Tate is talking to him, and they are laughing, and I want to smack my brother and tell him not to bond with the man I won't likely see again after today.
Sebastian looks up and stops talking; instead his eyes eat me up, and he smiles this small, secret smile that makes me think naughty thoughts about what that mouth is capable of achieving between my legs. Instead of my usual witty retort, I pause. Struck by him. He's wearing a suit and tie, very high end, tailored to his muscular, tall body, his dark hair just a bit ruffled, like he recently ran his hands through it.
I remember his hair, thick under my palm, as I held his head while he licked me and made me come.
Argh! I want to scream from frustration, but instead I smile. "Hello, Sebastian."
He holds out a hand as I reach the last stair. "Ms. Michaels, you look stunning."
"Thank you for the dress and shoes," I say.
His eyes darken. "It's not the dress, or the shoes, that make you stunning, darling."
Breathe. Just. Breathe.
"You have a way with words, Dr. Donovan. A better bedside manner than most in your profession, I imagine."
Tate clears his throat. "I'll leave you two to your evening." He kisses me on the cheek and retreats upstairs to his own room, but not before turning and giving me a meaningful look. "Remember what I said, Kacie."
I scowl at him before turning back to my non-date. "Shall we go?"
***
I won't bore you with recounting the drive to the restaurant. Expensive car. Small talk. Hands brushing against each other once or twice. Blah, blah, blah.
I will say that by the time we arrived at the restaurant, my panties were expecting something hot because they were wet. Damn. That. Man.
Even in the evening, Las Vegas’s summers are scorching. It never cools off—just gets a bit darker. Fortunately, we only have to walk a few steps in the sweltering heat before the blast of air conditioning from the restaurant dries the sweat on my skin. Once we're escorted to our table, I sit and sip at the water immediately placed in front of me, grateful for something cold to drink.
Sebastian stares at me like I'm his dinner, and he hasn't eaten in days.
"You're making me nervous," I say, though that's only partially true. I can handle myself well enough, but something about him, about the way he looks at me, throws me off balance.
"I don't mean to. I just find you mesmerizing." He smiles. "Have you had any luck remembering more of our night together?"
"Some. The actual marriage part is still a haze, but I do remember meeting you and… other things."
"I want you to know, I wouldn't have married you if I'd known you were too drunk to consent. I would never take advantage of you that way. But I don't regret it either. "
His voice is intoxicating, but I need to change the subject before this goes too far. "I remember the tattoo, on your back. Of the stars. You said it was of battles lost. What did you mean?"
His face turns serious. "I'm an excellent surgeon. I'm not bragging; I've worked hard to become one of the best. But I'm not God. Sometimes… sometimes I can't save a child. When that happens, when someone dies on my table or in my care, I add a star to the tattoo. I need them to know they will never be forgotten. Not by me."
I can't remember how many stars he had on his back. Not too many, but enough. Each the life of a child he couldn't save. "What made you decide to become a pediatric heart surgeon?"
"My little sister was born with a bad heart. I wanted to fix her so badly, but as a child myself, I was helpless. The doctors at the hospital I now work at saved her life. My mentor, actually, was her surgeon. I knew then I wanted to do what he did. Now, it's my goal to put Sunrise Children's Hospital on the map as the leading hospital for pediatric care."
"Wow, that's quite a goal."
He smiles. "What about you? What are your life goals?"
"Nothing that impressive. I want Hitched to become the go-to party planner for celebrity clients. I want to grow big enough to franchise and create something truly lasting. I know it sounds shallow and silly compared to your life."
He reaches over the table and places his hand over mine. "You bring joy to people during the most memorable time in their lives. Your goals and dreams are just as important as mine. And I respect a woman who has ambition and knows what she wants in life."
His response surprises me. "Really?"
"Really. You have my respect Ms. Michaels. We are meant to be in each other's lives. I believe that."
With those words, he tugs at my heart in ways I don't expect. Too overcome with emotion to carry on our conversation, I excuse myself to use the restroom. I feel flustered, and I need to compose myself so we can discuss the business at hand: the end of our very brief marriage.
I'm alone in the posh bathroom, reapplying my red lipstick, when I hear the door open, then close with a click.
I expect another woman coming in to freshen up and am shocked when Sebastian is there in the reflection of the mirror.
"This is the ladies room," I say.
"I know." His voice is husky.