Lucky Stars

Chapter Eleven Complicated

Jack

Jack lounged diagonal on the couch in his study, his feet up on the coffee table.

Belle was asleep, curled into his side, arm resting lightly across his stomach, cheek to his chest. Jack had a book he was not reading in his hand which he held against his thigh, his thumb holding his place.

His eyes were looking out the window at the sea stretched out to the horizon.

Things had definitely changed with Belle.

Not much but he was making progress.

And he had Myrtle and Lewis to thank for it.

The evening before when they’d walked into the house after their time on the cliffs, Belle hadn’t left his presence.

He knew this was not because she wanted to be in his company but because she was frightened of the ghosts she thought she saw.

He’d explained to her she had nothing to be frightened about. There was nothing more he could do.

Except take advantage of her fear.

This he did without a shred of remorse.

Jack had been correct those months before, Belle was not someone he could take or he could win.

He had to earn his place in her heart.

And he was going to do this.

Not for the sake of his child but because he wanted Belle.

But she clearly was not going to make it easy for him. She’d proved this in many ways, starting with finding an excuse at her earliest opportunity to walk away from him without looking back that morning after the night they’d shared.

And she’d do it again. This he knew for she was, for some reason, absurdly terrified of him and also what they’d shared.

Therefore Jack had to do whatever he had to do to earn his place in her heart and that included entangling her in his life.

To do this, first, he had to win her trust. He’d had it once but she’d taken it from him.

Although he felt he was justified in his anger when she came back to him that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t done himself any favours with his behaviour.

Regardless, inherently Jack understood it was essential he conquer the obstacle of repairing the damage he caused and earning her trust before anything else.

And he had little time to do it.

In fact, he had around five months.

At the outside.

He’d prefer to have this accomplished far sooner.

His preference being that very day.

If not, the next day, if he could manage it.

Obviously, Myrtle and Lewis making an appearance worked in his favour. And Jack Bennett was not one to waste an opportunity.

So he didn’t.

The night before, Belle had sat at his side at dinner and before they left the table, she’d turned her head to him and timidly asked if she could join him during his nightly walk with the dogs or, more precisely, she’d asked his shoulder.

He’d agreed and they’d taken their silent but peaceful stroll.

When they came back, he went to his study and she went in search of her grandmother.

Not long later, a soft knock came at the door.

When he called, he was surprised to see Belle put her head through and even more shyly ask him if it would be too much bother if she sat with him.

He knew this mortified her on about the same significantly elevated level as it pleased him.

What he didn’t know was how to make something that was clearly difficult for her, easier on her.

He decided simply to nod. She’d scooted in with her sketchpad and a box of coloured pencils, head bowed, cheeks pink and without a word sat in the armchair across the room from him.

Then she’d spent the evening in his study while he worked at his desk.

This, too, they did silently until it was late and she was so drowsy, he saw her head was nodding in an effort to stay awake.

Although Jack very much liked Belle sitting, feet tucked underneath her, silent and busy while he worked, the only noise being the scratching of her pencils on her sketch pad and he wished this to continue, he’d taken pity on her.

He’d finished with his work and escorted her to her room. There, he lifted her face to his with a hand at her jaw and touched her lips with his own.

Then he left her at her door.

He had every intention of going to his room, preparing for bed and joining her in hers but he’d had a call come just as he was about to leave his room.

Five minutes into his call, there was a knock on the door.

Still talking, he opened it.

Belle stood there wearing a cream-coloured silk nightgown with thin straps, a chiffon ruffle at the hem at her knees as well as around the neckline. Although it exposed a good deal of skin, it was not overtly tempting. It was simple, delicate, intensely feminine and, because of all of this, very sexy.

He knew instantly she’d designed it.

Her eyes went to his phone and Jack said into it, “A minute.”

Then he took it from his ear and Belle, a hint of accusation mingling with the embarrassment in her voice, didn’t hesitate in saying, “I thought you said you were sleeping with me.”

Jack controlled his desire to laugh at her disgruntled discomfiture at the same time he fought against catching her in his arms and kissing her breathless.

“I did,” he replied.

She looked down the hall then at him and asked, “Well?”

“I’ve got a call, poppet,” he told her unnecessarily.

Baron and Gretl were pressing for her attention and she bent to give them pats while looking down the hall again.

Then he watched her wet her lips.

Then she looked at his shoulder then his nose then his ear.

Then she took in a deep breath and what she did next stunned him to immobility.

She pushed through him and his dogs, walked into his room and around his bed to what had become her side. Once there, she pulled back the covers and slid between them.

With some effort, Jack forced himself out of his frozen stance, put the phone to his ear and shut his door.

He talked on the phone while she hung over the side of his bed, petted his dogs and then cooed to them to lie down which they did.

He finished his call while she settled in, facing the windows.

He turned out the lights, slid in behind her and pulled her to him.

When her body relaxed, Jack thought it only fair to try one more time to calm her fears. “Love, you do know there are no such things as ghosts.”

“I know,” she lied and he bit back his laughter but not his smile.

The smile died when her arm came to rest on his at her waist, her hand over his at her belly.

He closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair.

Minutes later, he felt her drift into sleep.

Minutes after that, he did the same.

He knew the minute she woke.

He waited while she hesitated for long moments, lying awake in the curve of his body and it cost him to let her go when she eventually slid out of bed and left the room.

But Jack was not going to move too quickly and make the same mistake twice.

This time he was going to earn her trust and, when he knew he had it irrevocably, only then would he make her understand she was his.

For he already knew it.

He’d known it since their first night.

She appeared at the breakfast table five minutes after him.

After breakfast, she caught him and his dogs on the way to the stables and told him (or, more to the point, she told his ear) that she was taking a walk.

Jack had intended to ride.

He allowed himself a moment to consider taking Belle with him.

Jack would very much enjoy riding with her in front of him, taking her along the coastline he knew she loved for she walked it nearly every day. His horse, Shadow, could take her farther than she could walk, showing her more than she’d seen and Jack knew Belle would like that.

As pleasant as this thought was, he didn’t want her riding while pregnant even on Shadow who he knew would take care of her. So he changed his morning plans and walked with her.

This did not go exactly well.

His first mistake was to explain to her, when she’d quietly asked about him driving to and from London in a day, that he didn’t drive.

He told her that he flew.

That didn’t garner a reaction until he further explained that he not only flew, he piloted the plane.

This garnered a response.

She stopped, frozen and stared, open-mouthed.

Then she asked in a voice dripping with horror, “You flew the plane?”

Understanding her reaction, Jack got close to reassure her. “Belle, I earned my pilot’s license when I was twenty. I’ve been flying for eighteen years.”

She blinked then repeated, “You flew the plane?”

“Belle –”

She cut him off, “Do you have, um… a qualified pilot with you?”

Jack again bit back laughter and explained, “I am a qualified pilot.”

“Yes, okay,” she replied swiftly. “But, when you fly, do you have another one, in case of emergencies?”

To win her trust, unfortunately, he had to be honest.

Therefore he answered, “No.”

“Oh goodness gracious,” she breathed.

“Belle –”

To his amused surprise, she shook her head sharply, put her hands over her ears and chanted. “La la la, not listening. This conversation didn’t happen. La la la.”

He noticed she had pink to her cheeks, either a reaction to her embarrassment at their conversation or her chanting of denial or both.

She dropped her hands and started walking again, her pace picking up significantly, her bearing stiff and uncomfortable looking.

He lengthened his strides to keep up thinking not only that he thoroughly enjoy seeing her blush, he’d never forget how adorable she was when she let her fear break down her guard.

His second mistake was only ten minutes later when he took her hand and slowed their pace.

Then he asked, “Have you hired another shop assistant?”

He felt her hand jerk in his and she looked up at him in surprise. “No, I haven’t had time.”

Jack looked down at her and enquired with what he thought was a good deal of patience, “I thought I explained I want you off the shop floor.”

Her eyes widened the moment before she bowed her head to study the rocky path they were traversing.

“You can’t hire a shop assistant in two days.”

“Yes, you can,” Jack replied because he knew you could.

She looked at him again, her eyes now narrowed with either annoyed confusion or confused annoyance, he couldn’t decide which.

Either one, Jack thought, on Belle was cute.

“No, you can’t,” she told him.

“I can,” he told her.

She stopped walking and started speaking. “Jack –”

He pulled at her hand and kept walking, taking her with him and, he thought, ending this particular conversation by saying, “I’ll call Olive. She’ll have someone at the shop tomorrow.”

She tugged at his hand to halt him but he ignored it and kept them moving.

“Jack,” she called, her voice definitely moving toward annoyed rather than confused. “You can’t call Olive. It’s Sunday.”

“I can. She’s available twenty-four seven.”

Belle’s hand tugged his with a force he couldn’t ignore. He stopped and looked down at her.

“She’s available twenty-four seven?” Belle asked with obvious disbelief and possible accusation as if he was a slave driver cracking a nasty whip.

“Of course,” Jack replied with casual patience.

“Who is Olive, anyway?” she queried, not quite recovered from her shock.

“My PA,” Jack answered.

“And she’s available at all times?” Belle went on, still, for some reason, not processing this information.

Jack lost his casual patience and slid into amused impatience.

Therefore his lips were twitching when he said. “Yes, Belle, and she gets paid well into six figures to be available at all times. She’s not an indentured servant. She’s a highly experienced, intensely skilled, extremely loyal, very valued employee who can find a way, on a Sunday afternoon, to hire the best shop assistant in the UK and have her in your store by tomorrow, end of business.”

She stared at him a moment and then breathed, “Oh.”

And while Jack was watching her parted lips at the same time fighting a nearly overwhelming urge to put his own against her mouth, slide his tongue inside and taste her, Belle continued on a whisper.

“Wow.”

Jack won his battle, lifted a hand to her jaw and smiled down at her as he leaned closer. “Wait until you meet her, poppet. Olive is definitely an ‘oh wow’.”

At his words, for some reason, something in Belle’s face shifted, it softened and a fetching radiance came into her eyes.

He understood he scored a point. He just didn’t understand how.

Then she said softly, “I’ll look forward to that.”

She turned and started walking again but he knew, somehow, her mood had lifted considerably, lightening in a way he’d never experienced from her before.

It was as charming as it was surprising.

Therefore ten minutes later (when he made his third mistake), it should not have taken him off-guard when she threw a carefree smile over her shoulder at him and announced, “I’ll show you my new favourite place.”

However, this did take Jack off-guard.

Completely.

He had an excuse for not controlling his reaction.

A smile from Belle was infrequent and it was enchanting. A carefree one, though, was something he’d never seen and that was enthralling.

When she started to scramble onto a dangerous outcropping of rock at a cliff face, Baron and Gretl protectively close to her but also alighting the outcrop with practiced ease as if they’d done it every day of their lives, Jack overreacted.

Strike that, it was when Belle, the woman he considered his woman and the woman who was carrying his child, a woman who was scared of practically everything but that dangerous outcropping of rock, started to scramble onto it that he overreacted.

He followed her quickly, caught her with an arm around her midriff and lifted her off her feet. Her back to his front, he carried her off the outcrop to the far safer cliff path and set her on her feet.

When she whirled around to face him, he demanded curtly, “What did you think you were doing?”

She’d stared at him a second then asked what he thought was bizarrely, “Oh no, you’re not going back to the jerky one, are you?”

Jack decided to ignore her question, focussing instead on his far more important, and sensible one.

“Belle,” he’d clipped. “That outcrop is dangerous. What were you thinking?”

She looked at the rock then at him and stated, “No it isn’t. I go there a lot. It’s where I do my best non-thinking.”

“So you’re telling me you won’t climb a ladder but you’ll scale a cliff?” he enquired with annoyed surprise.

She looked back at the rock then at him. “It’s not a cliff.”

He looked behind him and then back at her. “Belle, it’s a cliff. A rocky cliff. A dangerous rocky cliff.”

She turned to the cliff and studied it as if seeing it for the first time.

Then she muttered, “It is a cliff.”

He didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or shake some sense into her.

He did neither.

Instead he ordered, “I don’t want you to go out there again.” When her gaze moved to his face, he asked, “Do you understand?”

She regarded him a moment and said nonsensically, “No, it’s the bossy one.”

He ignored her again and repeated, “Am I understood?”

“You’re understood,” she replied quietly, turned back toward the house, patted her thigh to call the dogs and started forward.

Their walk, apparently, was over.

As they had moved away from the house, she had not only attempted conversation, she’d freely engaged in it.

As they moved back to the house, she remained thoughtfully and somewhat disturbingly quiet and her lightened mood had vanished.

Therefore when The Point was in view, Jack got close to her side, slid an arm around her shoulders and halted her. He curled her to face him and she tilted her head back to look at him.

“Don’t be cross, poppet,” he demanded softly when her eyes caught his, going on to explain. “I acted out of concern.”

To this she oddly announced, “I hiked the Inca Trail.”

Jack stared at her a moment before asking, “What?”

She put her hands to his waist and repeated, “I hiked the Inca Trail with my Mom. We hiked to Machu Picchu.” When he didn’t speak, she went on, “Which is amazing, by the way.”

He was surprised at this news but also uncertain why she was sharing it.

“That may be so but you weren’t pregnant nor were you alone when you did it. I’d rather you not climb out onto a cliff outcrop when you’re out walking alone.”

He’d also rather she not do it when she was with someone, for instance himself, but he didn’t say that.

She moved a hint closer to him, tilting her head back further. “No. That’s not what I mean. I’ve been trying to decide why I’m not scared of that cliff which I’m not. I never thought about it but it’s weird.” Again when he didn’t respond, she continued, informing him, “I think it’s the sea.”

Although this made no sense to Jack, he didn’t tell her that, he remained silent.

When he didn’t speak, Belle went on, “I feel safe around the sea. And I feel safe around my Mom which was why I wasn’t scared on the Inca Trail. So I tried to find times when I wasn’t afraid of something I’m normally afraid of to see if my theory is right. I remembered that, after a while, when we were up in the hayloft that first time, I leaned against the sliding doors that you opened which is something I wouldn’t normally do and…”

She stopped talking abruptly and her eyes grew wide as she realised what she was giving away. Her body went solid, she tore her gaze from his and looked at his ear.

Then belatedly she tried to pull away.

Jack’s arms slid around her, containing her retreat.

She gave up immediately but held her body stiffly in his arms.

She’d felt safe with him.

This was a highly welcome revelation.

At least it was to Jack.

Belle looked like the very thought terrified her to an irrational extreme.

“Look at me,” he commanded gently and her eyes went from his ear to his far more rapidly than normal which was also highly welcome. She was looking in his eyes more often, holding his gaze easier and meeting his eyes more swiftly at his command.

Jack decided to confront her directly, not giving her time to retreat emotionally either. “I’m pleased you feel safe with me, love, but I still don’t want you out on that cliff.”

“Okay,” she replied readily and he knew she was agreeing in order to end the conversation not that she actually agreed. He knew this because she made a move to pull away but his arms tightened. He gave her a gentle shake when her eyes started to slide away again and he held her gaze.

“You’ll always be safe with me, Belle,” he told her.

She wet her lips nervously and hastily changed the subject by requesting, “Can we go back to the house?”

“No,” he answered instantly.

“Why not?” Her voice was beginning to rise with anxiety but he ignored it.

A breeze slid through the air, taking with it some tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail. They caught on her wetted lips and Jack lifted a hand to slide his fingers along her hairline, tucking the tendrils behind her ear as he held her to him with his other arm. He felt her body tremble at his touch with a resultant, vastly pleasant, clutch in his gut.

“A number of reasons,” he answered as his hand wrapped around her ponytail, his other arm pulled her even closer and, when he had her affectionately imprisoned, he continued. “Firstly, because I’d like a moment to savour the knowledge that you felt safe with me regardless of the fact that I lost that gift through no fault of my own.” He heard and felt her draw in a quick breath but he kept talking. “Secondly, I’d like to know that you understand you were mistaken when you withdrew that gift and further that you understand now that I’ll always keep you safe.” At these words her body locked and he saw the colour leave her face but, relentless, he carried on. “Thirdly, I’m considering kissing you, I haven’t decided yet but I’m definitely leaning toward it.”

He watched her lips part, colour again suffused her cheeks before she informed him, the anxiety in her voice increasing, “I think we should stop kissing.”

Jack grinned at her. “Now why would we do that?”

She looked away but he gave her ponytail a soft tug and she looked back, saying, “I don’t know. We just should.”

“Should we stop sleeping together?” he asked.

“Probably,” she answered hesitantly, no resolve whatsoever underlying that word, telling him she not only liked his presence in bed but she wanted it.

The sharp sense of triumph he felt, mingled with the sweet way she’d made this admission, made him chuckle.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, Jack liked her eyes on his mouth so he dipped his face closer to hers.

“Poppet, I’m not going to stop kissing you and I’m not going to stop sleeping with you. In fact, the minute you give me the first indication I can take it further, I’m going to do more than kiss you.” His face got even closer and he went on, “a lot more.”

He felt her body jerk and her startled gaze shifted to his eyes.

“We shouldn’t complicate things,” she told him in a tremulous voice and he couldn’t help it, he pulled her closer but threw his head back and laughed. Her hands at his waist tensed as she protested, “I wasn’t being funny.”

He looked down at her again, still laughing. “Don’t you think things are already complicated?”

“Well, yes,” she replied. “That’s why we shouldn’t let them get more complicated.”

His face got close to hers again and he returned, “I like them complicated and I’ll like them even better when they’re more complicated.”

He saw she was having trouble breathing and he knew this reaction directly corresponded with the fear, desire and wonder he read in her eyes.

“Maybe we should talk,” she whispered in a way that said she most definitely did not want to talk. In fact, she’d rather have her fingernails ripped out at the roots but she thought it imperative that they do so.

Even though Jack wanted to kiss her, he felt she’d had enough. Instead he moved away from her body but placed an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to his side as he guided her toward The Point.

“We’ll talk later,” he promised.

She kept moving forward but her head tilted up to look at him. “When?”

He looked down at her. “When you tell me you feel safe with me again.” He bent his face closer to hers and grinned before he went on, “And after things get far more complicated.”

He watched her swallow and her head jerked to look forward.

He knew she wanted to say more. He also knew she didn’t have the courage.

Taking advantage of that, he pulled her deeper into his side.

They arrived back at The Point only to learn his mother, Lila and Rachel were out somewhere together doing something they didn’t share with Elaine.

This meant that Belle, who he knew wanted to escape him but he also knew did not want to be left alone to face the possibility of whatever might befall her at the hands of Myrtle and Lewis was forced to go with him to his study.

He went to his desk to see to some work and call Olive about Belle’s new employee.

Belle sat on the couch and gazed out the window.

This was something she seemed to be able to do for hours, mutely, peacefully, as if drawing strength from the view.

This was also something he very much liked about her. It was inscrutable but tranquil and he found it unbelievably appealing.

Within a half an hour, she was curled in the corner of his couch, asleep.

Jack watched her in sleep for long moments, made a decision, left his work, got his book and went to the couch.

With gentle but determined movements should she wake and withdraw, he shifted her sleeping body so he could join her.

She did wake and her sleepy gaze drifted to his face. Her nap, however, was nowhere near complete and he knew instantly her guard was down.

He knew this because, as he tucked her into his side, she awarded him with a small, sweet smile instead of pulling away or going stiff. Without hesitation, she put her cheek to his chest, wrapped her arm around his stomach, curled into him and fell directly back to sleep.

His attention turned to his book but he couldn’t focus on it. He found he preferred staring out the window to the sea, feeling Belle’s warmth at his side, listening to her soft breathing and contemplating their day.

Therefore when he heard a knock on the door, he ignored it. He had no intention of letting anyone disturb them.

Unfortunately, it was Lila at the door and even though he did not ask her to enter, she did.

He bit back his impatience and the sharp words he would very much liked to have said. Instead, he watched her gaze at them a moment before she walked across the room, took a chair from the front of his desk and dragged it to the side of the couch.

As she settled herself in the chair, Jack spoke quietly but pointedly. “Belle’s sleeping.”

Lila’s eyes went to her granddaughter then to Jack.

“I can see that,” she replied as she leaned back in the chair as if she was going to spend the afternoon there. Then she said, “We need to talk.”

She was right, they did need to talk. He had a few things he wished to say to her, most of them having to do with how she regularly embarrassed her granddaughter but some of them having to do with how she treated Jack thus, he sensed, distressing her granddaughter.

However, they didn’t need to talk with Belle in the room, asleep or not.

“I would enjoy that, Lila, but not now,” Jack returned, his voice still low, guarded and quiet.

“Now,” she retorted, also speaking softly. “It’s clear things have changed between you two and I need some assurances.”

Jack clenched his jaw and remained silent.

Lila either ignored it or didn’t see it (likely the first) and continued, “Considering your mother’s disposition, her assertion that you are not, in fact, adopted, and your recent behaviour, I can assume that things went horribly awry the first time you were with Belle. Or, considering your behaviour when I met you and the penchant toward violence you and your brother demonstrated, I can assume that you’re setting her up to take a gigantic fall once the baby’s born. I’d like you to tell me, honestly, which one it is.”

Jack’s body clenched as stiffly as his jaw.

For Belle’s sake, he forced his body to relax and with as much politeness as he could muster, he murmured, “Please leave, Lila.”

“I’ll leave when you tell me which one it is,” she returned stubbornly.

He regarded her a moment and then said in a low, very unhappy voice, “I’ll tell you that you don’t know me well enough to make assumptions about me. I’ll also tell you that I’m not pleased at your display of judgement when you’ve no idea what has passed between Belle and I or my brother and I. I’ll further tell you that if you behave this way around our child, I’ll not be happy. Without the facts at your command or often with them, standing in judgement of another is a revolting trait and I’ll not tolerate it around my child. And lastly, I’ll tell you that it’s commendable you wish to protect your granddaughter but you aren’t doing a very good job of it, insulting the father of her child while she’s asleep in his arms.”

Jack could swear he saw a light come to her eyes. A light that looked quite a bit like approval.

He also didn’t care.

Lila’s approval didn’t matter to him, Belle’s did. He’d earn it with Lila’s assent or not.

“I don’t think you understand that I’ve had a goodly number of heart-to-hearts with your mother,” Lila told him.

“You’ve known her a month,” Jack returned.

“What I’m saying is, I know more than you think I do,” Lila replied.

“I know what you’re saying,” Jack explained. “But my mother wasn’t present during the time I shared with Belle. She doesn’t know what transpired.”

Lila gave him a small, all-knowing grin. “Belle told me that part.”

“Belle may have been there but Belle wasn’t in my head. She clearly had no idea what I was thinking or she would never have left this house.”

Jack knew exactly what he’d given away and he’d intended to do it. Not because he wished to assuage Lila’s concern but because he wanted her to leave before they woke Belle which was something they courted the longer their conversation lasted.

“So things went horribly awry,” Lila muttered, watching him closely.

Jack didn’t bother to reply.

They studied each other for long moments before Lila’s face changed in a way he couldn’t read but he knew did not bode well.

“There are things you need to know about Belle,” she whispered.

He didn’t like the tone of her voice or the grave look on her face.

Nevertheless he replied, “Let’s let Belle share them with me, shall we?”

Lila gave him an unusually hesitant look. “I think you should know them sooner rather than later.”

“What I think is that it’s clear Belle has trust issues. If she knew I was discussing her secrets with her grandmother it would be detrimental to me winning that trust. Therefore it’s best she confide them to me when the time is right for her.”

Jack waited for Lila to argue, finding he was increasingly frustrated and thus annoyed that they were having this conversation with Belle present, asleep or not. He was further frustrated that Lila tied his hands because he couldn’t communicate the intensity of his anger, nor could he even physically move.

She was, he thought with irritation, very clever.

Her gaze shifted to her granddaughter, her face cleared and for a moment, it gentled.

She hid this look when her eyes returned to him.

“So be it,” she declared, stood and looked down on him.

This he also found irritating.

“Handle her with care, Jack,” she warned softly. “Belle deserves that.”

Jack’s jaw clenched yet again at her imparting this unnecessary piece of advice before she continued and what she said made his gut clench.

“You see, there were those before you who didn’t so it’s essential you do.”

Before he could utter a word, she swiftly and silently swept from the room.

Her parting words obliterated the serenity he’d felt minutes before.

His mind turned to Belle and his first night together, her earnest demand that he promise she could trust him and the conversation they never had the next morning where she was going to share her secrets.

Perhaps, he thought with no small amount of uneasiness, they should talk before he’d fully earned her trust and made their relationship far more pleasantly complicated.

His arm tightened and he shifted her closer, deciding to clear the foreboding from his mind by reading.

He was engrossed in his book when she woke.

Her cheek gliding on his chest, her eyes opening and focussing fuzzily on his book, Jack watched her blink a couple of times. Then her head tipped up and her grey eyes, still groggy, were soft and had no trouble catching his.

“Hi,” she whispered and Jack felt that one word, uttered in her sweet voice, drift across his skin like it was a physical touch.

“Welcome back from dreamland, poppet,” Jack murmured, closing his book and dropping it to the floor.

He pulled her up his chest as he twisted her torso more fully on top of his.

She did not struggle as he did this. Instead, she lifted a hand to pull the wisps of hair away from her face and her eyes dropped to his mouth.

When he’d positioned her so their faces were close, before he knew or, he imagined, she knew what she was about, her lips curled into a small smile. Then she rested her hand on his chest, leaned in and touched her mouth to his.

At this light touch, he felt a surge of warmth through his body but, mouth still on his, Belle froze then jerked back.

Swiftly, his arms closed around her, containing her retreat.

She’d given him his opening.

It was time, Jack decided as the warmth remained in his body, to make things considerably more complicated.

Decision made, Jack didn’t delay.

“No, love,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid, finish what you start.”

“Jack –”

He cut her off by demanding in a low voice, “Belle, kiss me.”

He felt her melting, her fingers curling into his shirt but, still, she resisted.

“Jack –”

One of his hands slid up her spine and, as it always did, this caused her to shiver. His body absorbed it as his fingers sifted into her hair at the back of her head.

He angled his own head forward and, lips against hers, he repeated softly, “Kiss me, poppet.”

“Please –” she begged even as he felt her body moulding to his.

He should put her out of her misery but he needed her to kiss him. He needed her to make that first move of her own volition (albeit with his coaxing). He needed the statement of what such an act would mean, to her as well as to him.

However, if she didn’t do this soon, he’d do it. With her body pressed to his, her thick hair falling through is fingers, he was losing control and he was losing it irritatingly fast.

Therefore, his voice was rough when he urged, “Belle, I want you to kiss me.”

Her eyes looked into his, he saw the struggle she was waging with her mind then her lids grew heavy, her stormy gaze grew dazed and he knew he had her.

Her head tilted and she pressed her parted lips against his.

That was all he made her do. Jack gladly took it from there.

He knew his end game before she put her mouth to his.

He had no intention of fucking her on the couch as much as he wanted to do so.

He had every intention of making her desire spin out-of-control.

He was going to make her want him so badly she couldn’t hide it from him or, more importantly, herself. She couldn’t deny it and she definitely couldn’t walk away from it.

He was not, however, going to leave her wanting.

Using his hands and mouth, his vivid memories of the delicious places where she was most vulnerable and the innate understanding that she’d been abstinent the last four months, relentlessly Jack took her to the edge in very little time.

They were facing each other on the couch, side by side, his mouth was on hers, their tongues dancing, her hand was up his shirt at the back, fingers digging into his flesh. He’d pulled her skirt up around her hips, his hand was in her panties, fingers pressing into a place that forced those sweet, husky, unbelievably sexy noises from her throat.

This was when Jack, somewhat vaguely, recognised the flaw in his plan.

For he might have no intention of fucking her on the couch, he had the forceful desire to do just that.

He controlled his craving with an iron will and, when she pressed her hips into his hand, he ended their kiss and murmured against her lips, “Tell me what you want, poppet.”

He thought this would take some effort.

He was, with masochistic indulgence, looking forward to it.

Therefore he found it surprising, and infinitely satisfying, when it took no effort at all.

She pressed her torso to his and her free hand slid into his hair as her hips ground down on his hand.

Then she lifted beautiful, dazed eyes to his and whispered, “You.”

At her easy but delightful capitulation, he slid his finger inside her and watched her lips part and her neck arch as his hand moved.

Jack loved the sleek, wet feel of her and the sound of the noises she made. He’d only had them for a night, four months ago but having them again made him realise the raw intensity with which he missed them.

As her reward for giving them to him again so freely, he pressed his thumb to the heat of her and circled.

The noises she made quickened. He knew she was close and his mouth came down on hers and absorbed the soft, sweet mew of her climax.

He broke his mouth from hers and tucked her face in his neck as he coaxed the final tremors from her body, her breath coming fast against the skin at his throat.

When she was finished, gently, he pulled his hand away from her. When he felt the swift intake of breath between her lips, he decided that instead of righting her skirt as he intended, he’d slide his hand over her bottom and press her soft hips to his hard ones.

And this was what he did.

She remained pleasantly docile in his arms and only when he felt the stiffness of embarrassment creeping in did he speak.

“Don’t,” he ordered gently.

“I can’t believe –” she whispered against his throat.

“Don’t, Belle,” he repeated on a squeeze of his arms.

She grew silent.

Then, hesitantly and very softly, she said, “You didn’t –”

Jack cut her off again, “When I have you again, poppet, it’ll be in my bed.” He paused. “Or yours.”

“But why –?” she began again and he interrupted her again.

“I was impatient to make things more complicated.”

He felt her tip her head back to look at him and when he dipped his chin to meet her eyes, he noted she hadn’t moved her arm from around his back and the fingers of her other hand were still in his hair.

This made him inordinately glad.

As this feeling stole over him, he watched her eyes change, that radiance from earlier in the day came over them but she remarked, “You get impatient a lot.”

“This is probably true,” he agreed.

“It’s definitely true,” she whispered shyly and he grinned.

His head bent further and he touched his mouth to hers.

He only moved away an inch to say, “Then it’s only fair to warn you, after that magnificent display, I’m feeling even more impatient to make things vastly more complicated.”

“Jack –”

He cut her off again by saying simply, “Belle.”

Her eyes skittered to his ear. He felt a mild annoyance that he lost her even for a moment before what she said next, in a voice that was so quiet it was nearly imperceptible, made this annoyance melt away.

“You don’t think I’m a brazen hussy?”

He stared at her long enough for her eyes to come back to his in anxious enquiry and when they did, he burst out laughing.

Her body went stiff but he knew it wasn’t in embarrassment. It was irritation.

Even so, his arm tightened around her, his hand at her ass pressing her hips deeper into his and he held her close to him until he controlled his amusement.

When he dipped down his chin to look at her, it was not difficult in the slightest to read that she was cross.

Her next words and the way she uttered them, including using his full name, proved her expression true.

“You laugh at very strange things, James Bennett.”

“I’m not sure you realise how amusing you are, poppet,” he returned.

“I wasn’t meaning to be amusing. In fact, nearly every time you’ve laughed I wasn’t meaning to be amusing,” she shot back.

He loved it as well when her shyness disappeared and her spirit emerged (but not nearly as much as the noises she made when she was reaching orgasm).

He decided for her sake to try to be serious although he found this difficult considering the subject matter.

“All right, love, obviously this means something to you so perhaps you can explain to me how exactly you’ve behaved like a brazen hussy.”

He could barely say the last two words without chuckling but he managed it.

Just.

Her mouth dropped open before she said tartly, “Well, let me see. I had sex with you within hours of meeting you.”

His head dipped close and he brushed his lips against hers before muttering, “Yes, that was nice.”

Her hand left his hair and she slapped his bicep.

“Jack, I’m being serious,” she snapped.

He moved his face away from hers and fought back a grin. “Of course, my apologies. Carry on.”

Her eyes widened at his invitation then they narrowed then she hissed, “Carry on? Do I need to remind you that I also spent the night with you, I was dating your brother at the time and, icing on the cake, I got pregnant. Now, I’m adding ice cream, whipped cream and sprinkles by fooling around with you on your couch.” She emphasized the last three words then, as if his study was open to the public and they were on view, further stressed, “In your study.” She waited for his response to this damning information and when there wasn’t one she finished, “If that doesn’t define brazen hussy, nothing does.”

Jack made a guess and knew, intuitively, it was no risk.

“Have you ever had sex with someone the first night you met?” he asked.

“No,” she answered instantly.

“Have you ever had sex with someone when you were dating someone else?” he went on.

“No!” she responded rather more forcefully.

His hand drifted up her spine and he continued light-heartedly, “Have you ever fooled around on a couch in a study with the father of your child?”

He felt her body tense then relax before she said, “Jack –”

He didn’t let her continue.

“What that means is you aren’t a brazen hussy.” His face got closer to hers and his voice dipped lower. “What it means, my love, is that I’m a very lucky man.”

“Jack –” she began again, he had no idea what she intended to say but he didn’t care.

He again didn’t let her finish.

Instead, he changed the subject by saying, “Thank you, poppet.”

He watched her head jerk and her face grow confused before she asked hesitantly, “For what?”

He moved, using his body to push hers back into the couch so he was mostly on top of her, tangling his legs with hers but protectively avoiding resting any of his weight against their child in her belly.

His lips went to her neck as he tugged down her skirt.

“For letting me make you come,” he answered on a murmur.

Her hands moved to rest against his chest and, even as he felt her tremble, she suggested, “Maybe we should have that talk now.”

His head came up and his hand moved to frame the side of her face.

He watched her a moment and then asked softly, “Do you feel safe with me?”

She blinked then wet her lips but she did not answer.

His thumb traced her lower lip while he muttered, “That’s all right, it’ll come.”

“Jack –” she started yet again but he dipped his head and kissed her, thoroughly. He didn’t break from her mouth until her hands slid from his chest, her arms were tight around him, her body was pliant under his and he knew, at least for that moment, she was his.

Then he rested his forehead to hers, his thumb stroking her cheekbone and he commented, “I think I’m going to very much like Sunday afternoons.”

She tipped her chin up, pressing her own mouth against his.

Jack smiled in triumph against her lips and slanted his head to deepen the kiss when a sharp, urgent knock came at the door.

Both of them froze. Jack with extreme irritation. Belle, he suspected, with something else entirely.

Jack moved first, knifing away from her. He leaned down, pulled her to sitting and fully righted her skirt.

Then he turned to the door, wondering with unamused annoyance if he needed to resort to placing a do not disturb sign on the knob.

He pulled open the door to see his mother standing outside and this surprised him.

She knew better.

“What’s –?” Jack started but Joy talked over him.

“Darling, we have a wee problem.”

“And that would be?” Jack asked impatiently as he felt Belle arrive at his side.

Jack looked down at Belle to see she’d tidied her ponytail and was wearing an enquiring expression but her mouth was swollen from his kisses and her grey eyes were soft and languid.

She looked, exactly, like she’d just had an immensely pleasurable orgasm.

Jack had seen that look before. He very much liked it and it gratified him that he’d given it to her.

However, he didn’t like sharing it.

Especially with his mother.

His mother looked at Belle then at Jack and she bit her lip before she said, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Jack was sorry too.

More than he could say.

However nonverbally he spoke volumes and he knew his mother read his face because she nervously kept biting her lip.

Jack slid an arm along Belle’s shoulders and pulled her close, suggesting to his mother, “All right Mum, maybe you’d care to explain why you’ve interrupted.”

“Well, see… erm…” she stammered.

“Mum,” Jack warned.

Quickly, not looking at Belle, she whispered, “Rachel’s seen Myrtle and Lewis and she’s a bit…” her eyes slid to Belle then back to Jack, “upset.”

Jack sighed and asked a question to which he already knew the answer, “You explained they don’t exist, didn’t you?”

Joy Bennett had been “seeing” Myrtle and Lewis for forty years. It was sporadic and infrequent but she claimed the first time she saw them was within days of moving to The Point after she married Jack’s father.

Therefore Jack was relatively certain, since Joy believed they existed, that she wouldn’t explain to Rachel, who was a sight more odd, loud, if not more dramatic than his mother, that she didn’t.

“Erm…” his mother mumbled, answering without actually answering and Jack clenched his teeth.

Then he looked down at Belle. “Did you tell your mother you’d seen them?”

Belle shook her head as Joy asked in a breathy voice, “You’ve seen them?”

Belle nodded at Joy. “Yesterday,” when Joy didn’t respond, Belle added, “they weirded me out.”

“Oh dear. They usually aren’t this active. Sometimes its years between times I see them and I saw them only the other day, twice. And they’re pretty choosy who they show themselves to.” Joy’s eyes moved to Jack. “What do you think this means?”

“I think it means I need to hire a counsellor to come to The Point for a group session,” Jack answered dryly.

“Jack!” both Belle and his mother cried.

“There are no such things as ghosts, Mum, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fill Belle’s head with that rubbish,” Jack returned.

Joy gave him her patented affronted mother look. “I haven’t uttered a word.”

Jack was about to speak when Belle put in, “She hasn’t.”

Jack looked down at Belle to assess if she was lying in a misguided attempt to assist his mother or if she was serious.

With one look, he knew she was serious.

He found this mildly surprising.

However, considering the sum total of melodramatic femininity which was currently housed under his roof, he didn’t find it troubling.

“I didn’t say anything to Rachel or Lila either,” Joy added. “You, and your father before you I might add, always get so foul tempered when I even mention it. So I usually don’t bother.” She turned to Belle and added conversationally, “Though, it’s a fascinating story.”

“Mum,” Jack warned when he felt Belle’s body tense at his side.

“Well, it is,” Joy defended.

“It doesn’t matter. They scare Belle and I don’t want you saying another word,” Jack asserted.

Joy turned to Belle. “Oh darling, there’s nothing to be scared of. I promise, they’re actually quite –”

“Mum!” Jack clipped sharply and Joy jumped.

“Um, I hate to interrupt your chitchat but my daughter is freaking out!” Lila called from down the hall while walking toward them. Her eyes were on Jack. “And you better do something about it, my man, because she’s upstairs, in Belle’s room, packing her things, mumbling about haunted houses and how her pregnant daughter was getting as far as she could from this creepy place.”

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered.

At the same time, Belle mumbled an alarmingly experienced, “Uh-oh.”

When Lila arrived at their group, Jack made a swift, acutely irritating but necessary decision and asked, “What does she drink?”

Lila blinked up at him and parroted, “Drink?”

“Rachel,” Jack went on with slipping patience. “What does she drink?”

Lila looked at Belle and mumbled, “Better question is what doesn’t she drink?”

Belle giggled, it wasn’t with humour but with nervousness and Jack’s patience slipped further.

“Lila,” he said low and her gaze snapped to him.

“I’d say this was a tequila moment,” Lila answered.

“I think we have tequila,” his mother informed them quickly.

“Get it,” Jack ordered and looked at Lila. “You get Rachel.” Then he told them both. “Meet us back here in the study.”

“Gotcha, big man,” Lila said breezily and moved down the hall.

Joy looked at Jack and asked, “What are you going to do?”

Jack pulled Belle closer to his side and answered, “I’m going to do nothing. You’re going to tell the story of Myrtle and Lewis.”

Before she could think better of it even in the face of Jack’s visibly slipping patience, Joy exclaimed excitedly, “Oh goody, I’m going to call Yasmin.”

“If you call Yasmin, I’ll break your fingers,” Jack clipped out his empty threat with as much menace as he could muster which was rather a lot at that juncture.

Joy ignored the considerable menace and smiled radiantly at him. “No you won’t, darling.” Then she looked at Belle and confided, “Yasmin loves this story. She’s never seen Myrtle and Lewis but she’s dying to. She’ll be so jealous.”

Then Joy hurried away in search of tequila.

Jack looked down at Belle and saw her face was pale and her eyes were locked on his mother’s departing back.

“Poppet,” Jack called and her head tipped to look up at him.

“Do you think the baby could withstand a shot of tequila?” She paused briefly before finishing, “Or three?”

“No,” Jack replied instantly.

Belle’s gaze dropped to his throat.

“I didn’t think so,” she muttered with disappointment.

In any other mood, Jack would find this amusing.

Considering he’d just been interrupted in his continuing efforts to win Belle’s trust at the same time making their situation significantly more complicated, so complicated it was a knotted mess from which she could never extract herself, he was not in such a mood.

Therefore Jack guided Belle back into the study wondering if he could politely rid The Point of his mother, Lila and Rachel without overly upsetting Belle.

At the very least for Sunday afternoons.