Page 47 of Secret Crush

Chapter Eighteen

In the kitchen, John set the table for breakfast in his designer jeans and short sleeve button up white shirt. She stood and watched him as he added coffee to a tray. Why would he take such good care of her but then interfere with her mother all at the same time? She lifted her chin. He added fruit to the tray as she walked in. With her hand on her hip, and no smile on her face, she gazed at him. "Why didn't we sleep together last night, John?"

He fixed the silverware. "You deserve better."

She came closer and placed her hand on his. His eyes met hers "How?" she asked. "Who would be better?"

Alice had to know how he felt. She deserved someone strong and capable of falling in love with her and wanting to spend the rest of his life next to her. Then he said, "I just quit my day job and I am about to start from zero."

Her gaze narrowed. "Would that bother you?"

He shrugged.

She knew Mitch Morgan had never once said a kind word to John, training Peter to be his replacement, but he hadn't cut out John either. Why would John expect him to change after death?

"I wouldn't expect anything less from dear old Dad."

She fiddled with the gold pendant Vicki gave her. Then she picked up some toast and sat. "What does that have to do with me and you and last night?"

"Everything." He stood as tall and still as one of the orange trees on the farm. "If there is to be a future, then we should know our finances."

Her mind whirled. Money was not a reason to say no to sex. "I don't care about that."

"I was cut off in all things except a bank account that was always supplied. I've never been poor a day in my life."

"What happened to the money, then, if you didn't touch it?"

"My rebellious side kicked in and I set up an investment portfolio. The millions grew much higher as my way of showing him that if he kept sending it to me, then I'd not touch a dime. I never told him though."

"So even if you get nothing, you're far from poor?"

"Let's not talk about the billion."

Wrong answer. He clearly didn't wish to clarify his vision of a future, though billion meant he could afford whatever happened to him. She picked up her toast and walked toward the garage to get in the car. "Is it empty now?"

His booted steps sounded behind her. "Absolutely not. The interest alone keeps building the stockpile."

She squared her shoulders and turned around to glare at him. Then she saw how he slumped, and her heart softened. Today he had enough on his shoulders without her adding to it. "Then it doesn't matter what is in the will."

"It matters to me."

She almost ripped open the car door and listened to the exterior house door slam as John closed and locked it before getting into the driver's seat. "Why?"

He started the car, but his body was stiff. He swallowed, refused to look at her, and backed out of the garage to the driveway. "Today we go to my brother's house. It used to be mine, too."

The will reading might be a reason for the no last night—if it weighed on his mind. She uncurled her fists, realizing she was tense, and tried to relax. She stared out the window and reminded herself that she was not Cinderella. She had her own issues to deal with, like finding a new buyer for her farm goods, and calling her brother to talk about mom.

He turned onto the highway toward Star Island. "The home where you grew up has already transformed in your mind."

His grip on the car wheel tightened. They were heading to Peter's house unusually fast for Miami, but they'd missed rush hour. "Yeah. I wouldn't call the place a home. Most days it felt like a prison."

"Most people's prisons aren't nearly so nice, and Vicki is there now. There is a reason to be happy." Alice had so many questions for her old best friend, but John's hardness right now took up all of her emotional room. She tugged her dress to her knees. "You haven't even talked to Peter yet today, and you already have that guard up. If you walk in this way, you're liable to snap."

He turned off the highway. They were close to the mansion now. Silence filled the air until he parked in front of the house that looked the same. John said, "I don't trust him."

Happy times. She had to help him stay positive. "Okay. Then who cares what you get in the will, then? Peter is the only one left."

He removed his sunglasses and tossed them on the dashboard, turning to her with his blue eyes that sparkled with righteousness. "I don't care."

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