Reckless in Love by Bella Andre
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.
"And Daniel's right over--" Matt waved his hand like a snake charmer. "--there."
The fifth Maverick was making his way toward them, a plate of appetizers in his hand. Running a conglomerate of home improvement stores and producing his own do-it-yourself TV show, Daniel was dressed for the part as always, in khaki pants and a camel-colored jacket with leather patches on the elbows, his hair overly long. Sebastian wondered if he would manage to unearth a tux for Will and Harper's winter wedding in Chicago, or if he'd just show up grinning in a plaid work shirt and boots. Truth was, none of the Mavericks would care if he did. Each of them wanted only happiness and a good life for the others.
In addition to taking over the world together, of course.
"Harper." Holding her hand, Daniel kissed her cheek. She was one of them now, a Maverick, as was Jeremy. "You're as lovely as a Tahoe sunrise." Daniel was building a cabin up at Lake Tahoe, so he clearly had the big blue lake on the brain. He was also right that Harper, with all the love shining out of her, was just as beautiful.
Then Daniel was looking past them all, up the stairs. "Holy hell. Will you look at that vision coming down the stairs."
As everyone turned, Sebastian suddenly couldn't breathe...and his heart all but shut down in his chest. Tonight, the woman he'd fallen head over heels for wasn't Charlie the strong, pretty tomboy. She was Charlotte.
But no, he realized, as his heart--and brain--slowly stuttered back into action. She was both Charlie and Charlotte. Radiant and alluring. Intelligent and creative. Brilliant and beautiful.
And he'd never wanted any woman more.
"She's coming over to us," Matt said, his voice sounding very far away.
All Sebastian could see or hear or feel was Charlie as she descended the stairs with elegance and style. She'd piled her hair on top of her head, a few locks falling carelessly free, brushing her shoulders. Gold drop earrings dangled from her lobes, glittering in the light of all the chandeliers.
"Her dress," Harper said. "It's stunning."
As far as Sebastian was concerned, stunning barely scratched the surface. The corset-style top fitted her like the fingers of a tight glove, the thin straps holding it up nothing more than decoration. A teardrop necklace nestled seductively in her cleavage. The strip of bare midriff below the top dried up his mouth. The waist cinched and the skirt flared over her hips, then fell in graceful, swishing folds to her calves, the scalloped hem longer in the back than the front. Even her ankles in the strappy high-heeled sandals were perfection.
"Is that--" someone, maybe Harper, started to ask.
Sebastian could only nod, unable to do more than stare in awe at the woman who had stolen his heart.
The outfit she'd chosen was as striking as anything she'd tried on in the designer shop, even the pearl dress, as much as he'd loved her in it. But it wasn't the outfit that stunned her audience.
It was all Charlie.
The lobby had fallen into complete silence. No one had ever seen anything like her. In the span of sixty glorious seconds, Charlie Ballard had completely transcended the surgically enhanced society mob. To top it all, every single thing about her was real, inside and out.
He'd cherished her beauty all along, beneath the jeans and the T-shirts and the glorious never-seen-a-salon hair, but now he realized there were more sides to her than he could have imagined. Everyone had different facets, some they kept locked away. Sebastian had those hidden features too, like the part of him that needed to draw. He'd never been brave enough to let any but his closest friends see his sketches, but tonight Charlie was bravely letting all her hidden qualities and talents shine.
He was dying to show her off, to drink in the sweet seductive sound of her voice, to learn everything he could about her. He couldn't wait to get his hands on her, to touch her, inhale her scent, kiss her.
And--finally--make her completely his.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Charlie had spent way too much time on her hair, but she wasn't used to the curling iron, let alone piling the mass of hair on top of her head. She'd had to watch several YouTube how-to videos to figure it out. But the time and effort had been more than worth it for the look on Sebastian's face as she walked down the stairs.
She felt gloriously happy--every cell in her body yearning for Sebastian. At least, until she realized that the lobby had gone silent and absolutely everyone was staring at her. The pounding of her heart spiked higher as she gripped the rail and froze in place for a few moments.
Oh God, what was I thinking, trying to pull this off?
Feeling more than a little desperate, she looked back at Sebastian again. And suddenly everything was right. The admiration and pleasure in his eyes told her in no uncertain terms that she actually had pulled it off. As she'd fussed with her hair, her makeup, and her dress, she'd decided not only to play the siren for one night, but also to enjoy it. Now, with Sebastian's gaze fortifying her and giving her the strength she'd momentarily lost in the face of this huge crowd, it was time to make good on that decision. No matter how difficult she found it to be at the center of all those assessing, judging gazes.
She was going to have fun, damn it! Even if it killed her.
As she descended the final step, Sebastian drew her against him. His murmured, "You take my breath away," sent shivers through her body. She wished she could wear this dress only for him, and that he would sweep her away to their penthouse suite before she had to deal with the throng, all of them staring avidly.
At least she was lucky enough to meet his closest friends first. Sebastian had given Charlie the lowdown on the Mavericks during the drive over. Still, there were an awful lot of names and faces to keep straight. It didn't help that his strong, protective hand was caressing the bare flesh of her back below the corset, making it difficult to focus on anything but the urge to drag him back upstairs and let him strip off her dress the way they both so desperately wanted.
Okay, Charlie, focus, she told herself with the first introduction.
Daniel Spencer, owner of the Top-Notch DIY chain of home improvement stores, was a dark-haired Tahoe mountain guy. He shook her hand, his grip warm and
"Thank you." She'd seen how good the rams looked in front of the hotel, but it was still fabulous to hear that someone besides Sebastian agreed with her.
Next, Sebastian introduced her to Will Franconi and she immediately said, "Thank you so much for the china you sent over for my mother. She loved it. It was so kind of you."
A dark Italian type as befitting his name, Will smiled with twinkling blue eyes. "You're welcome. Although Harper picked them out."
Charlie turned to the pretty blond woman on his arm. "Drinking out of those china mugs is one of my mother's favorite parts of the day. Thank you for choosing such a lovely set."
Harper smiled sweetly. "Sipping tea out of hand-painted bone china has now become a favorite part of my day too."
Charlie made what she hoped was a normal sound in response. That, however, was becoming harder to do as Sebastian trailed a hand over her shoulder blade and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.
"Those cups are probably too fragile for Noah to use for an imaginary party, aren't they?" asked a big, handsome man who she easily guessed was Matt Tremont, the father of five-year-old Noah.
Boy, the Mavericks were definitely a good-looking lot, though she couldn't help but think that Sebastian was the best of an incredible bunch. Whether he was running his hands over her body or not. Right now, given that he was turning her positively liquid inside, all she wanted to do was turn around in his arms and press her lips to--
Concentrate, Charlie.
"Tea party?" Daniel said. "Didn't I give him a kid-size tool belt for his last birthday?"
Matt laughed, his mouth wide, his eyes probably as bright as Noah's would be. "He lost the hammer and the screwdriver and the--"
Daniel cut him off with an eye roll, and Sebastian said, "Maybe he needs a Zanti Misfit."
Charlie thought of the pruning-shear claws and put her hand on his arm. "We probably need to make something else for your son," she told Matt. "How about a lizard? Or better yet, a T-Rex."
"The T-Rex?" Sebastian looked mildly horrified at the thought of her dinosaur sculpture becoming a five-year-old's toy.
"I could make a scaled-down version. Or maybe a stegosaurus would be even better for him?"
"That sounds awesome. Just as long as it's not a velociraptor." Matt made a rueful face. "I made the mistake of taking him to see Jurassic World. What was I thinking?"
"Your son definitely needs a kinder, gentler dinosaur." She immediately began to envision a child-friendly dinosaur garden filled with plant-eating dinos. What if she used rocks to build the smaller set of dinosaurs? She could encircle different sized stones in metal and weld the individual pieces together like Legos.
"Earth to Charlie," Sebastian whispered in her ear, sending another delicious shiver through her.
"Sorry, I was thinking about little dinosaurs. Lots and lots of them." Was it bad that she wished she were back in her workshop already, getting started on those dinosaurs? Not that she didn't enjoy meeting Sebastian's closest friends. They alone made the party worth it.
In the midst of all the dinosaur planning, an older gentleman entered their circle and Sebastian put his hand on the small of Charlie's back as if to move her closer. "Walter, this is Charlie Ballard."
Walter Braedon could have been fifty, or five years either way. Though he was surrounded by Mavericks he could never overshadow, he had the presence of an older man who was completely comfortable in his own skin. His dark blond hair was thick and going white at the temples, his features strong, and his waistline as trim as that of someone twenty years younger.
She might have felt slightly nervous if Sebastian hadn't still been at her side. With his hand warming her through the fabric of her dress, he made her feel as if he'd battle anything for her. Even her own fear.
"Your rams are a hit, Miss Ballard," Walter said, vigorously pumping her hand. "Everyone's been asking for you."
"Thank you, I'm so glad to hear that. And please, call me Charlie. Even though I teach over at the college, Miss Ballard makes me feel like a little old lady schoolteacher."
"You're certainly not that." Dimples appeared when he smiled. "Charlie it is. And you all must call me Walt. I trust the suite is to your liking?"
"It's fabulous, thank you."
"We appreciate not having to make the trek back across the Bay, Walt," Sebastian added.
She didn't want to stiffen at Sebastian's gracious words--and would have stopped herself if she could. But a fairly large crowd had gathered around the Mavericks and Walter Braedon, and she was well aware of the assumptions that the gossipmongers were bound to make about the artist who was not only living on Sebastian's property, but also staying in a suite with him right here at the hotel.
Everyone would assume they were sleeping together.
Charlie had never given a hoot about anyone pondering her sex life. What she and Sebastian did was their own business, and while she'd never regret being with him, she couldn't stand the thought of anyone assuming she'd traded her art for sex.
Her gaze flew to Walt. Was that what he thought?
Clearly able to read her inside and out, Sebastian curled his arm around her waist, but that only made her spiral down. Everyone would see the blush he brought to her cheeks, the way he made her bones melt, how he put stars in her eyes...and they'd know she was completely, recklessly smitten with the beautiful billionaire. It had nothing to do with being in his league. Charlie didn't believe in that kind of stuff, but she did recognize that they were from different worlds. Until tonight, she and Sebastian had been together only in her world, full of junk and metal and welding tools. Now, she was smack in the middle of his glittering world.
She pulled off that feat with her own brand of glitter, but she couldn't help feeling like an impostor, because in the morning, all her glitter would wash down the drain.
"Come, we must introduce you around." Walt turned to the side and waved a hand. "Have you met Evan and Whitney Collins?"
Evan Collins was the fifth Maverick. As handsome and fit as the rest, he was their finance guy and the only married Maverick. "It's great to meet you, Charlie. This is my wife, Whitney."
Draped in a floor-length red dress with a slit up the side--one of the dresses that Charlie had rejected, in fact--Whitney Collins had a figure that made men drool. With auburn hair, she was polished, perfect, and obviously bored out of her mind by everyone and everything around her. Her handshake was limp, and the once-over she gave Charlie clearly rated the brocade skirt, camisole, shoes, and beaded clutch as horribly unfashionable.
"Hmm," was all she said, the taut skin on her face hardly moving around the small sound.
Thankfully, Walt quickly moved them on through the sea of faces. It was more than a little exhausting for Charlie to chitchat with so many new people, trying to remember as many names as possible, but Sebastian was clearly in his element. What's more, he seemed to know everyone, asking about their latest project or triumph, about their kids. She was continually amazed at his skill in turning people's compliments back around to their achievements rather than his own.
Even more amazing? Between Sebastian and Walt talking up her artwork, people were literally throwing commissions at her. A garden in Woodside, a fountain in Atherton, a gazebo on Nob Hill, a condo in Palm Springs, all of which desperately needed a piece by Charlie Ballard.
It was thrilling. At least, it should have been, because taking all these jobs meant she'd never have to worry about her mother again. But twenty-four hours a day wouldn't be enough time to create all of these designs. Already she was doing rapid-fire calculations in her head to figure out what she could give up to make it work.
Worse, she couldn't shake the thought that Sebastian's peers were offering her commissions simply to make points with him.
"Are you okay?" Sebastian asked when they finally had a few seconds to themselves.
She couldn't admit she was panicking again. Not when he'
"Everyone is being so complimentary and friendly." She lifted one foot to take the pressure off for one precious moment. "I'm just not used to wearing heels."
He tangled his fingers in the hair at her nape. "I should have been paying better attention to you."
"You have been." She smiled at him. "No one has ever been so attentive."
"I can do even better," he promised as he slid a finger seductively along the waist of her skirt, sliding down to caress the sensitive skin of her lower back as they slipped away from the group. "Let's start by getting you another glass of champagne and some food." Sebastian picked up a plate, his lips close to her ear as he whispered, "Tell me what you want."
His arms molded her tightly to his body, and she felt every muscle, every ridge against her more delicate frame. She was hot, liquid, and crazy for him. And one desire after another whizzed through her head.
A great big bite of you.
A long sip of your lips.
Your heat against me.
Inside of me.
She'd worried earlier about people thinking their attraction was the reason Sebastian supported her art. Now, though she heard voices, the clink of plates, the splash of drinks into glasses, she simply didn't care what anyone else thought. In this moment, there was only Sebastian's arms around her, his sweet breath in her ear, his soft hair beneath her fingers.
She knew him in ways the people at this party never would, saw things in him other people could never understand. They felt his charisma, but she recognized his inner beauty, the man who cared, the little boy who still needed to help in any way he could.
Charlie had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted Sebastian. More than teaching. More than the money for her mother. More than her art. She wanted all of him. Now. Tonight. No matter what happened after she finished work on the chariot and they went back to their normal lives. Even if it turned out that he preferred the shiny, glittering Charlie she'd unearthed tonight to the dusty, junkyard woman she'd been until this moment.