Page 79 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

“That’s a diamond?” She gasped. Georgia had believed the stone to be a bright citrine, her birthstone. “It’shuge.”

Rainer nudged her. “Forget the diamond, look at the band.”

Taking it from his hand, Georgia sat up, his finger tracing the winglike design imprinted into the metal—which was likely platinum and not silver or white gold like she thought. Then it came to her. She had seen this design many times.

“Oh myGod. It’s the 1936 Chrysler logo!”

Squealing, Georgia threw herself at Rainer, pressing ecstatic kisses all over his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, climbing on top of him to kiss him some more.

Chuckling, Rainer wrapped his arms around her. “Give me five more minutes to recover and you can thank me properly.”

Rolling her over so he was back on top, he took the ring and slipped it on her finger. “From here on out, it’s you and me. Whatever happens next, or at any time in the future, we do together.”

Georgia pulled his head down, kissing him with open-mouthed possession. “Together,” she promised.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT

Georgia rolled the new creeper up and down over the concrete under her with her legs like a child. But she couldn’t help it—it was so damn comfortable.

The creepers at Elite, the wheeled platforms they lay on while working under cars, had been hard plastic molded for larger male bodies. An hour into using them and her lower back would be killing her because her tush was too round for her body to lie flat.

But this creeper was top of the line. The padding cradled her body—and tush—so well she suspected Rainer had the thing custom made. How he’d gotten her butt print was a mystery for the ages.

A little over six weeks had passed since Rainer proposed. They had spent most of that in the penthouse while Powell and company continued their investigation. But despite their diligent efforts, nothing new had been discovered.

They hadn’t been able to track down Mack’s new identity. Georgia had been relieved by that at first, torn by her lingering loyalty to him, but the more time passed, the less sympathy she had for her former foster brother.

Whatever guilt she’d had for rejecting him was gone. Mack hadn’t just hurt her when he’d faked his death—he had destroyed Ephraim.

Her father had suffered enough. The first blow had been losing the love of his life. Then he’d been betrayed by his oldest friend, losing his business and his house. These things were more than enough.

But the blow inflicted by Mack? Georgia would never forgive him for that. Ephraim was a shell of his former self, but he was trying to function for her sake.

Without Rainer, Georgia would have spiraled under the combined impact of those hits.

“Focus on our future,” he told her a week ago when he’d found her dejected and morose after unpacking her boxes, an old family photo in her hand.

He wiped her tears, before surprising her by whipping out a length of black satin to blindfold her.

“Are we adding blindfolds to the ropes?” she asked, expecting to be led to the bedroom. But Rainer had other plans.

He guided her to the elevator, whisking her down the recently cleared storage area, which he had converted into a temporary workspace for her.

The creeper had been wrapped in a big bow. There had also been rolling tool cabinets, fully stocked, sturdy metals tables, an engine pulley system, and the car lift she’d earmarked for her garage.

He’d even created a break area with a full-size fridge, coffee table, and not one but two brand-new, stain-resistant couches set in one corner of the fenced-off space.

Georgia had been stunned by his generosity, accepting the gift of the space in the spirit they had been given, with one exception.

“New couches?” she asked, pulling away after hugging him and pressing a thousand kisses to his face.

“For me and Ephraim and whoever else wants to hang out and watch you work,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little boy.

“Don’t you mean for the security guys that you’ll have babysitting me down here?” she asked, one corner of her mouth turned up.

“Them, too,” he added, pulling her down to straddle him on the couch. “Not planning on fighting me on that?”

Georgia rested her head on his shoulder. “Nah. I just hope they won’t be bored.”

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