Ever since she’d met him, she’d felt dreamy and sexy and desired. Sebastian wanted her talent, and he wanted her. So then what could possibly be making her stomach twist like this?

What the heck is wrong with me?

Forcefully pushing aside the dark cloud threatening to storm above her, she said, “Pictures are a good idea.” One she’d never thought of for some reason. And even though phone sex was a good idea too, she felt unsettled enough by the idea of Sebastian showing pictures of her sculptures to potential buyers that she simply said, “Sleep well, Sebastian. I’ll see you soon.”

The low, sexy rumble of his echoing “Soon,” was the last thing she heard before she put down the phone.

Her mail had been forwarded and even though flyers, car insurance quotes, and credit card advertisements seemed utterly unimportant—and she’d much rather daydream about Sebastian’s mouth and hands on her—she made herself go through it all just in case there was an important bill or letter for her mother’s care to attend to.

There was nothing concerning her mother, but there was an envelope from the college. Her heart started pounding hard as she opened the letter asking which sessions she’d like to teach in the fall quarter. She stared at the page. She’d known it was coming eventually, but that was before she realized how different everything would feel here in Sebastian’s world. Inside his workshop while working on his commission. The truth of the matter was that if Sebastian’s plans for her came to fruition, she might not be able to fit in classes. Because she’d be too busy creating.

Honestly, though she wasn’t sure she would ever be a fan of the spotlight—she’d never been in one, so there was no way to know for sure—Sebastian’s belief in her and the excitement of what she was creating were certainly addictive. When he told her she was a genius, when he marveled at some new piece of the sculpture that she revealed to him, it was as thrilling as the touch of his lips on her mouth or his hands on her body.

As much as she loved teaching, in a way it seemed like an old life calling her back. A life that was a million miles removed from Sebastian. A world apart from everything he was offering—an art career that could be so much bigger than this one project, so much bigger than teaching twenty students two nights a week in a crowded garage where the fuses sometimes blew if too many of them used their tools at once.

She shoved the letter out of sight in a kitchen drawer. She didn’t usually put things off, and she’d always loved teaching. But there was so much on her plate right now. If she didn’t want to end up with her head exploding, she really only had room for two things.

The chariot.

And Sebastian.

* * *

Charlie always thought better when she was using her hands to create something. But by early evening, her arms and hands were starting to ache from lifting and positioning all the heavy metals for her sculpture, and she didn’t want to risk injuring herself. Besides, she wanted to celebrate Sebastian’s homecoming in a personal way. Though her mother had done her best to pass on her fabulous cooking talents to Charlie to no avail, she decided she could successfully pull off a Mexican dinner for them both—rice, beans, tortillas, salsa, and grilled fajitas. She lit candles and gave the margaritas a burst in the blender to fluff them up. Even if her meal wasn’t amazing, at least her drinks would be.

As she punched off the blender, she heard the helicopter. Her heart tripped over itself and a swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach. And when he knocked, then opened the door, she threw herself at him. His kiss was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, and his arms around her made her feel like she’d come home.

He framed her face. “You were supposed be waiting for me in the hot tub.”

Her feelings suddenly seemed too immense to voice. “And here I slaved over a hot stove for you,” she said in a teasing voice.

“You cooked?” He would have done a good job of looking touched if a smile hadn’t sneaked through.

She nuzzled her forehead against his chest. “Come on, we should eat the fajitas while they’re still sizzling.”

He let her drag him to the table. “How did you know I was craving Mexican food?”

“I can read you like a book, Sebastian.” She was joking, but the look he gave her made her pause in her tracks.

“Can you really?”

She licked her lips, surprised by how serious their conversation had become in the blink of an eye. “Sometimes I think I can. But other times...” She bit her lip, not wanting to say that she sometimes felt he was holding back. “Other times I think it’s just that we’re still getting to know each other better.”

“I’d very much like to know you better, Charlie. So much better.”

“Well,” she said as she turned to grab the margarita pitcher and tried to lighten the tone, “we can both learn something more about each other tonight. Do you prefer blended? Or should I make you one on the rocks?” She already knew that despite his parents’ disease, he didn’t have a problem with alcohol himself.

“Blended is perfect tonight.” Even though it struck her that he hadn’t actually told her which he preferred, he was already raising his glass to toast. “We have something to celebrate.”

She had something to celebrate, all right: Sebastian, close enough to touch and breathe in. He was completely scrumptious in a tailored suit so deeply navy it was almost black. “Your fajita is losing its sizzle.” She wanted to relish his surprise, whatever it was, so she quickly put caramelized onions; red, yellow, and orange peppers; mushrooms; and grilled meat onto a spinach tortilla, then topped it all with rice, pintos, and guacamole.

He watched her as if he’d never seen a fajita assembled, with nearly as much awe as he watched her work on the chariot in her workshop. “You sure are good with your hands, Charlie.”

She flushed all over under his sensual gaze, as if he’d stripped her down and had his hands everywhere. “So. Your surprise.”

“I found a buyer for your rams.”

“You did?”

“I did.” And he looked positively thrilled, as thrilled as she knew she should be. It was just that she was so shocked, all the way down to her toes. “Walter Braedon owns the new Regent Hotel in downtown San Jose. He wants the rams in the central garden at the entrance.”

“Wait,” she said, still trying to process the news. “How could he know about my rams?”

“I went over to your place to take pictures this morning after my plane arrived. Before my meeting with him.” He pulled a photo from his inside breast pocket and slid it across the table.

Her head was spinning as she said, “I’ve never heard of the hotel.”

“It’s almost completed. And it’s going to be a palace. Everyone pulling into the circular drive and heading to registration will see your rams battling for supremacy of the garden.”

Her head felt as though she were on a Tilt-a-Whirl at the thought that her sculpture would be seen from the road, not only by visitors to the hotel. “But how is that even possible? Especially if you only just took the pictures this morning?”

“I’ve been keeping my ears open. And visualizing what I want for you. I can see your whole path already, just how acclaimed you’re going to be.”

“I know you keep saying that, but—”

“You saw your dragon outside the church in Chinatown, from the minute you walked by and the vision came to you. And then you went into the parish office and sold it to them because you knew it had to be there. So you made them see it too.”

“That was your meeting today?” He was probably expecting her to jump up and down with happiness. And she would. After the shock had worn off. Because she’d never honestly thought her rams would ever leave her property, especially not to grace the entrance of a fancy hotel. Reminding herself that it was great news, she added, “The one you mentioned on the phone last night.”