Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
want to see the projected timelines and budgets some time before Friday’s meeting. Think you can manage that? Thought so. What else are weekends for, right? Thanks, Vicky. You too. Yes, it is brilliant news.’
Seb closed his eyes, shook his head with a relaxed grin, then stretched out the length of his body on the lounger like a cat waking from a long sleep, with both arms behind his head.
Vicky was the best in the business and one of the most passionate and enthusiastic people he had ever met. She had chosen to spend her retirement making best use of the contacts she had made during forty years in investment banking. This time next week she would have a dream budget to work with and Seb could get on with the hands-on work implementing the communication systems.
All he had to do was ensure that the offer on the table was signed with no last-minute problems.
Then he would really feel like celebrating. It might be winter back in Sydney but he didn’t see any reason why he could not take his team down to the beach for the day! They had worked for this just as hard as he had. They deserved a decent party before the real hard work kicked in. He could not wait to get back to Sydney and get the ball rolling!
He allowed himself a smile.
Then spun around, suddenly conscious that he was not alone, and for a few seconds he had to work out where he was. Then his fists clenched in anger at the intrusion into his private business and thoughts.
He had let his guard down for a moment. Stupid!
Ella recoiled for a second with Seb’s sudden movement. A handful of pea pods fell onto the patio stones and she leant down to scoop them up.
Only as she did so Ella recognised that three things had become quite apparent.
Two of them were attached to her chest and she was pointing them quite brazenly under strained cotton and a low-cut sundress at the man whose eyes were now at the same height as her own.
Idiot! She was not used to having men around the house. She really had to think about her clothing for the next week if she wanted to avoid this happening again.
And then came number three. Sebastien Castellano was looking at her.
Amber eyes the colour of beech trees in autumn met hers, flashed with startled energy and widened slightly in surprise that he was being observed so closely. And then those eyes seemed to warm as though melting in the summer heat.
Suddenly she understood what the fuss in the gossip columns was all about.
His eyes were not just amber, they were the deepest dark caramel brown flecked with gold, with a dark centre that pulled you in, like a pool of deep, deep water so dark she would be scared to dive into it for fear of never reaching the bottom. Or of never being able to swim back to the surface.
She had seen a tiny glimpse of that look when he had looked down the front of her dress earlier—which had been completely her own fault. And he had been gentleman enough to look away as soon as he could. But now she was taking in the full blast and the depth and intensity were only too clear.
Ella could feel the beat of her heart in her neck and wrist respond to the power of something very primal that came from a very masculine man who had started to relax once the tension of answering the call had ebbed away, warm and stretching sensuously in the sunshine only inches away from her.
He didn’t say anything, or move from his recliner, he simply turned his head and looked back at her. The moment stretched until she could feel it like an elastic band pulled tighter and tighter until she was frightened about what would happen when all of that energy was released.
Heart racing, she opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance, because in that fraction of a second doors started slamming all over the house, a car crunched away on the gravel drive and a distinctive voice called out in the local French dialect, ‘Mum-m-m! Milou got out again!’
Seb stared at the dog-shaped apparition that joggled towards him to make sure that he was not still dreaming, and blinked hard a couple of times.
Nope. He was awake.
The child’s voice had emerged from behind the huge armful of dog that had grown tired of being carried, and the bundle of fur and paws had now decided to come alive and was struggling like a wild thing to be free now he was home.
The child made it as far as the table before he released the furry creature that dropped into a heap of low woof and flying fur and dust onto the patio tiles.
Seb wasn’t dreaming after all. And the creature looked remarkably like the old griffon hound that had almost ended up under his tyres on the path.
The cherub of a dark curly-haired boy who emerged tried to brush some of the dog hair from his school shirt, looked at the mess and claw marks, then looked up in astonishment as he realised that there was a strange man lounging on one of the recliners.
‘Daniel Charles Bailey Martinez. You. Have not been doing your job.’ Ella was bending forward now, her head tilted to one side as she spoke to her son.
The child looked up from the dog towards Sebastien, and then back to his mother, shrugged and turned around, dropping his shoulders.
‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘Don’t apologise to me, young man. He made it as far as the traffic this time. If Mr Castellano here didn’t have good brakes on his car, your old pal Milou might have been injured, and you—’ she was pointing now ‘—you would have to explain how Milou came to be taking a nap in the middle of the road. And that would be. Serious. So, you know what to do.’
She gestured with her head over one shoulder towards Seb, and nodded.
The cherub moved slowly forward with his head down, sidled one step at a time until he was standing in front of Seb, shuffling from side to side, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his school trousers.
‘Thanks for not killing Milou.’
Seb looked at the little boy’s head, then at the dog lying on his back at his feet, waiting to have his tummy tickled. Seb was so used to people around him showing due deference he was not accustomed to a child’s version of an apology. He quickly recovered as best he could and replied with a, ‘No problem,’ in English, before wondering how that translated to child talk.
The child glanced up and whispered in an excited voice, ‘Did you have to screech your car? I mean, did you have to skid and everything?’
‘Dan!’
His head dropped again. ‘I was just asking!’
Dan glanced up at Seb and gave him a toothy smile, which would be breaking hearts in the very near future. It was a signal between boys.
‘Matter of fact I did have to screech my tyres. Grit was flying everywhere. It was like being in one of those rally cars. Even had to skid a bit along the grass.’ ‘Cool!’
‘Oh, I give up. Boys!’ Ella turned back to her peas while Milou chose that moment to issue a loud yawn and settled down to sleep after his exciting adventure.
Dan sidled up closer to Sebastien and looked once at Ella, who gave him one single nod before asking in a low whisper, ‘Is that your car outside? It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen!
Seb bent down from the waist so that he was at the same level as Dan. Interesting. Apparently he had just been given security clearance from Ella.
‘Yes, it is my car, but your mother is right, mate.’ Seb shook his head. ‘I would have felt just awful if I had hurt your dog. I only just managed to turn away in time. Were you supposed to be making sure he didn’t make it to the road?’
There was a nod but, from the way the boy’s bottom lip was quivering, Seb took the initiative and moved to a different question. He was not used to children at the best of times and he certainly didn’t have the training to handle tears.
‘Tell me about the other dog. The younger one. Where does