Lucky Stars (48 page)

“Holy heck,” she breathed but her fingers put pressure against his head, her head lifted and she touched her mouth against his.

When she did, he growled his triumph into her already opened mouth, slanted his head and slid his tongue inside.

She immediately emitted one of her sexy, little noises and his already hard cock jerked at the sound.

Then Baron and
Gretl
moved, their tags jangling and they both barked.

This was right before they heard a banging at the door.

Jack’s head came up and twisted as the banging continued, loud and unabated.

“What the fuck?” he muttered.

Belle’s body had grown tense underneath him and feeling it, Jack decided he was going to wring the neck of whoever was at the door.

“Would a reporter bang on the door like that?” Belle whispered
,
her voice filled with anxiety.

“No,” Jack answered as the banging stopped then, within seconds, continued and he stifled a frustrated growl.

“Mom and Gram wouldn’t bang like that,” Belle told him as, with regret, he moved away from her warm body and their warm bed.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Jack replied though he figured they would but not on Sunday.

He exited the bed and Baron and
Gretl
started circling to the bedroom door and back to Jack.

He heard Belle’s movement, looked back and saw her sitting up and throwing the covers back.

Jack stopped in his progress to the door and ordered, “Don’t move.”

Belle halted her legs in mid-swing and asked, “What?”

“Don’t leave that bed.”

“But –”

“Belle.”

She stared at him a moment then her legs settled and she whispered, “Okay.”

“I won’t be a minute,” Jack told her and watched her nod.

Then Jack, barefoot, bare-chested and wearing only pyjama bottoms, stalked through the house, down the steps to the front door and threw it open.

A tall, sandy blond-haired man with intensely blue eyes stood outside wearing a beat up leather bomber jacket, a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt stating his fondness for The Rolling Stones.

He had an even more beat up leather satchel over his shoulder and, alarmingly, a large, even
more
beat up leather bag sitting on the stoop by his foot.

His eyes bugged out when they fell on Jack’s face.

“Jesus, you’re the famous, rich dude,” he declared.

Jack scowled at him. “I am indeed. And you are?”

The man’s face split into an easy, wide, white smile and his hand shot forward toward Jack before he said, “Jenson Abbot,
Belle’s
Daddy.”

Jack stared at his hand, vaguely disappointed that he couldn’t commit homicide against Belle’s father and then he took his hand and shook it, introducing himself by saying, “Jack Bennett.”

“Dude, I
know,
” Jensen Abbot replied. “Christ, photos of you and Belle are
everywhere.
” He dropped Jack’s hand and went on, “You two look sweet together.
Sah
…
weet
.
Never thought my precious girl would find someone to complement her, because, hey man, I don’t have to tell you, she’s
beautiful
but, seriously, dude, you… are…
it
.”

Jack had no reply to that however he did get the impression that perhaps Belle hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with how wild her father was and she had painted a verbal picture of Jensen Abbot that was rather wild.

“I came to surprise my baby girl and see how she’s
gettin
’ on with all this shit so, um, you think you could let me in because I kinda wanna see my daughter and I seriously need a caffeine fix. You know what I’m saying?”

“Of course,” Jack murmured, stepped back and motioned to Baron and
Gretl
to go up the stairs which they did.

Jensen didn’t delay. He picked up his bag and barrelled up the steps after the dogs.

While he did so, he shouted, “
Bellerina
, get your ass out here and give your
ol
’ Dad a hug!”

Jack had made it to the landing in time to see Belle come running out of the bedroom wearing her nightgown. Then he watched as she threw herself in her father’s arms.

“Dad!” she shouted happily as Jensen swung her around. Jack thought there was one thing good about Jensen interrupting Jack’s determination to break through during his Sunday and that was hearing Belle sounding happy for the first time in weeks.

Jack watched as Jensen hugged his daughter while the dogs danced around them and
Gretl
gave an excited woof.

Jensen pushed Belle a bit away and his gaze went immediately to the significantly faded bruise and stitched cut at her temple.

Then he exploded.

“Holy
shit!
What the
fuck!
”

Then, for some strange reason, his eyes slashed to Jack and, Jack noted, they did this accusingly.

Jack was taken off-guard. He thought Jensen was there because of the accident but apparently he didn’t know. Jack also couldn’t imagine why Jensen was glaring at him with murder in his eyes as if Jack himself had shoved Belle down the stairs.

He had no time to come to terms with either of these thoughts.

Belle’s face had grown pale and Jack bit back a curse before suggesting to Jensen, “Perhaps you and I can have word in the living room.”

“Yeah, we’ll have a
fuckin
’ word. We might have two,” Jensen ground out and his gaze swung back to his daughter as his hand curled around the side of her head, his thumb under the cut. “I
mean,
what the
fuck?
”

“Dad –” Belle whispered, her body swaying toward her father and her hand came up to his, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. “I’m okay.”

“Girl, you’ve got a head wound,” Jensen returned.

“I’m okay,” she repeated softly.

But Jensen was not appeased. His hand dropped but twisted and Jack watched him catch Belle’s hand and give it a squeeze. All the while his eyes were on Jack and Jack noted he didn’t look happy.

“Get your Dad a cup of
joe
, girl. Your man and I are gonna have words,” Jensen said without taking his gaze from Jack.

“I think –” Belle started but Jack moved to Belle’s side and curved his arm around her waist, bringing her close and kissing her temple above the cut.

Then his mouth moved to her ear and he said gently, “Belle, love,
show
your father the living room and then, please, make some coffee.”

“But –”

Jack gave her waist a squeeze. “Please.”

Her eyes searching his, she took in a breath, wet her lips and finally nodded.

She turned to her father and invited, “Come on, Daddy.”

As Belle took her father to the living room, Jack went to the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and then walked into the living room where Jensen Abbot was staring out the window.

Belle’s father’s eyes came to Jack the minute he entered the room and he watched Jack close the door.

The door barely clicked in its frame when Jensen demanded, “Don’t make me wait, man.”

Jack turned and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Three and a half weeks ago, at my home, Belle fell down the stairs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen bit out then his eyes narrowed.
“How?”

“Pardon?”
Jack asked.

“My girl ain’t clumsy. How’d she fall down the
fuckin
’ stairs?”

This was, Jack thought, a fucking good question.

One he had not thought to ask as he’d been preoccupied with seeing to Belle and dealing with losing his child.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken of it,” Jack answered.

“Well, when she gets in with the coffee, we’ll be
fuckin
’
speakin
’ of it,” Jensen threatened and Jack walked toward him.

The way Jack did
it,
Jensen rightly pulled himself up to his full height.

“You won’t mention it,” Jack declared.

“What the –”

“I wasn’t there,” Jack explained away what he had the uncomfortable feeling was Jensen’s implication that Belle didn’t fall down the stairs but that Jack had some hand in her injury. “I was flying from London to Cornwall at the time. No one witnessed it. She was found unconscious at the foot of the stairs.”

Jensen relaxed a bit and asked in a less hostile tone, “Did she trip?”

“I don’t know but you won’t mention it,” Jack stated inflexibly.

The hostility was back when Jensen asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“Because she was pregnant when she fell and she’s not pregnant now.” Jack watched the blood drain from Belle’s father’s face and he softened his tone when he went on, “She’s not handling the loss of our child well, Jensen, and I need you to handle her with care.”

Jensen’s eyes grew wide.
“
Your
child?”

“Our child, yes,” Jack replied.

He looked away and pulled a hand through his hair.

Jack thought upon meeting him that he, like Rachel, looked years younger than he must be.

At that moment, he looked old enough to be Belle’s grandfather.

“
Bellerina
,” he whispered to the floor and Jack thought even his voice sounded old when he looked at Jack and said bizarrely, “I really need to get me one of them cell phones. Rachel’s probably been frantic
tryin
’ to get a hold of me.”

Knowing, from what Belle told him, that Jensen Abbot was an American nomad, no home, travelling from city to city taking on whatever “gig” (Belle’s word) he could find, as a musician (he played piano) or a dealer (he dealt blackjack) or anything else that came up, Jack reckoned that Jensen was not wrong. It was likely Rachel had been frantically trying to reach him.

“You’re here now,” Jack replied and Jensen nodded.

Then Jensen went still and said, “Handle her with care?”

Jack felt his jaw grow hard but he tried to keep his voice soft when he replied, “I meant no disrespect. What I meant –”

Jensen visibly relaxed and his grin spread right before he cut in and assured, “I know what you meant, man, and I know it wasn’t disrespect.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder stoutly and his grin widened into a smile. “Glad to see my girl’s got herself a good man. ‘
Handle
her with care’,” he muttered. “I like that, I should write a song about that.” Then he looked around Jack toward the door and shouted, “Girl, where’s my coffee!”

Jack had no chance to say another word as Jensen rounded him and marched to the door.

However he had a feeling his Sunday with Belle was no longer just his.

And he was right.

* * * * *

“Jenny!” Rachel shouted as she flew through the enormous entrance hall of The Point and threw herself in Jensen’s arms.

Belle and Jack followed Jensen inside,
Gretl
and Baron trotting in with them heading straight toward the kitchen and food.

 
Jack watched as his mother, Lila, Yasmin and a big, strange, white-haired man wearing a kilt and a dark-haired woman wearing an effusive number of scarves and silver jewellery wandered in behind Rachel.

Then his eyes swung to Jensen and Rachel and he saw, to his shock, they were shamelessly necking in the entrance hall.

Shamelessly and
passionately
.

And, after this went on for a while, Jack realised they were necking shamelessly, passionately and, apparently, tirelessly.

For the first time in three and a half weeks, Jack found himself chuckling.

When he did, Belle’s head twisted sharply to face him, her eyes narrowed and his chuckle became laughter.

Then she looked back to her mother and cried, “Mom!”

Rachel, slowly (very slowly), realised she had an audience and she broke from her lip lock with Jensen but she didn’t move away.

Cuddling Jensen, her fingers playing with the collar of his jacket, her head resting on his shoulder, she looked at her daughter, a smile on her face and muttered, “Sorry
honeypot
.”

“I’m not sorry,” Jensen grinned unrepentant at his daughter, his arm around Rachel. “It’s been too long, little girl.”

Belle made a frustrated noise and Jack’s arm, already around her shoulders, curled and he pulled her into his side.

“Oops!” Rachel all of a sudden uttered and looked up at Jensen. “Jenny, we’re not allowed to embarrass
Bellerina
.”

Jensen looked down at Rachel but his eyebrows went up, “Says who?”

“Says Jack,” Rachel replied. “He’s kind of protective of Belle and he’s forbidden it.”

“Yeah,” Jensen was still grinning. “I got that impression right off.”