50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [120]
Undeterred, Rachel went on. “You’re lucky I didn’t gouge out your eyes with my car key.” The anger concealed her elation. Rachel didn’t want to be this happy, and that made her feel even angrier at herself for reacting to him. “Furthermore,” she added in a flustered voice, “why are you lurking in the shadows like…like some stalker?” She inserted her key in the lock and yanked open the door.
“Like I said, I came to talk to you.” He didn’t back down. They stood several feet apart—which was too close. Far too close.
“I love you, Rachel. I can’t help it. I was going to let you have your own way, but I couldn’t do it.”
She wished he hadn’t said that. Every time he opened his mouth she weakened a little more. “This is not a good idea.”
“I happen to think it’s an excellent idea.” He advanced one small step toward her.
Heart pounding, Rachel held out her arm. “Stop right where you are.”
“No.”
“I’ll call for a security guard.”
Still he came. “You do that.”
“Nate…no.” But he reached her and gently took her by the shoulders and brought her toward him. She couldn’t fight him. Instead, the minute he touched her, she swayed into his arms as if she belonged there. When he kissed her, she had to grab his shirt collar just to remain upright.
“Rachel, Rachel,” he murmured between kisses that left her clinging and breathless. “Why did you shut me out of your life?”
If he hadn’t said anything, she might have forgotten, at least for the length of another kiss. But, no, he had to go and remind her why a relationship was impossible.
She forced herself to pull away, then dragged in a deep breath and prayed she could get enough oxygen into her brain to think clearly.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he protested. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”
“Nate—it won’t work.”
“Who says?”
“I do.”
“Then you’re wrong. I love you.”
“You don’t even know me.” He was making this more difficult than it had to be. “I’m just another way to thumb your nose at your family. I…refuse—don’t you dare kiss me again! Oh…Oh.” The fight went out of her as his mouth found hers. His kisses were hungry and demanding and each seemed more potent than the one before. Her knees wobbled and her heart fluttered and if she didn’t do something soon, they’d end up at her house, in her bed….
“Let’s get out of here,” Nate said, his breathing uneven.
“No.” Where she found the strength to deny him anything, she didn’t know. “I told you, this won’t work.”
He gripped her shoulders and his eyes bore into hers. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.”
At his touch she was dumbfounded.
“Do you understand me?”
Somehow, she managed to nod.
“Good. Rachel Pendergast, I love you. I am my own person. I always have been. I love my parents, but I won’t allow them to dictate my life. My father is a congressman. I’m a Warrant Officer in the United States Navy. It’s a job I enjoy and a rank I earned by my own merit. Understand?”
Again she nodded.
“My father doesn’t tell me what to do—or who to love. I make my own decisions. Got it?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. I love you.”
Rachel hung her head. “Don’t love me. Please, don’t love me.”
He lifted her chin so she couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. “Sorry, it’s too late.”
“But…”
“Are you going to argue with me?”
“I…oh, Nate.” She threw her arms around him. “I missed you, too—so much.”
He sighed deeply, and slipped both arms about her waist, lifting her off the ground. “It took you long enough.”
“I’m frightened,” she whispered. And she was. If they permitted this relationship to continue, the time would come when she’d have to meet his family. It went without saying that they wouldn’t approve; there was absolutely nothing to endear her to his parents. No status, no wealth, no education to speak of. She’d been raised by an aunt who’d died when she was nineteen, and she’d been on her own from that point forward. Dogs at the pound had a better pedigree than she did.
“I don’t have any family,” she said, ashamed to admit this to a man who had such an important one.
“You’ve got me.”
“Do I?” She sighed.