When Sebastian sat down in the study to answer his endlessly buzzing text messages, he’d thought he’d get a few moments of privacy. He’d already excused himself to the hostess, Hunter’s quirky but vivacious fiancée, and planned on rejoining the party in a moment.
Mother: Answer me, Sebastian. Why are you trying to cock-block me on your contracts???????
She’d sent the same text seventeen times in three minutes. Knowing his mother, she’d probably handed the phone to an assistant to keep hitting the Send button until he responded. It was annoying as fuck, but his mother knew how to get under his skin like no one else. So he texted her back.
SC: Ma. If you don’t stop texting me I’m going to shut my phone down. I’m more than happy to talk about contracts with my lawyer present. But not without him.
Mother: You don’t trust me? Your own mother?!?! And don’t call me MA! I’m fifty two, not eighty. Call me Mama Precious.
SC: You know I’m not going to do that. And I trust you, Ma. I don’t trust the network, and we both know that if I show up over there, someone’s going to shove a camera in my face. So I’m avoiding you until everything’s signed. It’s not personal. You know I love you.
Mother: Nugget, it’s opportunity. When is something like this going to fall into your lap again?
He was about to furiously text back that he didn’t want to be called Nugget since she’d only made up that nickname after the show started, when two hands appeared on his thighs under the desk and his chair rolled backward. Shocked, Sebastian stared as a gorgeous blonde emerged from under the desk and practically propelled herself into his lap.
She was perfect. Utterly perfect.
He stared as the woman stood up and straightened her tiny strapless dress. It was a buff color with a bit of spangly stuff on it, but if he squinted, it looked like skin. Lots and lots of skin. She was tall and gorgeous and fit, with an impressive rack and even better legs. She had a heart-shaped face and big blue eyes and loose blonde curls. The look she gave him was utterly mischievous and not apologetic in the least.
“Hope I didn’t scare you. I was trying to figure out the best moment to escape.”
“What . . .”
She stuck her finger out and showed him something that looked suspiciously spidery. “I was on an eyelash-finding mission.” With a wiggle of her brows, she dragged one long leg over his, momentarily straddling him, and then moved past him, flashing him an incredible, tight ass . . .
And a big bruise on her upper thigh that disappeared under the hem of her skirt.
That cooled his impromptu erection instantly. Where did a bruise like that come from? It was a rather intimate place, and it wasn’t like he could ask politely.
“So are they all out there?” She gave a little shimmy and adjusted her short dress, covering the bruise.
“From what I can tell, yes.” Sebastian’s brows drew together. Should he introduce himself? Ask her what she was doing under the desk? He honestly had no idea how to handle this. She’d shown up in a blatantly sexual pose and then acted like it was no big deal. Hell, thirty seconds ago she’d practically had her head in his lap. He nodded at the eyelash stuck to her hand. “That yours?”
She looked at it and then chuckled, shaking her head. “Performing a rescue for a friend. Too bad she won’t return the favor.”
“You in need of rescuing?”
She waved her hand at the sound of the distant voices. “Just from an evening of party conversations and everyone asking what I do.” She turned around and looked at him. “I make soap, by the way.”