Chapter Twenty-One #2
Jack gave a fake smile. “If what you say is true, it will be the easiest thing in the world to prove.”
Alice began to fidget. She wouldn’t trust Sebastian if he told her the sun rose in the east, but a part of her needed to believe he was still a decent man. Despite all that he’d put her through, she prayed he really was on his way to recovery and what they’d once had wasn’t all a lie.
Sebastian sauntered toward the suitcase, fixing Jack with a mocking gaze as he hefted the gorgeously trimmed, leather case onto the sofa.
It had a brass combination lock, and Sebastian’s elegant fingers casually rolled through the numbers.
In England, Seb had weekly manicures to keep his hands in flawless perfection, and it looked like that habit had continued.
In England, she’d loved Sebastian’s hands.
Now, Jack’s callused, blunt workingman’s hands had more appeal.
Please, please, please don’t be lying, she silently prayed. Sebastian couldn’t be a complete scoundrel, could he?
At last, the fastening clicked open. He lifted the lid, then twisted the suitcase for her to see.
The script for the second season of The King’s Redemption sat atop a mound of history books and a couple of biographies of Charles II. No clothes or toiletries.
“Happy?” Sebastian asked. “The hotel promised me they’ll deliver a safe to my room first thing in the morning, but until then, this script goes with me everywhere. Have you been watching it? The King’s Redemption?”
She shook her head. “I took a pass.” When she first met Sebastian, he’d already filmed the first season of The King’s Redemption, and he boasted that it was the best performance of his career.
For once he wasn’t playing a romantic lead, but the role of a seventeenth-century English prince whose father had just been executed.
The moment the axe beheaded his father, Charles II was a young king in exile, on the run and trying to rally troops to retake the throne.
Sebastian slanted her a reproving glance, which was entirely spoiled by his charming wink. “Watch it,” he urged. “It’s the best work I’ve ever done. People have been saying I’m a shoo-in for an Emmy.”
“So why are you really here?” she asked.
“I wanted to do you a favor,” he said with one of those lopsided smiles that melted women’s hearts across the globe.
“I remember how hard you were working finding out something about that Saint Helga lady, and I nagged Margo at the British Library to get cracking on it. She’s turned up some interesting stuff. ”
She sucked in a quick breath. “Margo Davis? I asked her too, and she refused to help.”
“Ah, but I’m Sebastian Bell,” he said in a voice laden with enough charm to make her toes curl. “Sometimes people work harder for me.”
“Your name is Sam Bartholomew,” Jack said in a flat voice, and Alice flinched a little. Yes, Sebastian took a stage name on the advice of his agent, but he never used his real name anymore.
“Regardless, I’m a man who knows how to get things done,” Sebastian said.
“I knew Alice ran into a dead end with Margo because she’s overworked and underpaid.
I personally appealed to her and she was willing to burn the midnight oil.
Margo turned up some genealogy information, and there’s a woman named Helga in it.
Plus, the name Reid is in there. I’ll bet my bottom dollar they are the people we were looking for back in January. ”
Jack folded his arms and adopted a mocking stance. “Here’s what I don’t get, Sam,” he said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “If you only got out of rehab yesterday, and didn’t have access to a phone or the internet . . . how did you and Margo make so much progress on this?”
Sebastian froze, and a guilty flush stained his cheeks, but he recovered quickly.
“Okay, maybe I exaggerated,” he conceded.
“I’ve been out for a few weeks, but I really do feel lousy about what happened, and I didn’t want to come empty-handed.
Alice, you know I adore you. Even if you aren’t ready to forgive me, I was hoping we could mend fences.
Let me take you out to dinner. Or to one of those theaters beneath the stars I saw advertised all over the airport. Let me help repair your reputation.”
It might work. The best way to prove she wasn’t a stalker would be to let Sebastian publicly shower her with affection.
It wouldn’t even have to be real . . . they could merely stroll around the artsy streets of Williamsburg to start restoring her reputation.
Perhaps he would even grant an interview with the press to exonerate her.
What happened in London could be attributed to an unfortunate misunderstanding caused by Sebastian’s relapse into drugs, and her reputation could be restored.
Sanity hit her like a fist. She mustn’t let Sebastian suck her into the whirlwind again. “Seb, I think you should leave.”
He didn’t move as he stared at her and waited. After a moment, he started cracking every knuckle on his right hand, the way he always did when nerves were getting the better of him.
“It’s not going to end like this,” he said.
“Maybe not, but I still need you to leave,” she said, proud of how steady she managed to sound.
Sebastian closed the lid on his suitcase and secured the lock. “I still want to deliver Margo’s research to you. We’ll take this up again after you’ve had time to think,” he said gently before heading to the door and closing it softly behind him.
“You’re not seriously thinking of having anything to do with that guy, are you?” Anger made Jack’s voice tight.
“No,” she whispered. “Of course not.” She shook herself and cleared her throat. “We should get back to working on the clock.”
Jack gave a terse nod, but it occurred to her . . . tonight was the first time she’d seen Jack jealous on her behalf, and she cared enough about him to find that oddly wonderful.