“You’re giving up a lot of money that you need in order to help me out,” he said instead.
“I told you, it’s not about me. I—”
Sebastian kissed her. His lips soft and gentle, lingering on hers for a moment before easing away.
“What was that for?”
“Clause seven. Termination of contract—denied.” Sebastian then stepped back and checked his wrist watch. “Now we’ve gotten that straight, I’d better go see what Brenda and Grice are concocting, then I’ve got that meeting with race competitors. I’ll see you backstage in half an hour.”
All Helen could do was nod and watch him go.
Out of nowhere, Tom came up beside her, startling her back to Earth. “What was all that about?”
Helen blew out a breath. “It’s … um … he calls it PDA. Public Displays of Affection. We have to kiss sometimes to make our relationship more believable. He must’ve seen you coming.”
“But he knows I know, doesn’t he? And there was no one else around.”
“Yeah.” Helen pressed her fingertips to her lips. “He’s not very bright like that.”
Tom chuckled, then said something about nap times and nappy changes. In a daze, Helen followed him to where Emma waited, rocking the double buggy and the sleepy children it contained.
“So you’ll be okay if we head off?” Tom unhooked Helen’s rucksack from the buggy.
“I’ll be fine, thanks.” She took the bag from him. It contained her change of clothes and shoes for tonight’s posh dinner, a reminder that she still couldn’t crawl away and get to grips with the Sebastian-induced feelings zinging through her body.“I’ll see you in the week. Thanks for the lift today.”
Helen waved goodbye then made her way backstage to meet Sebastian. She saw him immediately, his back to her as he talked to a group of men and women dressed in running gear, laughing at whatever he was saying.
God, he’s hot.
Her stomach flipped.
Nope. This wouldn’t do at all.
“It’s possible that Helen will get some requests for interviews next week,” Brenda warned Seb as they talked through the day’s events in a pre-dinner meeting at the bar of the Grand Atlantic Hotel—tonight’s venue, situated on Weston-super-Mare’s seafront.
They were waiting for Helen to join them, the hotel manager having arranged access to a room upstairs so that Seb and Helen could shower and change for dinner. A room they could also stay the night in if they so wished—an offer he and Helen had refused maybe a little too emphatically for two people supposedly in love. Seb had showered and dressed in minutes, then left Helen to it, not wanting to be alone with her and the huge double bed that took up most of the room.
Why had he kissed her?
And since when had he become a man prone to such spontaneous acts of affection? Especially with women he’d only known a week! Mentally kicking himself again, he tuned back into Brenda.
“Between you and me, Sebastian,” she said, “I think the public would expect to see more of your girlfriend at future events.”
Thanks to Brenda and her contacts in the Strive PR department in London, the boxing clip had gone viral by the time the race had started. Even with the sky ready to burst, spectators of all ages had lined the route, and the event—as well as the ass-kicking clip—had hit the evening news broadcast. Brenda’s expertise had ensured the spotlight remained on Seb and the campaign. Her press release about the clip referred to Helen simply asSebastian Clarke’s partnerand included just enough details about her—age, occupation, where she was from—to keep any more questions at bay. So far, it had worked.
“Maybe we should schedule a kickboxing demonstration next time?” Brenda continued. “Helen can be your glamorous assistant.”
“She wouldn’t like that.” Seb sipped his orange juice. Even if Helen hadn’t so eloquently told him today that being on stage wouldscare the crap out of her, it’d been clear from her nerves at the inaugural dinner that she disliked being the center of attention. Another reason why her insistence to use the clip had taken him so much by surprise. Not to mention her readiness to break their agreement and forgo the financial benefits, too.
Helen Hobbs was a puzzle for sure. One minute, he believed she was only with him for the money. The next, she was committing these huge acts of selflessness.
“As the campaign goes on, people will be curious about Helen,” Brenda said. “In my experience, if we don’t give the press more material, they’ll only dig some up themselves. When does she finish her community service?”
“Tuesday.”
Brenda nodded. “We could do something in a few weeks, maybe?”
“Maybe. Helen and I will need to discuss it.”
