Page 42 of Secret Admirer
Perhaps that was his European upbringing. He had to understand that she meant every word she said, so she scooted up on her pillow and glanced down at his beautiful, sculpted body. “That attitude is why I like living in the United States.”
He sat up a little too as he countered, “Even Miami has a class structure. Your father doesn’t fix Teslas.”
Fair. Her father’s garage was in Hialeah, but people came from all over South Florida when there was real trouble. She ran her hands through her hair to finger-comb the cherry-red tips. “Actually, he does. Everyone who's received my father’s work tends to return, and everyone who wants quality trusts his opinion. I’m going to school because I can’t get the battery idea out of my head and I want to combine that with my automotive knowledge.”
“You should go to school to follow your passion.” He pulled his knees up. “In Italy, you and I would never work.”
This time her heart was silent, but her hair stood on end. It wasn’t good if he couldn’t see her as potential no matter where they lived. She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
He massaged her lower back and his fingers released her tension. “No one would have given us a chance to know each other. My father would have ensured you disappeared. My mother would have reminded me daily that she was related to the Medici family of old.”
There was some show about that name. She’d seen it as an option on her screen somewhere, not that she'd watched it. It had been on the same page as the Tudors, which had been about English royalty. “So your mom was a lady?”
He laughed. “Yes and no. The Medicis were bankers, but my branch intermarried well. Although there are no more titles in Italy, we were always well off.”
Banks. Like the Morgans. No wonder he had more money than anyone else alive. She’d seen the house he'd bought in a day. The yacht. “Interesting. So you come from two dynasties of bankers?”
He bobbed his head in confirmation. “It’s in my blood.”
If skill went via blood, she'd know how to fix cars without an internship, which wasn’t true. Her father had spent years of his life showing her how to rebuild an engine. “I don’t know my history, not like you. I am without a pedigree.”
He kissed her cheek. “You have an open heart, and faith in your fellow man.”
The sweetness inside him echoed in her heart. This was why she loved him. She couldn’t deny her feelings when she cupped his face. “It’s easy to love you.”
He didn’t pull away but he didn’t push forward either. Bart stayed absolutely still and said, “You scare me when you say that.”
Feelings didn't have to be scary. Rebecca became hyperaware of the moment--she didn’t want to ruin anything, so she relaxed and folded her hand in his. “Too soon?”
He squeezed her fingers and nodded. “We haven’t known each other long.”
Time didn’t matter. The heart just knew, at least hers did. She shrugged. “You know right away sometimes.”
His eyes deepened mysteriously, his breathing short. “Impulsive decisions can often be wrong.”
But status, time, and other barriers were just things to overcome. She kissed the side of his downturned mouth. “Love isn’t impulsive. It’s good to listen to your heart.”
He scooted closer and she held him. “I don’t know if I have a heart.”
Seriously? Maybe he didn’t trust himself, but he wasn’t the monster out to steal the happiness of children at Christmas--of course he loved--she'd seen him with his family, with Aurelia. She hugged him tight. “Don’t be silly.”
“No one’s ever accused me of that.” He leaned back to study her face, as if at a crossroads for a major decision.
Hopefully the result would be that he loved her back. How to break through the wall of ice surrounding his feelings? “Everyone has a heart, even you.”
He shook his head. “No, not everyone.”
“Yes. Even you,” she argued, but her pulse changed as she realized he referred to his evil father. She wasn’t sure how to fix the wrongs caused by Mitch Morgan.
He'd managed to rid her of the sheet so she had no physical shield. “Rebecca, you need to understand.”
Bart tugged her to him. His hardness pressed against her and something raw tingled inside her that ached for more pleasure. She threw her head back and laughed. “How are you ready already? Neither of us are eighteen.”
She faced him, and he kissed her fast. Steam rose in her cheeks and she let out a sigh. “Rebecca, I want you here. I want you to move into my new home with me and be able to sail away whenever we feel like it.”
Her heart stopped instantly, and her ears perked. Had she just heard he wanted her all the time? Adrenaline pumped in her veins. She looked down at the mattress. “But I have classes.”
He kissed her forehead like he'd solved all her problems. “You can do most of that online. We’ll have the internet, but I want you free to go wherever I want or need to be.”
