Reckless in Love

  Because you mean everything to me.

  The words knocked around in his head. His heart too. And they might have spilled from his lips if she hadn't said, "How about this one?" She held up a black silk-velvet dress with three-quarter sleeves and a short, flared skirt. "It has pearls across the front. No, wait, that's the back." She frowned. "How the heck do you get into this thing?"

  "I'd be more than happy to help you figure it out," Sebastian said in a low tone ripe with desire as he rose from his chair. "Got to get you out of this one first, though."

  He trailed his fingers across her back, and nuzzled her hair, impossibly hungry for her. The zipper slid down, and he followed its path with his mouth, the taste of her skin filling him up. The dress slid to Charlie's feet and she stepped out of it, leaning down, clad only in minuscule panties, to swipe it up and place it on a hanger. Then she looked at him over her shoulder, a sexy, flirty smile on her lips and her brilliant green eyes traveling his length.

  His heart stuttered at her elegance and beauty. She wasn't a model or a celebrity. She had no artifice. She was simply real, utterly perfect without any help from makeup or fancy clothes, and she made him crazy hot, hard, and reckless. When they finally came together, he knew worlds would collide. Oceans would overflow. Hell, volcanoes would probably erupt.

  His mind whirling with images of her, he couldn't find the clasp on the pearls slung across the plunging back of the black dress.

  "I see how it works now." She took the dress from him, standing so close that her all-Charlie, all-woman scent short-circuited his brain. "It unzips down here, then goes over my head."

  His heart started again, beating harder, faster as she pulled it on, all that beautiful, creamy skin disappearing from view. She presented her back for him to do up the short zipper until the velvet material hugged her figure, and his fingers trembled. When she stepped up on the dais again and slowly spun in a circle for him, he was unable to tear his eyes away from her.

  She was dazzling, as if the dress had been made for her and no one else. The neckline scooped down to edge her cleavage and almost bared her shoulders. The bodice hugged her breasts, her waist, and the skirt flared gracefully as she twirled for him. But it was the rear view that did him in. Three strands of pearls draped the flawless skin of her back and the velvet plunged low, making him ache to put his hands and his mouth all over her.

  "That's the one." He wanted her, needed her, in that dress, then out of it, the velvet lying on the plush carpet of his bedroom with Charlie spread out on his bed as the delicious main course.

  She smoothed her fingers down the fabric, surveying herself in the mirror. Did she have any idea how badly he wanted the hands running over her body to be his? He might go completely insane if he had to wait another moment. He was certifiable for her.

  And yet the waiting made his desire for her electric. It sizzled in the air around them.

  "I like it too," she said softly.

  "Then it's done." He pushed a buzzer on the side table and the designer appeared so quickly she must have been standing right outside the dressing room. Her momentum swung her reading glasses on the end of their lanyard across her ample breasts.

  "We'll take it." He needed to move quickly before the woman said anything about the price. "Can you wrap it up?"

  "Certainly. Would you like an accompanying wrap or--"

  "Wait." Charlie cut her off. "How much is the dress?"

  "Twenty-five."

  Charlie's eyes bugged. "Twenty-five hundred?"

  "Thousand," the woman answered.

  Charlie fumbled with the back zip, unable to get the dress off fast enough. "No. I'm sorry. I can't buy this," she said emphatically. "And you can't buy this for me, Sebastian."

  "Charlie." He had to have her in that dress. In every single possible meaning that statement contained. "Please, it was made for you and you alone."

  But she was already stepping off the dais, tugging the dress up and over. Women had never said no to Sebastian. Hell, no one said no to Sebastian for any reason. They always happily took whatever he wanted to give them.

  "I can't." She put the dress back on the hanger. "I'll come up with something else." She fastened her jeans, pulled on her T-shirt.

  He would have continued to argue his point about the dress, but just as he opened his mouth, Susan's words rang in his head. Don't push was what she'd said. But he knew her real meaning: Be careful not to push Charlie away.

  "I promise I won't embarrass you," she said softly.

  He couldn't keep his hands off her, holding her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. "You could never embarrass me. No matter what you do. Do you understand that?"

  He counted five beats before she nodded. Before he could give her a kiss, before he could do one single thing to fix whatever it was he'd just broken, she said, "I need to get back to the workshop. Have a good meeting." And then she was gone.

  *

  "I just couldn't take the dress, Mom." Charlie threaded the needle and stuck it into the pincushion.

  "I understand, dear. But you do realize he probably earns that much in half an hour?"

  "I know." She'd wanted to wear the velvet and pearls for him so badly, wanted him to tear it off her too. But even as she'd felt the gorgeous fabric like a caress against her skin and his gaze heating her from the inside out, she couldn't let him spend that much money on it. On her. Even if she could look beyond the price of the dress, the woman who'd gazed back at her from the mirror hadn't been anyone she recognized.

  All these years of dating, she'd been so determined to remain true to herself, even when the men had hoped she'd change to please them. Sebastian had repeatedly told her how much he loved the way she looked in jeans and boots, but at the same time, it was clear he wanted her to shine in his social circles.

  Was there a way for Charlie to shine while remaining true to herself? She didn't know the answer, but she could only hope that it would end up being yes. The thought of things falling apart with Sebastian made her stomach twist even tighter than hearing the price of that dress.

  She and her mom sat in Shady Lane's lounge, as usual, but only for another two weeks. Magnolia Gardens had called yesterday. They finally had a room available. It needed fresh paint, new carpet, and new furniture, and then it would be Mom's. Charlie's fingers had trembled as she'd written the check for the remainder of the entry fee. She still felt slightly sick about it, especially with the monthly charges looming. She hadn't even told Sebastian the news yet, as though not saying the words aloud meant she wouldn't be on the hook for such a huge amount every single month from now on.

  "This dress is lovely," her mother said, blissfully unaware of all the thoughts making Charlie's stomach roil. Charlie had taken a short break from working on the chariot yesterday and had been lucky enough to find a dress she thought might work. Her mother held up the garment in her gnarled fingers. "We can certainly do something with it."

  But it wouldn't be we. Mom's fingers had flown with a needle and thread, creating beauty from scraps, but she'd had to give up sewing long ago. Fortunately, she'd taught Charlie to sew, both by hand and by machine.

  "What we're going to do," her mother said in her usual upbeat way--indomitable was the word Sebastian had used, "is take in a couple of darts to mold the bodice of the camisole to your chest." She pinched the material, demonstrating. "Think an Anne Boleyn style. Almost a bustier."

  "I like that."

  Her mom pointed to the matching skirt. "We'll take a little nip here, a little tuck there, and size the waistband down."

  Charlie tried not to wince that it had come to this, her mother verbally directing her on how not to screw up the inexpensive outfit she'd bought at a consignment store. She'd found a pair of high-heeled sandals too, and a clutch with some of its beads ready to fall off. She'd told Sebastian she wouldn't embarrass him. Her mother was her only hope of keeping that promise.

  "Put the camisole on over your T-shirt and pin it." Mom h
eld up the pincushion. Her fingers were no longer nimble enough to hold a pin without dropping it.

  Charlie finished pinning. "What do you think?"

  "Perfect." The smile on her mother's face was as big as if she were viewing a model at a fashion show rather than the daughter who had always been far more comfortable in steel-toed boots than she would ever be in heels and dresses.

  Her mother had adored sewing. She'd loved baking. There were so many things she'd had to give up. It was like losing a piece of herself every time another thing she loved was taken away.

  But she still walked that mile every day. And she always did it with a smile.

  Charlie undid the short zipper at the back and shrugged out of the camisole. "Sebastian made you famous the other day."

  "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 the 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 fiancee, 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.