Reckless In Love (The Maverick Billionaires #2)(30)

“You don’t have to keep feeding me,” she said as she took a cracker spread with warmed Brie from his fingers. “Especially when I know you couldn’t possibly have time for all this.”

“You wouldn’t stop to eat if I didn’t. And I need to eat too.”

“I eat.” Except that he was right—she often became so involved she didn’t notice her hunger until her stomach rumbled as loudly as the compressor. Just the way it had when he’d tempted her with the picnic treats.

He smiled, reading her mind. “Knew it.” He gave her another cracker, this one with a mouthwatering Cambozola cheese.

God, she could get used to this treatment. Did he sweep all his women away like this?

As soon as it hit her, she hated the thought of his women. It wasn’t fair to him, her being judgmental like that. As if she were saying that because he was rich, he must use his wealth to make his conquests. Especially when she didn’t feel like a conquest.

She felt treasured.

After the scrumptious lunch, they sat side by side at the workbench, her iPad propped up, the chariot drawing on the screen, his hip pressing lightly against hers. It was so familiar, so sweet.

So intimate.

“Have you decided what you want to use as the floor of the chariot? Another car door?”

She breathed in, out. Tried to calm her racing heart—and ever-growing desire. “No. Not a door. Something else...” The words trailed off as she traced the lines with her finger.

“What if you used a tile mosaic for the base?”

She tipped her head one way, then the other, picturing a mosaic before saying, “What if we accented with some of the tiles you used on the fountain?” Her mind began to sprint at the same speed her heart was from his nearness. “When the sun hits, the tiles will sparkle like rainbows. We’ll have to make sure the angle is right so it gets enough light. We can set the mosaic in a metal form so I can weld the body of the chariot to it.”

“The design could be free-form. The tiles can be chipped so they’re not square.”

Their ideas built on each other. “We could even add other irregular fragments, like broken crockery. I’ve seen garden stepping stones made from bits of china plates.” Her excitement rose, not just for the chariot they were creating together as though they were a team, but for him—his body so close, his thigh taut against hers, his male scent all over her.

“That’s brilliant.”

She scanned him again, right into him, past his good looks. “You’re brilliant. I would never have thought of mixing the two mediums, metalwork and tile work.” She thought of the anger he must still feel over his parents destroying themselves with alcohol and partying, especially when he’d needed so badly for them to be there for him. And she couldn’t help adding, “It’s going to be amazing fun to break plates against the wall, venting all our frustrations in a good cause.”

“I like it. And you.” He reached for her, brushed his fingertips over her lower lip. “I like you too, Charlie. So very much.”

Her heart stilled for a moment as she basked in the way his eyes mapped the lines of her face. This time when they kissed, she wouldn’t be able to stop at that. Not with this reckless need pounding through her veins. Just as she was about to put her hands on both sides of his gorgeous face, a horn honked, startling her and breaking the moment.

Sebastian made a frustrated growl. It was the first time she’d seen him fail to get his way, and she was just as frustrated as he levered himself away from the bench, his muscles rippling.

A white van idled on the drive as a uniformed driver jumped out and handed Sebastian a box. A few seconds later, she was surprised when he held it out to her.

“I don’t need gifts.” He’d already given her so much.

“It’s not for you. But you can open it. Don’t shake it, though. It’s fragile.”

What could it be? On the workbench, she grabbed an X-Acto knife and carefully cut through the tape. Inside were six smaller boxes—three flat, three square. She opened a flat box first.

“Oh, my gosh.” She gaped at the utterly beautiful china plate. Monarch butterflies floated across the white porcelain, their wings trimmed in gold. The plate’s scalloped edge was lined in a dusty pink and outlined with gold. “It’s exquisite.” The butterflies flew around leaves and ornately painted flowers with swirls of gold between them. “You don’t expect me to break this for the mosaic, do you?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “No, these are for your mom.”

“My mom?”

“Apart from your visits, the china is her only luxury, isn’t it?” When she nodded, he smiled and said, “Open the rest.”

Her hands weren’t quite steady as she unearthed two more plates and three delicate matching mugs, with yellow butterflies, blue butterflies, all edged in gold. She didn’t have to ask to know the gold was real. Sebastian was a man who insisted on nothing but the best.

“They’re beautiful. Mom will adore them.” Her mother had never owned anything so elegant. Or so expensive, she thought before she could stuff the thought away to join all her other conflicted emotions about Sebastian’s money—and how free he was with it when it came to her.

“My friend Will imports these from England.” He flipped the plate over. “They’re signed by the artist who paints them. This is by Rose.” He pointed to a small rose under the maker’s name.