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“So did I. We should try it again sometime.”
“Maybe so,” she agreed.
He rubbed her arm. “I have to say, though, I’m down with you running around the house topless.”
She laughed, and it turned into a small sigh as she thought of Mrs. Cabral’s judgy expression. “I guess your mother was right about me.”
He stiffened and sat up. “Wait. My mother? When did you run into her?”
Chelsea rolled onto her back, her hand going to her forehead. Ugh. “Earlier today when I was out with Gretchen. It wasn’t pretty. She ambushed me at lunch and had Lisa along for the ride.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Sebastian slid out of bed and hitched his pants up around his hips. “I’m going to fix this.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get my mother on the phone and tell her—”
“No, please,” Chelsea said, and patted the bed. “Just come back here and cuddle for a bit, all right? I don’t want to think about your mother tonight.”
He looked down at her in the bed, his expression torn. “I don’t like that she’s bullying you.”
“Then we’ll do something about it tomorrow. Tonight I just kind of want to relax, okay?” And maybe get a bit more snuggling in. She was getting addicted to the feel of his hands on her body. Not in a sexual way, but just his soothing, comforting touch. Knowing he was there and would be there for her.
She craved that.
Sebastian hesitated for a moment longer, then return to bed with a bound. She squealed as he tackled her and pulled her against him in a bear hug, his body spooning hers. “All right, you talked me into more of this.”
Chelsea laughed and held his hands against her skin. His hand slid to her breast and cupped it, and she held it there. He wasn’t squeezing, wasn’t trying to “persuade” her to change her mind. He was just holding her. And as he nuzzled her neck, she gave a small sigh of pleasure.
“Maybe my safe word should be ‘Mother,’” he commented. “Nothing shrivels my cock faster than that.”
She snorted with laughter. “I’m sorry I mentioned it. I did walk out on her.”
“She probably loved that. It’ll make a dramatic promo.” He buried his face in her hair. “You always smell so good. I love that you’re so into soaps. I don’t suppose you could brew up something stinky for my mother that we could give her as a gift?”
“Skunk soap?” Chelsea laughed at the thought. “I could, but the house would reek of it for a while, so it might be a double-edged sword.”
“Hmm. We’ll put that on the back burner, then. But tomorrow, I’d like to visit my family, if that’s all right with you?”
“So you can talk to your mother? I don’t want to start trouble—”
“No, so I can show my mother that no amount of her interfering is going to make us part. That she needs to end this story line with Lisa.” He thought for a moment, and then added, “And visit my father and my other brother and sister. You’ll actually like Dad. He’s normal. I sadly cannot say the same for my siblings. They’re very into the show.”
She grimaced at the thought. “Should we call in advance, then?”
“Oh, hell no,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “We’re going to use one of my mother’s favorite tactics and drop in unannounced.”
Oh, boy. Chelsea couldn’t help but worry that his life was a lot simpler without the addition of a fake wife. What was she going to do if he came to the same conclusion?
Chapter Eighteen
Early the next morning, before the start of rush hour traffic and when dawn was still a mere suggestion in the sky, Sebastian and Chelsea headed out to confront the Cabrals.
The Cabral family lived in a spacious penthouse in a big old building on Madison Avenue over on the Upper East Side. Of course they did. Tree-dotted Lenox Hill was one of the priciest—if not the priciest—neighborhoods in Manhattan. And in the swanky, expensive building? The Cabrals owned several floors. The bottom one, Sebastian explained as he held the door open for Chelsea as they entered the lobby, was for the camera crews and makeup people.
As they entered the quiet building, Chelsea was glad she’d worn something tame and attractive. Not that she felt the need to prove herself to Sebastian or his family, but just being inside the marble-floored building with the white, modernist design made her feel somehow small and gauche. She’d worn a cute floral skate dress that went to mid-thigh and topped it with a white cardigan and matching white strappy sandals. Her legs looked awesome (well, if you ignored the bruises) and she knew from Sebastian’s appreciative looks in her direction that she looked damn good. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that hung over one shoulder in a riot of big curls.
