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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.
Before Will could launch into an account of how he'd acquired the prized Bullitt DVD, Matt Tremont joined their group. Once the runt of their Maverick litter, no one would ever have guessed it by the breadth of Matt's shoulders and the width of his chest. Still the brainiac who'd built a robotics empire, he'd bulked up somewhere along the way until he was a force all on his own.
"Hey, Harper." Matt leaned down to kiss her cheek. "You're looking fabulous."
"She always does," Will agreed, playing his fingers through her hair in an unconscious gesture of possession, desire, and most of all, love.
"Thank you, Matt." Harper's smile was a mile wide as she asked, "How's Noah?"
"He's great. He can't stop talking about the last time he saw Jeremy. No one makes him laugh harder than your brother."
Everyone adored Matt's five-year-old son. Susan especially, who'd made it clear more than once that she couldn't wait to have more grandchildren to spoil rotten. And that her boys were taking far too long to get the job done.
"Nice gig," Matt said to Sebastian. "Food looks good too. Looking forward to meeting the artist. Her rams are mind-blowing."
"Glad you think so, but we know you're really here for the free food." It didn't matter how far they'd come, some things were ingrained--no matter how much food you had, it was hard to forget what it was like to be hungry and all out of options.
Sebastian glanced past Matt's shoulder to the elevator bank. Still no Charlie. "You see Evan or Daniel yet?"
"Whitney corralled Walter Braedon, so Evan's with them."
Will scowled. "Whitney always goes for the major players first. Especially if photographers are nearby." Men and women with cameras were everywhere, snapping pictures at the front entrance as celebrities and the who's who of the Silicon Valley elite arrived, dripping with jewels and designer gowns.
