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 fuck, 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.
That cooled his impromptu erection instantly. Where did a bruise like that come from? It was a rather intimate place, and it wasn’t like he could ask politely.
“So are they all out there?” She gave a little shimmy and adjusted her short dress, covering the bruise.
“From what I can tell, yes.” Sebastian’s brows drew together. Should he introduce himself? Ask her what she was doing under the desk? He honestly had no idea how to handle this. She’d shown up in a blatantly sexual pose and then acted like it was no big deal. Hell, thirty seconds ago she’d practically had her head in his lap. He nodded at the eyelash stuck to her hand. “That yours?”
She looked at it and then chuckled, shaking her head. “Performing a rescue for a friend. Too bad she won’t return the favor.”
“You in need of rescuing?”
She waved her hand at the sound of the distant voices. “Just from an evening of party conversations and everyone asking what I do.” She turned around and looked at him. “I make soap, by the way.”
“You’re one of the bridesmaids, I take it?” Her chatty conversation was rather amusing, he had to admit, even if she puzzled him.
“Oh!” She turned and gave a little bounce, heading to his side, then stuck her hand out. “I’m Chelsea, the officially designated bridesmaid to your groomsman. We’re also going to be sitting together at dinner. Gretchen’s matchmaking.”
He looked down at her hand. It still had the false lashes stuck to the back of it. “Uh.”
“Oh, right.” She chuckled and it was the most charming sound. “We’ll just pretend we shared a firm and hearty handshake, then.”
“Fair enough.” He found himself grinning at her. “So are you not a big fan of parties?” She was pretty and lively and probably had to beat the men off with a stick. Did she not like the attention? All the women in his life—his mother, his younger sisters, hell, even Lisa—adored attention. Then he thought of the bruises on her inner thigh. Maybe she didn’t want attention because she had a jealous boyfriend who used his fists.
Sebastian’s protective instinct reared. “Is it going to be bad if you’re in the room here with me? Alone?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I think I’m good. Everyone else is around, so it’s not like we’re really alone together. We’re just sort of being wallflowers.” She gave him another brilliant smile that made his blood surge and then tiptoed ahead to peek down the open door into the hall. “So, Sebastian, how do you know the bride and groom?”