When she finally drew back, his eyes were dark with desire and she was breathless from the feel of his hard muscles pressing into her, his strong arms holding her tight. It wasn't even ten in the morning, yet the atmosphere was positively sultry. Honestly, she was glad that Sebastian made her forget every thought that had kept her awake last night, at least for a little while. There was only the sweet anticipation of his kiss, his touch, even the way he looked at her with those dark eyes of his, as though he could taste her.
"Boy, am I glad I dropped by this morning."
She knew he didn't have time to spend with her in the workshop, just as he hadn't had any spare time to visit her mother. Not when he held the reins of a billion-dollar company, one that depended on his inspiration and charisma first and foremost. Which only made the time he did spend with her sweeter.
"I am too," she said, before forcing herself to step out of his arms and reach for two sets of safety goggles.
"Put these on and stand over there." She pointed to the far end of the workshop.
"You want me to sit in a corner and shut up?" Clearly, people rarely told billionaires where they could and couldn't go.
"At least I'm letting you stay today," she said with a laugh. "But only as long as you don't mess with my concentration." Because Lord knew, he was too darned sexy, even in goggles. How was that possible? Simply because he was Sebastian. He lived and breathed sexy.
Be still, my beating heart.
When he didn't head for the corner, she said, "I'm sure you never just sit back and let someone else do the work, do you?"
"Actually, a big part of my job is observing people." He raised one eyebrow and curved his mouth in a half smile as he finally began to back away. "But watching you is pure pleasure."
She gave him a look, even as everything sizzled inside her. "Go. Sit. I need to concentrate."
She'd clamped a car door to a table she'd made out of sawhorses. She was still in the design phase, thinking about angles and curves and materials, but she wanted to demonstrate the process for Sebastian, so she was jumping ahead. He was so eager to see how everything worked.
Or maybe, she thought with a smile she couldn't quite contain, it was just that he was eager to torment her with the promise in his eyes. Well, if and when the time came, she was going to enjoy tormenting him just as much...
She let the machine and the noise and the sparks drown him out. Work. Create. Cut. And yet, all the while, she felt him watching her. Her pulse pattered faster, a sweet, hot feeling-to be his focus, sense his attraction, and know that he wanted her. The potential for something huge between them tantalized her. There was still the business-versus-pleasure thing, but after sharing their pasts with each other and taking him to meet-and charm the socks off-her mom, she knew they weren't strictly business anymore.
Still, Charlie didn't want to simply jump into bed with him. Not until she knew for sure that he wouldn't expect her to change who she was. Because it felt like he already meant too much to her to be just a fling...and it would break her heart into a million pieces if she let herself fall, only to end up shattered if he didn't actually want her.
She finished the cut, shut off the plasma arc, and studied the work after pushing up the shield and goggles. Again it occurred to her that it would be really fun to bring her students into this workshop to see firsthand what it was like to build such a big piece from the ground up.
"Looks like a perfect job to me," he commented as he rose from his seat to check it out.
She'd done better. But she hadn't had him for a distraction either. "I need a Dumpster." At home, she had a small one behind the garage.
"Don't you use every piece for something or other?" He was close enough by then for his breath to whisper over her cheek, his body heat arcing over her like the electrical current of the plasma cutter.
She almost shivered. "Not every piece. I have enough of a junkyard as it is."
"Then a Dumpster you shall have." She wasn't sure how he made it sound as though he were giving her jewels. And when he traced a finger over the metal, she felt as if he were running his hands over her body. "Is this the front of the chariot?"
"Yes." Her answer came out husky. He pushed aside a few wisps of hair that had escaped her knot, and when he dropped a kiss on her throat, it was the hardest thing she'd ever done to force herself to tell him, "It's time for you to go now."
"Already?"
"You're too distracting."
He was grinning as he removed his goggles and headed out of the workshop, clearly pleased that he had such a strong effect on her. But around noon, he reappeared with a picnic basket laden with gourmet cheeses, fruit, and a variety of crackers. He'd spread a blanket on the grass outside the bungalow.
"You don't have to keep feeding me," she said as she took a cracker spread with warmed Brie from his fingers. "Especially when I know you couldn't possibly have time for all this."
"You wouldn't stop to eat if I didn't. And I need to eat too."
"I eat." Except that he was right-she often became so involved she didn't notice her hunger until her stomach rumbled as loudly as the compressor. Just the way it had when he'd tempted her with the picnic treats.
He smiled, reading her mind. "Knew it." He gave her another cracker, this one with a mouthwatering Cambozola cheese.
God, she could get used to this treatment. Did he sweep all his women away like this?
As soon as it hit her, she hated the thought of his women. It wasn't fair to him, her being judgmental like that. As if she were saying that because he was rich, he must use his wealth to make his conquests. Especially when she didn't feel like a conquest.
She felt treasured.
After the scrumptious lunch, they sat side by side at the workbench, her iPad propped up, the chariot drawing on the screen, his hip pressing lightly against hers. It was so familiar, so sweet.
So intimate.
"Have you decided what you want to use as the floor of the chariot? Another car door?"
She breathed in, out. Tried to calm her racing heart-and ever-growing desire. "No. Not a door. Something else..." The words trailed off as she traced the lines with her finger.
"What if you used a tile mosaic for the base?"
She tipped her head one way, then the other, picturing a mosaic before saying, "What if we accented with some of the tiles you used on the fountain?" Her mind began to sprint at the same speed her heart was from his nearness. "When the sun hits, the tiles will sparkle like rainbows. We'll have to make sure the angle is right so it gets enough light. We can set the mosaic in a metal form so I can weld the body of the chariot to it."
"The design could be free-form. The tiles can be chipped so they're not square."
Their ideas built on each other. "We could even add other irregular fragments, like broken crockery. I've seen garden stepping stones made from bits of china plates." Her excitement rose, not just for the chariot they were creating together as though they were a team, but for him-his body so close, his thigh taut against hers, his male scent all over her.
"That's brilliant."
She scanned him again, right into him, past his good looks. "You're brilliant. I would never have thought of mixing the two mediums, metalwork and tile work." She thought of the anger he must still feel over his parents destroying themselves with alcohol and partying, especially when he'd needed so badly for them to be there for him. And she couldn't help adding, "It's going to be amazing fun to break plates against the wall, venting all our frustrations in a good cause."
"I like it. And you." He reached for her, brushed his fingertips over her lower lip. "I like you too, Charlie. So very much."
Her heart stilled for a moment as she basked in the way his eyes mapped the lines of her face. This time when they kissed, she wouldn't be able to stop at that. Not with this reckless need pounding through her veins. Just as she was about to put her hands on both sides of his gorgeous face, a horn honked, startling her and breaking the moment.
Sebastian made a frustrated growl. It was the first time she'd seen him fail to get his way, and she was just as frustrated as he levered himself away from the bench, his muscles rippling.
A white van idled on the drive as a uniformed driver jumped out and handed Sebastian a box. A few seconds later, she was surprised when he held it out to her.
"I don't need gifts." He'd already given her so much.
"It's not for you. But you can open it. Don't shake it, though. It's fragile."
What could it be? On the workbench, she grabbed an X-Acto knife and carefully cut through the tape. Inside were six smaller boxes-three flat, three square. She opened a flat box first.