“How do you know my name? The show?” He was used to strangers coming up to him and acting as if they knew him, and it still threw him off, every damn time.
This time, she was the one to look adorably confused. “What show? I met everyone else already, so you have to be Sebastian by process of elimination. Gretchen said she was going to introduce me to a Sebastian because we were supposed to be stuck together. Is that not you?” Her eyes widened. “Are you the butler?”
For some reason, she looked alarmed at the thought, and he chuckled. “No, I’m Sebastian all right. Sebastian Cabral.” He added his last name and then waited.
“That sounds familiar.” Her head tilted, the big blond curls moving over trim shoulders. “You look familiar, actually. Why is that?”
“The TV show? The Cabral Empire?”
“Oh. Ew. I’m sorry.” She wrinkled her nose.
Well that wasn’t the expression he normally got. Usually it was gushing and people insisting to know all the behind-the-scenes gossip. Asking if he could get them product placement or whatever else they needed. This woman was trying her best not to look appalled.
And that was a first.
Sebastian felt himself relax. “Yeah, I’m not a big fan of the attention. It’s all my mother’s idea. I’m trying to stay off the cameras as much as humanly possible.”
“I don’t blame you. What a nightmare that must be.”
Finally, someone got it. “That’s exactly it. It’s a nightmare. One big, long, camera-filled nightmare.”
She bit her lip, smiling, and he thought she was downright adorable. Gorgeous and happy and friendly. “You didn’t say what you do, other than avoid cameras.” She tilted her head, curious.
He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “That’s not my job. My official job is ‘heir,’ I guess. I have inherited money, so I never really needed an official job. I’m a dabbler.”
“Oh.”
And for some reason, that was rather awkward. Why did he get the feeling she’d have been more impressed if he’d said “lumberjack” instead of just “I grew up rich”? And why on earth did that bother him?
She peeked down the hall again, and he found himself staring at her ass. Good god, the woman had an ass that wouldn’t quit. Shame she had an abusive boyfriend. He was attracted to her, even if he didn’t want to be. Chelsea looked back at him again and he straightened, mentally willing his half-mast erection to go away.
She held up her hand, complete with lashes. “I should return these to Greer so she can catch her man tonight . . . since that’s what this party seems to be about.”
“Ugh. Matchmaking?”
“Don’t you know Gretchen? She’s constantly matchmaking. I think it’s because she likes to build stories in her mind. She’s a writer, you know.”
“Actually, I know the groom. We’re business associates.” They weren’t all that close—he didn’t think many people were truly close to Hunter, but the few times they’d worked together, he’d enjoyed the man’s company. They’d even started indoor rock climbing together recently. Maybe that’s why he was a groomsman.
Either that, or his new wife wanted to be on TV. Sebastian didn’t like to think about that. “Gretchen’s not the type to want to be on The Cabral Empire, is she?” He wondered if that was why he was a groomsman.
Chelsea made a face. “God, no. Gretchen is very much not a TV person. I don’t think she even likes having her picture taken. And I don’t think she’d do that to Hunter. She seems protective of him.”
That was true enough. Then he’d been invited to the bridal party for another reason . . . perhaps to match up with the lovely blonde in front of him. If Gretchen was indeed out to find him a new girlfriend, he had to admit she had a good eye. He watched Chelsea’s ass rise as she stood on her tiptoes and peeked out into the hall again. Too bad he wasn’t looking for a date. The last thing he needed right now was a romantic entanglement. Not with his life currently ensnared with legal issues around The Cabral Empire.
“So, listen,” Chelsea said, moving back toward him. She licked her plump lips and looked back at the hall, then at him from under thick, dark lashes. “Since everyone seems to be coupling up . . .”
He could watch her lick those lips all night. “Yes?”
“You . . . want to be each other’s designated buddy?”
Sebastian’s lips quirked into a smile of his own. This might have been the first time a beautiful woman had asked to be his buddy. “Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, this is the pre-engagement party, right? The engagement party’s in a few weeks, and then from there we’re going to have a few more of these things to get through.” She gave a delicate shudder that made the spangles on her nude dress glimmer and shake. “We should be each other’s designated safety date so we don’t have to worry about people hitting on us or trying to couple us up. We can have an agreement, you know? Just friends.”
His libido was offended that this gorgeous creature wanted to be “just friends,” but Sebastian had to admit he was intrigued . . . and it was a smart idea. “So basically if we act like we’re together, no one’s going to hit on us or try to push us into a date?”
She snapped her fingers. “Bingo. Awkwardness solved. It’s like we’ll be in on the joke. We can share phone numbers and everything.”
“You sure?” He couldn’t help but tease her a bit. “Lots of eligible men at these things.”
She actually shuddered. “I’m positive. I mean, you’re pretty harmless so I’d rather be with you.”
And now his libido really was offended. Harmless? Him? He’d been known to seduce at twenty paces just with a smoldering look. “Harmless, eh?”
She moved in and patted his chest. “Don’t be offended. It’s because I know you now. It wasn’t a jab at your manhood.”
He shrugged and pulled his phone out again. A safety date would be just the thing. He could avoid being set up because he already had a “date.” He could avoid other women who were looking for a man at a wedding—because there were always a few—and no one who looked at Chelsea would think she was with Sebastian platonically. She was perfection in high heels. “All right,” he said, sliding his thumb over his phone. “Give me your number, Safety Girl.”
Chelsea laughed and reached between her cleavage to pull out her phone, where it was tucked away between her breasts. He tried not to stare at that, he really did.
And he tried not to wish that it wasn’t a safety thing after watching those tits produce that tiny phone.
A safety date was a good thing, he told himself.
They exchanged numbers and then she beamed at him, trotting off down the hall. “I really need to send this back to its owner,” she said, holding up the lashes. “See you in a few, Safety Date.”
“Call me SD,” he called back after her, grinning, and her laughter floated down the hall. He found himself smiling despite the absurd situation, and headed back for the dinner party. Sure enough, it was turning into couples-fest. He sat down and pulled out his phone.