candace, look what the cat dragged in!”
“Roadkill?” I ask sweetly, then make a show of noticing Sebastian. “Oh, well… close enough.”
The person in question smirks tiredly from behind a cup of coffee. His gaze tracks down my body, one brow cocking at my grass-stained khaki shorts and white t-shirt.
“I guess you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the—”
“Blah blah,” I interject, hurrying toward the coffee pot to hide my smile.
Nona turns from the stove where she’s scrambling eggs and frying bacon. “I think the garden will be fine today, dear. You and Sebastian should relax by the pool. Catch up.”
For a pregnant moment, I stare at her open-mouthed. Sebastian clears his throat. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Liquid heat pools in my center, weakening my knees. My spoon, full of sugar and angled for my mug, misses its target by several inches, dumping white grains all over the counter. I step in front of the mess, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully, my father and Sebastian are having a heated discussion about the stock market.
Nona—who used to be my favorite nana but is suddenly my worst enemy—says cheerily, “Candace, you should take Sebastian on one of your walks this morning. The poor boy was stuck on planes for over twenty-four hours. He needs to stretch his legs.”
“I, uh…” Faltering, I shoot her a glare.
“I’m pretty tired, actually,” says Sebastian smoothly. “I’ll probably head back to bed after breakfast.”
“Nonsense!” Nona exclaims, using the singular tone that makes everyone in the kitchen wince. “You’re only here for two days. You will not sleep through them.”
Unable to help myself, I turn and lean against the counter, aiming a mocking smile in Sebastian’s direction. He sticks his tongue out in reply, then notices his aunt’s pointed stare.
“Yes, Nona. Whatever you say, Nona.”
My father laughs. “Some things never change. So, Sebastian, how’s filming going?”
I help Nona bring breakfast to the table, listening with half an ear as Sebastian talks about the shoot, his demanding director, and the annoying conceits of his female costar. To avoid looking at him overlong, I focus on eating, and when everyone’s done, I help clear the table.
“Shoo, shoo!” Nona says when I start loading the dishwasher. “Go for a walk. Your father will help me clean.”
My dad chuckles as he pushes back his chair. To Sebastian, he whispers loudly, “It’s better if you just comply.”
Sebastian nods, smiling, and his gaze veers to me. “Walk?”
My heart leaps. “Sure.”
He follows me out of the kitchen, down a long hallway, and into the backyard. We walk silently toward the woods bordering the property, birdsong heavy around us and a warm breeze teasing our faces.
As we pass onto a narrow trailhead, I take the lead. The temperature drops several degrees beneath the heavy canopy, coaxing goose bumps from my arms. Sebastian’s even footsteps crunch behind me.
“Are you cold?” he asks softly.
“Nope, I’m good,” I say too loudly. This is ridiculous. Stop being awkward. “I’m glad you could make it for Nona’s birthday.”
“Me too.” He draws a breath. “You seem… better. More relaxed.”
“I am, thanks. Eventually I’ll have to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life, but for now, I’m trying to stay in the moment. Be present. All that stuff.”
“Very Buddhist of you,” he murmurs cheekily.
I snort, glancing over my shoulder at him. “You do look really tired, Bast. Why don’t you sneak back to the guesthouse and get some sleep. I won’t tell Nona.”
He slows and stops. I do as well, turning fully to face him. Dappled shadows race along his body, highlighting the hollows beneath his eyes. I can’t read his expression as his guarded gaze roams around the forest before snapping to me.
“The fucking sheets smell like you.”
My nerves go hyperaware. He keeps staring at me, so long that I lose awareness of the world around us. There’s only him. Sebastian.
I gasp as his tension releases. Like a stalking predator, he closes the distance between us. And like prey, I freeze, my gaze flickering erratically over his chest and up to the pulse thrumming in his throat.
“Bast?” I whisper, and dare to look up.
Eyes burning with desire trace my features. “I like you without makeup,” he says in a low tone. A fingertip whispers across my cheekbone. “I wonder, is all of you covered in freckles? Your breasts? Stomach? Back?”
I draw a shuddering breath, saturated with raw lust.
This is wrong.
No—this is so, so right.
“Why don’t you find out?” I ask breathlessly.
He takes
one more step, teasing my nipples with his hard chest, but otherwise doesn’t move to kiss or touch me. I fall into the darkness of his eyes. I’m strung tight with desire, poised on the edge of impulse.
“After the party,” he murmurs darkly. “Midnight. I want you in a white nightgown and nothing else, walking right here.”
My pulse jumps down, hammering between my legs. In a distant part of my mind, worry arises—this isn’t real, isn’t us. It’s a fantasy from our youth, not what I really want.
Then I realize I don’t care, because what I want is him.
However, wherever.
“Okay,” I whisper, and his eyes flare with satisfaction. “But only if you wear your letterman jacket.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, lips twitching. “Oh, fuck. This is so twisted.”
I grin up at him. “You’re already half-hard, aren't you?”
His answering smile is sinfully sharp. “More than half. And you’re soaking wet.”
I nod without shame, then glance meaningfully below his belt to the outline of him straining against denim.
“Want me to take care of that for you?”
His hips twitch forward, seemingly without his permission. With a growl in his throat, he says, “Tonight. But be warned, I’m going to wreck you.”
I shudder in carnal anticipation and run a finger lightly down the outline of his cock. He tenses, and I look up to catch the tail end of a pained expression.
“No dealing with this.”
Sebastian throws his head back and laughs, loud and long. By the time he looks down at me, I feel drugged by the sound of his unreserved mirth.
“Oh, Candy, you kill me.” He pauses, eyes still laughing. “You want me to blow my load within five minutes? Fine. At least it will be accurate to the role play.”
I scowl and he laughs again, then turns on his heel and walks away. I watch him go, skin humming, heart thumping, and wonder what on earth I’ve just done.
20
The party is an eclectic mix, scuffed shoes blending with fine Italian loafers. Nearby, a diamond-studded society matron who consults Nona on party menus laughs at the jokes of Cliff Ernst, the mechanic who’s been working on the family’s cars since before I was born.
The Reluctant Heiress_A Novella Page 9
