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"We should talk about your workshop too."
She could read the look in his too-sexy brown eyes; he thought she lived in a dump. She knew she should renovate the old garage, but she couldn't waste money on something that worked, even if it wasn't perfect. "I know the garage doesn't look like much, but--"
"There's a barn on my property in the Hayward Hills that I've never used. It'll work great as a workshop for you, especially if you decide to construct something larger."
A part of her resisted the idea of leaving the studio she'd always worked in. But she'd be stupid to turn down his offer for that reason. "I'd like to check it out first," she said. "It's opposite the commute, which is good. Although--" She looked over at her dusty old truck sitting by the garage. "I'm not so sure about my truck holding out for too many daily commutes." These days it was practically held together by rubber bands.
"There's a guest bungalow on my property. You can stay there and avoid driving back and forth." He paused before adding, "Unless you have a husband or boyfriend who might object to my whisking you away."
She'd had a few serious boyfriends. Serious, at least, until they'd eventually come clean about expecting her to do "normal" things like clean up the yard and throw out all the broken pieces of instruments and gates and tools that she'd so carefully collected over the years. At first a man might tell her she was a breath of fresh air. But in the end, it turned out that none of them actually appreciated all the mixed-up, jumbled pieces that made Charlie who she was any more than they appreciated the mixed-up, jumbled pieces that would become her sculptures.
"There's no one to object to a little whisking." She hoped he didn't catch the slight edge to her voice. She was happy being alone, of course. But sometimes it still stung a little bit to know that she hadn't been enough just the way she was for any of the guys she'd been serious with.
"Good." Sebastian was clearly pleased to hear that she was single. Pleased enough that she had to wonder if the attraction she'd felt between them was more than just a figment of her overactive imagination. "Then the bungalow is yours to stay in and the RV barn is your studio."
Every need a girl had, he provided an answer for. He made her want to throw caution to the winds, to just be reckless and say yes. Yes even to the things he didn't say, but that she felt simmering between them as they negotiated the details of the commission.
There was something about him. Not just his over-the-top good looks or his self-possession and command, but the way her body reacted to his nearness and her skin overheated--and not from the hot afternoon. He made her heart beat faster and harder than usual. She'd never paid attention to a man's smell, but Sebastian smelled incredible.
But as sorely tempted as she was by her reckless urges--and how badly she needed his hundred grand--she'd never respect herself if she just fell at his feet the way she guessed plenty of women already had. "How far from your house is this guest bungalow and workspace?"
He held her a moment with those deliciously cocoa-brown eyes. "Down the hill. Maybe a quarter of a mile."
Okay, so the buildings weren't exactly next door. Still, she could never take his money if it were tied to anything but her art. And there was only one way to know for sure. She had to ask the hard question. "You're not expecting anything from me other than a sculpture, are you?"
"I'm expecting nothing more than the unexpected." She appreciated the way he tossed the Zanti Misfits back at her. "The commission is yours. The house and the barn are there simply to make it easier for you. I'll pay for all the materials you need as well. I want whatever it is you're going to create for me and my building. Nothing else is expected." He emphasized the word.
But anything can be given. She heard that loud and clear.
No question, this man had the charm to talk anyone into anything. He'd just dealt her all the good cards. She'd be closer to her mom's nursing home, at least until she could get her moved. She wouldn't have to fork out for materials--not that the stuff she got from junkyards cost a lot of money, but the tools were expensive--and she'd get to stay in a bungalow where the plumbing probably worked a heck of a lot better than hers. She'd have a huge workspace at her disposal. This commission could open doors for her so that she could actually be an earning artist.
Yet there was more. So much more, considering that she could actually feel the heat of his body and the touch of his eyes in the simmering sensation that flowed between them. Wanting him had seemed natur
al from the moment she'd seen him silhouetted in the sunlight outside her garage. And, if she wanted him for the summer weeks that they were near each other, something told her she could have some very sexy fun with this gorgeous man too. Charlie didn't have weird hang-ups about sex, and she definitely didn't have expectations anymore when it came to men ever appreciating her idiosyncrasies in the long run. If it happened with him, it happened.
She might decide to be reckless when it came to pleasure, but she'd make sure to be careful about letting herself fall in love with the beautiful man who had just changed her life.
Charlie folded the check and shoved it into the front pocket of her overalls, close to her heart. "You've got yourself a deal."
CHAPTER THREE
At eleven on the dot the next morning, Sebastian picked Charlie up in a limousine that quickly became covered in the dust of her yard. Rather than overalls and steel-toes, she'd chosen a pair of dark-wash, slim-fit jeans, a peasant blouse, and sandals. She'd been pleased to find one pair of jeans that didn't sport burn holes from stray sparks off her arc welder.
Sebastian seemed to approve of her outfit as she slid in beside him and he said, "Good morning," in a deep voice that was enough to raise her temperature several degrees, turning the air-conditioned interior of the car positively sultry.
"Nice ride," she told him as she appreciated the soft leather with the slide of her palm over the seat. The limo was over the top, true, but he was a rich man and she could already tell that he did everything with style. And clearly enjoyed every second of it. "Although you didn't have a driver with you yesterday, did you?"
"I didn't want to split my attention between you and the road today."
Her breath caught at the simple way he'd just told her that she mattered to him, both as an artist and as a woman. He always had just the right words. The fact that it was also his job didn't make their impact any less.
"You've probably been working all morning and didn't take the time to eat. So I brought you brunch." He waved a hand over the spread he'd provided. "Bagels, cream cheese, and lox." Sebastian tapped the coffee carafe. "And this is a special Arabian coffee imported by a friend of mine."
She didn't know which smelled better, him or the coffee. Both made her mouth water. He looked seriously scrumptious in another suit. She wasn't necessarily partial to the executive type, but Sebastian Montgomery was rapidly changing her preferences on a lot of things.
"Sit back," he told her as he poured her a cup of coffee. "I'll serve you."
A blush crept into her cheeks as she was instantly hit with an explicit image of him serving her breakfast in bed. He set her cup on the console, then slathered cream cheese on half of a sliced bagel, topped it with lox, and passed her the plate.
