Fantasy. Lori FosterЧитать онлайн книгу.
each other within twenty-four hours. Besides, I’ve already been this route and don’t intend to go it again.”
“But I should?”
Shay shrugged. “You know how it is about a path never traveled. Your weeds are growing tall, Brandi. Pretty soon you won’t be able to find the path anymore.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Brandi muttered. “That’s the dumbest bit of argument you’ve ever come up with.”
Sebastian was beginning to feel like a stray mutt. Not since he was twelve years old and had begun gaining his height and physical structure had a woman showed such disinterest in his company. He wasn’t vain, but then, he wasn’t stupid, either. He’d had women argue over him before, plenty of times actually—but never to see who had to be stuck with him. More often than not, women chased him.
But now Brandi wasn’t chasing him—she was trying to chase him away. Perversely, he was determined to hang around.
Shay had her hands on her hips, mimicking Brandi’s stance, and she looked every bit as determined as Brandi. “I wanted to give you something special for your birthday, Brandi, but I was at a loss. I couldn’t think of a single suitable gift. Then, well, you mentioned your new plans, and inspiration struck.”
Sebastian bit his upper lip. He didn’t understand the part about “new plans,” but inspiration was apparently the way Brandi had stared at him while he was onstage. Her sister had interpreted that eat-him-alive look as interest, so maybe he hadn’t misread her after all. Maybe it was that her interest hadn’t quite encompassed five days alone with him, as the prize package specified. He didn’t understand why—but he was already determined to find out.
Brandi waved a small dismissive hand—the same as her sister had done earlier, only this time it was aimed in his direction. “He wasn’t part of my plans.”
“He’s perfect for your plans! You’re twenty-six today and you never have any fun. Sebastian is fun.” She glanced at him and demanded verification. “Aren’t you fun, Sebastian?”
“A laugh a minute.” But he didn’t feel like laughing. He felt like telling Shay to be quiet and stop pushing her sister. Hell, Shay was practically forcing him on Brandi, and she was resisting admirably. It was a new experience—and he didn’t like it one bit.
Brandi closed her eyes, then opened them again. “No.”
“Now, Brandi…”
It was most likely male pride that motivated him, because he didn’t like being rejected any more than the next guy. Especially not after Brandi had managed to intrigue him so thoroughly with her blatant, wide-eyed, somehow innocent staring. He should just forget about the whole thing. He didn’t have time to take away from his other commitments. He was in the middle of screening new help for hire at his office, and each room in his home was in some stage of renovation. His free time these days amounted to nil.
But he found himself stepping in front of Brandi and Shay, hiding them from the crowd. That damn no had sounded entirely too final, and he’d already determined not to let her say no.
“I’m sorry you’re not happy with the arrangement, Miss Sommers,” he said, not quite able to keep the annoyance out of his tone, “but the fact is, neither of us has any choice at this point. The press is ready to snap a shot of anything that even remotely looks suspicious. If you hesitate or look as if you’re being coerced, Shay’s publicity will suffer. My business will suffer. The women’s shelter will suffer.”
Turning very slowly, Brandi stared up at him. “You’re exaggerating.”
“We’re next in line for photos. If you look unwilling or unhappy you can imagine how the text will read below the picture. They’ll slaughter your sister’s intentions, and my business will be given a bum rap. They’ll somehow twist it so that you had reason to refuse my company on the trip. This whole event will end up looking like a disreputable scam, and the efforts to provide housing for battered families will lose ground.”
After spewing that nonsensical garbage—all of it exaggerated, just as she’d claimed—Sebastian waited. If Brandi Sommers was anything at all like her sister, she wouldn’t want to jeopardize the success of the auction. He waited, holding his breath and feeling ridiculous for letting her decision matter so much to him.
After a calming breath, she looked at Shay. “What will happen now?”
A look of relief crossed Shay’s features, then she smiled. “Your prize package includes a short trip to Gatlinburg, with all expenses paid.” When Brandi started to protest again, Shay added, “You’ll be going to a very quiet resort. I picked the place myself. You’ll love it.”
Reaching out, Sebastian clasped Shay’s shoulder, giving her a silent signal to desist. If he was to be forced on Brandi, he preferred to do the forcing himself. Somehow it seemed less demeaning. “Look at it this way, Miss Sommers. Like it or not, you own me for the next five days.”
Her eyes grew so large he had to struggle to hide his grin. That little reminder had certainly gained her attention. “You’ll be the one calling the shots. If you want to sit in the cabin the whole time and brood about your pushy sister here, that’s your business. I’m just there as an escort if you want or need one.” Then he added innocently, “Or for whatever purpose you assign me.”
That notion had promise, even though Brandi was proving to be a contrary little wretch. She might be cute, and her unwavering gaze could set a man on fire, but she wasn’t the most warm or welcoming woman he’d ever met.
Strange, but for some reason that fact wasn’t deterring his interest in the least.
Brandi did look slightly intrigued by the idea, but then she shook her head. “I don’t know….”
“Take your time and think about it.” He added with a nod at the reporters, “But until we’re out of here, it’s important that you play along. At least pretend to be an excited, willing participant.”
Brandi hesitated again, but she did give in. “Fine. I’ll…think about it. But let’s get this part of it over with, please. I’d like to get home.”
Shay gave her an apologetic smile. “You can’t leave any time soon. The photographers want pictures of the two of you together. There’s hors d’oeuvres, drinks. Dancing.”
Brandi stiffened up again. For whatever reason, she was determined to resist the attraction between them.
He was just as determined not to let her.
BRANDI CONTEMPLATED muzzling her sister. She was in fine form tonight, at her most autocratic. “We’ll do a few pictures, Shay. But you can forget the dancing and drinks.”
Shay looked annoyed, but Sebastian accepted her edict. “Fair enough. Are you ready?” He held out his hand to Brandi.
Ready? Good God, no, she wasn’t ready. But at this point, Shay had left her little choice.
She really didn’t want to touch him again. That one brief handshake had been enough to give her goose-flesh. Just looking at him made her heart beat faster. But she took his hand anyway. It was so large, it swallowed her smaller one. She noticed again that his palm was callused, his skin warm and dry. She actually liked touching him this way. Somehow, the gesture felt right. But she knew getting close enough to that big body to dance—to let him hold her—would be a mistake. She’d probably make a fool of herself and she couldn’t bear that. Not with him.
Better to discourage him now; it would save them both a lot of aggravation.
Shay had disappeared after the first picture—she was probably hiding. She’d dumped a volatile situation in Brandi’s lap with no warning, and though Brandi knew Shay meant well, Brandi was now in the unenviable position of turning down a sinfully gorgeous, sexy man.
“Mr. Sinclair…”
“Sebastian.”