The Billionaire Takes a Bride (Billionaires and Bridesmaids,(9)

That cooled his impromptu erection instantly. Where did a bruise like that come from? It was a rather intimate place, and it wasn’t like he could ask politely.

“So are they all out there?” She gave a little shimmy and adjusted her short dress, covering the bruise.

“From what I can tell, yes.” Sebastian’s brows drew together. Should he introduce himself? Ask her what she was doing under the desk? He honestly had no idea how to handle this. She’d shown up in a blatantly sexual pose and then acted like it was no big deal. Hell, thirty seconds ago she’d practically had her head in his lap. He nodded at the eyelash stuck to her hand. “That yours?”

She looked at it and then chuckled, shaking her head. “Performing a rescue for a friend. Too bad she won’t return the favor.”

“You in need of rescuing?”

She waved her hand at the sound of the distant voices. “Just from an evening of party conversations and everyone asking what I do.” She turned around and looked at him. “I make soap, by the way.”

“You’re one of the bridesmaids, I take it?” Her chatty conversation was rather amusing, he had to admit, even if she puzzled him.

“Oh!” She turned and gave a little bounce, heading to his side, then stuck her hand out. “I’m Chelsea, the officially designated bridesmaid to your groomsman. We’re also going to be sitting together at dinner. Gretchen’s matchmaking.”

He looked down at her hand. It still had the false lashes stuck to the back of it. “Uh.”

“Oh, right.” She chuckled and it was the most charming sound. “We’ll just pretend we shared a firm and hearty handshake, then.”

“Fair enough.” He found himself grinning at her. “So are you not a big fan of parties?” She was pretty and lively and probably had to beat the men off with a stick. Did she not like the attention? All the women in his life—his mother, his younger sisters, hell, even Lisa—adored attention. Then he thought of the bruises on her inner thigh. Maybe she didn’t want attention because she had a jealous boyfriend who used his fists.

Sebastian’s protective instinct reared. “Is it going to be bad if you’re in the room here with me? Alone?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I think I’m good. Everyone else is around, so it’s not like we’re really alone together. We’re just sort of being wallflowers.” She gave him another brilliant smile that made his blood surge and then tiptoed ahead to peek down the open door into the hall. “So, Sebastian, how do you know the bride and groom?”

“How do you know my name? The show?” He was used to strangers coming up to him and acting as if they knew him, and it still threw him off, every damn time.

This time, she was the one to look adorably confused. “What show? I met everyone else already, so you have to be Sebastian by process of elimination. Gretchen said she was going to introduce me to a Sebastian because we were supposed to be stuck together. Is that not you?” Her eyes widened. “Are you the butler?”

For some reason, she looked alarmed at the thought, and he chuckled. “No, I’m Sebastian all right. Sebastian Cabral.” He added his last name and then waited.

“That sounds familiar.” Her head tilted, the big blond curls moving over trim shoulders. “You look familiar, actually. Why is that?”

“The TV show? The Cabral Empire?”

“Oh. Ew. I’m sorry.” She wrinkled her nose.

Well that wasn’t the expression he normally got. Usually it was gushing and people insisting to know all the behind-the-scenes gossip. Asking if he could get them product placement or whatever else they needed. This woman was trying her best not to look appalled.

And that was a first.

Sebastian felt himself relax. “Yeah, I’m not a big fan of the attention. It’s all my mother’s idea. I’m trying to stay off the cameras as much as humanly possible.”

“I don’t blame you. What a nightmare that must be.”

Finally, someone got it. “That’s exactly it. It’s a nightmare. One big, long, camera-filled nightmare.”

She bit her lip, smiling, and he thought she was downright adorable. Gorgeous and happy and friendly. “You didn’t say what you do, other than avoid cameras.” She tilted her head, curious.

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “That’s not my job. My official job is ‘heir,’ I guess. I have inherited money, so I never really needed an official job. I’m a dabbler.”

“Oh.”

And for some reason, that was rather awkward. Why did he get the feeling she’d have been more impressed if he’d said “lumberjack” instead of just “I grew up rich”? And why on earth did that bother him?

She peeked down the hall again, and he found himself staring at her ass. Good god, the woman had an ass that wouldn’t quit. Shame she had an abusive boyfriend. He was attracted to her, even if he didn’t want to be. Chelsea looked back at him again and he straightened, mentally willing his half-mast erection to go away.

She held up her hand, complete with lashes. “I should return these to Greer so she can catch her man tonight . . . since that’s what this party seems to be about.”

“Ugh. Matchmaking?”

“Don’t you know Gretchen? She’s constantly matchmaking. I think it’s because she likes to build stories in her mind. She’s a writer, you know.”