Chapter Twelve
Jesse
I shut and locked the apartment door, then leaned back against it, heart thudding.
Holy crap. Holy shit.
What. Was. That?
My head thumped against the wood with a dull thud, as if impact could somehow knock the memory out of me. No luck. That kiss was branded into my brain—and several other places that were now very awake and very needy.
Now I understood the reason behind the revolving door of women. Sebastian Wright was a walking, talking, maddeningly sexy hazard. He was dynamite. Searing hot.
He’d nearly given me an orgasm with just a kiss. If we ever had sex, I’d probably have a stroke or a heart attack. But my God, I would die happy.
I licked my lips, tasting him. Liquid heat throbbed in places where my pulse didn’t usually throb. That kiss had been exquisite, like artwork. I’d never had such a perfect kiss in my entire life.
Some guys kissed too wet, like they were trying to do CPR.
Others were hesitant, as though your mouth was going to file a complaint.
And then there were the over-eager ones, who mistook enthusiasm for rhythm.
Sebastian kissed like we’d done this in a hundred lifetimes and finally found our way back.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a collision of timing, of chemistry. Our mouths found the perfect rhythm the second they touched.
I closed my eyes and let the memory crash over me. My fingers curled into the wood behind me, nails digging in, wishing it was his skin. I didn’t know what the hell my heart was doing—somewhere between panic and freefall—but my body was screaming his name in full surround sound.
My mind wandered to Savanna’s bag of silicone saviors. I snorted. The toy that could replace Sebastian Wright hadn’t been invented yet. And if it had, it would probably be illegal in several states.
With a groan, I pushed off the door and dragged myself to the bathroom.
Cold water was the only answer. I twisted the knob and let the icy stream blast from the shower head.
I had a big meeting tomorrow with Ben McFarlane, and if I wasn’t sharp, I could lose everything.
There was a lot at stake here, and I couldn’t afford a distraction.
Sebastian was a distraction. He was sexy, there was no doubt about that.
Maybe there was more to him than a hot body.
Maybe something worth exploring one day. But not tonight.
I moaned as I peeled off my clothes, everything still too hot and too aware of where his hands had almost gone. Then I stepped under the freezing spray and let the cold do its job—numbing the fire he’d lit with just one perfect, devastating kiss.
* * *
The next morning, getting ready took longer than usual. I lingered over my makeup, trying out two different eyeliners before finally settling on the one that made my eyes look less sleep-deprived. Today was huge. I needed to look like someone worth betting on.
I pulled out one of Ange’s signature combos—black jeans and crisp white button-up. I paired it with the necklace Nikki had given me for my birthday last year—three black cords that held a heavy metal pendant carved with an Aztec symbol. I had no idea what it meant, but it looked classy.
The morning air was still cool as I headed toward Battery Park, my canvas bag slung over one shoulder.
Tucked inside was one of my best portfolios—carefully curated, lovingly printed on matte archival paper.
There were glossy shots of my newer sculptures, a few crowd-pleasers from the last online event, and even a couple of gems from my university days—the post-Alex era.
One photo showed a clay vase brushed with a golden shimmer, another captured a graffiti-style piece inspired by Audrey Hepburn’s portrait, reimagined with a modern edge and a riot of color.
I’d lived in New York my entire life, yet this would be my first time aboard the Staten Island Ferry.
As the orange ship made its way across the harbor, I gazed out at the stunning views of the Manhattan skyline and the Statue of Liberty.
I couldn’t help the flutter of excitement in my chest at the possibility of getting this job.
When I arrived at the Staten Island Terminal, I headed to the address Ben had given me. It was a sprawling, two-story brick-and-stone house set back from the street, surrounded by lush greenery. I gasped. If I did get this job, I was looking at months of work. I couldn’t wait!
I rang the doorbell. Within a minute, a man greeted me with a smile.
“Ms. Nielsen, glad you could make it.” His teeth were a blinding white, and he looked just like Ken—tall, blond, blue-eyed, square-jawed. Did he have a girlfriend named Barbie?
I extended my hand. “Please call me Jesse. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. Come in.”
I took in the high ceilings and spacious layout. The rooms flowed into one another. The house was a luxurious space with intricate moldings and ornate details adorning the doors and windowsills. The hardwood floors gleamed. The walls, pristine and unadorned, were begging for an artist’s touch.
A grand staircase wound its way up to the second floor, and a marble fireplace dominated one wall. Sunlight poured through large windows that framed the surrounding greenery.
Ben led me through each room, pointing out the spaces where he wanted me to add my art.
I could see the potential in each room, and my mind was already racing with ideas.
By the time we reached the last room, I was buzzing with excitement, eager to get started on bringing my—and Ben’s—vision to life.
“Well, what do you think?” He stopped and turned to face me. “Can you turn this place into an art gallery?”
I gazed around, nodding slowly. “I believe I can.” I took out my portfolio. “Is there someplace where we can sit? I’d like to show you some samples and discuss ideas.”
He looked embarrassed. “Um, I’m afraid I don’t have any furniture.”
I rescued him, heading toward the staircase. “This will do just fine.” I plopped down and waited for him to join me, amused when he hesitated. He wore a white summer shirt, light beige chinos, and shoes that looked like they had just come off a designer’s shelf.
He sat gingerly next to me. “I’m used to more civilized accommodations, but this will do.” He smiled sheepishly.
I opened my folder and started telling him about my ideas for his house. He was decently knowledgeable when it came to art. That would make my job easier.
He listened carefully to my ideas, asking pertinent questions from time to time. His blue eyes focused on me, as though he didn’t want to miss a word. That was a good sign. He might be generous with his money, but he wasn’t careless.
“So, that’s the big picture.” I took a deep breath, wishing I had a bottle of water. “What do you think?”
He rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “I like it. The only thing I’m not crazy about is the color brown. I’m not saying you can’t use it, just go easy on it. Other than that, I don’t want to micromanage. I love your work and your sense of style. You know what you’re doing.”
My smile was more confident than my brain. “Thank you. Hey, anything can be corrected. If you don’t like the walls, I’ll repaint them. If you don’t like a painting, I can always resell it.”
“I’m sure I’ll like everything.”
“I hope so. What deadline do you have in mind?”
“There is no deadline. I’m in no hurry, Jesse. I heard that you shouldn’t rush genius.” The corners of his eyes crinkled good-humoredly.
It felt as though a stone had lifted off my chest. Time had been a big issue for me, and it was one of the reasons why I’d been nervous, wondering if there would be an unrealistic deadline to meet.
I exhaled heavily. “Well, that’s a relief, and it’s very generous of you. The deadline part, I mean. I’m not a genius in any way.”
He shifted his body toward me, looking into my eyes. “I disagree. Never underestimate yourself, Jesse. Your work is amazing.”
I gazed at him, believing each and every word. If a guy like that, rich and an art connoisseur, called me a genius, I must be doing something right.
I smiled, biting my lip. Those blue eyes were slightly intimidating.
“Thank you. There’s one subject left to discuss.”
“The price.” His tone never changed. “Of course. How much do you normally charge for a job like this?”
I wasn’t stupid enough to say I’d never done a job like this.
Instead, I glanced around, measuring the space in my mind, making a mental list of supplies, calculating the work hours and effort required.
I’d spent half the night thinking about how much I should charge.
Quoting too low would haunt me. Too high, and I risked walking away empty-handed.
I named my price, as steady as I could.
He didn’t blink. “I believe that’s more than fair. I’ll add ten percent to that quote. I believe in paying people properly. So, do we have a deal?” He extended his right hand.
“It’s a deal.” I shook his hand, keeping my excitement inside my head.
“Wonderful. I’ll have a contract drawn this afternoon. When can you start?”
“Not for another two weeks. I’ve got an exhibit at the Narcissus Gallery I need to prep for.”
His smile widened. “An artist and an entrepreneur. If I’m in town, I’ll be there.”
“Consider yourself invited. Now, I won’t keep you any longer.” I got to my feet and, without thinking, extended a hand to help him up.
He glanced at my hand, then clasped it gently, but without using it as leverage. He continued to hold it in his dry, smooth palm, making me aware of my callused skin.
“I’m delighted you accepted my offer, Jesse.”
“Me too. If you don’t make it to the art show, I’ll see you the day after.”
“I look forward to it.” He walked me to the door and opened it for me. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Sure. Goodbye.”
I managed to keep my poker face as I walked to the ferry terminal.
During the ride back, I felt like Jack in the iconic Titanic scene, when he shouts ‘I’m the king of the world’ from aboard the greatest ship of its time.
Never mind that the ship had sunk—I wasn’t going to.
Benjamin McFarlane the Third’s money was going to pay off a considerable chunk of my student loans.
If he recommended me to some of his friends, I might be debt-free within a couple of years.
My only concern was the hardware store. I needed to hire someone ASAP.
I stopped at The Silver Spoon Diner for lunch.
I loved the interior, with its vintage chrome and Formica countertops.
The menu consisted of classic American fare like juicy burgers, crispy French fries, and thick milkshakes.
I sat at the counter, gazing longingly at the freshly baked pies.
Could Sebastian bake pies like that? He’d said he could make anything.
Trying to shake him from my mind, I ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake. I devoured the perfectly seasoned, juicy patty and the salty, crispy fries. I desperately needed the sugar fix from the milkshake, its creamy texture and rich flavor sending me into a state of bliss.
I was going to have to hit the gym after work to keep the carbs and sugar from clogging my arteries. Eventually, I paid my bill and stepped outside once more.
I hailed a cab to the hardware store. I still couldn’t believe my luck.
I was confident I would do a good job for Ben, but until then I had to focus on my art exhibit.
The more paintings I had, the more money I would make—hopefully.
And in order to get that work done, I needed someone to take care of the store.
At the store, I leaned back in my chair, browsing the list of contacts on my phone. Most of the people I knew in the business had their own staff to manage. Did Mr. Yamaguchi know anything about hardware supplies? Would he be interested in a part-time job? Not likely.
Blowing out a breath, I put up an ad on a popular job market website. I worded it in the most appealing way that I could think of, and said a quick prayer that I’d find an acceptable candidate within a week.
The day was packed with customers. By six o’clock, I was exhausted and drenched in sweat. My skinny jeans felt too tight. I couldn’t wait to get home, get naked, and kick off my shoes.
I wasn’t in the mood to be squashed on the subway, so I called my regular Uber. My stomach growled as I thought about dinner. I still had a couple slices of pizza from last night, but they didn’t appeal.
I dragged myself up the outside steps of my building. As I dug my keys out of my bag, I heard footsteps behind me. I looked over my shoulder, ready to greet one of the neighbors, but my smile froze.
It was Sebastian. He wore jeans and a dark-blue shirt, and carried a large grocery bag. Salad greens protruded from it.
I stopped breathing. I’d never been in a situation like this before, so I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act. Casually, as though nothing had happened between us? Maybe I was making too much out of one kiss, and he’d already forgotten it.
No. The way he gazed at me as he climbed the last step suggested he hadn’t. His eyes were penetrating, lingering over my lips.
He flashed his dimples in a smile. “Hey. Back from work?”
“Yeah.” I fished more frantically for my keys in the bottomless abyss of my bag. “You?”
“Same. I stopped for groceries. I’m in the mood for some grilled chicken with a salad on the side.”
I muttered noncommittally, still searching for my damn keys.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Want to join me for dinner?”