“And here she is!” he announced, walking toward her. He hooked his long arm around her and whispered, “What kept you? Never mind, just smile and look pretty.”
Pressed against his warm, hard chest, Helen glanced helplessly at Redhead, but she’d already gone back to her boyfriend in the courtyard.
“I wasn’t expecting any reporters to still be around,” Sebastian continued, his breath tickling Helen’s neck, “but this guy must’ve been tailing me. Just follow my lead and I’ll get us out of here ASAP.”
As Sebastian dragged Helen toward a slick-looking short guy in a denim jacket, Helen scanned the hotel foyer for any women who looked like they wrote poetry.
“Hi, I’m Gary Grice.” The guy held a notepad and phone. His lips twisted to one side as he looked Helen up and down. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Who did you say you worked for?” Sebastian asked, keeping his arm around her. Engulfed in his fresh woodsy scent, Helen couldn’t help but snuggle against his body.
“I’m freelance. A trainee, actually. But I can get you all the affiliation details you want. How about I bring them to your press call tomorrow?”
“That’ll be great,” Sebastian said, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Mind if I take a photo?” Gary Grice asked.
To her horror, Sebastian nodded—again with thatall too politesmile—and Helen caught sight of Liz, staring open-mouthed right back at her, from the bar.
Quick, Liz, sound the fire alarm so I can escape amid the confusion!
But Liz was too frozen in shock to tune in to Helen’s telepathic messages, and when Pencil Neck appeared at Liz’s side, Helen had to cut all ties with her friend. She couldn’t risk getting Liz mixed-up in this.
“Where do you want us?” Sebastian gently nudged Helen, which she took as her cue to stand tall, stop gawping and act like a girlfriend.
“Smile!” Grice said.
Helen showed some teeth and hoped she didn’t look as distressed as she felt. When Grice lowered his phone, Sebastian stepped forward, leaving her arm cold where his warm skin had been pressed against it.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Gary,” he said with impeccable manners. “As I said, get in touch with the campaign manager, Brenda Ellis, and we’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
Sebastian then took Helen’s hand and ushered her briskly through a door and up a flight of carpeted stairs.
“Man, what a dick,” he muttered.
“Who was he?” Helen asked, struggling to keep up in her heels and tight skirt as Sebastian took the stairs two at a time.
“Just some pap hoping to get a cheap story out of me. He was asking me all these questions about you and how we met. Jeez.”
“You should’ve told him to get lost.”
“And risk causing a scene on my first day? No way. I’ve gotta keep these people sweet, especially after what happened in Vegas, and there’s no way I’m embarrassing Mikey or Get Living.” Sebastian pushed through a heavy fire door at the top of the stairs. Helen followed him into the corridor. “I’m sorry this has all happened so fast.”
“What has?”
“Our relationship.” He flashed her an apologetic smile. “That was our first photo shoot as a couple.”
Oh, no.No, no, no, no, no.
“Look, Sebastian, I—”
“Damn.”
“What now?” Helen was too afraid to look.
“It’s Brenda.” And in the blink of an eye, his face broke out into another wide, plastic smile.
Helen turned. A power-dressed middle-aged woman—who had no trouble striding in her heels—approached, so smart and sharp that Helen wanted to duck for cover.
