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For now, though, he needed to know something. "Is it about the luxury itself? Or because you don't want to feel obligated?"
She frowned. Took a breath, then blew it out. "Honestly, I'm not sure."
"I wasn't born into money." He wanted her to know where he was coming from just as much as she wanted to be understood. He didn't want her to judge him for his wealth or find him lacking because of it. "I don't take any of it for granted. But I've got it now and I enjoy it. And I hope you'll let yourself enjoy it too, Charlie."
He moved to the couch and held out his hand to her, and just as she always had before, she paused. He found himself holding his breath until, finally, she put her hand in his and let him guide her around the coffee table. She was about to sit on the leather sofa when she stopped to remove her boots first. No question about it, his foster mother Susan would love her.
Charlie rubbed her feet on the thick rug as if it were fur, then curled up into the sofa and propped her chin on her hand as she said, "I would never begrudge you your wealth. I know you've worked hard for it. That's not why I'm feeling uncomfortable." She bit her lip as she worked to put her feelings into words for him. "What if I fail?"
He immediately hunkered down in front of her, so close that their heat mingled, forming one aura out of two. She'd been so confident in the lobby of his new headquarters, so sure of herself standing in the doorway of her dilapidated workroom. He hated to think he could have done anything to change that. That he might have done anything to hurt her in any way. Even though they'd only just met a few days earlier, hurting her was the very last thing he wanted to do.
"The money changes your feelings that much?"
"Maybe." She ran a hand over her face. "Or maybe it's just performance anxiety."
"I know we haven't known each other very long," he said slowly, "but I can't imagine you care that much about what people think of you."
"Not people." She paused and he could swear a world of emotions shot through her beautiful eyes and over her stunning face. "You."
"You already know what I think." He smiled at her. "But I'm more than happy to tell you again how magnificent you are."
He'd been hoping to see a smile, but she simply sighed and admitted, "I'm not used to anyone paying me for my work. Especially not the amount you paid."
One hundred thousand dollars honestly wasn't a huge amount to him anymore. But he understood that it meant a hell of a lot to her. Still, he wouldn't allow it to diminish her now, or to strip away her confidence. "Do you want to work for free?"
"No."
He was glad her answer was so quick and to the point. "Then take the space and the luxury I'm offering. And don't worry about anyone's expectations, Charlie. Because I already know you're going to blow them all away."
"How do you do it?" She stared into his eyes. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"
Because I grew up with a father who never did. Sebastian knew firsthand just how important it was for words to heal and inspire, rather than hurt and cut.
But this was about making sure she was okay, not going back into a past he'd already dealt with, so he gave her a different truth. "You make it easy, Charlie."
The smile she gave him now was blindingly beautiful. "Okay. I'll take what you're offering. And I'll stop worrying about expectations. At least," she added with a small uplift of her eyebrows, "until the next time I do."
Even as he laughed at her totally honest response, he knew that it would be so easy--and so damned good--to sweep her up into his arms, carry her into the master bedroom, strip off her clothes, and make love to her the way he'd been fantasizing about ever since he'd first set eyes on her, since the moment her husky laughter had resonated deep inside him.
Though he felt compelled to make sure she didn't think there were any sexual strings attached to the commission, that wasn't the only reason he'd worked like hell to lock down his control. By now, his feelings for Charlie were definitely not along the
lines of a simple fling. They had the potential to be big. Big enough that he needed to know more about her, more about how they fit together outside of bed, before they jumped into it. The last thing Sebastian wanted was for him and Charlie to end up destroying each other the way his parents had.
Waiting to have her might very well kill him, but he forced himself to put some distance between them. Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. "Are you ready for the workroom?"
Disappointment flashed in her eyes for a split second, but when she let him pull her to her feet, all traces of hesitation were gone as she said, "Let's get started."
*
Charlie stood in the sunbeams streaming down through one of the four skylights in the roof. It sure as heck beat the holes and Plexiglas in her garage that served as her light source.
"I love it." Which was pretty much the biggest understatement in the world, considering it was beyond her wildest expectations. Just like the bungalow. Just like the six-figure check.
Just like Sebastian.
Two days ago, she could never have imagined a man like him stepping into her world. Yet now, she could barely think of anyone--or anything--else.
Even his barn had style and panache. Suspension pulleys hung from the ceiling, and workbenches lined the walls, along with cabinets, tool chests, and storage shelves. He'd promised to rent her an air compressor, and a brand new one stood in the front corner. The movers had rolled in her equipment, lined up her barrels, stacked her boxes, and laid out her parts on pallets.
