“And the models?”
“They are probably guests of guests who are looking to make a good impression with some relative, probably Peter or Mitch, as they run the banks.”
At least not every beautiful model here were with his family, minus Emily, as she was never going to be that gorgeous. But Emily was down to earth and funny. She scanned the lawn that overlooked the Intracoastal and saw young beautiful women everywhere. She put her glass down at the seat he’d chosen for them. “That explains the beautiful people.”
But then a gorgeous brunette came toward him. The woman didn’t seem to see her and kissed both his cheeks as she said, “Bart.”
“Nadia, hi.” Bart backed up and slipped his arm around her waist.
The woman tilted her head as if rebuffed and then glanced at her.
Whoever Nadia was, she wasn’t Rebecca's friend, but she was absolutely stunning and sophisticated and probably smart. She seemed smart. “Who's this?”
He nodded, including both women in his introduction. “Nadia, this is Rebecca, Rebecca, Nadia.”
“Charmed.” Nadia offered to shake hands.
Rebecca shook her hand but she trembled, instantly wishing or hoping the other woman hadn’t noticed as she stifled her reaction.
In terms of beauty and smarts, Nadia clearly won all the contests.
Not that there was a contest.
Bart was here with her.
Nadia touched her bare throat and said cryptically, “I've been looking around for my necklace but can't find it.” Her brow arched.
Bart gave a slight shake of his head. "Good luck."
Rebecca’s face grew hot. Did Nadia want Bart? Rebecca watched as he bowed to the stunning woman. “We’ll see you later, Nadia.”
Maybe he wanted her too. Bart watched her leave and then turned toward Rebecca.
“Who is Nadia? She seemed interested.”
He held out the seat for her to join him. She accepted, determined not to ruin their night.
“I didn’t know she’d been invited.”
Something was going on there. Her lips pressed together and she glanced at Bart’s profile. Maybe the kiss between them hadn’t mattered as much to him, but she felt her body tighten as she said, “That doesn’t answer my question.”
He sipped his champagne and then put it back on the table. “I met Nadia before you. However, that also ended before I met you.”
Ended. Past tense. That could explain the tension. She nodded and refused to let whatever had happened before they'd met matter now. She rested her arm next to his on the table and said, “She’s super beautiful.”
He shrugged and stroked her bare skin. “She’s into fashion, but I don’t want to talk about her with you anymore.”
Agreed. Besides, the goosebumps on her arms were probably obvious. She scooted her chair back. “Fair enough. Will you dance?”
He stood and teased, “With you?”
She tapped on his shoulder and directed them toward the dance floor near them. “Yes. Of course. The band is lovely.”
“Not half as lovely as you are.” He wrapped his arms around her so they were thigh to thigh as he brought her around the floor.
Clearly he’d been trained to dance because she'd never followed so easily.
It was like she'd been transfixed into a dream sequence--except his muscles were real as he held her close and made her heart beat differently than normal. She clasped him tight as he twirled her around. “See. I knew you were a gentleman.”
He stilled in the dance as the song ended and shook his head. “I’m just a man who would like to get out of here for some fresh air for a few minutes.”
Alone? Yes. “What do you have in mind?”
He motioned for them to head toward the dock. “Just walk with me for now.”
“Lead the way.” She locked herself to him as they made their way through the crowd.
Once the group thinned near the ocean she walked beside him. Every step on the sand was magical--there was nowhere else she'd rather be. Bart was awesome and for tonight, and maybe forever, they had a shot at being happy. Falling in love had to be possible.
Chapter 6
Bart noticed how Rebecca swayed on her feet beside him. From the briefest touch of her hand, his body was tense and needy with a longing that he hadn’t really felt since he'd been a teenager.
Women had been in his bed, but nothing like this. Not in a long time. He had goosebumps as he led her away from the dance floor without anyone noticing.
The music still played and the champagne flowed in a party that reminded him of the Great Gatsby--all that was missing was the light in the distance.
She gently squeezed his hand and he said, “This way.”
The mansion was farther behind them. His father’s pride and joy and headquarters for the House of Morgan’s legitimate family, and now Peter's, but also different than expected as he crossed the threshold, thanks to Peter's welcome.
Part of Bart expected to be tossed out for daring to step inside.
As they reached the gangway, he motioned for her to go on first. She pressed her hand to her heart and asked, “What’s this?”
“It’s my yacht.” He followed behind her, eyeing the silhouette of her backside in the fitted hot pink dress.
Most women he met were in shape and beautiful. Rebecca was the same, but her arms and body seemed strong, not from a gym but from something else.
Probably work which meant whatever she did required her to be on her feet. She was graceful, so she was probably a waitress or something like that.
She was someone he’d never usually meet, and maybe that would turn out to be a mistake. As she stepped onto the ship, she pressed her lips together and looked around. He joined her on the deck and she asked, “Did you buy this before we met?”
Their brief encounter at the yacht club had replayed in his mind a dozen times as he'd wondered why he hadn’t noticed her until after she'd chased him down. Had he done anything that signaled his possible interest in her?
He couldn’t remember, but he walked her to the back of the yacht where he had a private table for them set up that overlooked the party from the water. “I finalized the deal afterward, caro.”
She stood with her forearms on the rail and watched the party, but then her gaze went to the name half-painted below the railing and covered her lips. She turned around and her hands fell to her sides. “It’s lovely. You’re naming it after me?”
The painting was almost done--he would commission the yacht tomorrow as was family tradition. “I was looking at it when we met. And you will always be unforgettable, Rebecca.”
She pulled him closer, their hands clasped. “That’s sweet, Bart.”
By this time, he normally would have made comments directed at her clothes and taking them off. Seduction was a game, but Rebecca seemed like she didn’t have her lines ready. So he folded his hands over the rails, watched the party and pressed his shoulder against hers. “I’m not that. I’m going to be sailing this back to Rome once my business ends here.”
She turned toward him like she was upset at the news. “You have a lot of family here.”
His office and life were there. Miami struck him as both cold and hot. There was a lack of sophistication in every encounter, but there was also something else, something unique. Rebecca stirred whatever it was he didn’t understand. Bart stepped back and offered her more champagne. “Lorenzo, Gio, and Anthony are the only ones I ever really knew as family. It’s strange to be here and see my father’s face in strangers.”
She took the flute and met his gaze with an emotion he didn’t recognize. “I don’t quite understand, but I can empathize.”
His lips tingled for another kiss, but he sipped his champagne instead. “Rebecca, I don’t always know how to act with you.”
Her hand went on her hip like she was offended. “What do you mean?”
Perhaps he needed to cool his thinking. He motioned toward the light
s of the party and the laughter that came with alcohol as he said, “With Nadia, it was easy. Neither of us had expectations. We both knew anything that happened was temporary and didn’t matter to the other.”
“That doesn’t sound very…meaningful.” She dropped her hand and brushed against his back. “Bart, just be yourself.”
If he was his normal self, he would not be worried about conversation. His lips would be crushing hers and she’d be below deck, in his bed. The visual was clear. He drank his champagne though this was probably the first one of the three they'd had that he’d tasted. “It’s hard when I haven't met many honest women like you.”
She clutched her glass and stared at him like she saw right through him. “So you attract dishonest women?”
Maybe he could have one more kiss from Rebecca. She was tempting. He put the still-full glass down on a nearby table and set hers beside it. “No. That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I tend to attract… women who don’t want anything and don’t expect much from me in return.” Bart placed his arms around her sides, leaning on the bow and towering over her, without touching her. “I was looking for the words to seduce you, Rebecca.”
Her lips lifted into a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist and her eyes fluttered closed.
Bart claimed her lips and his body grew tight and hard, demanding more from her.
She simply moaned and held him.
The kiss ended and she met his gaze with a wink. “If the rest of you is as hot as that kiss, then you don’t have a problem.”
A laugh escaped him. He hadn’t expected… actually he didn’t know what to expect from her.
There was something about Rebecca that fascinated him. He didn’t move, but asked, “And if I sailed away tomorrow and we didn’t speak?”
Her lips turned into a pout. “I’d miss you.”
He released the bow and stood straighter. “But you don’t know me.”
“I know enough.” She stood taller as well. “And I’d be sad.”
He shook his head. Neither one of them should care. Most women he’d known for longer periods of time hadn't left such an impression. Even Francesca, his high school girlfriend, now a happily married mother of three boys, acted like she had better things to do than reminisce. Rebecca he’d known for two days. The chip he usually had on his shoulder returned as he asked, “What do you know?”
Her gaze traveled from his toes to his head and landed at his face. “That you’re a good guy who is worth caring about.”
Perhaps it wasn’t fair that he put any stock in words right now. He picked up the full champagne flutes and handed hers back. “Expectations scare me.”
“Why?” She accepted the flute and a spark raced through him from that simple touch.
Normally he steered away from conversations. Perhaps that was why Rebecca threw him off his game. Bart glanced at the moon. “How can I live up to what I don’t know?”
She pivoted a little so she was right in front of him. “Well, I pretty much say what I mean or want. And then, if possible, I go after my goals.”
“I’ve noticed.” He smiled down at Rebecca and into her deep blue eyes.
The last thing he’d ever do was hurt her and she seemed… vulnerable. That was the best word he had for how soft her skin was and those shy glances she gave him. His phone dinged that he had a message, but he ignored it.
She reached for his hand and squeezed. “Good, because that means you know that what I really want isn’t fancy or shiny or anything like that.”
True--and yet she had confidence in herself. The previous women in his life had all ultimately disappeared because their careers and personal goals were more important. Would she eventually do the same? “What is it you want?”
Her mouth curved upward. “I told you already.”
His mind was a blank. She’d talked about a prince charming, which he was never going to be. He kissed her knuckles. “Tell me again, so I understand you.”
She sipped her champagne, letting her hair fall forward as if to hide how her face turned slightly pink. Her blush made her unique. “I want a guy who cares about me and remembers little things that might be trivial to anyone else but are special to us. Love is in the details.”
And like she'd taken a gun to his head and pulled the trigger, he inched backward. “You want to be in love.”
She shrugged. “It’s pretty normal to want that--even for rich people.”
Fair. But she was like a jet on the tarmac seeking to take off, and he wasn’t sure he even believed in that emotion. In a gentle tone he said, “Rebecca, I don’t know…can you see yourself hopping on my yacht and sailing back to Rome with me?”
Her lips pursed, and she shook her head. “I don’t have a passport.”
And he’d had one since he was a boy. They were so different! “See?”
She scoffed. “I can get one easy enough though, right?”
But that didn’t mean that suddenly everything would be okay. He’d called her again despite the warning sign that flashed in his head because no one else had intrigued him in a while, but that wasn’t enough, was it? Not for love. Bart said, “If you have all your paperwork in order--it costs extra.”
She lifted a single shoulder as if she had no worries. “Then I’ll get one.”
“You will?” His voice dipped low. He hadn’t been surprised in a long, long time. To distance himself, he checked his phone and the text message. Anthony? Here? Bart returned his attention to his "date."
Liaisons weren’t dates--yet Rebecca thought this was one.
And having a "date" was nice. Even if dates meant talking more.
Rebecca said, “Sure. I want to see more than what I have before now.”
He could show her the world.
The thought tantalized him and was more beautiful than lights on a Christmas tree.
He could also bring her downstairs and see what she looked like fully, but he didn’t dare.
If he touched her, he might somehow crush her, and Rebecca’s vulnerability reminded him of a bold, yet fragile butterfly. He left his flute on the table and offered his hand. “Come.”
She put her glass down too and took his hand. “Where are we going?”
The decision to take it slow, but see where it went, had been made. “Back to the party.”
She tugged his arm and he turned to see her glance back at the yacht. Granted, he hadn’t shown her the tour but he didn’t want her near a bed.
He'd be too tempted.
“Why are we leaving?”
Mostly because, for some reason, he wanted to be a gentleman. He squeezed her hand. “Because it seems Anthony, my brother, showed up and I’ve been worried about him.”
“Why?” she asked.
Rebecca was probably the only person he’d met who didn’t already know all the details of what his brother had done. He brought her to the gangway. “Because… ever since my sister never got off the bus over twenty years ago, Anthony has never taken responsibility for anything. He got Jennifer pregnant, and he’s been confused on how to do the right thing. And while he might annoy me half the time, Mom always said to watch out for him.”
“So let’s go.” She marched down the gangway but waited for him at the end.
The gleam in her eyes made him feel like she was part of his team.
He'd never had a team, not with a woman, anyway. He wrapped his arm around her waist as he joined her and they walked together across the grass. As they neared the lawn’s edge, he said, “I want to warn you, Rebecca.”
Revelers drank and laughed, and there was a lot of dancing.
Most of his family sat at the tables on the sides mingling with each other.
Rebecca, with her confident stride and cherry red hair, seemed like an angel compared to the models and business people that swarmed around the party. She asked, “About what?”
Anthony would have some cutting thing to say about
class differences. He stopped her from moving and pressed his forehead to hers so only she heard him as he said, “Anthony isn’t like the rest of us.”
“What does that mean?” She didn’t pull away.
“He emulates our father and that’s dangerous.”
“What else did your father do?” Rebecca asked.
Another laugh escaped his lips. He thought everyone knew Mitch Morgan's sins--he was notorious. On the other hand, every book written about him sang his glory as a banker and even peacemaker for the world’s economy. “That’s a loaded question that would take years of therapy to explain. Just be careful.”
He guided her toward his family at the far end of the party, but she tugged his arm. “I want to know you, Bart.”
For some reason he trusted her to tell her a little bit. He stopped, held her like he’d kiss her again so no one interrupted them but instead said, “My father… let’s see. Most people blame him for my sister's death or disappearance. I don’t know if I believe that, but he kidnapped his actual wife, and told everyone she'd died. Then while she was in captivity, he had more children with Isabelle, his wife, and then took Luke, Elizabeth and Matthew away from their mother. He had multiple long-term affairs, including one with my mother, and his definition of "family" really just meant Peter "the heir" and John "the spare" and not the rest of us.”
Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “That’s a nightmare.”
If she was forewarned, nothing Anthony might say could change anything between them. “That’s just the beginning. He told everyone Victoria had died after he kidnapped her child from her arms because she loved a farmer.”
Her face whitened. “Whoa.”
If he told her the family history, maybe she’d take off her blinders regarding him. “Then there is Catherine, my other half-sister.”
She whispered, "What did he do to her?”
Rebecca would know his family wasn’t all sunshine and roses--it was better for him if she didn’t hold him up to some ideal. “He took Catherine from her mother and my French half-brothers and let them all think she'd died, but had her raised by his employees.”
Secret Admirer (The House of Morgan Book 13) Page 6