Reckless in Love

  In his workroom, he downloaded the app she'd shown him. He was up on most of the latest technologies, but this one had slipped by him. Easy to use, it took only a few tries before he had it figured out. Charlie imported photos she then manipulated, but the app simulated just about any medium for drawing. He chose charcoals with a textured background.

  He started with her eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes. They could have been her mother's eyes--bright, laughing, with a hint of pain always lingering behind them. But Charlie had her pain too, springing from an emotional well deep inside her. On the iPad, he filled in her cheekbones, the slope of her nose.

  Unfortunately, an hour of drawing still didn't bring the insight he needed. He'd had the stupid hope that the app itself would somehow reveal her in a way his sketchbook hadn't. He shut it down in frustration.

  At least there was one thing he knew for sure he could do right. He hit Will Franconi's number on speed dial, knowing his friend would answer if at all possible.

  It took two rings. "Hey." Will's voice was almost drowned out by a blast of noise around him.

  "Where the hell are you?"

  "Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. The Edgar Winter Band is doing a free concert on the beach. It's a madhouse here. Jeremy wanted to come."

  There was a loud shout, but Sebastian couldn't make out a thing.

  "He says free fun is the best kind," Will translated. "He gets that from Harper."

  Jeremy was Will's soon-to-be brother-in-law. He was a great kid, though at eighteen, he wasn't exactly a kid anymore. Jeremy's older sister Harper was a special woman, and she fit Will even better than a finely made suit. His friend was finally happy after all these years, so happy that Sebastian had added them to his exceptions list. No toxic love between them, that was for sure.

  "What do you need?" Will asked.

  "That new venture you've got going with the British company. The signature bone china. I need three china mugs and three matching plates."

  For two beats, all he heard was the crash of music. Until Will said, "Do you need to have your testosterone levels checked?"

  "No more than you for putting the deal together with them in the first place. It's for a friend."

  "A woman friend?" He could actually see Will's raised eyebrow.

  "Her mother."

  "Her mother? Whoa, man, if you're getting a gift for her mother, that sounds like some serious stuff."

  As Will said it, Sebastian felt the truth deep in his core. He'd never been more serious. "Can you order it for me ASAP?"

  "Hold on a minute. When do we get to meet her?"

  Sebastian knew that Charlie would love Harper, Jeremy, and Will. "I've got to convince her to spend time with me first."

  "She's not yet convinced?" Will made a considering sound. "Now that I hear she's not just slavering at your feet like all your other women always have, I really want to meet her."

  Sebastian laughed. "You going to help me or not?"

  "You want ultrafeminine, flowery, or classic?"

  Will was trying to gauge the type of woman Charlie was. "All of the above." She was the perfect combination of tomboy meets feminine. There was Francine to consider too.

  "We just received the first shipment, so I'll courier the pieces to you tomorrow. And if the china convinces her to fall for you, you owe me big time."

  "Thanks," Sebastian said to the dead air, but the silence was golden. Charlie wouldn't have to drive back to her place to pick up the china she'd forgotten, and she and her mother would have a one-of-a-kind tea set.

  There were so many things he could do to make Charlie's life easier. All he had to do was convince her to take them.

  Tea cups. His money. And him.

  *

  Charlie hadn't been sure whether Sebastian would show up at her workshop this morning after the way she'd refused his offer of dinner last night. But here he was, looking sexier than any man had a right to be in his dark slacks and crisp white button-down shirt. A billionaire's uniform, she found herself thinking, and one he wore exceptionally well, despite having been born into extreme poverty and despair.

  All night and into the early hours of the morning, the incident with her mother had wedged itself somewhere between her throat and her heart. Incident wasn't the right word. Nothing had actually happened. She'd accepted his offer to try to help with her mother's medical condition while turning him down on Magnolia Gardens, then lain awake berating herself for not having done enough to take care of Mom in the first place. Lack of funds was a sorry excuse.

  But neither of them mentioned her mother's illness as he entered her workshop bearing warm blueberry bagels that tasted as if they might have been fresh out of the oven.

  "I can't wait to watch you work." He sounded like he was talking about a strip tease instead of metal cutting. Boy, could he switch on the sizzle, heating her up like plasma, turning her into molten metal.

  She took a bite of the bagel, then began to pull her hair up into a knot. The next thing she knew, he was helping her put on her smock and work apron, his fingers lingering on her skin. Her breath went, her skin tingled, and even though she really did have a ton of work to get started on, she couldn't resist twining her arms around his neck and going up on her toes to steal a kiss.

  A sigh of pleasure fell from her lips as they touched his, gentle spinning to desperate in less than the span of a breath as he tangled one hand in her hair and used the other on the curve of her hip to bring them close. So close that she could feel his heart beating against hers as he deepened the kiss. Taking. Giving. Delighting.

  When she finally drew back, his eyes were dark with desire and she was breathless from the feel of his hard muscles pressing into her, his strong arms holding her tight. It wasn't even ten in the morning, yet the atmosphere was positively sultry. Honestly, she was glad that Sebastian made her forget every thought that had kept her awake last night, at least for a little while. There was only the sweet anticipation of his kiss, his touch, even the way he looked at her with those dark eyes of his, as though he could taste her.

  "Boy, am I glad I dropped by this morning."

  She knew he didn't have time to spend with her in the workshop, just as he hadn't had any spare time to visit her mother. Not when he held the reins of a billion-dollar company, one that depended on his inspiration and charisma first and foremost. Which only made the time he did spend with her sweeter.

  "I am too," she said, before forcing herself to step out of his arms and reach for two sets of safety goggles.

  "Put these on and stand over there." She pointed to the far end of the workshop.

  "You want me to sit in a corner and shut up?" Clearly, people rarely told billionaires where they could and couldn't go.

  "At least I'm letting you stay today," she said with a laugh. "But only as long as you don't mess with my concentration." Because Lord knew, he was too darned sexy, even in goggles. How was that possible? Simply because he was Sebastian. He lived and breathed sexy.

  Be still, my beating heart.

  When he didn't head for the corner, she said, "I'm sure you never just sit back and let someone else do the work, do you?"

  "Actually, a big part of my job is observing people." He raised one eyebrow and curved his mouth in a half smile as he finally began to back away. "But watching you is pure pleasure."

  She gave him a look, even as everything sizzled inside her. "Go. Sit. I need to concentrate."

  She'd clamped a car door to a table she'd made out of sawhorses. She was still in the design phase, thinking about angles and curves and materials, but she wanted to demonstrate the process for Sebastian, so she was jumping ahead. He was so eager to see how everything worked.

  Or maybe, she thought with a smile she couldn't quite contain, it was just that he was eager to torment her with the promise in his eyes. Well, if and when the time came, she was going to enjoy tormenting him just as much...

  She let the machine and the noise and the sparks drown him ou
t. Work. Create. Cut. And yet, all the while, she felt him watching her. Her pulse pattered faster, a sweet, hot feeling--to be his focus, sense his attraction, and know that he wanted her. The potential for something huge between them tantalized her. There was still the business-versus-pleasure thing, but after sharing their pasts with each other and taking him to meet--and charm the socks off--her mom, she knew they weren't strictly business anymore.

  Still, Charlie didn't want to simply jump into bed with him. Not until she knew for sure that he wouldn't expect her to change who she was. Because it felt like he already meant too much to her to be just a fling...and it would break her heart into a million pieces if she let herself fall, only to end up shattered if he didn't actually want her.

  She finished the cut, shut off the plasma arc, and studied the work after pushing up the shield and goggles. Again it occurred to her that it would be really fun to bring her students into this workshop to see firsthand what it was like to build such a big piece from the ground up.

  "Looks like a perfect job to me," he commented as he rose from his seat to check it out.

  She'd done better. But she hadn't had him for a distraction either. "I need a Dumpster." At home, she had a small one behind the garage.

  "Don't you use every piece for something or other?" He was close enough by then for his breath to whisper over her cheek, his body heat arcing over her like the electrical current of the plasma cutter.

  She almost shivered. "Not every piece. I have enough of a junkyard as it is."

  "Then a Dumpster you shall have." She wasn't sure how he made it sound as though he were giving her jewels. And when he traced a finger over the metal, she felt as if he were running his hands over her body. "Is this the front of the chariot?"

  "Yes." Her answer came out husky. He pushed aside a few wisps of hair that had escaped her knot, and when he dropped a kiss on her throat, it was the hardest thing she'd ever done to force herself to tell him, "It's time for you to go now."

  "Already?"

  "You're too distracting."

  He was grinning as he removed his goggles and headed out of the workshop, clearly pleased that he had such a strong effect on her. But around noon, he reappeared with a picnic basket laden with gourmet cheeses, fruit, and a variety of crackers. He'd spread a blanket on the grass outside the bungalow.

  "You don't have to keep feeding me," she said as she took a cracker spread with warmed Brie from his fingers. "Especially when I know you couldn't possibly have time for all this."

  "You wouldn't stop to eat if I didn't. And I need to eat too."

  "I eat." Except that he was right--she often became so involved she didn't notice her hunger until her stomach rumbled as loudly as the compressor. Just the way it had when he'd tempted her with the picnic treats.

  He smiled, reading her mind. "Knew it." He gave her another cracker, this one with a mouthwatering Cambozola cheese.

  God, she could get used to this treatment. Did he sweep all his women away like this?

  As soon as it hit her, she hated the thought of his women. It wasn't fair to him, her being judgmental like that. As if she were saying that because he was rich, he must use his wealth to make his conquests. Especially when she didn't feel like a conquest.

  She felt treasured.

  After the scrumptious lunch, they sat side by side at the workbench, her iPad propped up, the chariot drawing on the screen, his hip pressing lightly against hers. It was so familiar, so sweet.

  So intimate.

  "Have you decided what you want to use as the floor of the chariot? Another car door?"

  She breathed in, out. Tried to calm her racing heart--and ever-growing desire. "No. Not a door. Something else..." The words trailed off as she traced the lines with her finger.

  "What if you used a tile mosaic for the base?"

  She tipped her head one way, then the other, picturing a mosaic before saying, "What if we accented with some of the tiles you used on the fountain?" Her mind began to sprint at the same speed her heart was from his nearness. "When the sun hits, the tiles will sparkle like rainbows. We'll have to make sure the angle is right so it gets enough light. We can set the mosaic in a metal form so I can weld the body of the chariot to it."

  "The design could be free-form. The tiles can be chipped so they're not square."

  Their ideas built on each other. "We could even add other irregular fragments, like broken crockery. I've seen garden stepping stones made from bits of china plates." Her excitement rose, not just for the chariot they were creating together as though they were a team, but for him--his body so close, his thigh taut against hers, his male scent all over her.

  "That's brilliant."

  She scanned him again, right into him, past his good looks. "You're brilliant. I would never have thought of mixing the two mediums, metalwork and tile work." She thought of the anger he must still feel over his parents destroying themselves with alcohol and partying, especially when he'd needed so badly for them to be there for him. And she couldn't help adding, "It's going to be amazing fun to break plates against the wall, venting all our frustrations in a good cause."

  "I like it. And you." He reached for her, brushed his fingertips over her lower lip. "I like you too, Charlie. So very much."

  Her heart stilled for a moment as she basked in the way his eyes mapped the lines of her face. This time when they kissed, she wouldn't be able to stop at that. Not with this reckless need pounding through her veins. Just as she was about to put her hands on both sides of his gorgeous face, a horn honked, startling her and breaking the moment.

  Sebastian made a frustrated growl. It was the first time she'd seen him fail to get his way, and she was just as frustrated as he levered himself away from the bench, his muscles rippling.

  A white van idled on the drive as a uniformed driver jumped out and handed Sebastian a box. A few seconds later, she was surprised when he held it out to her.

  "I don't need gifts." He'd already given her so much.

  "It's not for you. But you can open it. Don't shake it, though. It's fragile."

  What could it be? On the workbench, she grabbed an X-Acto knife and carefully cut through the tape. Inside were six smaller boxes--three flat, three square. She opened a flat box first.

  "Oh, my gosh." She gaped at the utterly beautiful china plate. Monarch butterflies floated across the white porcelain, their wings trimmed in gold. The plate's scalloped edge was lined in a dusty pink and outlined with gold. "It's exquisite." The butterflies flew around leaves and ornately painted flowers with swirls of gold between them. "You don't expect me to break this for the mosaic, do you?"

  He grinned, shaking his head. "No, these are for your mom."

  "My mom?"

  "Apart from your visits, the china is her only luxury, isn't it?" When she nodded, he smiled and said, "Open the rest."

  Her hands weren't quite steady as she unearthed two more plates and three delicate matching mugs, with yellow butterflies, blue butterflies, all edged in gold. She didn't have to ask to know the gold was real. Sebastian was a man who insisted on nothing but the best.

  "They're beautiful. Mom will adore them." Her mother had never owned anything so elegant. Or so expensive, she thought before she could stuff the thought away to join all her other conflicted emotions about Sebastian's money--and how free he was with it when it came to her.

  "My friend Will imports these from England." He flipped the plate over. "They're signed by the artist who paints them. This is by Rose." He pointed to a small rose under the maker's name.

  Charlie was overwhelmed. All she had to do was make one offhand remark about forgetting a plate and a cup, and he miraculously conjured them for her from England. But not just two. Three. Because he clearly planned to join them again.

  "I'm going to visit my mom again on Wednesday. I know you're busy, but if you can carve out a little more time, will you come with me?"

  "I wouldn't miss it."

  Her eyes stung with tear
s of gratitude. She'd been pissy about his offer to help her mother, making it about her and her guilt. Yet everything he'd done had been kind and thoughtful. He always praised, never criticized. He built people up, never dragged them down. Right from the beginning, even when she'd expected the rich, take-what-he-wants, stomp-on-whomever celebrity, he'd been different. She'd looked for chinks, but everything he'd done defined him as a flesh-and-blood man who actually cared.

  In that moment, Charlie put aside every reservation about his research into her mother's illness. He wanted to give, so she would accept without automatically assuming there were strings attached.

  She carefully put the plate back in its box. "Thank you." Reaching up, she framed his face in her hands, then rose on her toes and kissed him. Soft and sweet, still trembling with emotion. "For everything."

  *

  Maybe a better man would have looked at Charlie's kiss as nothing more than a sweet thank-you. But Sebastian didn't have it in him, not after the hours he'd spent watching those lithe curves move, her strong yet elegant hands performing miracles in metal. Hell, the way her mind worked was the sexiest thing of all.

  Being with Charlie, especially when they were in her workshop, reminded him that there was a life beyond work and society events. Reminded him of the simple pleasures of working with your hands. Of getting hot and sweaty. She'd brought that joy of art and creativity back into his life, right there in front of him. She'd let him watch, had even let him be a part of it when she'd run with his mosaic suggestion. She was right that he didn't have any spare time to be there with her in her workshop, but Sebastian was inexorably drawn both to being a part of the creative process and being with her.

  He'd always craved creating. Now he craved her too. Which meant resisting the irresistible wasn't an option.

  His arms around her, he lifted her off her feet, taking her mouth as roughly as she had taken his so sweetly just moments before, steeping himself in her taste. He would have sung a chorus of Hallelujah when she opened fully, giving him everything, if it hadn't meant lifting his lips from hers to do so. Holding her tight, he possessed her mouth while she tangled her fingers in his hair.

  Her tongue licked out against his, her curves pressed into his muscles, the pulse at her neck throbbed against his thumb, and he was lost in need. Desperate to have more of her. All of her. Every gasp of pleasure. Every moan of desire.