The Sinclair mansion stretched out behind us as Sebastian walked me to my car. The garden path was immaculately maintained, lined with carefully shaped topiaries and seasonal blooms. My session had gone longer than expected, and the golden afternoon light cast long shadows across the manicured grounds.
I kept a professional distance from Sebastian, still mortified by my awkward measurement mishap. The memory of my hand accidentally pressing against his abdomen made heat rise to my cheeks all over again. My fingers tightened around my portfolio as we walked in silence.
"I appreciate your time today, Mr. Sinclair," I said, trying to sound composed. "I'll have the preliminary designs ready for your mother's review soon."
"Sebastian," he corrected, his deep voice soft but firm. "Remember?"
I nodded quickly, uncomfortable with the familiarity but unwilling to argue with a client of his stature. "Sebastian, then."
