Lucky Stars (35 page)

He didn’t finish.

Of its own accord, her hand shot up and covered his mouth and before she even thought to stop herself, she blurted, “Nope, no, I don’t want to know.”

She saw his eyes smiling at her though she didn’t know if his mouth was and his fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her hand away.

“All right, we won’t talk about my work. We’ll talk about yours,” he started, eyes still smiling. “Is Belinda coming in today?”

Belle nodded.

“Don’t open the shop until she gets here. Send Nola or Carol down to help her. You stay up in the workshop,” he commanded then continued issuing orders. “I’ll phone or text you to let you know when to expect your new assistant but I don’t want you coming down until she gets here.”

She found herself half pleased, half annoyed that he was telling her what to do in a way that said, quite clearly, he expected her to do it.

“You’re very dictatorial, did anyone ever tell you that?” she asked, letting the half annoyed part take control.

“Occupational hazard,” he replied, eyes back to smiling.

Belle looked down at the steps and muttered, “I bet you were a bossy kid, too.”

Her head came up when she heard him roar with laughter and she couldn’t be angry at him anymore because he looked way too darned handsome when he laughed.

Which, incidentally and contradictorily, she also found annoying.

His face had gentled after he laughed and she screwed up the courage to ask, “Are you going to be home for dinner?”

She watched his face shift from gentle to tender at her question and her heart started beating faster.

“Yes, poppet, though not early enough to come and collect you.”

Belle looked to his ear then to the knot in his tie then with a great deal of effort, she forced her eyes to his and said, “No, um…” She hesitated then rushed on, “I was wondering if we could have dinner together.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“No,” she said quickly before she lost her nerve. “What I mean is
,
can I make dinner for you?
Just you and me at my cottage.”

Something changed about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it but whatever it was filled the very air. It made it smooth, silky, thick, like velvet trailing across her skin.

“I’d like that,” he said softly.

Belle nodded again then swallowed before she went on, “My cottage is a short walk from here. You just –”

“I know where you live, Belle,” he cut in, surprising her with this news. “Do you have enough to do here to wait for me to come and collect you?”

She nodded yet again. “I always have enough to do.”

He moved into her space and said, “I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

“Okay,” she whispered, liking the idea of knowing when Jack was close but not as much as liking it when he
was
close.

“I’ve got to go,” he told her but he sounded like he didn’t want to. In fact, he sounded like he
really
didn’t want to and Belle felt that trill shoot up her spine.

She nodded once again but he didn’t move.

She waited.

He still didn’t move.

This went on for a while.

Finally, she asked, “I thought you said you had to go?”

“I’m waiting for my kiss.”

A dozen trills shot up her spine and her scalp tingled so much she thought her hair would stand on end.

She was getting there. She’d even met his eyes and asked him to dinner.

She couldn’t
kiss him
.

The last time she’d kissed him, it led to an orgasm on his couch.

Then she thought about him flying to God knew where. No co-pilot. Maybe ending his flight in a fiery crash somewhere remote where it would take days of concentrated search efforts (with dogs) to reach his beautiful but broken body.

She hated to admit it, even though she just took one, it was time again to take another risk.

So that’s why she leaned into him, put her hands to his chest, slid them up so they were around his neck and she went up on tiptoe as she pressed her chest to his.

He helped, his hands coming to rest lightly on her waist and tilting his head down so she could put her mouth on his.

Then she kissed him, softly at first, pressing further and opening her lips just a little bit.

He helped again, opening his mouth over hers.

So, timidly, she
slid
her tongue inside his mouth and touched it to his.

The second she tasted him, his arms wrapped tightly around her, hauling her against his body and up, taking her to the very tips of her toes (and beyond).

Then his head slanted and Jack took control of the kiss.

From there, it went wild and hot and nearly out-of-control.

It was
fantastic
.

Before it could careen entirely out-of-control, his mouth tore from hers but he held her close, his lips sliding to her ear.

“I like the way you kiss, poppet,” he murmured there.

“That’s good,” she whispered back inanely, not completely in control of all her faculties and she heard him chuckle.

He set her on her feet but touched his lips to hers one last time.

“Have a good day,” he said.

Then he turned and she watched him leave.

She stood on the stairs, back pressed against the wall, until her legs stopped shaking, her heart quit beating so fast and her scalp halted its tingling.

This took a while too.

Then she went to her workroom and got to work.

* * * * *

Late morning, when Nola, one of her seamstresses, was downstairs with Belinda and Carol, her other seamstress, was upstairs with Belle, both Carol and Belle working at her two sewing machines, Belle’s purse rang.

She ran to it, grabbed her phone, looked at the screen and saw it was Jack.

She pressed the screen to take the call and put it to her ear.

“Hi,” she said and then gave herself a tiny shake because her voice, even on that one word, sounded breathy.

Then she mentally kicked herself for saying “hi”.
 
She should have said “hello” or a casual “hey, Jack” or a formal “Belle’s phone”.

“Hello, poppet.” His deep,
rumbly
voice cut off her rampaging thoughts and slid through the phone into her ear giving her a long distance trill and tingle. “Olive is in transit. She and your new assistant should be with you this afternoon.”

Belle’s body went stiff. “Olive is coming?”

“She’s decided to escort your new girl. I’m guessing she wants to meet you.”

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle breathed in horror only to hear Jack chuckle.

“She’s a PA, love, not the Wicked Witch of London.”

“Yes, right. Of course,” Belle replied softly, feeling like an idiot.

“She’ll like you,” he went on.

Belle doubted that. She had a lot of people who liked her but she wasn’t a master of the best first impression.

“Of course,” she repeated not because she agreed. Because she thought she should say something.

“There’s a lot to like, Belle,” he continued, his voice getting low and very
rumbly
and it hit her that he was taking time out of his likely very busy day to reassure her.

Her mind got one step closer to going the way of her heart and soul.

“I’ll be okay, Jack,” she told him.

He was silent a moment then said, “You’ll know her anywhere. She has peach hair.”

Belle forgot about her mind, heart and soul, let out a startled giggle and asked, “Peach?”

“Don’t ask me,” Jack replied, amusement in his voice. “I’ll see you later, my love.”

Then he rang off and Belle heard his last two words over and over in her head until Carol called her name.

She focussed on her colleague who was watching her closely.

“He’s fit,
way
fit, but girl, you’re a mess,” Carol remarked.

Belle walked over and sat down next to Carol at her sewing machine. “I know. I’m
such
an idiot.”

Carol grinned at her. “He doesn’t think so and that’s
all
that matters.”

This was simple but it was absolutely true.

“He’s coming to the cottage for dinner tonight,” Belle shared and Carol’s brows drew together in confusion.

“I thought you were living with him.”

“I am and so is his mother, my mother, my grandmother and, a lot of the time, his ex-girlfriend now adopted daughter slash sister,” Belle revealed.

“One word for that and that word is ‘
eek
’,” Carol noted with a smile on her lips. “I’m guessing you want some alone time.”

“I want to show him my grandmother’s landscapes,” Belle replied honestly and Carol burst out laughing.

When she quit laughing, she teased, “That’s what they all say, dear.”

Belle saw the humour and grinned before she asked, “So what do you reckon I should make for a fabulously wealthy man who orders breakfast from his housekeeper every morning, has his bed made for him every day and flies to work in a plane?”

“Meat and potatoes,” Carol answered instantly. “Unless they’re
poofs
or celebrity chefs, which are just other words meaning poof, men like meat and potatoes.
All men.
Even fabulously wealthy ones.”
Then she got up and walked to her purse. “Leave it to me. I’ll go to the store. I’ll stock you up. He probably eats so much fancy food, a little home
cooking,
he won’t know what hit him.” She moved back to Belle and held out her hand.
“Keys to the cottage.”

Belle walked to her purse, dug in and gave Carol her keys and some money.

Then a little wiggle of fear spiralled in her belly, she looked at Carol and opened her mouth.

Before she could utter a word, Carol said gently, “I’ve had dinner at your house, Belle, three times. You’re a great cook. Americans usually are. I’m not kidding, love, he won’t know what hit him.”

Belle nodded, watched Carol leave and, wiggle of fear gone, she went back to work.

* * * * *

Mid-afternoon, Belinda’s head popped up at the landing to the stairs and Carol and Belle looked at her.

Her eyes were bright and her face was flushed.

“You have got to see
this,
” she breathed in apparent rapture then her head disappeared.

Belle and Carol looked at each other, got up and headed down the stairs.

In her shop, as well as three customers, was a peach-haired woman wearing, bizarrely, a full on, boxy tweed suit with a light wool turtleneck under it and thick tights even though it was twenty-nine degrees Celsius outside.

There was also a light-skinned, black man with a close-cropped Afro, dark-brown eyes, a strong, square jaw and the body of a defensive lineman including broad shoulders and massive height that Belle guessed was at least two inches taller than Jack and Jack was
tall
. He was wearing an impeccably cut suit and he could easily be scouted as a leading man in a variety of Hollywood movies including romantic comedies but
especially
action films.

In other words, he was gorgeous.

Not James Bennett gorgeous but as close as Belle ever got.

Eyes to the black man, Belle walked to the peach-haired lady.

“Belle Abbot.” She heard and she tore her eyes from the man and looked at Olive who was speaking.

“You’re Olive,” Belle said idiotically.

“That I am,” Olive replied and stuck her hand out, Belle took it and Olive’s fingers closed around hers. Olive’s grip was so firm it was a little scary and she shook Belle’s hand so stoutly, Belle’s entire frame shook with it and the whole time her hazel eyes never left Belle’s face.

Belle returned her look as best she could and the woman dropped her hand.

“This is Dirk,” Olive said, motioning to the black man. “He’s your new shop assistant.”

Belle’s mouth dropped open as Belinda cried, “Isn’t that
great?
”

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle whispered, her eyes glued to Dirk. “You’re a man,” she told him.

He grinned and his white teeth flashed so brightly Belle was temporarily blinded.

“Last time I checked,” he
answered,
his voice so deep it hit the room like a thunderclap.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle repeated.

“Until this morning, he worked on

Belle looked back to Olive and asked hesitantly, “Um, can I talk to you a second?”

Before Olive could answer, Belle grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back of the store, up the stairs and into the workshop.

Then she whirled on her and got close. “Does Jack know that’s my new shop assistant?”