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She licked her lips, surprised by how serious their conversation had become in the blink of an eye. "Sometimes I think I can. But other times..." She bit her lip, not wanting to say that she sometimes felt he was holding back. "Other times I think it's just that we're still getting to know each other better."
"I'd very much like to know you better, Charlie. So much better."
"Well," she said as she turned to grab the margarita pitcher and tried to lighten the tone, "we can both learn something more about each other tonight. Do you prefer blended? Or should I make you one on the rocks?" She already knew that despite his parents' disease, he didn't have a problem with alcohol himself.
"Blended is perfect tonight." Even though it struck her that he hadn't actually told her which he preferred, he was already raising his glass to toast. "We have something to celebrate."
She had something to celebrate, all right: Sebastian, close enough to touch and breathe in. He was completely scrumptious in a tailored suit so deeply navy it was almost black. "Your fajita is losing its sizzle." She wanted to relish his surprise, whatever it was, so she quickly put caramelized onions; red, yellow, and orange peppers; mushrooms; and grilled meat onto a spinach tortilla, then topped it all with rice, pintos, and guacamole.
He watched her as if he'd never seen a fajita assembled, with nearly as much awe as he watched her work on the chariot in her workshop. "You sure are good with your hands, Charlie."
She flushed all over under his sensual gaze, as if he'd stripped her down and had his hands everywhere. "So. Your surprise."
"I found a buyer for your rams."
"You did?"
"I did." And he looked positively thrilled, as thrilled as she knew she should be. It was just that she was so shocked, all the way down to her toes. "Walter Braedon owns the new Regent Hotel in downtown San Jose. He wants the rams in the central garden at the entrance."
"Wait," she said, still trying to process the news. "How could he know about my rams?"
"I went over to your place to take pictures this morning after my plane arrived. Before my meeting with him." He pulled a photo from his inside breast pocket and slid it across the table.
Her head was spinning as she said, "I've never heard of the hotel."
"It's almost completed. And it's going to be a palace. Everyone pulling into the circular drive and heading to registration will see your rams battling for supremacy of the garden."
Her head felt as though she were on a Tilt-a-Whirl at the thought that her sculpture would be seen from the road, not only by visitors to the hotel. "But how is that even possible? Especially if you only just took the pictures this morning?"
"I've been keeping my ears open. And visualizing what I want for you. I can see your whole path already, just how acclaimed you're going to be."
"I know you keep saying that, but--"
"You saw your dragon outside the church in Chinatown, from the minute you walked by and the vision came to you. And then you went into the parish office and sold it to them because you knew it had to be there. So you made them see it too."
"That was your meeting today?" He was probably expecting her to jump up and down with happiness. And she would. After the shock had worn off. Because she'd never honestly thought her rams would ever leave her property, especially not to grace the entrance of a fancy hotel. Reminding herself that it was great news, she added, "The one you mentioned on the phone last night."
"Should I have brought you, Charlie?" He looked worried, obviously having noticed that she wasn't jumping for joy just yet. "Should I have told you that I was meeting with a big hotel about your art?"
She wasn't at all upset that he hadn't included her when she'd have been a nervous wreck. It was tough selling herself. The only time she'd ever done it was with the dragon, and even then she'd known she wasn't going to charge them a thing for it.
"Maybe next time I should go, just to try to get more comfortable with it all." Even the idea of it made her feel more than a little nauseous, but if she was going to swim in the big pond, she'd have to get used to fancy meetings with fancy people, wouldn't she? She held back a shudder at the thought and finally made herself smile. "But today, I'm glad you simply showed up with good news. Thank you. For everything."
He covered her hand, his heat streaking through her, deep inside and all the way to her heart. "I believe in what you create. I want everyone to see it." He gave her a wry grin. "You haven't even asked how much."
"I'm afraid to." She was half serious about that. More than half.
"Don't be." He grinned again as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a check. "Fifty thousand."
The bottom dropped out of her stomach and she felt herself plunging fifty thousand feet as she took the check from him. The work had been done months ago. It was almost like free money. Free money she tried to tell herself her work deserved--and that it hadn't all just come about because Walter Braedon wanted to impress Sebastian with his purchase. She'd never been insecure before, and Sebastian was endlessly telling her how great her work was. But she'd never envisioned truly wealthy people ever liking sculptures made from transformed junk.
"I figured the rams were a less complicated project than the chariot and horses," he explained. "But the decision is up to you. We can still negotiate for more money."
"No," she said almost sharply. "I'll take it." And all the extra months at Magnolia Gardens that she could give her mother. Because in the end, that was what it was all about, wasn't it? Having the resources to take care of her mother in the best possible way. But it was also about Sebastian's incredible support for her and her art. "Thank you. For believing in me."
"You're worth more than you could ever imagine, Charlie, and soon everyone's going to know it."
The next step was obvious, even for someone as non-commercially minded as she was: The more she created, the more Sebastian could sell for her. Sometimes she needed a break from one project when the juices weren't flowing right, and she let her subconscious mull over the problem while she turned her hand to something else, which meant that even while she was building the chariot and horses, she'd still be able to work on a few smaller projects.
