Lucky Stars (21 page)

His torso pressed hers into the bed, his arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled to his back, taking her with him, his mouth locked on hers, his tongue sliding inside.

His hands drove into the hair on either side of her head and held her to him as she tilted her head, her tongue dancing wildly with his.

This felt so good, her belly flipped then melted and her body moulded to his. Her arm wrapped around him and she moved to her side, urging him to come with her (and he did) so her hands could roam the skin and muscle of his back.

He felt good.

Actually, he felt
great
.

As she touched him, the kiss, mildly controlled, went out-of-control.

She had invited it and when it came she welcomed it and gave back as much as
she got, loving
every second.

Only when Jack’s hand yanked up her nightgown and slid into her panties at her behind did sanity return in an ice-cold,
what on earth are you doing
rush.

She pulled from his arms, scrambled from the bed and stood at its side, staring at Jack who’d come up on a forearm but his body had gone still.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“So, so sorry.
I’m sorry.” He just stared at her, she could see his chest rising and falling, his defined stomach muscles contracting with his deep breathing and she kept talking, “Hormones.
It’s
hormones. I’m so sorry.”

She stood there feeling like an idiot and her gaze went from his passion-filled eyes to his chest which was something she liked. So it skittered to his nose which was something else she liked. So it went to his shoulder which was safe when he was wearing clothes, when he wasn’t it was all sinewy and luscious so she settled on his ear.

“Belle –” he started but she blathered on.

“Okay, so, this is obviously going to be weird, considering our brief history. So, for this to work, um… me being here, living with you, maybe we should have rules.”

“Belle –” he repeated and she still didn’t look at him when she kept talking.

“Like, you know, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to sleep with me, or, um, wake up with me, or, um… both. That’s a good rule.”

“Belle –” he said yet again but she kept right on talking.

“And, maybe you’re not allowed to kiss me anymore.”

“Are you allowed to kiss me?” he asked and she heard it, plain as day, there was amusement in his voice.

Her eyes flew to his face and she saw it plain as day there too.

“No,” she answered. “No kissing.
None at all.
Either you or me.”

“I don’t agree to that rule,” he retorted, throwing back the covers.

Her body went solid in fear and she realised, again too late, that she should have run from the room or locked herself in the bathroom or thrown herself out of a window or
something
.

She still had time but her feet refused to move.

She watched him get out of bed. She noted he was wearing a pair of dark grey, drawstring pyjama bottoms that looked
way too good
on his behind and then he started walking around it, toward her.

“Either me not kissing you or you not kissing me.
Especially
you not kissing me,” he stressed and stopped in front of her, his hand coming to her jaw, his voice dipping low and
rumbly
. “You’ve never kissed me like that before. That was nice, poppet.”

“Another rule!”
Belle announced way too loudly, taking a step back and away from his hand which dropped to his side. “You can’t call me ‘poppet’ anymore.”

He grinned. “I don’t agree to that, either.”

She blinked at him. “Well, do you agree to the first one, the no sleeping together?”

“Certainly,” he replied without hesitation and her body relaxed only to go ramrod straight again when he continued.
“Unless I’m in the mood.”

“The mood?” she whispered and he took the step toward her that she’d taken back and both his hands came to her jaw, holding her captive.

“The mood,” he repeated then went on terrifyingly. “And you should know, I’m guessing I’ll be in the mood quite a bit, poppet.”

“This isn’t funny,” she whispered, her heart in her voice but even though she knew he could hear it (he
had
to be able to hear it), he smiled.

“You’re right, it isn’t funny. I’m also not laughing.”

“You’re smiling,” she accused.

“That I am,” he agreed.

“Stop doing it,” she demanded.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked in a voice edged with hysteria.

“Because now I know,” he answered.

Her body stiffened to the consistency of marble but her mouth still was able to form the words. “You know what?”

“I know why you’re avoiding me,” he replied.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she semi-lied.

She kind of was.

Heck, who was she kidding? She definitely was and had been doing it for three weeks.

“You’re avoiding me, Belle. And you’re doing it because you want what we started in the stables, what we started in that bed, what we had four months ago. You want it just as badly as you’re terrified of it.”

“
It’s
hormones,” she semi-lied again. It
could
be hormones, what did she know? She was no pregnancy expert (although she was learning).

“It wasn’t hormones four months ago.”

He had her there.

“I have another rule,” she began, jerking her face from his hands and taking another step back, running into Baron and then stopping and lifting her chin to Jack. “No talking about four months ago.”

“Yesterday, I would have agreed to that.” He took another step toward her, negating the distance she’d gained, and leaned in. “Today. No fucking way.”

“Why?” she fairly shouted.

“Because now I want to know, when we both know how good it was then, how good it can be again, why you’re so damned scared of it. So scared of it, you’d latch onto any excuse you could find and walk away from it, and me, without looking back.”

She lifted her chin further and lied, yet again (she was seriously going to hell),
“
I’m not scared of it.”

“You bloody well are. You’re scared out of your skin.”

“Am not,” she snapped.

“Oh yes you are.”

“No… I… am… not!” she shouted.

He got even closer, his hands coming to her hips and dared, “Then kiss me.”

Her body did a little jerk and she stammered, “
Wh
… what?”

“If you’re so in control then kiss me. Prove to me you can take it or leave it.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Scared?” he taunted.

“No!” she snapped.

She saw his eyes smile even though his mouth did not. She remembered the first time she’d seen him do that and just how beautiful she thought it was then.

It was no less beautiful now.

“Liar,” he muttered, breaking into her thoughts.

“I’m not lying,” she lied.

He didn’t reply.

She watched him warily.

He studied her with amusement dancing in his green eyes.

Finally he whispered, “This is going to be interesting.”

Belle didn’t like the sound of that.

Before she could find something,
anything
to say to convince him he was wrong, he bent his neck and kissed her forehead.

But he only moved away a scant inch when he said softly, “All right, poppet, I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

“What does that mean?” she asked in a shaky voice.

His hand moved from her hip to cup her jaw and his thumb slid along her cheekbone. “That means I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He bent again to touch his mouth to her trembling lips and, once he’d done that, his thumb trailed along her lower one.

Then without another word, he turned and walked to the door.

Hand on the knob, he looked at her.

“Do you want the dogs?” he asked.

Belle, standing like a statue, tilted her head down to look at Baron and
Gretl
who were both sitting at her sides, tongues lolling happily, grinning up at her, tails sweeping the floor.

She mutely looked back to Jack.

He’d asked if she wanted the dogs like he asked it every morning during their
years
long relationship before popping off to get ready for breakfast.

Not like they’d had their first ever Jack’s Multiple Personalities Melodrama in her bedroom.

She wondered to herself if he was mad.

Then, for some bizarre reason, she answered him out loud, “Yes.”

At her answer, he gave her a sexy grin, one she’d never seen before, one that looked almost playful.

Her belly did a delightful dip.

 
“See you at breakfast, poppet.”

Then he closed the door.

Then she stared at it.

Then she looked down at Baron.

Then at
Gretl
.

When Belle’s attention turned away from him, Baron woofed.

When Belle’s attention turned away from her,
Gretl
licked her hand.

“For some reason,” she told the dogs, her voice still tremulous,
her
fingers moving to scratch behind their ears, “I think I’m in trouble.”

Baron woofed again and Belle could swear he was agreeing with her.

* * * * *

Belle walked on leaded feet to the breakfast table, dillydallying in the hopes that she’d sit down just in time for Jack to eat his last bite of toast. That way she could keep her promise without actually keeping her promise.

This was a risky endeavour.

The downside was Jack cottoning onto her game and getting scary angry.

The upside was Belle keeping her sanity.

For some reason, she lost it when she was with Jack.

All her life, she’d been a sane person.
Very sane.
In fact, her mother and grandmother might even say
too
sane.

With Jack, she was
not
.

Considering she’d soon be responsible for another living being, she thought it important to behave like a sensible adult, not a brazen hussy.

She was already losing the Mother of the Year award and she hadn’t even had her child.

She’d done everything she could do to delay her arrival at the breakfast table.

She’d showered, done her makeup and styled her hair all twisted softly back in big bun at her nape, a few tiny braids blended in, some wispy hairs here and there at her face and neck.
Very romantic and innocent virgin looking.

Then she spent a good deal of time deciding what to wear.

Since the weather had been quite warm and sunny, she decided on a violet-coloured cotton sundress that she designed. It had an empire waist, a deep v-neck with a ruffled trim and a slight a-lined skirt that hit a couple of inches above the knee. She paired this with silver, flat Capri sandals with a rose at the toe.

Although the deep v-neck was
slightly
risqué, it was a sweet Audrey Hepburn type of outfit and everyone knew Audrey Hepburn was no hussy.

As she approached the door to the dining room, she saw movement down the hall and stopped in the door to watch Jack walking toward her.

Clearly her efforts at dillydallying had all been for naught.

He had a sleek, black mobile phone to his ear that looked like something George
Jetson
might own. He was wearing charcoal-grey trousers with an elegant pinstripe, a crisp, light blue shirt and a black, midnight blue and grey patterned tie was hanging loose from his opened collar.

His eyes were on her.

She felt a trill race up her spine that ran along her scalp and made her shiver.

She realised she’d frozen when he stopped close and put a hand lightly to her waist.

Only then did she understand her mistake. She should have been cool, calm and casual and given him a jaunty wave before entering the dining room.

Instead, she’d stood gawking at him like a lovesick teenager.

Proof positive that she lost her sanity around Jack.

“Right,” he said into his phone, his eyes never leaving hers. “E-mail it. I’ll be in the office this afternoon and we’ll discuss it then.”

He flipped his phone shut without saying good-bye and his gaze travelled the length of her.

When his eyes came back to her face, he asked softly.
“One of yours?”

Belle, who had fallen into a Gentle Jack Trance, nodded.

“It’s lovely,” he murmured on a small smile.