Chapter 18
BERNADETTE
Iwas certain my face was on fire. I could feel my cheeks burning and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the stubble burn I was probably sporting.
I stepped into the bungalow. Annika had turned on a few of the LED candles—no flames allowed in the pristine jungle. She was standing in the center of the room with a shit-eating grin.
I wanted to melt into the floor. Given how hot I was, it was entirely possible. I shivered and only then realized my back was wet. It had been exposed to the rain during our little situation.
“So,” she said, drawing out the word. “That was interesting.”
I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Acknowledge that I just caught you making out with Sebastian Blackwell on our porch like a couple of teenagers?”
“Annika, please.”
“In the rain, no less. Very romantic.”
“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t say anything to anyone. I don’t know what that was. I don’t know what happened. But it won’t be happening again.”
Her grin softened into something more sympathetic. “Honey, you’re not the first woman to be charmed by Sebastian.”
“I haven’t been charmed by him,” I protested, but my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.
“Okay.” She clearly didn’t believe me. “For what it’s worth, lots of girls fall for him.
Not me—I’ve watched that boy grow up—but plenty of the girls I’ve dressed over the years.
Models, actresses, socialites. He’s got that thing, you know?
That combination of gorgeous and charming and just vulnerable enough to make you want to fix him. ”
“I don’t want to fix him.”
“Sure.” She patted my shoulder. “By all accounts, he’s pretty great at the seduction thing. And the kissing and, if the overheard conversations are true, the other thing as well.”
Each word made me feel worse. More foolish. More like just another notch in Sebastian Blackwell’s very carved-up bedpost.
“I need to go to bed,” I said abruptly.
“Yours or his?”
“Goodnight, Annika.”
I fled to my room, closed the door, and leaned against it, my heart hammering.
What had I done? What the hell had I just done?
I made out with a client. Not just any client—Sebastian Blackwell, notorious playboy, the exact kind of man I’d spent my entire professional life being warned about. And I’d done it in public. On a porch. During a job where my entire career was on the line.
Had anyone seen us? Anyone besides Annika.
My father would explode if he knew. Would probably pull me from the assignment immediately.
He would definitely use it as proof that I wasn’t cut out for field work and verify his claim I couldn’t handle the responsibility.
He would make sure I knew I was exactly the disappointment he always suspected I was.
My job was on the line. My reputation. My entire professional future. I had foolishly thrown caution to the wind because Sebastian Blackwell had looked at me with those blue eyes and said I impressed him.
He made me feel pretty and wanted. The man brought me snacks. For the first time in my adult life, someone had made me feel seen instead of dismissed.
Maybe a part of me would always be that little girl on the playground who got picked on. Who never felt like she belonged and would do anything for someone who showed her the smallest bit of kindness.
But I was supposed to be better than that now. I was supposed to be professional. Controlled. Able to separate my personal feelings from my work.
Except Sebastian was sexier than any man I’d ever seen in real life. That wasn’t just my opinion—it was objective fact. The man got paid to be beautiful. And he kissed me. Me. Bernadette Simmons with her boring suits and bland personality.
It was momentary insanity.
Which was exactly why it could never happen again.
I changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, but sleep was impossible. My mind kept replaying the kiss and how good it felt to be in his arms.
The way his hard cock had pressed against me through our clothes.
He was truly cut from the same granite the Greek gods were. Every part of that man was large and in charge.
“Fuck,” I whispered to the darkness. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I was in so much trouble.
Morning came eventually. I couldn’t have slept more than two hours total. I dragged myself out of bed and pulled my hair into a messy bun. With the humidity following the storm, there was no way I was using any hair products. It’s not like I needed to impress anyone.
Especially not Sebastian.
I debated what to wear. The sun was out and it was already warm.
A sundress would be perfect, but I remembered the way Sebastian looked at me last time.
I didn’t want him to notice me. I pulled out a pair of beige pants, one of the button-up blue shirts Annika had thrown in, and a pair of slip-on shoes.
Everything was loose and baggy and not at all sexy.
I needed to be productive. I was going to throw myself into work and forget last night had ever happened.
I stopped by the craft services tent. Thankfully, Cookie let me grab one of the low-carb breakfast burritos. Then I headed out to the next location.
The morning shoot was on the beach. The trail down to the sand was muddy from the rain.
I spent two hours working with the loading crew.
I directed them on how and where to set up plywood walkways over the worst spots.
I insisted they were secure and level. Couldn’t have a model twisting an ankle or falling face first into one of the bushes that lined the trail.
I walked along the path and stopped. “Make sure you hammer down that corner. We don’t want anyone catching their foot and tripping.”
“You got it, boss.”
Boss. They were calling me boss. In a friendly way, not a sarcastic way. The Safety Bingo had done more than just teach them protocols—it had earned me a tiny bit of respect. I had to be careful not to abuse my new power.
I saw Sebastian across the beach, talking to one of the photographers. Our eyes met for a split second and I immediately looked away, busying myself with checking another section of walkway.
When I glanced back, he was gone.
It happened three more times over the course of the morning. I’d see him, our eyes would meet, and one of us would find an excuse to be somewhere else. No flirting. No jokes. No direct eye contact maintained for more than a fraction of a second.
It shouldn’t have stung. This was what I wanted, right? Professional distance. Pretending it never happened.
But it did sting. More than I wanted to admit.
And it was annoying. He was the one who’d kissed me first. If he regretted it or was embarrassed by it, fine, but don’t start something if you’re not going to finish it. Don’t make me feel wanted and then act like I’m invisible the next day.
Not that I wanted him to finish anything. Not that I wanted him at all.
Liar, my brain whispered.
Maybe he’d been drunk.
No, I would have tasted the alcohol. My tongue had practically been down his throat. No toothpaste or mints could have disguised the alcohol with how thoroughly I had devoured him.
And dammit, just thinking about the almost-sex had my body humming and my panties damp. I couldn’t blame the dampness on the humidity. My body reacted to him despite me trying like hell not to.
I threw myself harder into the work. Checked and double-checked every safety measure. I reviewed the shot list even though I had it memorized. I did everything I could to stay busy and distracted from the thoughts that kept trying to rear their ugly heads.
“You okay?” Annika asked during a break, appearing at my elbow with bottles of water.
“Fine. Why?”
“You seem intense. More than usual.”
“Just doing my job.”
She nodded but it was the kind of nod that said she knew I was full of shit. “Mm-hmm. And that has nothing to do with the fact that you and Sebastian have been avoiding each other all morning like you’re playing some kind of elaborate game of tag?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” She handed me a water bottle. “For what it’s worth, he looks just as miserable as you do.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Right. And I’m not Swedish.” She patted my arm.
“Just talk to him, darling. Whatever happened last night, you two need to clear the air. This awkwardness isn’t good for anyone.
People will notice. And if they notice and don’t have a good reason to blame the awkwardness on, they’ll come up with their own. Trust me, you don’t want that.”
She walked away before I could protest that there was no awkwardness. How dare she suggest my mind was wallowing in the gutter filled with dirty thoughts starring Sebastian very naked?
The afternoon shoot went smoothly. Models in swimwear, perfect golden light, ocean backdrop. Elizabeth’s designs looked incredible. The photographers were getting amazing shots. Everything was working exactly as it should.
Except I couldn’t stop stealing glances at Sebastian.
He was in his element, directing the models, checking angles with the photographers, making small adjustments that improved every shot.
This was what he was good at. What he’d spent years doing.
And despite everyone’s doubts about whether he could handle running a full production, he was proving them all wrong.
He impressed me.
But it was more than impressive. It was attractive in a way that had nothing to do with his perfect face and everything to do with watching someone be genuinely passionate about their work.
I watched him approach one of the two male models. Sebastian was demonstrating a pose. And my God, he took off his shirt to show the man how to flex.
I was fucking melting. My panties were going to catch on fire at any second. I casually crossed my legs in an attempt to stop my traitorous body but that only made it worse.
I was not the only one admiring Sebastian.
Did he know how sexy he looked? Of course, he did.
He grabbed Clarissa, making her giggle. The pose was clearly practiced and seeing it as a work thing showed just how fake it was, but the way he looked into her eyes with his arm loose around her waist and his biceps subtly flexed certainly looked real.
That’s why he was so damn good at his job.
And seduction.
He’d done that to me last night.
And even suspecting part of his little seduction was just about messing with me, it didn’t stop me from wondering what might have happened if Annika hadn’t interrupted.
“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m in trouble.”
“Did you say something?” one of the lighting guys asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
He gave me a weird look but moved on, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts.
Elizabeth clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with sudden inspiration. “Sebastian! I want all three of you in a shot together.”
“What?” Sebastian looked up from where he’d been directing Clarissa.
“All three of you. The shorts look incredible on you—why waste it?”
Sebastian grinned. “I’ll give you a few freebies because you’re family.”
“You’re already wearing the shorts and you know how to work a camera better than anyone here,” Elizabeth said.
“Just a few shots. We’re burning daylight.”
Elizabeth squealed and clapped again, already gesturing to the photographers to adjust their setup. I should have looked away. I should have found something else to focus on.
But I didn’t look away.
I couldn’t.
I completely forgot how to breathe when he gave a smoldering look at the camera. I was just behind the screen that showed the shots and wow. Just wow. That man’s body should be illegal.
Photos didn’t do him justice. I’d seen plenty of his modeling work. I thought I knew what Sebastian Blackwell looked like.
I was so wrong.
In person, in the flesh—literally—he was devastating.
His body was a work of art. Broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. Defined chest and abs that looked carved from marble.
Arms that were muscular without being bulky.
It was all about careful maintenance rather than excessive gym time.
His skin had that perfect golden tan that made him look like he was born on a beach somewhere.
And those shorts. They hung low on his hips, showing off the V-cut of muscle that disappeared beneath the waistband.
His Adonis belt. That’s what it’s called.
Further evidence he truly was descended from some Greek lineage.
The shorts fit him perfectly—not too tight, not too loose, just enough to make you wonder what was underneath.
I was staring. I knew I was staring. I couldn’t stop staring.
I quickly wiped my mouth because I was certain I was drooling.
Trouble was not the right word for the deep doo-doo I was in with that man.