“Does that mean you no longer have feelings for me?”
A film of moisture glossed over her eyes, and she spun away from him blindly. “I’m going to go now.”
“Because I have feelings for you.”
She froze, felt his hand close around hers and pull until she faced him once again. He tipped her chin up, and her tears threatened to spill free. Had he really said that? With her heart drumming in her ears like this, she must have misheard.
He took a breath, released it, took another. “I didn’t take your money because I’m in love with you. I told myself you needed me, that helping you would prove I wasn’t like my dad, but those were just excuses to be with you. You don’t need me, and I don’t have to prove I’m not like my dad. I know I’m not. I ended things because I was certain you didn’t love me back. But when you said you were going to get over me, you gave me hope.”
Her skin flushed with heat—her hands, her neck, her face, the tips of her ears. He didn’t pity her. He loved her. Had she heard correctly? Was it true?
He swallowed once. “Could you say something, please? When a guy tells a girl he loves her, he doesn’t want silence in response. Was I too late? Are you over me?”
“Are you wearing the underwear I got you?”
Laughter cracked out of him. “Sometimes, the way your mind works is a complete mystery to me.”
“Are you?” She transferred the bear underneath her arm and tucked her fingers into the waistband of his pants above his leather belt.
Lips curving, he unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and drew the zipper down. “If we get arrested for lewd acts in public, they better let us share a cell.”
She pulled his shirttails out of the way, and even in the poor lighting of the parking lot, she could see the red plaid of his boxers. She lifted her eyes to his as effervescent warmth pervaded her body, filling her heart and spreading to every extremity. He did love her. And her theory was confirmed. Michael’s ß had changed from one to zero. For her. “You’re wearing them.”
“I don’t like to go commando. Chafing.”
Trying to suppress a goofy grin, she straightened his pants and belt. “Women buy underwear for the men they love. It’s economics. Data supports this claim.”
“Are you telling me you love me, Stella?”
She hugged Karate Bear tight and nodded, suddenly overcome by shyness.
“You’re not going to give me the words?” he asked.
“I’ve never said them to anyone but my parents.”
“You think I run around telling women I love them?” He pulled her close and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m going to get the words out of you. Tonight.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to . . .” The heat in his eyes stalled her words.
“Let’s go home.”
“Okay.”
Instead of leading her down the street toward her house, he brought her to a small silver Honda Civic and opened the passenger door for her. “I traded in my car,” he said with an awkward shrug.
She sat and buckled her seat belt, taking in the clean, nonleather interior of the car. Nothing about it reminded her of Aliza. “I like this better.”
“You would.” He smiled as he got behind the wheel. “I’m partnering with Quan to start a clothing line, and I needed startup funds. Since I quit escorting, there was no reason to keep that car.”
He was finally doing it—quitting escorting, taking chances, and making a name for himself. In that moment, he was so perfect to her she wanted to launch herself across the gearshift and kiss him until he was breathless.
“That’s great. I’m so happy for you, Michael.” But the thought of him selling his car because he needed money bothered her, especially when he’d returned her check. “Do you still have some of your mom’s medical bills to pay? Did the foundation’s medical assistance program fail to cover everything?”
He tilted his head as he frowned at her. “How do you know about my mom’s bills or the program?” After a moment’s hesitation, his eyes widened. “Was it you?”