Sebastian proved to be a man of his word. Hope and Jeremy, and even Bridgett, reaped the benefits.
The inclusion of Bridgett in what Sebastian called “star treatment” endeared him to Hope all the more. He seemed to know instinctively that if she were to become a success, Bridgett, who had rented her a room at a tenth of what she could have gotten, would benefit as well.
Besides the fresh flowers each received every other day, a car and driver were at their disposal. To top it off, Sebastian had loaned them his own chef, Antoine. Hope and Bridgett were ready to send the arrogant little man away until they tasted his smoked salmon. It was to die for. His sinfully rich chocolate dessert was decadent and delicious. Not one word of objection was uttered when he returned the next morning to prepare breakfast. Since both women enjoyed good food, but not the preparation, he was greeted with open arms.
A couple of days later a man dressed as a sixteenth century French courtier, powdered wig, white stockings, and gold buckled shoes had entered the salon and presented her with an engraved invitation to dinner at Sebastian’s penthouse apartment. She’d said yes in a flash. The trunk of Cynthia’s had yielded the most divine long red dress.
She felt as beautiful as Sebastian’s words and attentive gaze said she was when he picked her up. Everything—the star-kissed night, the scrumptious food, the sparkling fruit drink Antoine had prepared especially for her, the spectacular view of the city and Central Park—was absolutely perfect. But especially the man.
Sebastian could make her toes tingle just by looking at her a certain way. She’d kicked off her shoes and delighted in the experience.
The next morning Hope woke up with a smile on her face, wondering what Sebastian’s next move would be. Downstairs she looked at the crepes Antoine was preparing for breakfast and worried about adding another pound to her hips. Yet somehow she let him coax her into eating two. Delicate and light, they were loaded down with freshly prepared whipped cream and plump blueberries. She asked for seconds.
At dinner that night, Antoine even did the impossible, Hope had thought, by cajoling Jeremy into eating the mushrooms that had been sautéed with tomato and goat cheese sauce on his breaded veal cutlet. The man was a culinary genius and was making all three of them into gluttons. Sebastian, who had been invited over for dinner, viewed the entire scene of them pigging out with a satisfied smile on his face.
Three weeks after Sebastian had come into her life, Hope sat in the bright lemon yellow kitchen at the breakfast table savoring the last bite of her delectable omelet loaded with cheese, ham, red and green bell peppers, and whatever else Antoine had thrown in. Finished, she sipped her freshly squeezed orange juice and vowed the next time she saw Sebastian she would tell him not to exploit her weakness and to take Antoine away.
Leaving the house fifteen minutes later to take Jeremy to preschool, she had her chance. Sebastian, arms folded, long legs crossed at the ankles, looking as yummy as the strawberries she had devoured the day before, leaned against his Mercedes. It quickly crossed her mind that she’d like the opportunity to devour Sebastian the same way. Instead of the flush of embarrassment that would have appeared a week ago, she thought of all the ways she’d go about tasting him.
“Sebastian,” Jeremy yelled, and raced down the steps.
Laughing, Sebastian picked him up and twirled him around. It had become a ritual the two enjoyed ever since they had seen a man do the same with a little boy. The three of them had been at the park having a picnic. Sebastian had glanced over at Jeremy. Jeremy had grinned. Without exchanging a word, the two had gotten up from the blanket they were sitting on. Jeremy had run a short ways off, turned, and, grinning wildly, had run straight into Sebastian’s outstretched arms. From then on, Jeremy had called him Sebastian.
Hope had been so pleased that Sebastian seemed to enjoy and understand Jeremy so well, she had taken him to task only briefly, when after leaving the park he had driven to a riding stable. Jeremy had surprised her by mounting the small pony with very little assistance from Sebastian. Jeremy had had the time of his life. Score another round to Sebastian.
Hope had no doubt that, if Bridgett weren’t so proud of her prized flower garden in the backyard, Sebastian would have tried to talk her into putting in a pool. On learning Jeremy wanted to be an astronaut, he had arranged for Jeremy to talk with one of the astronauts on the last space shuttle mission. Sebastian was a tactical genius.
Shaking her head, she watched Sebastian set Jeremy on his feet, then rub his hand affectionately across the top of the official New York Yankees baseball cap on his head. Sebastian just happened to have tickets for the season opener. On Jeremy’s dresser, proudly displayed, was a baseball signed by all the players. How did you fight a man who wanted to give you your heart’s desire and fulfill the desire of those you loved as well?
“Morning. I’ll take Eli’s place and, if it’s all right with you, drive Jeremy to school. I thought you might be tired, since I kept you out so late last night dancing. Eli will pick you up at ten-forty to take you to Della’s,” Sebastian said, his large hand resting comfortably on Jeremy’s shoulder. It amazed him that he had come to care for the child so quickly, and how much he enjoyed being with and pampering Hope.
“I’ve tried to tell you I don’t need Eli to take Jeremy to school, then me to work each day,” Hope said.
“A star never walks when she can ride,” Sebastian countered.
Hope wrinkled her nose. “Just the ones who don’t care about their health. Walking is good for you.”
“Mommy, can he take me to school? Please?” Jeremy said, his brown eyes pleaful.
“I don’t know if I trust you two alone together,” Hope hedged.
Sebastian smiled. “No more letting Jeremy steer the car. Right, Jeremy?”
“Right. We promised, and a man never breaks his promise,” Jeremy said solemnly, quoting Sebastian verbatim. “Not even when there are no cars around like we did the other time.”
“See? We promise to be good.” He lifted Jeremy’s Kente cloth backpack from his small shoulders. “Go back inside and relax. You said last night your first appointment isn’t until eleven. I’ll pick you up tonight at eight-thirty for the party at Roscoe’s house.”
A frown crossed her brow. “I still haven’t decided about taking the part. Perhaps I shouldn’t go wi—”
“You already said yes,” Sebastian reminded her. “Promises shouldn’t be broken.”
“That’s right, Mommy.”
Sighing, she shook her head. “Since you two are ganging up on me, I guess I’ll go.”
“Great. We’ll have fun. You’ll see.”
“Can Sebastian take me to school?” Jeremy asked again.
Hope conceded to a losing battle. Most of her son’s conversation had Sebastian’s name somewhere in it. He adored the man. “All right.”
“Yeah!” Jeremy opened the door on the driver’s side and crawled inside.
Sebastian got in behind him, not minding at all that the tennis-shoes-wearing child had crawled across the custom upholstery. Hope was unable to keep from comparing Sebastian’s reaction—rather, nonreaction—to Russell’s, the principal. He had been furious when Jeremy had gotten on his knees in the backseat of his BMW to look out the back window at a passing parade. Sebastian valued the person, not the car.
“Go back to sleep or have another cup of coffee,” Sebastian advised, closing the car door. “Antoine makes the best.”
“That’s the trouble,” she told Sebastian, walking to the car.
Sebastian frowned up at her. “Don’t you like his cooking?”
“It’s marvelous and fattening.” Sighing, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be a butterball if this continues.”
Slowly, like caressing fingers, his gaze ran over her. “There’s nothing wrong with your figure. All of you is absolutely perfect.”
Hope flushed with pleasure and tried to keep her thoughts together. “Sebastian, I ate an omelet the size of Texas this morning. I have no willpower sometimes, but especially when it comes to food.”
His gaze heated, narrowed on her lips. “I’ll remember that.”
Her throat dried.
“I like Antoine, Mommy.” Jeremy had crawled back across the seat and was looking out Sebastian’s window at her.
“Let him stay, Hope. You’d be doing me a favor.” Sebastian started the motor. “He always complained in the past that I don’t let him truly express himself in the kitchen because I ate the same things or was seldom at home for him to cook for me. Cooking for the three of you makes him happy. Good chefs are hard to find and harder to keep. I’d hate to lose him. Please let him stay.”
“Please,” Jeremy chorused.
How was she supposed to fight both of them? “He can stay, but if I get to be the size of Rhode Island, you two are to blame.”
Sebastian chuckled. “You won’t, but even if you did, we’d still care about you. See you tonight.”
“’Bye, Mommy.”
Sebastian drove off, leaving a shaky Hope on the sidewalk staring after them. Sebastian had used the word care so casually. But did he care about her as a woman or as an actress? She certainly cared about him, and it had nothing to do with him being a director and everything with him being a man.
* * *
Hope was running late. She had decided to lie down for a few minutes and had overslept. If Eli hadn’t rung the doorbell, she’d still be asleep. Thank goodness she only lived a couple of miles from the salon.
Not waiting for Eli to open the limo’s door, Hope dashed out of the car and rushed across the sidewalk and opened the door to Della’s. Every eye in the place converged on her. Something was up.
It didn’t take a genius to figure Sebastian was behind whatever it was. In the past week alone, Sebastian had sent a balloon-a-gram, a mime to act out that she was to get a full body massage and aromatherapy facial after work that day, and a ten-pound box of Swiss chocolate for her to share with everyone in the shop. Whatever it was, she didn’t have time today. Mrs. Kent, her eleven o’clock appointment, was already there. Hope closed the door.
The music of “You Keep Me Hanging On” filled the air. A man with a top hat, cane, and tails came out from behind the receptionist’s counter, where he had apparently been hiding.
Taking Hope’s hands, he sat her in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the floor, handed her oversized black handbag to Tianna, and struck up a pose. The music changed to “Fame.” The trim young man began to move his shoulders up and down, his eyes fastened on her startled face. At the first burst of “Fame” from his mouth, people in the salon began to clap and keep time with the music.
Hope’s worried gaze flew to Della standing near the receptionist’s counter. She was clapping as loud as anyone. She approved. Della had personal knowledge of a woman wanting to be an actress. Her own daughter, Chauncie, had been bitten by the acting bug. Settling back in her chair, Hope prepared to enjoy herself.
The singer poured his heart into the lyrics. Whether he expected it or not, other voices joined in. People were dancing, popping their fingers, tapping their feet. Hope was doing the two latter and grinning like a nutcase.
For the finale, from fifteen feet away, the singer slid to her on his knees, his upraised white-gloved hands holding his cane and top hat. The music ended as he stopped a scant five inches away. “Be Eleanor and fame is just the beginning.”
Hope momentarily palmed her face, outrageously delighted.
“What shall I tell Mr. Stone?” the singer asked, lowering his arms.
“That he’s getting there.”
“Perhaps this will help.” He snapped his fingers and stood.
The rising murmurs of oohs and aahs from behind Hope had her twisting around in her seat. Two powerfully built men in skin-tight black leather pants, their hard muscles rippling across incredible wide, bare chests, were moving through the crowd passing out long-stemmed yellow roses and candy kisses from baskets held by two attractive dark-haired women in long black dresses. If the group came to a man, one of the women would give the flower and chocolate.
Finished, they passed by her without stopping. Hope sighed. Sebastian certainly knew how to put on a production. The singer bowed and left as well.
She was about to get up when a lush white rose appeared over her left shoulder. She jerked her head around and stared up into Sebastian’s piercing black eyes. “Sebastian.” His name trembled over her lips.
“Hope.” He handed her the rose. “Perfection for perfection.”
Aahs and ohhs came again, but this time Hope barely noticed, her entire attention on Sebastian. She was unaware of rising from her seat or of reaching toward him until their hands touched. She quivered as lightning zipped from her to him and from him back to her.
Someone began to clap and others joined. They jerked and glanced around self-consciously. The sensual spell was broken.
People gathered around them, but Hope wanted to tell them all to go away.
“Sebastian, I should cry foul,” Della said, putting her arm around a shaky Hope. “How am I to compete with keeping one of my best stylists if you keep tempting her this way?”
“He can tempt me any day,” said a female voice. Murmurs of agreement followed.
“You can say that again,” agreed another female.
Sebastian heard the conversation as if from a long distance away. He was too busy trying to deal with his own erratic emotions and trying to decide if he had actually glimpsed naked desire in Hope’s black eyes or simply saw what he wanted to see. Because, heaven help him, that’s exactly how he wanted to see her. Naked and flushed with desire.
The knowledge hit him like a sledgehammer. He felt light-headed and something close to fear. Why hadn’t he seen this coming and what was he going to do about it?
“The floor show is over, everyone. Back to work,” Della ordered, using hand motions to send everyone about their business. “And you, Sebastian, leave so Hope can do Mrs. Kent’s perm.”
“Certainly. Right away.” With barely a glance in Hope’s direction, Sebastian fled from the shop.
Della frowned. “What’s got into him?”
Hope flushed and looked away. She’d embarrassed him with her wanton thoughts. Usually she was able to keep a better lock on her growing fantasies about him. “Maybe he had an appointment. I better start on Mrs. Kent’s perm.”
Trying to maintain a pleasant expression on her face, Hope escorted Mrs. Kent to her workstation. As she passed her coworkers and their clients, she was regaled over and over about what a fine brother Sebastian was, and if she didn’t want the part or the man, give them a chance.
Having heard it all before, Hope said nothing. She had told them numerous times there was nothing remotely romantic in Sebastian’s attention toward her. He was simply trying to persuade her to play Eleanor.
Sitting Mrs. Kent in the chair, then draping the young woman, Hope wished she had paid better attention to her own words. She hadn’t. Now she had to face the consequences of caring deeply for a man who looked at her as a challenge, not as a woman. Worse, he knew exactly how she felt about him.