Page 9 of Secret Admirer
Name. Her mind was clearly in a tailspin. She should have said that already. She released a deep breath and smiled. “Right. I’ve been meaning to tell you. Rebecca James. And yours?”
He kissed her hand like they were in a movie, or maybe it was his European charm. “Bartolomeo Morgan, though most people call me Bart.”
Rebecca should have paid more attention to social graces in school so she’d have cool things to say now. “Nice to meet you, Bart.”
A waitress hustled over. "What would you like to drink?"
Bart ordered a red wine that sounded wonderful though she was not familiar with the label.
"I'll have the same."
Rebecca could imagine Bart as the teacher in the movie where the Greek girl wanted to change her life--just like Rebecca wanted to do. She couldn’t stop smiling at him.
The waitress left and he turned his attention to her. “What kind of yacht are you looking to buy?”
Buy? Yeah. She needed to be honest about why she was there, and hoped he had a sense of humor. She’d never been on any boat as big as the ones she'd seen today. She pushed her hair behind her ear as she shook her head. “I’m not. I… I was looking to meet my prince charming.”
The waitress returned with two glasses of deep red wine. He flinched. Her face felt hot. She probably shouldn’t have said that.
Something was wrong with her today. Clearly.
"Anything else?" the waitress asked.
"Nothing, thank you." She left, and Bart sipped his wine and stared at her in frank curiosity.
Every cell in her body jumped and she didn't trust herself to reach for the glass. Would he throw her out of the hotel?
At last, he put the glass down and asked, “Prince Charming?”
No, no, no. She needed to somehow change the course of this conversation. She tried a little laugh. “And now I've met you and you’re perfect.”
That was too much.
He traced the stem of his glass, his intense eyes never wavering.
She waited and her neck and body was tight like she just closed a bolt.
"I see," his sexy voice said. "I’m in the running to be your would-be prince?”
Her fingers trembled as she picked up her glass. By default, she'd be a princess, when she actually felt like a jack in the box that had just popped out. Her confidence deserted her and she stared into the blood red liquid. “Yeah. Sounds silly right? Probably does. I’m super nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous near me,cara.” He patted her hand that had been on the table. He then leaned closer and said, “The wording makes me pause. Tell me what kind of man is your Prince Charming?”
Wow, Bart smelled good too.Stay calm.She ignored the hum in her body--he seemed interested, and not put off by her bizarre behavior. “Things I’m sure you are.”
His pat turned into a caress of his thumb over her knuckles and a spark raced through her. “Indulge me," he said, "and tell me these qualities you seek in a man.”
"By Prince Charming, I just mean the perfect guy for me." She tried to imagine that he was Melissa, and this was just friendly conversation. While her best friend and Bart both had deep brown eyes, and dark brown hair--even a similar shape to their mouths, she couldn’t overlook the sparks that flew through her--or her fascination with the way Bart spoke. “He's genuine, remembers the woman he loves' birthday, surprises her with thoughtful flowers just because, stands up for his woman’s honor, stuff like that.”
He laughed as if he found her amusing, picked up his glass, and clinked it with hers. “No slaying dragons?”
“Dragons aren’t real.” She sipped her drink at the same time he did. She didn't blame him for teasing her.
He put his glass back on the table, waited for her to do the same and then asked, “But Prince Charming is?”
"I suppose not." She believed that there was one person for everyone. Love was real. It had to be. “But there is nothing wrong with believing in love.”
He played with the stem of his glass. “I don’t like disappointing women; I’d hate to be someone who broke your heart.”
