He only leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “What kind of story do you want to go with?”

“Love at first sight?” She offered. “Stars aligning? Birds singing? A chorus of angels overhead at the glimpse of you?”

His mouth quirked in a half smile and he shook his head. “You clearly want to have everyone picturing me as a way more romantic man than I am.”

“You’re not romantic? I’m gasping in shock here.”

“Oh, I’m romantic enough, but only with the right incentive.” He wiggled his eyebrows and then leaned back in his chair, gaze thoughtful. “We could tell her you have a magic vagina.”

“A what?”

“Yep. Magic vagina. Or one like a Venus flytrap. My dick went inside and never came back out.”

She batted him on the arm. “Yeah, right. I’m trying to think of believable things. I need something to tell her. She’s one of my best friends.” She thought for a moment, and then looked over at him. “What if we position me as a gold digger?”

Sebastian gave her a sleepy but skeptical look that made her wonder how long he’d been awake last night while she’d been in the midst of her panic attack. A vague memory flashed, of rain and his hands stroking over her damp shoulders, her hair, him soothing her with wordless noises. He was a good guy, she realized with a twinge of guilt. He deserved better than her. She was all fucked up.

“We need a story,” Chelsea prompted again. She needed a distraction, too.

“You could tell her that from the moment I saw you, I decided I had to have you,” Sebastian said in a soft voice.

For some reason, that made Chelsea’s pulse flutter. She pulled away from him in her chair, pretending to look out the window. “I’ll think of something.”

“Well, let me know what you decide.” When she looked over, he had put down his notepad and held up his phone. “Hunter’s texting me, too. My guess is that Gretchen put him up to it.”

She paused, thinking, then began to type again.

Chelsea: It was just sort of a thing. He looked at me and I knew. And he says he felt the same way. So we decided not to waste any time.

Gretchen: Omg. I can’t decide if that’s harebrained or incredible. Sebastian never struck me as the romantic type.

Chelsea: Really, how did he strike you?

Gretchen: Will you kill me if I say ‘aimless’?

She glanced over at the man idly texting next to her.

Chelsea: No, but now I’m intrigued. Why aimless?

Gretchen: I’ve only met him a few times, mind you. But he just sits on family money and like . . . doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t have a business of his own. Doesn’t run the family business. He’s just rich. He and Hunter work out together but I don’t know what he does with his time other than avoid his crazy family.

Chelsea: I’m sure he has a plan. :) I gotta go anyhow. Lunch tomorrow?

Gretchen: Girl, yes. Now go kiss your new husband for me and I’m gonna go gossip at Hunter. And read more tabloids about you, but mostly gossip at Hunter. XO

Chelsea: XO

Chelsea looked over at Sebastian speculatively again. Aimless, huh? She didn’t think Gretchen meant it in a cruel way. Gretchen was blunt and sometimes thoughtless with her words, but was never cruel. And how could anyone be mad at Sebastian? He was gorgeous, polite, funny, and utterly charming. Heck, she was immune to men and still found herself getting girlishly excited whenever he gave her one of those sleepy smiles.

It seemed they both had things to work on.

He looked over at her and gave her a wary glance. “You’re staring.”

She held up her phone and changed the conversation. “I just told Gretchen that it was an immediate attraction sort of thing and we acted on it.”

Sebastian gave her a small nod. “I can work with that. And anyone who sees you knows that it’s not off the mark.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if this wasn’t platonic, I’d be all over you like peanut butter on jelly.”

“Peanut butter on . . . jelly?”

“Is that a bad one? How about sand on a beach.”

“Sand on a beach?”

“Terrible simile, I know. I’m really bad at them.” He grimaced. “You won’t hold it against me, will you?”

“Hold it against you like . . .” she teased.

“Like . . . an alien face hugger in those horror movies?” He gave her a hopeful look.

“You’re right. You are terrible at this.”

“Told you.”

Chapter Eleven

When they got off the plane, Sebastian pulled Chelsea close to him and whispered in her ear. “Just try to act casual, okay? Nothing sells hotter than a picture of someone totally upset.”

“Okay,” she said, but her fingers tightened on his arm.

“And I want to apologize in advance.”

“For what?”

“For the hell airports are about to become.” He grimaced. “Seriously. I’ll give you hazard pay for this.”

She laughed and shook her head. Surely he was exaggerating? “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “You want sunglasses?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Your call.” His arm went around her waist and he pulled her closer to him as they walked across the tarmac.

When they got into the airport proper, it seemed busy but not ridiculous. As she looked over at Sebastian, she noticed he put on a pair of sunglasses and ducked his head. His arm was tight around her waist, urging her forward.

“There they are,” someone cried out.

Suddenly, a mob rushed forward, and cameras began to flash in their faces. Chelsea shielded her eyes, squinting, and stumbled forward. Sebastian was there to catch her, and put an arm up.

“Hey, now, give us some room,” he snarled at the press of photographers that surrounded them. “Back the fuck up.”

“Sebastian, over here,” they cried. “Chelsea, over here!”

Lights blinded her, flashing over and over again. The voices were a cacophony ringing in her ears, and the mob followed them as they walked forward, heading for the parking lot where Sebastian’s limo would be waiting for them. She clung to Sebastian’s arm, startled and more than a little alarmed at the crowd that had assembled.

“Give us a kiss,” someone shouted.

“Get out of the way,” Sebastian told them, pushing an arm in front of them and urging Chelsea forward.

“Kiss first!” they shouted back.

It was so ridiculous that Chelsea started to giggle. She couldn’t help it. The thought of a mob descending because they wanted pictures of her kissing Sebastian in an airport? Could there be an un-sexier place? She kept laughing even as Sebastian turned and frowned at her.

“One kiss,” someone shouted.

“Will you guys leave if we kiss?” She called back.

“Yes!” came the chorus. Cameras lifted, and for a moment, the flashes stopped.

So Chelsea planted her feet, amused, and looked over at Sebastian. “Well?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

She pulled him closer and whispered. “They’re going to get pictures anyhow, right? Might as well work with them.”

He studied her. “I don’t know if you’re a mad genius or just mad.”

“Little bit of both, actually. Now, pucker up.” She grabbed his collar, gave a pointed look at the photographers, and planted a big one on his mouth.

A hundred cameras seemed to snap at once.

And it was a shame, she thought a moment later as she pulled away, that she couldn’t feel anything. Because Sebastian had a wonderfully kissable mouth, and she liked the flare in his pale green eyes when she touched him.

Too bad she was all broken.

She looked over at the paparazzi. “You got your kiss. Leave us alone now.”

“Should we do one more just to make sure?” Sebastian teased, his voice a whisper in her ear.