Page 5 of The Sun & Her Burn (Impossible Universe Trilogy #2)
“Cynthia is my former agent,” I explained to him blandly.
He bit the edge of his grin to keep it contained. “What a shame.”
“No, no,” Cynthia said, a flustered flush seeping down her pale neck. “Linnea and I were just renegotiating terms.”
“Were you?” Sebastian drawled, dropping one of his hands down my arm to tangle his fingers with mine. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips as if my heart had slid down my arm from my chest to get closer to him. “Well, what fortuitous timing.”
Cynthia beamed, relieved, thinking no doubt that she had secured the only client she had who was close to such a superstar.
But unlike her, I knew Sebastian. His beauty may have been the alluring flame to draw women into his orbit, but it was his cleverness that made them stick.
“I was just on my way to meet my agent, Mali. I’ll introduce you,” he declared.
Mali Issah was one of the biggest names in Hollywood. She represented dozens of the world's top stars, including Jace Galantine, Maya Cervantes, and Iona Blake.
Cynthia’s mouth fell open.
I hid my smile behind my hair as I leaned across Sebastian to grab the termination letter on the bar.
“I’ll just sign this, and we can be on our way.
” I twisted my body so my breasts rasped across his abdomen.
His eyes were lit with humor and maybe something darker, when I looked up at him.
“You don’t happen to have a pen, do you? ”
Suddenly, Harry the bartender was before me, offering one across the counter, but I waited for Sebastian to reach into the inner pocket of his jacket to retrieve his own pen. He dipped down intimately to hand it off to me, the scent of his spicy cologne warm and inviting.
The perfume I had taken to wearing reminded me of a feminine version of that same scent. Having it in my nose again made me wonder if that wasn’t why I’d been subconsciously drawn to it.
“Good riddance,” he whispered as he pressed the pen into my hand.
It was my turn to wink.
I dashed my signature against the paper and then turned to face him fully, sliding the pen into the inner pocket myself. The beat of his heart was a heavy drum against the back of my hand.
“Thank you,” I said softly, not just for the pen but for showing Cynthia just exactly what she was missing by letting me go.
Sebastian’s hand came up to cover my own, flattening it briefly to his chest. “Anytime.”
“Linnea, really, if you’ll just take a moment to talk with—” Cynthia tried again.
“I’m afraid I must whisk her away,” Sebastian declared without taking his eyes off me. I watched as he fished out some money from a clip in his pocket and tossed it on the table. Two hundred-dollar bills flashed up at me. “That should cover Linnea’s champagne.”
“It was sparkling water,” I corrected. “I just like drinking it in a fancy glass so I feel included with the drinkers.”
Humor creased the skin beside those magnificent eyes.
“You are just what I needed to brighten this godawful day,” he told me as he bent to grab my large purse from the ground beside my chair.
Instead of handing it to me, he tucked it under his arm.
There was something strangely attractive about it, an assuredness in his masculinity that you didn’t often see in men.
Without hesitation, he ushered me through the restaurant with a hand on my lower back.
The abrasion of his calloused fingertips against the sensitive skin there made my entire body flush with heat.
I wound my arm through his and beamed up at him, warmed by the fact that a decade of separation seemed to have been obliterated as if it had never happened. “The beach always makes me feel better. Should we dip our toes in the sand?”
“We should,” he agreed. “And we should eat ice cream.”
“Definitely,” I said on a laugh, because I had forgotten that Sebastian was always hungry. “Ice cream and the ocean, a magical combination.”
“Like this hair,” he said, sobering a little as he pushed tangled waves off my shoulder to flow down my back. “And your indigo eyes.”
“Charmer,” I scolded. “You know that won’t work on me.”
It was a bald-faced lie. My heart was racing, my palms sweating, my belly alive with a million butterflies. But I must have been a better actor than I thought, because Sebastian threw his head back to laugh and said, “I know. I have never been enough for you despite my best efforts.”
I was clever enough not to push my luck and lie again.
Sebastian had the good manners not to comment on my 1991 Jeep, which was held together with a little too much duct tape, when I led him to where it was parked so I could drive us to the beach.
He just blinked at it with a slight frown between his thick brows, tongue stuck in one cheek like he was holding himself back from saying something.
In the end, he sighed audibly and opened the passenger door in one try even though it had a bad tendency to stick.
I hurriedly moved the cloth swatches off his seat so he could sit down, shoving them into the back alongside an old sewing machine I kept meaning to get fixed and a bag of clothes I’d salvaged from the local Salvation Army to repurpose for my own designs.
He didn’t comment on the mess, either.
It made me fall just a little bit more in love with him.
Especially when the only things he did make note of were the two surfboards strapped to the roof rack.
“You still surf.” There was a smile in his tone even though I couldn’t see him as I focused on pulling out of the tight spot and heading west to the ocean.
“Probably too much,” I admitted. “I try to get out as much as I can. It’s one of the only things that brings me peace these days.”
There was a brief silence where I winced, knowing that Sebastian was observant enough to pick up on the implication that my life was stressful. I didn’t want to spend my undoubtedly brief time with him talking about Miranda, so I bit my lip and manifested him glancing over this, too.
A moment later, he did.
“I try to get out when I can, too,” he said, adjusting in the seat that was much too small for his frame.
“New York isn’t exactly a mecca for surfing.”
“No, but Long Island isn’t far. Cold as bollocks, though.” He shivered, which made me laugh. “It’s much better when I can pop out here, but I try to keep my visits short and busy.”
“So you can go home to the city,” I surmised. “How are the Lombardi women?”
I slid my gaze to him because I knew the smile he’d have on his face would be worth the effort to see it.
“Amazing,” he said proudly. “Mama’s restaurant won another award, and even though she’s had offers to open others, she says she is happy cooking in Little Italy.
Elena is, well, kicking ass and taking names like she always has, but now she’s doing it making scads of money and representing some fairly eccentric characters.
I think I told you she fell in love with Dante Salvatore? ”
I nodded, because he had, but also because I had read about the scandal in the papers along with everyone else.
Dante Salvatore was a suspected mafioso who had met his now-wife when she represented him in his murder and racketeering case.
Famously, they had won the case and taken down United States District Attorney Dennis O’Malley at the same time.
I could still summon the image of Elena and Dante’s courtroom kiss from the front page of the New York Times . It had even become a popular GIF.
“They have three kids now,” he continued. “It’s amazing, honestly. All her success, and the thing that brings my ambitious sister the most joy is her family. I never thought I’d see the day.”
His voice carried so much warmth that I could feel it heating the air between us. It made me yearn for brothers or sisters myself.
“Giselle actually just accepted a position as a guest lecturer at the California Institute of Arts, so she, Sinclair, and their two kids will be here for the next year.” He spoke as if he couldn’t believe his luck, having his family so close while he had to be on the other side of the country from them.
“I have to be in town for a while to campaign for award season, so it is good to have family close.”
“Especially when your twin sister lives in England,” I concluded because the way he missed Cosima was evident in almost every letter we wrote to each other.
“ Si ,” he murmured, looking out the window without seeming to see the scenery.
“I miss her very much. But we have all agreed to spend next Christmas there because Cosima was too pregnant to join us last month in New York City, and I was too busy with the release of Waking Nightmare to visit. I had my manager clear my calendar so that I could spend some weeks there.”
I bit my lip as I considered asking the question that bloomed on my tongue, but I had never been a hesitant person, quite the opposite really, and now didn’t seem like the time to start. Not when I had Sebastian beside me for the first time in years.
The scent of him, rich and mouth-watering like something you could eat, filled the car like drug smoke, lowering my inhibitions.
“Is it hard to go back there? To England?”
The sound that came from him was a bitter little cough. “You could say that.”
“I haven’t been back,” I offered as I flicked on the signal to pull onto the I-10 East. “But I still see Wyndham sometimes. He comes out once a year to visit me.”
Beside me, Sebastian relaxed slightly. “I’m glad to hear that. Though I’m surprised you’re in LA. The way you spoke about Maui, I thought you’d never leave once you got home.”
Homesickness panged like a discordant note he’d plucked in my chest. My hands squeaked against the steering wheel as I gripped it too hard.
“I thought so, too,” I said with a breezy smile tossed over my shoulder. “But the City of Angels has some charm, too. The fashion alone is reason to be here.”