I’m standing at the front of the table, where I’m making sure the tasting dishes are lined up in perfectly symmetrical form when a warm hand on my back has me looking up.
I know who it is before I see him.
Sebastian removes his hand and slides it into his pants pocket. I adjust a tendril of hair that’s fallen in front of my face and breathe deeply.
“You have many new fans, Miss Morgana.”
I smile as I shake my head and glance down at my shoes. “I’ve never done a large event like this. I’ve been to trade shows, but this was a new experience. I had to get my cocktail-hour schmooze hat on. It’s a lot of work.”
He grins that lopsided one that I miss. “You were brilliant. Just don’t forget us little people when you’re world famous.”
I playfully slug him in the arm. It’s a childish move that I instantly feel silly for doing. I might as well have given the man a noogie.
Still, he laughs because that’s the kind of guy Sebastian is.
“May I have this dance?” he asks with an outstretched hand.
I blink at it a few times, wondering if I heard him wrong. I tilt my head with a raised brow.
“You can’t tell me you don’t like to dance because I know for a fact that you do.”
I place my hand on my hip, and I use the other to showcase my attire of black pants and a mauve chef’s jacket. “I’m not exactly dressed for dancing.”
He pulls me toward him anyway. “I was unaware there was a dress code for dancing. Last I heard, you could do so in your underwear.”
I give him a deadpan expression, which he refuses to acknowledge as he leads me to the dance floor. I quickly remove my jacket and throw it to Shawn, who waves as I’m taken away.
Sebastian guides me through the crowd, and the tempo changes from a Motown dance to a jazz standard. The opening chords to Norah Jones’s “Come Away with Me” plays, and I relax to the familiar beats of the piano.
My shoulders fall as I look up at Sebastian in defeat. He grips my waist and pulls me flush against him. His other hand takes mine and holds it close to his chest.
I laugh to myself at how incorrigible this man is before I lay my free hand on his shoulder and let him lead me in a dance.
“I feel silly,” I say, looking around at the beautifully dressed women on the floor. He doesn’t say anything in response, so I lean up a little and see him more clearly. “You’re dancing with the help.”
“I quite like the help,” he muses.
I give him my sternest eyes. “I’m serious.”
He matches my expression with sarcasm. “So am I.”
“People are staring.”
“Let them. You’re too beautiful for them not to.”
My breath hitches at his words, and I have to look away. I turn my nose to his lapel and stare at it as we dance. His intoxicating scent is potent tonight. Citrus and woodsy and so very male. His large hand is splayed on my back; I can feel the heat of it as it warms my body up to my cheeks.
I swallow hard. “Do you have this large of an event every year?”
“We do. It’s a thank-you to our clients, referral partners, and staff. My partners and I don’t like doing anything this big around the holidays. Everyone’s already so busy, and events are a dime a dozen. This is a good time to say thank you and give everyone a night out that they actually look forward to.”
“That’s a smart idea. Christmas in springtime.”
“We have a holiday party that is not this formal. We rent out a pub for happy hour and let everyone get hammered. We also do a barbecue around Labor Day to end the summer.”
Somewhere during our conversation, I moved from looking at his shoulder to staring up into his eyes. “The law firm that parties together stays together?”
“The job comes with a lot of stress. If you don’t balance it out with friends, family, and a good work environment, it can burn you out.”
He lifts our joined hands and points to the bar that’s off the dance floor. His assistant is there with a group, laughing loudly at something someone said. His arm is around a girl, who is staring at him, beaming.
“Miles over there has been so consumed with work that his girlfriend almost left him last year.”
“That’s horrible. I assume they made it through. Let me guess … you gave him the night off to go to some high-priced restaurant, dinner paid by you.”
“That’s absurd.” He blanches, and I stare up at him with an inquisitive glare. “I gave them the keys to my beach house for the weekend and told him to take Monday off.”
I laugh out loud. “Of course you did.”
Sebastian spins me. It’s not called for in the song, but it feels good to do it anyway. As he twirls me back in, I’m even closer, tighter, firmer … more in every aspect.
It’s so easy to fall under his spell. He’s hypnotic in his words, spellbounding with his gaze, and I’m so bewitched that I might float right off this dance floor.
“You really take care of everyone, don’t you?” I whisper.
“I try.” His deep baritone vibrates in his chest as his attention becomes focused on my lips.
I let out a shaky breath and lift my chin. “Speaking of … no more handouts.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“Isn’t it?” I arch a brow.
“No,” he states assuredly. “I wanted to showcase a phenomenal local business while offering a great favor to people who had contributed generously to our company.”
“This isn’t because you feel bad by how things were left?”
My question appears to have caught him off guard. It’s a conversation we’ve been dancing around, both literally and figuratively.
“It does feel like unfinished business, you and me. I didn’t want it to end the way it did,” he says, and I nod. It did end, and him stating it seems so final. “There are many things I’d like to discuss with you—perhaps in a more private setting. But tonight, this was just me doing something good for you. I care for you, and I have a need to help those I care about.”
The tender expression in his brown eyes is sincere.
“Who takes care of you?” I ask, breathy.
“I don’t need anything.”
“Everyone needs something.”
“Well, there is one thing I want, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have it as my own.”
My feet halt on the dance floor, as do his. He’s staring at me—and not just at my eyes. He’s looking so deeply that I swear he’s gazing into my soul. Because in this moment, it feels like I’m the thing he wants.
My soul is screaming at him, begging him to take me.
Have me.
Love me.
Our hands release, and he places one on my cheek while mine finds his heart. It’s thumping quickly, and I feel it racing against my palm.
His fingers glide down my temple and cup my jaw. I lean into his hand and stare into his gorgeous face. My lips part, and I take a heavy inhale.
His eyes fall to my mouth. His tongue dips out to lick his lower lip.
I inhale deeply and lean in a touch. My body quivering.
He comes forward, and his eyes shift to the side. His brow drops, and I see it. The hesitation. There’s something holding him back.