Deep Autumn Heat (30 page)

Just after she crossed the long bridge over New London Harbor, a train whistle sounded long and low in the early evening air, echoing over the river. The sound seemed to hang in the air as if it were frozen. Lexie looked out at the barren countryside, the brown fields, and the bare trees scraping the late autumn sky.

Before she knew it, the icy countryside had given way to suburbs, and the suburbs had given way to boroughs, and the boroughs had given way to Manhattan.

New York City.

She was finally here. She’d been in New York once before, back when she’d first moved to the East Coast. Bedecked in neon, glittering in the dimming light, bustling and moving, always moving. It was best at this time of day, when working hours were over and the city’s vibrant night life was about to bloom.

Despite all the attractions the city had to offer, despite the architecture, the museums, the theater, and the nightlife, there was just one thing Lexie wanted to see.

Sebastian Grayson’s pride and joy. Helena.

Lexie drove through the narrow, pulsing streets of TriBeCa, and was shocked to find parking on one of the side streets near the restaurant. She got out of her car and stretched, happy to be finished with the long drive.

Unsurprisingly, she was nervous. Steeling herself against her rising anxiety, she slowed her breath and calmed herself as best she could. She straightened her blouse, smoothed down her skirt, and threw on the jacket she’d tossed in the backseat while she was driving. Then she locked the doors and headed for Helena’s entrance.

It was early by New York City standards—just after seven—but the restaurant was completely packed. The décor was timeless, a rich, warm gold from the carpets to the chandeliers, with shaded blue accents throughout. A dark blue banquette sat against a wall with a huge gilded mirror hanging from it. The gold chairs sported deep blue cushions. The linens were all done in cream, and the servers’ uniforms matched.

It was gorgeous; rich without looking opulent, and sensual without looking over the top.

“May I help you?” a satiny voice asked.

Lexie turned to look up at the hostess, a lovely young woman in her early twenties who had a stunning figure and an even more stunning face. She was smiling pleasantly at Lexie.

“Yes,” Lexie said. “I’m Lexie, and I’m here to see Seb.”

The hostess’s smile dimmed, and she gave Lexie a quick up and down. “Chef Grayson is in the kitchen right now and he doesn’t like to be disturbed during dinner hours.”

“I’m sure he’ll want to see me,” Lexie insisted. “He invited me to come.”

“Why don’t you wait by the bar and I’ll see if he’s available.”

“I’m happy to wait right here,” Lexie said, eliciting another frown from the hostess. She couldn’t understand why. Perhaps asking to see Seb was an unusual request?

A minute passed before the lovely girl returned. “Chef Grayson would like me to escort
you to the kitchen,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.

Lexie followed her as she wound her way through the dining room. People were having an incredible time, laughing, drinking, and eating. Crossing over into the kitchen, it was a different world.

The atmosphere was intense. Servers bustled around, dodging busboys and steering clear of the line chefs. Lexie immediately picked out Sebastian’s sous chef, a tall, good-looking blond, who was plating intently and giving curt orders to his underlings. But where was Sebastian?

Then the man himself emerged from his office in his chef’s whites, looking strong, powerful, and utterly in control. From under his dark swath of hair, Sebastian’s eyes met hers across the crowded room. All the noise, all the intensity fell away, and he was looking at her like she was the only person in the universe.

Within seconds he was crossing the room to join her, ignoring the cries, shouts, and questions lobbed his way. Then he was in front of her, gripping her arms, staring intently into her eyes. He must have seen what he was looking for because without warning, he kissed her.

Lexie gasped with pleasure and he swallowed the sound with his mouth. When she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, he groaned and deepened the kiss. Licks of fire touched her everywhere he did, and heat emanated from her entire body.

A huge crash from across the kitchen made Lexie start, and she pulled away from Sebastian to see what had caused the deafening noise. Seb’s sous chef had dropped two enormous copper stock pots on the floor. From the sardonic look on his face, it was obvious that he’d done it deliberately.

Sebastian released Lexie and turned to scowl at him.

“Jorge—” Sebastian said in warning.

“Chef, we need you,” Jorge said in a steely voice.

The two men stared each other down for a few long moments. The kitchen, which had been teeming with noise a few moments ago, was dead quiet except for a dripping faucet. Sebastian didn’t blink, but he spoke in a clipped voice.

“Fine.” He turned to Lexie and his gaze softened slightly. Then he pulled her through the kitchen and out the back door.

Lexie glanced around at the small alleyway. Seb’s motorcycle was parked against the brick wall of the building near two large Dumpsters. He pulled out some keys from his pocket and placed them in her palm. “Wait for me at my apartment. I’ll be done in a few hours,” he said softly.

“I want to watch you work,” Lexie said.

Sebastian ran his hand through his thick hair. “You can’t,” he said bluntly. “It’ll be too distracting for me to have you in there.”

“But Sebastian—” Lexie began to protest, reaching her arms out to him.

“No,” he said quickly, stepping away from her. “You touch me, it’s all over. Leave. That’s an order,” he said harshly, wiping his hand across his mouth.

“Sebastian,” she said again, a soft entreaty.

He looked at her greedily. “Lexie, all I want to do right now is to press you against the side of the building and take you, but I can’t do that because I have a dinner service to prepare. So please get out of here before I do something stupid,” he implored.

Lexie swallowed. She got it. “Where’s your apartment?”

“110 Sullivan Street. Seventh floor. Tell the doorman I sent you and he’ll let you up.”

“When will you be there?”

“Sometime after eleven. Now go, before I lose what’s left of my control.”

Lexie was almost tempted to stay, to see what Sebastian was capable of doing. But she caught the dark, warning look in his eye. So she left him brooding in the shadowy alley, a dangerous man with her in his sights.

Instead of heading straight to Sebastian’s apartment, Lexie spent the next few hours walking around the cobblestoned streets of TriBeCa. She needed to catch her breath after Seb’s overwhelming reception, and walking was the perfect way to do it. Though the vibrant, sexy vibe of the area didn’t remind her of Star Harbor, the cobblestone-paved streets did.

Lexie wandered, merging with the crowds when she wanted to be a part of them, walking alone when she didn’t. It was easy to be alone here. Nameless, faceless in the dark. But it was just as easy to belong. To find a place, a group, a restaurant, where you were a part of something.

The sheer number of people walking around the city amazed her. Even Berkeley was never like this. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and nearly fell back in shock. Almost three hours had passed since she’d left Helena. At this time of night, most of the people she knew would be at home, having finished their dinners, and would be ready to turn in to bed.

As if on cue, Lexie’s stomach let out a loud rumble. She slipped inside a small Italian place she’d seen on the previous block, chose a seat at the bar, and ordered the house specialty, homemade pumpkin sage ravioli with Parmesan cheese. The dish was served fast and hot, and Lexie took a big bite, letting the smooth pasta slide down her throat.

It was such a pleasure to have someone do the cooking for her. She felt pampered, nurtured, safely ensconced in the arms of the most exciting city in the world.

After dinner, Lexie leisurely strolled through the city streets until it was time to head to Sebastian’s. She’d tried not to think about him since leaving Helena, about what she knew would happen when they were alone together. But now that the time was almost upon her, her anticipation grew.

She walked to Sullivan Street deliberately, not taking the time to wind through side streets or stop at store windows. The sky was dark with clouds and the unmistakable feel of impending rain filled the atmosphere, the damp achiness that preceded a rain shower.

And then Lexie was at Seb’s building, talking to the doorman, who let her upstairs without comment. Another few moments, and she was at his apartment door.

And then she was inside.

Lexie wasn’t sure what she’d expected Sebastian’s apartment to look like—possibly a small, dark, cramped space with a Murphy bed and a nonexistent view. Instead, his apartment door opened up to a well-lit foyer. To her right was a hall table that was empty except for a set of keys and a tidy stack of mail. To her left stretched a long, white corridor, and in front of her was a set of double doors. She opened them and simply gaped at what she saw.

Sebastian had neglected to mention that his apartment was a penthouse loft.

Slowly, Lexie walked into a large, beautifully appointed room.

The main space, two stories high, had been designed around the framework of the building. In front of her and to her right, the walls were constructed of brick—obviously the original walls of the building—with huge glass windows that overlooked the street. Lexie looked up and back, where she saw a high lofted area that she guessed might be Seb’s office. A large kitchen was set off to the left, with a built-in brick oven and custom cabinetry, no doubt to hold all of Sebastian’s pots and pans.

A few large beams vaulted the ceiling and held up the loft. The décor of the room was minimalist, done in a clean style that was both modish and masculine. Although the room wasn’t showy, its size and feel spoke of money and power. Both of which Sebastian obviously had in abundance.

She hadn’t realized how high-end Helena was. And now that he had his own television show, well, surely he was in a far different league than she’d even imagined.

She left the room and turned right, down the corridor. It was dimly illuminated and flanked with framed black-and-white photographs of New York City.

There were several closed doors leading off the hallway, but she instinctively knew that the door at the very end—the one that was ajar—led to Sebastian’s bedroom. Steadily, she
walked toward it, her shoes clacking on the wood floor.

As soon as she pushed the door open, Lexie knew two things. One, she was right about this being Seb’s room. And two, she wasn’t alone.

Sebastian had his back to her and he was looking at the street below through yet another huge glass window. He’d changed out of his chef’s whites and was wearing his typical attire—black jeans and a tight black T-shirt that stretched over his taut chest.

Lexie dragged her eyes away from him and glanced around the room. The décor echoed that of the main space—brick walls, sparsely decorated, and very, very male. There was, however, one notable exception to the minimalism.

In the center of the room was the largest bed Lexie had ever seen. Unlike the Spartan look of the rest of Sebastian’s furniture, his bed was a sumptuous affair, complete with a large steel headboard, inviting-looking linens, a plethora of plump pillows, and an enormous coverlet.

Lexie shifted her weight and the floorboard creaked. Sebastian turned at the noise, his arms dropping to his sides. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Lexie was unsure of what to say, what to do. A mix of emotions rose to the surface—desire, anticipation, and, to Lexie’s immense surprise, love.

She loved him.

Before she could decide whether the thought elated her or terrified her, Sebastian was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her body.

“Sebastian—” she started to say.

“I’ve missed you, Spice,” he said between kisses. “You have no idea how much. But for now, let’s not say anything. Don’t talk. Don’t think. Just let me show you.”

Lexie was so emotionally keyed up from the past few weeks that she didn’t
want
to think anymore. Right now, not thinking and not talking sounded pretty good.

Slowly, she nodded her assent. She was rewarded with Sebastian’s slow, sexy smile, the one she knew to expect whenever he looked at her.

* * *

She’d said yes. Thank God.

He didn’t know what he would have done if she’d insisted on talking first. He needed to touch her, to feel her body pressed against his. To know that she was real, that she was here, and that she was his at last.

Gently, almost reverently, Sebastian laid her on the bed. She looked beautiful, her warm brown eyes half closed, her gaze an impossible mixture of innocence and provocation. Her wavy chestnut hair had come undone from the tiny clips she’d used, the humidity making it curl around her face. With a callused finger, he touched the silken strands, then stroked her cheek. She blushed, the pinkness suffusing her cheeks and ripening her lips.

He kissed her once, then twice, then a third time, before he was able to drag his gaze away from her face. And still she watched him, unmoving, the mere hint of a smile on her lovely lips.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, he stripped off her clothes, exposing her creamy flesh. Her blush had crept down her neck to her breasts, her white skin flushed. It was intoxicating, knowing that he was the cause.

Then he touched her. Everywhere.

He ran his hand down her face, her neck, skimming her breasts and the flare of her waist. He smoothed his palm over the gentle curve of her hip and all the way down her perfectly molded legs. When he reached her toes, he drew up her leg and kissed the sole of her foot. Then he worked his way back up her body, this time with his mouth.

By the time he reached her lips, she was visibly panting, her breasts rising and falling with her breath, her nipples hard little points, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the coverlet on his bed.