Accidentally Still Married (The Naked Truth #2) Page 3

  In four days’ time, he would jet to L.A. and return to the life he enjoyed. He had new offices opening soon, and believed babysitting a new venture was the only way to make it grow. Even in his marriage, he had wanted to make sure every ‘t’ was dotted, every ‘i’ crossed, just to ensure they were making the most of the amazing opportunity life had offered them. But Grace had pegged his wanting to be present as controlling and overbearing.

  That didn’t matter now. He would enjoy the days with her, get her out of his system once and for all, have her sign the divorce papers, and celebrate. With memories of Grace’s naked body no longer tormenting him, he would succeed and rejoice. In a matter of days, Grace would be a distant memory.

  Although… the vulnerability in her voice when she called him earlier tightened his chest. Was it sick to be filled with male pride after knowing she hadn’t slept with anyone after him? A smile curved his lips, but he clamped them hard. Remember who the real Grace is. When he’d asked Grace about his mother’s ring, called her after she decided to leave his rented condo, she had told him she’d taken it to a pawnshop, as she was desperate for money to start a life without him.

  He’d thought that after her gypsy life with her irresponsible parents, she would crave the security of marriage and the possibility of a family. Their marriage wasn’t exactly planned out years in advance, but once he’d made the decision to go through with it, there had been no turning back for him. He’d loved her. Wanted her. Trusted her. She was having his baby. What more was there to discuss? She’d wanted different things. Things he didn’t understand, things perhaps even she didn’t understand. She certainly never communicated them in a way he could understand. Heated arguments ensued, and the last one had taken place right before she’d started bleeding and lost their baby. How could he have asked her to stay afterward? He’d tried. He’d damn tried.

  “Sebastian.” Ross smiled as he entered the room and stretched out his hand.

  “Thanks for making it on such a short notice, Ross.” He shook the hand of the catering world’s biggest rock star and indicated the seat beside him.

  “No problem. I had to shuffle some things around, but couldn’t say no to you. You said it’s an up-and-coming catering company?”

  “Yeah. Great potential. I took the owner under my wing, and wanted you to assist her.”

  They entered the conference room he had rented for the afternoon. Looking through the glass doors, Sebastian recognized her hair approaching, and his heart stopped—only to resume amplified, pounding its way out of his skin a microsecond later. Grace walked past their room, holding her cell phone to her ear. Maybe she was lost?

  “She’s here,” he said to Ross, and stood up. “I’ll go get her.”

  In the wide hallway, she pushed a small cart. He was about to make a wiseass remark about her tardiness, when she spoke into the phone.

  “Yeah. I’m good. He’s not here yet.” She stopped pushing and placed her free hand on her waist. “Yes, Luna, thanks for the stash of condoms,” she continued, a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

  He bit back a satisfactory smile, but didn’t move an inch.

  “I know I’m a nervous wreck. I just never thought the idea of sex would feel so business-y.” She leaned against the textured wall and whispered something he couldn’t quite hear. Business-y? He could have laughed. Then it dawned on him. She hadn’t had sex in two years… He blinked, and quietly stepped backward and signaled to the attendant on the other side to show her the conference room. The short man nodded, and Sebastian sneaked back into the room.

  “Hello, gentlemen,” Grace said, as she walked into the room with a professional smile. The pristine white shirt and white pants gave her an elegant look. A long, black pearl necklace hung from her delicate neck, and her hair was down, swept to one side. He curled and uncurled his fist, flexed his fingers to rid them of the sudden tingle. He wanted to run his fingers through her long, luscious hair—which tumbled past her breasts. “Please excuse my tardiness. It took me longer than I expected to find this place.”

  “No problem. Ross, meet Grace King.”

  “Such a pleasure to meet you.”

  Grace stretched her hand to the potbellied man, and he shook it. They all sat around the dark mahogany oval table, and for the next two hours, Ross tasted a few samples she’d brought on the cart, and then showed her a quick market study he’d made about the food and beverage field, and who her competition was.

  A concern Sebastian didn’t have the right to experience filled him. Was there a guarantee that her business would take off after this?

  “I say we revamp your brand,” Ross said. “Your food is good and both you and your dishes have a sassy style that’s not shining through. You need to target a younger, more upscale clientele. We’ll go over your menu and perhaps change some of the dishes’ names, add some others, and keep that modern flare on Southern cooking vibe. Can you cater to a larger capacity?”

  “I’m based out of my house,” Grace replied. “I’ve been mainly doing small events, but would love to dip into the more upscale market. Cost has been an issue, as far as finding a location.” Her voice lost energy at the end.

  “You should find a location. If we’re rebranding, we want to set the tone from the beginning,” Ross said.

  “I’ll take care of that,” Sebastian cut in.

  Grace turned to him, her expression unreadable.

  “I can call a realtor I trust and get you set up.” He smoothed his voice by a notch.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, a pang of surprise in her tone.

  After the meeting was over, they headed to the hotel’s bar for drinks. Sebastian excused himself for a moment, called the concierge, and arranged for his belongings to be moved to another type of bedroom. He also asked for champagne and a couple of other things to help with her nerves, if the way she relentlessly clicked her pen during the meeting was anything to go by. After having eavesdropped on her conversation, somehow it seemed selfish not wanting to make things smoother for her. He snuck out on his own and stopped by the sundry shop, and afterward only had to share Grace with Ross for thirty minutes before the old man excused himself and left.

  “Did you like him?” Sebastian scooted closer to her. The booth they shared was intimate.

  She took a sip of her Mojito, and he had to clench his fist to keep from touching her. “What’s not to love? The man is amazing.”

  Whenever they spent time like this, not talking about their dead marriage, there was a painful squeeze in his heart. Like some invisible giant hand was trying to crush him.

  Sebastian took a swig of his Grey Goose, and the liquid skated down his throat. She was gorgeous. Her eyes gleamed, and she kept twisting her hands together. Was she that nervous? To share a bed with him? He coughed; his body was still painfully aware of her nearness. His thighs were hard, his length straining against his pants. “You are making me jealous.”

  “Yeah, because I would totally do him,” she said, and they stared at each other for a moment and then chuckled in unison.

  She offered him a sweet smile, like the ones he’d gotten from her when they’d dated. His heart tightened, and he shifted in the booth, willing the suffocating sensation away. “We could finish this conversation upstairs,” he said.

  “I’m afraid conversation is not what interests you.” She shrugged, playing with the edge of her glass with her fingers.

  “You’d be surprised,” he whispered, worried about those words himself.

  ***

  They rushed across the lobby as a gorgeous bride took pictures with a set of giggly bridesmaids. Grace’s throat thickened, and this time it wasn’t because of the man alongside her. While they waited for the elevator, she soaked up the girl’s dress, cloaked by a long, thin veil, sheer enough to show her widening smile.

  Grace’s heart turned in her chest. She’d been happy during her wedding, although they had eloped to Vegas instead of anything more elaborate. Back then, her man w
as a workaholic and she’d been happy letting him make the decisions—then it had suffocated her, and she’d found herself way in too deep and couldn’t back down. Until he’d reminded her too much of Aidan for her to be able to know the difference. Was there a difference?

  The Sebastian she’d dated was not the same one she’d married. Or had she changed after making the vows? Her whole life she’d craved roots, especially since being homeschooled by her mother. In an RV, of all places. Maybe the idea had seemed good on paper, but in reality she hadn’t enjoyed touring the country in a vehicle and never being able to keep her friends and establish a routine. Perhaps that need had thrown her in Sebastian’s arms in the first place. And the realization she was more like her parents than she had imagined had yanked her from him.

  “You okay?” Sebastian squeezed her hand, and before she could answer, the elevator doors opened in front of them. They joined the guests already inside.

  Sebastian pulled her gently to the back of the spacious elevator, and she fixed her stare on the heads in front of her. He intertwined his fingers in hers, and she sucked in a breath. What did he care?

  With his thumb, Sebastian made a circular motion on her palm, and she bit her lip. When the doors opened and they reached his sumptuous suite, she took in the beauty of the furnishings: curvy round chairs, a large sofa in the living area, and white, heavy drapes hanging from the ceiling. The pastel colors contrasted against the rugged man who flicked on the dim lighting. It was like Tarzan trapped in a dollhouse. A ginormous dollhouse, of course.

  “The room is surprisingly sweet,” she said, in a strangled voice.

  Sebastian chuckled. “In this hotel, every room is different. I’ve been staying at a different one, but tonight I requested something more—” He cleared his throat. “Romantic. Thought you would appreciate it.”

  Why would he go through the trouble? As far as sex went, she was a sure thing. And whenever he splayed his hands on her, it really didn’t matter what surrounded them. Damn it, Grace. In a few days, he would go back to L.A., the city where he had moved to after their split. The other side of the country. Which meant she just had to come to terms with the sexual responses her body threw at her. Then, it would be back to celibacy again. At least until she met a man that fit her better.

  Taking a breath larger than the suite, she followed him into the main bedroom. She glanced at the chocolate covered strawberries and the Veuve Clicquot chilling in a sparkling champagne cooler. The scent of fresh, clean linens swirled in the air, and blooming tulips sat bunched in a couple of yellow vases on either nightstand.

  Two oversize robes draped over the silky immaculate bedspread. “You have master plans.” She bit back a smile. “I can’t spend the night, you know. I have to wake up early tomorrow,” she said, and expected him to protest her decision. In the past, his overbearing ways had never let her be out of his reach for too long. It was as if he had feared he would lose her forever. And, didn’t that ended up happening anyway? Oh, the irony.

  “Fine with me.” Sebastian sent her a devastating smile that almost changed her resolve.

  She picked up a strawberry and licked off the chocolate, her tongue twirling over the tip. “This is amazing.”

  Sebastian’s stare remained on her while he served them both glasses of champagne. A flicker of undeniable desire sparked in his jade colored eyes, and she realized his gaze targeted her lips. She shivered and took a bite of the strawberry, the taste tantalizing her palate. He handed her a flute, and she accepted, then lifted it in the air, silently congratulating him.

  Sebastian placed his iPhone on a dock. A blues version of Alicia Keys, her go-to singer, filled the room, the volume low and intimate. She touched her stomach, eager to contain the uproar of butterflies in it. Everything had been carefully orchestrated… for her? Really, he was going through this kind of trouble to bed her? What was his angle?

  Whatever it was, she couldn’t buy into it. She’d let his deep accent and hunkiness fool her once, but she couldn’t allow it to happen again. Not when she was finally getting back on her feet. Not when she was so close to learning all she could, and taking her business where it should be going.

  Not when—

  Sebastian removed his jacket and placed it on the chair.

  She straightened her shoulders, and sipped the champagne, the dry liquid rolling down her throat. When he undid his tie and his fingers reached his top button, she finished the alcohol. It had been easy to fall into his arms the night before, without much thought. But this kind of Hollywood production made her fully aware of what was going to happen.

  She twisted her hands together.

  He inched toward her. “Are you ready?”

  She rubbed her clammy palms together. Was she? “I…I…” The confident woman had gone on a coffee break and in her place stood a pitiful virgin. Seriously, that had to be the explanation. She hadn’t been this nervous the first time she had seen him naked in all his glory, after an intensive two date courtship. I’m pathetic.

  Sebastian reached for his pocket. Was he taking the condom out? The no-frills approach to sex was fine, but it was a tad…

  “What are you thankful for?” he asked, and she blinked.

  He waved a card in his hand. “I bought these at the souvenir shop downstairs. I thought it would be a fun game to get us reacquainted.”

  Her pulse fluttered. She should tell him that what she thought didn’t matter to him, or to them. She stared at the stack of cards he folded and unfolded in front of him as he lounged on the sofa. To hell with it. Honesty was the best policy. “My grandmother. Even though most times she doesn’t know who I am, and I’m selfish for wanting her here… When I see her, I still know who she is. And being with her helps me know who I am, too.” Her voice thick at the end. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Although Sebastian sat at the opposite side of the sofa, he stretched his long legs in her direction, and she had to scramble her feet out of his way so their limbs wouldn’t cross.

  He gave her a close-lipped smile with a sympathetic nod. His eyes were warm, his face relaxed like they were in an intimate after-party recap. Craziness.

  “Your turn.” Sebastian handed her the stack, and she picked one from the middle. She almost added she was also thankful for his smooth change of topic. Though he probably had a hidden agenda.

  “What’s your best childhood memory?” she read out loud.

  “My mom at the kitchen, baking koeksister, my favorite pastry. It’s sort of a doughnut baked in syrup.” He fixed his stare on the flute in his hand for a moment, as if being transported to a different world. She knew his father had been killed in a robbery back in South Africa when he was sixteen, which had prompted his American mother to move back with him to the US. But he had never shared much else with her. “I loved that pastry and she cooked it for me, every other weekend.”

  “How did she die?” she asked. Conversations about his mother had always stood between them during their relationship. Besides that she had been dead, he had never said much—which had made her believe he and his mother had had a horrible relationship while his mother had been alive.

  He clenched his jaw, and then he frowned. She was about to change the subject—maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about it—when he stared at her, and an angry expression crossed his face. “She killed herself. She couldn’t make it without my father.”

  Blood froze in her veins. Was that why he had never shared much about his mother? “Oh lord… I didn’t know. I am sorry.” She scooted a bit closer to him, choosing not to touch him to avoid ruining the moment.

  “We came to the US so she could get over her pain and start over… but a year into his death, she never managed to overcome her loss. I took her to doctors to treat her depression, then I started to do the grocery shopping and helped her brush her hair.” A ghost of a smile formed on his lips.

  Emotion welled in her throat. Why hadn’t he ever told her this during the few months they’d been together? She fl
exed her fingers to get rid of the itch to reach out and hug him. Right now, it wasn’t about making demands concerning a time that no longer belonged to them. A doomed marriage.

  “What I didn’t know was that my mother was gone the second my father died,” he continued, his voice low. “That woman who stayed with me was just a shadow of the lively, bright mom she used to be.”

  She stretched her hand to touch his, but he leaned back on the sofa. “Your turn.”

  So he didn’t want her condolences. Probably thought it was just simple pity. Hhhmm… Crossing her legs, one over the other, she sucked in a breath.

  He picked a card and read. “Who would you hate to see naked?”

  “My neighbor, good ol’ Mr. Spitzer. I endured enough when he reached for his tools as I was heading to my car and got a glimpse of his hairy coin slot,” she said.

  “That’s not right.” He laughed, and the atmosphere around them lightened a notch. She joined him, her limbs loosening, and for a moment everything seemed easy and comfortable.

  “You tell me. I try to avoid him, especially in the spring when he works outside a lot.” She snickered and removed a card from the stack. “Who is the sexiest woman in the world, dead or alive?” she read, and repositioned herself, stretching out her legs.

  Sebastian scooted closer to her on the sofa, and their legs brushed. A surge of adrenaline shot up her thighs. “She’s right in front of me.”

  “Oh, please.” She waved her hand in the air, dismissing his compliment. Ignoring the racing of her heart, however, was a different deal. “You’re going to tell me all the glamorous, gorgeous ladies you dated don’t hold a tiny candle to me?” She playfully batted her eyelashes. “C’mon…”

  A guy like Sebastian didn’t need but to up his brow to set the female population on fire. What woman in her sane mind would resist his orgasm-inducing accent? Not to mention his hunky face… beautiful, in a rugged kind of way. The kindness in his green eyes contrasted against the imposing square jaw and strong facial structure.

  Sebastian outlined her jaw with the tip of his finger, and heat dropped her stomach to the floor only to lift it up again, the rush sending her on a dizzy spell. “When you smile, the most adorable dimples dent your cheeks.” His voice dropped an octave, his accent more pronounced. “Your eyes are the color of the ocean.” He ran his finger up her cheek and she struggled not to melt into his caress. “And your breasts… they deserve their own commemorative stamp. Or to have a street named after them.” With his gaze locked on hers, he lowered his hand to her chest, making an invisible pattern on her pointing nipples with his fingers.