“Don’t look so worried. Thanks to clause three, you can be safe in the knowledge that I won’t be an asshole to you. You’ll barely notice I’m around, and we’ll respect each other’s privacy, as stated in clause four.”
“But I … I’ll need to make changes to my home and I have … commitments.”
“I’ll pay rent like an official roommate,” he added, then watched how the mention of money smoothed out the furrows on her brow.Gotcha!“I’ll draw up a contract to keep things simple.”
Simple?Who was he kidding? There didn’t seem to be anything simple about Helen Hobbs. She could even turn a plain black dress into an R-rated disaster. His gaze dipped to her chest again.How long did those headlights take to warm up, anyway?
She caught his eyeline. Her hands flew to her breasts. “You could’ve told me!”
“I thought you knew. They’ve been practically winking at me since we left the hotel.” Seb’s gaze shot to the outside world as she rubbed herself. “Just FYI, I would’ve been happy to buy you a bra.”
“I’ll remember that next time. And just FYI back, this isn’t where I expected to be tonight.”
Curious to know where shehadexpected to be, Seb’s stomach clenched with the reminder that—other than the unfortunate fact she’d been convicted of a crime—he knew next to jack shit about her.
“We’ve arrived, sir. Clifton Bridge Hotel.” The car stopped and Helen whipped out before the driver could get to her door.
Seb joined her on the sidewalk. “Stop fidgeting with your dress.”
“It keeps riding up.”
“Please tell me you’re wearing—”
“Yes.”
“That’s something at least.”
Seb straightened his bow tie, blew out a breath. Could they pull this off? Would Brenda figure out the bullshit? And had he been right to give Grice access?
Seb had no idea how tonight would pan out, but he did know he had a job to do. And he also knew his problems weren’t a patch on whatever Mikey and Evie were going through right now. Seb would rather be ruined for life than to add to their stress, so he placed his hands on Helen’s shoulders, turned her toward him, and looked her straight in the eye.
“I’m asking you, earnestly, politely, from the bottom of my heart, for Mikey and Evie’s sake, please, please,pleasedon’t fuck this up for me tonight.”
Her brow creased and her glossy pink lips puckered again. “Just who do you think I am, Sebastian?”
“I don’t know,” he said, quietly. “That’s the problem.”
A cool breeze blew through the Avon Gorge, sending a shiver down Helen’s bare back as Sebastian removed his warm hands from her shoulders.
The Clifton Suspension Bridge loomed magnificently to her right, but her gaze shifted quickly across the valley to the rolling Somerset hills of home. Her cottage, draped in the evening sun, wisteria and vines—that’s where she should be. Not here. Dressed like this.
With him.
Sebastian Clarke switched from tolerating her to hating her in a flash. Of course she wouldn’tfuck this upfor him, or the Get Living Campaign. She felt responsible enough that she’d been placed in his path again without making things any more difficult for him.
And now he wanted to live with her! From tonight.
The extra money would be a godsend, but the cottage was in such a mess. Only one of the two upstairs rooms—her old bedroom—was clear enough of clutter but only because the roof had leaked during last February’s storm and everything had had to be stacked up to one side.
“Stop slouching, shoulders back, stand tall.” Sebastian placed his hand on the small of her back, his heat shooting to her toes.
Together they entered the plush venue’s airy foyer where Grice, in an ill-fitting dinner jacket, stood alone in a corner reading from his phone.
“Keep away from him,” Sebastian warned, as if she’d be stupid enough to make a beeline toward him. “In fact, keep away from all reporters. They wear those blue tags so they’ll be easy to identify. Don’t wander off and stay by my side as much as possible.”
He was treating her like a child, leading her by the hand into the stupidly grand restaurant, past immaculately laid tables and out to a terrace which had a breathtaking view of the bridge and gorge.
“Sebastian! Good to see you again.” A very distinguished-looking older man approached.
