Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(2)

She’d felt a whole lot of bam instead.

But it was no good.

The idea of dating Sebastien was . . . impossible.

Sleeping with him, maybe, if it was just a one-night thing. If they didn’t have the complicated history between them, she would definitely have gone for it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had passing attractions in her life. A few times, she’d acted on them. A few times—very few—she’d thought maybe there was something . . . more.

But this wasn’t a passing attraction.

She’d figured that out over the past few weeks as they finished up shooting. She found herself thinking about him far too often, wondering what he was doing, or what he might think about this shirt, or if he’d enjoy that book. Then she’d remember he wasn’t as into reading as his other brothers and she’d think about the comments she’d heard him make over the years when other women had asked him about their clothes.

It looks good on you, sugar. It’d look even better off.

Sebastien, as beautiful as he was, as kind as he was under that playboy exterior, still had too much fun running around. The youngest of five brothers, he’d spent his entire life doing just that, playing, having fun. He’d worked damn hard to get to the top in Hollywood, but now that he was there, he was enjoying it.

The truth was, Sebastien Barnes was spoiled and shallow.

She adored him, but it was the truth. Even his brothers ragged him about it, and Sebastien had been known to agree.

It hurt to acknowledge it, because Marin thought she could feel a whole hell of a lot of something more for him, but she wasn’t going to risk the misery that would come from getting involved with him. And it would come. Sebastien Barnes was a charmer, a true lover of the ladies, but he didn’t know what commitment was.

Marin was ready to be the focus of somebody’s life.

Sebastien was all about being the focus of somebody’s life, too. But only for as long as it took him to get bored.

Sighing, she looked him straight in the eye and told him the truth.

***

Her eyes, a blue that was almost violet, and real, had always dazzled him, and right now, Marin’s eyes held him spellbound. For a second there, he’d forgotten what they were talking about as he thought about leaning over the table and kissing her.

Really kissing her. Not for rehearsal and not because the cameras were rolling—no cameras here, in this relatively private area of the production set in front of her trailer. It wouldn’t be some peck like the one he’d given her for a fan, either.

He wanted to really kiss her, the way he’d been dreaming of . . . oh, probably since he’d been twelve years old.

They were done shooting for the day, but Marin had the habit of unwinding at her trailer with a glass of wine and going over the scenes planned for the next day. He’d waited until most people had left. Then he’d joined her.

It was fairly quiet at the studio now, with almost everybody gone, save for a few people who were getting a jump on setting up for tomorrow. Nobody was paying attention to them.

Sebastien had gone over this in his head a hundred times, had it all worked out. She’d say yes.

They’d have a nice, romantic dinner—maybe at that little seafood place up the coast. He knew she liked it—they’d eaten there the last time Zach and Abby were in town. Then they’d go to his place and he’d finally have a chance to put his hands on her for real—

“What do you mean you don’t think it’s a good idea?” he asked, jerked out back into reality as her response finally clicked.

Marin shrugged. She’d pulled on a skinny strapped tank top over a lacy white bra and an even skinnier pair of jeans, and he’d been fantasizing about tugging her blonde waves free from the ponytail, then smoothing those straps out of the way, tugging her bra off, and filling his hands with her breasts. Small and firm, Marin’s were the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. She had resisted the trend a lot of women in Hollywood followed—no implants anywhere on her and she was that much more beautiful for it, he’d always thought. She was herself and she was confident with it, and she was real.

Shaking his head clear of the fantasy, he focused on her face.

Her dark blue gaze flicked to his for a moment, and then returned to the script. “Sebastien, look . . . don’t take this personally, but you’re not the kind of guy I’m looking for these days.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. I won’t take it personally . . . Oh, wait. It is personal.” Bracing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. Insult washed away the cloud of heat that tended to fog his brain whenever he was around her. “Just what kind of guy am I? I mean, I’m not a big drinker. I don’t do drugs. I’m not an abuser. I don’t cheat.”

Marin passed a hand over her eyes. “Shit.”

He waited.

When she looked back at him, he almost got up and walked away.

But he wanted to know.

“Well?”

“I’m thirty-two years old,” she said quietly. “You’re twenty-five. You’re still having fun with the high life, hitting every party you can, going out there just to be seen. You like just being seen—you love being Sebastien Barnes—and that’s fine. You worked hard to get where you are, and you’re perfectly entitled to enjoy it. But . . .”

Her voice trailed and she averted her gaze. “I’m done with that part. I want something quieter. I want to do my job and go home. I want to have a quiet dinner and curl up with a good book.” She slid him a quick look and shrugged. “I’m ready to start looking at what’s next . . . You’re all about what’s now.”