Page 8 of Secret Admirer
She stepped outside. The multitude of sleek, white yachts reminded her of the yearly boat parade in Fort Lauderdale for Christmas. She honestly didn’t know much about them and never had time to go to the beach. The drive to the ocean always turned her off because a half an hour in traffic seemed burdensome.
Her sandals clicked against the wooden dock as she walked to the closest boat slip in the marina. The breeze flipped her hem around her knees. A large ship rumbled as it turned off its engine.
From below the dock, something banged beneath her feet and she jumped back, against a wall of muscles--strong arms wrapped around her briefly and the smell of almonds and olive trees that had to be an expensive cologne. A deep, accented voice said, “Watch out,cara.”
She turned around and froze. It was Mr. Perfect. Right here in the flesh. Wearing a navy blue polo and white pants that seemed designed for his muscular body. He was much hotter than his picture. The gleam in his eyes made her believe he’d know exactly what to do in bed and remember his lady love’s name. Rebecca stepped out of his arms and offered to shake his hand. “It’s you.”
He tilted his head toward her. “Who am I?”
Who? Was he serious? Mr. Perfect was here, which meant dreams really might come true. Anything was possible. She held his gaze. “You’re Prince Charming.”
He patted her on her back and walked past her while he said, “Talk like that is adorable, but I have to go.”
She sighed and smiled as she watched him, then shook herself.No. No! No. He had to come back.
He strode down the dock to the door of the sales office with hair slightly longer than the picture she’d found online. If she didn’t hurry, she’d lose her chance. She raced after him, pulse speeding as she followed him.
The younger salesman asked as she jolted inside, “You’re done, miss?”
“Yes.” She scanned the interior but her prince had gone. "Thank you," she called over her shoulder as she exited.
Once outside in the parking lot, she saw that the Maserati was already driving toward the street.
Without thinking of anything but holding onto a dream she flew to the driver’s seat of her dependable Toyota that was in top shape and hoped she’d catch him before he sped out of sight.
She pressed on the gas, seeing his blinker before he turned onto the highway.
If she had a chance, she’d tell him her name and ask Bart Morgan on a date. Fate had somehow brought them together and if she didn’t listen or take this risk, she’d regret it. She deserved to be treated like a lady and he might be the perfect gentleman.
As he headed off the highway and into Coral Gables, a voice in her head whispered she was being stupid and slightly reckless. If she didn't follow through, she would never have this opportunity again. Her new, improved outlook on life wouldn't allow regrets.
His Maserati was the electric version and the company stated it wanted to be better for the environment while still being luxurious and a beautiful vehicle.
His car pulled into the Biltmore Hotel and she noticed the tires.
Was he staying here? Or meeting someone... Hopefully not that--it would be awkward. She pulled into the valet right after him.
She handed her keys to a valet and jumped out, and Mr. Perfect nodded at her. Her heart was beating overtime--she clutched her hands and headed toward him. When she reached his side, he said, “Hello again. I’ve never had a beautiful woman following me before. May I help you,cara?”
Beautiful. Wow. His accent made him even more perfect. She sighed, but then pointed to the tires on his car. “Your tires are wrong, if you want optimum performance.”
He shrugged as the valet took off. “I’ll be sure to tell my brother, as it’s his--I am borrowing it while I am in Miami.”
Brother. Rebecca probably should have read the article that had gone with the picture. She'd gotten just enough to know that Mr. Perfect's name was Bart Morgan, his byline had called him a philanthropist, and the photo had been taken at a charity. She offered her hand in greeting. “Look. We don’t know each other or anything, but I wanted to introduce myself.”
“Following me like that makes you unforgettable.” After a brief clasp he gently placed his hand on her back as he pointed toward the door. “And since you’re here, would you like to get a drink with me in the hotel?”
Her heart thumped. Perfect. She’d have a chance to talk to him and see if it was worth their time to ask him on a date. Excitement drummed in her veins as she walked beside him and said, “I’d love to.”
He waved toward her car with one hand, the other still lightly against her lower back. “Excellent. The valet will take care of your car then.”
The sensation of his hand on her body was just right--not too forceful, not too little. The cold air conditioning of the hotel hit her skin and jolted her more awake. She moved the flounce at her hem, hoping to keep the oil stain covered. She should have gone shopping, but she hadn't actually believed anything was going to happen. “The Biltmore is a nice place. I haven't been here in years.”
His eyes widened imperceptibly. “You’ve frequented this hotel?”
Stayed the night, no. This place was out of her price range, but every twenty-one to twenty-five year old girl in Miami had been here at least once, as the nightclub inside the hotel was super nice. “The bar is open to the public, but it’s been a long time.”
He walked with her toward the bar and didn’t wave to any maitre’ d. He led her toward a VIP table. “So, what’s your name?”
