Page 23 of Secret Admirer
As she tied the knot around her waist, her phonebeeped. She picked it up and saw Bart’s name. Her heart stirred as she read his message.Are you up?
The buzz in her veins grew more pronounced as she typed back,I didn’t think you’d text so early.
The dots were on her screen. She finished brushing her hair as she waited for the next message.Did I wake you?
She wished he hadn't gone home last night, and then he'd know exactly how she was, now. Rebecca skipped out of the bathroom as she typed,No, I just finished my shower.
Open your door.Huh? Then she heard a knock on her front door.
Her heart hammered--she had no time to put her outfit on first, which meant he'd see her at less than her best.
Maybe he'd thought about her last night?
She was falling in love with him.
The thought struck her as she rushed out of her bedroom to the front door. She cracked it open to make sure. “You’re here?”
He kissed her cheek with a grin. “You’re introducing me to your friend today.”
She opened the door wider and waved for him to come in. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
The moment he crossed the threshold, her heart stirred. Those gray pants of his were sculpted for his body and moved with his every step, indicating their tailored fit.
Maybe he might love her too, not that he gave any indication of that. Hope rushed through her veins.
Rebecca locked the door. He headed into her living area that was still thankfully clean as he asked, “What did I say?”
Her lips tingled for a kiss. She should have done that first. But now she was too late. She massaged her temples and said, “About your father. When… when I showed Melissa your picture a few days ago, she didn’t say she recognized you. She said you’d toss your children out if they were bothersome.”
His body stiffened. “What?”
She motioned toward the couch. He sat on the edge of a cushion. She checked to make sure her robe still covered everything and then sat beside him as she said, “I didn’t question her response because she’s always talked about her birth parents not wanting her anymore because she was trouble.”
His lips thinned. “If she’s my sister, that wasn’t true. Our mother died wishing for her daughter back in her arms. How did she end up next door?”
His mother died wanting her child? Her heart melted into mush. Without thinking, she reached out and hugged him. A moment later he hugged her back. Her family never had money, but her father had taught her a trade, and how to be independent. “Not here, but next to my dad's. She was adopted. I don’t really remember what her parents did for a living, but they wore white shirts when they went to work, were awesome with the backyard grill, and had us over for parties. They pushed Melissa to go to college, get good grades and do something with her life.”
Bart massaged her back and she settled into sitting snuggled beside him. “What does she do?”
Her body warmed from his touch. “She manages a clothing store.”
“That’s not much,” Bart said without emotion. She turned toward him and saw his frown.
She shook her head. Melissa worked harder than anyone she knew and her brain never slowed down unless she or Destiny stopped her to have fun. “You don’t understand. It’s a big national chain. Melissa manages hundreds of employees, meets with accounting daily, and is probably the most successful person I’ve ever met my age.”
Bart still didn’t smile. His frown seemed etched on his face as he said, “If she is my sister, she has potential for vastly more, but if she’s so successful, how come you and she…”
She traced his arm and shoulder. If Melissa was his sister, he should be proud of her. “We were friends right away. She was so sad. She'd dress her dolls and I'd build them forts.”
He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. “So you like to build things?”
Sneaky question…there was no way he would understand that she liked to fix cars. His family probably had their own mechanics on staff. “Yeah. I guess. It’s why I signed up for the engineering program. I hope to start classes, next week.”
He tilted his head and asked, “You didn’t go to college right after high school?”
He'd probably gone to whatever the best college in Europe was that people like him could afford. She shrugged. “My mom left, and then died. As her nearest relative debt collectors called me. Plus, Dad needed help with work and he said it kept me out of trouble.”
His gaze narrowed. “You said your mom left when you were little and only sent postcards.”
