The Billionaire Takes a Bride (Billionaires and Bridesmaids, #3)(8)

Greer nodded and stumbled away. Alone now, Chelsea got down on her hands and knees and began to sweep her palms over the carpet. Moving slowly, she inched forward, crossing the room.

It took a few minutes before her efforts bore fruit. She spotted something that looked like a dark, spiky caterpillar under the desk. How the heck had Greer managed that? She scurried forward on her knees, tucking her dress hem between her legs. Reaching for the eyelash didn’t quite do the trick, so she had to crawl under the furniture.

Her body was partially tucked under the large wood desk when someone entered the room. She froze for a moment, and then scuttled farther under the desk so no one could see her.

The plan backfired. A moment later, a big man slid into the chair behind the desk and she was facing two long legs and a pair of enormous feet encased in expensive Italian loafers.

Well . . . this was awkward.

Chelsea clutched the eyelashes, unsure what to do. For some reason, her anxiety wasn’t ratcheting. Maybe it was the fact that she had another woman’s lashes stuck to her finger and she was crotch-height with a man’s dick under a desk and it was just too absurd to be freaky?

Or maybe it was the low hum of laughter and talking voices from the party a few rooms away?

She didn’t know, but as she heard fingers drumming over a phone in texting, she wondered at what point she should say something.

A moment passed. Two.

Surely he was going to notice her under here, wasn’t he?

The stranger sighed and then began to text rapidly again. He swiveled in the chair, his knee nearly boning her in the breast.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t going to notice her.

Time to take action. When the man didn’t move, she put her hands on his thighs, pushed his chair backward, and slid out from under the desk.

A quick look told her this had to be Sebastian, the man she was going to be partnered up with at all of Gretchen’s bridal events. She had to admit that Gretchen had great taste. If it weren’t for the fact that Chelsea was turned off of men for maybe forever, he’d have been right up her alley. Dark, thick hair with the barest hint of wave was swept back from a strong-featured face. His brows were heavy and framed an almost too-large nose. His mouth was sensual and full, but the most stunning thing about him were the green eyes set against dark olive skin. He was tall, too, and his dark blue suit was impeccably tailored, showing off big, rangy shoulders.

And he was shocked at the sight of her emerging from under the desk onto his lap. No, actually, shocked didn’t begin to describe the expression on his face. Appalled, maybe. Horrified.

That made her feel better. In charge. He didn’t look like he wanted to take control of the situation—and her. He looked like he wanted to run away.

It gave her confidence. So she gave him her perkiest smile. “Hi, there.”





Chapter Four



When Sebastian sat down in the study to answer his endlessly buzzing text messages, he’d thought he’d get a few moments of privacy. He’d already excused himself to the hostess, Hunter’s quirky but vivacious fiancée, and planned on rejoining the party in a moment.

Mother: Answer me, Sebastian. Why are you trying to cock-block me on your contracts???????

She’d sent the same text seventeen times in three minutes. Knowing his mother, she’d probably handed the phone to an assistant to keep hitting the Send button until he responded. It was annoying as f*ck, but his mother knew how to get under his skin like no one else. So he texted her back.

SC: Ma. If you don’t stop texting me I’m going to shut my phone down. I’m more than happy to talk about contracts with my lawyer present. But not without him.

Mother: You don’t trust me? Your own mother?!?! And don’t call me MA! I’m fifty two, not eighty. Call me Mama Precious.

SC: You know I’m not going to do that. And I trust you, Ma. I don’t trust the network, and we both know that if I show up over there, someone’s going to shove a camera in my face. So I’m avoiding you until everything’s signed. It’s not personal. You know I love you.

Mother: Nugget, it’s opportunity. When is something like this going to fall into your lap again?

He was about to furiously text back that he didn’t want to be called Nugget since she’d only made up that nickname after the show started, when two hands appeared on his thighs under the desk and his chair rolled backward. Shocked, Sebastian stared as a gorgeous blonde emerged from under the desk and practically propelled herself into his lap.

She was perfect. Utterly perfect.

He stared as the woman stood up and straightened her tiny strapless dress. It was a buff color with a bit of spangly stuff on it, but if he squinted, it looked like skin. Lots and lots of skin. She was tall and gorgeous and fit, with an impressive rack and even better legs. She had a heart-shaped face and big blue eyes and loose blonde curls. The look she gave him was utterly mischievous and not apologetic in the least.

“Hope I didn’t scare you. I was trying to figure out the best moment to escape.”

“What . . .”

She stuck her finger out and showed him something that looked suspiciously spidery. “I was on an eyelash-finding mission.” With a wiggle of her brows, she dragged one long leg over his, momentarily straddling him, and then moved past him, flashing him an incredible, tight ass . . .

And a big bruise on her upper thigh that disappeared under the hem of her skirt.