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“I totally should have. My bad.” Concern flickers in his gaze, and he shows no sign of letting me go. Do I imagine the pressure of his fingertips on my waist tightening? “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
The cool mint of his breath is on my cheek and neck, and I’m feeling hot in my blazer. I need to ditch it—sorry Alicia Silverstone—and just wear my Peter-Pan-collared blouse.
Is it my imagination, or is Sebastian feeling warm, too? Or maybe it’s just from all the hopping we did. Except, I know, for me, it’s his arm tight around my waist, so comfortable, so direct, demanding that I breathe him in.
“LeeLee, come on,” Navie says, tugging on my arm, the one that’s free of Sebastian’s grasp.
He lets go of me and I force my brain to focus and follow Navie to the start of the pink death trap on the carpet.
I can’t develop feelings for this man, despite the fact that he keeps surprising me left and right. And even though, when I saw the depth in his eyes, I’d never felt more free.
The day stretches on long and I find myself wishing Navie and Quinn would stop back in for a visit. Especially since Quinn is so nice, complimenting me on my outfit and recognizing the strong “Alicia Silverstone inClueless”vibes. Sebastian looked a little annoyed at all the praise for my clothing.
But if they came back, maybe I could distract myself from him, looming large over my consciousness. Every little move he makes, every breath he takes, I’m aware of him—of everything he’s doing.
I’m starting to creep myself out. I could text my Capistrano friends’ group chat and ask them how the production ofTwelfth Nightis going. They’ll be starting rehearsals soon and I’m dying a little inside that I’m not there to dramaturg the heck out of it. I can count on them to give me a run down on all things Orange County, and that would surely occupy my mind in better ways than being fascinated by the way this man rubs his fingers along the stubble of his chin.
But I’m working, so it’s not like I can send and receive texts.
The sun is going down before the to-do list Sebastian gave me this morning is close to being done, but work-life balance necessitates I don’t stay too much longer.
“Hey, I turn into a pumpkin after dark, so I think I’ll head out.” I sling my bag on my shoulder.
“That’s fine.” He looks up from his plethora of computer screens. “Would you mind checking your email a few times at home, though? We’re waiting on the response from Home Away from Home Hotel Group about those resorts in Maine, and if they send something, I don’t want it sitting there until morning without a response.”
“Sure thing,” I say, resisting the urge to call him Zeb. It’s just so cute.
I’m glad to get home. Destiny’s Child needs me. And yes, I need her as much or more. Besides, I’ve had a headache and a tickle in my throat all day, so I’m looking forward to couch-potatoing it in front of some Netflix.
At nine, I get two phone calls in a row from a number I don’t recognize. I finally pick up the second one just before it goes to voicemail. “Are you Sebastian Tate’s assistant?” a male voice on the other line asks.
It’s then that I remember about my promise to check the company email. Dang it. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of him and he’s not answering,” the guys says. “This is Home Away from Home Hotel Group, trying to respond to his offer.”
“Oh! I’m sure he’s still at the office, or in his suite right next door.”
“I’ve called his office phone, his cell phone, and the resort to try to track him down. I even called his brother, who also didn’t answer. No one knows where he is. But this can’t wait until morning.” The guy breathes out a long breath. “Look, we’ve signed the preliminary docs giving you our intent to sell to you. However, we’re fielding other offers, so this is urgent. Can you track him down for us?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll get back with you as soon as I can.”
My heart starts to thud. This is big. A lot is riding on this deal and if Sebastian can’t sign, it could all fall through.
While I dial his number, I check the company email on the iPad. A thrill goes through me as I see Home Away from Home Hotel Group’s response to the negotiations. This looks legit, as far as I can tell.
When he doesn’t answer, I text him.
Me:Home Away from Home called. They’re looking for you and reached out to see if I knew where you were? They’re ready to do this! They just need your signature.
Destiny’s Child has the aroma of a wet outside dog, so I give her a quick bath while I wait for his response. Finally, my phone pings with his response.
Sebastian:I’m sorry to ask this of you, but can you come to me? And bring the iPad. Please? I’m in a bind and can’t leave. And I’m having a hard time pulling up the program on my phone.
The next text to ping through has an address, with directions in case my navigation won’t work.
This was what I’d feared would happen at some point: working after hours. I sigh. I’ve already changed out of my business clothes in favor of some leggings and an oversized t-shirt. Still, I can’tnotbring him the paperwork to sign, can I? This is a dire need.
My headache is mostly gone, but I’m not changing out of my comfy clothes.
I do drag a brush through my hair, satisfied it no longer resembles a rat’s nest that’s mated with sheep wool.
