“I noticed that but I don’t understand why you –”
Jack turned fully to her while cutting her off, “He’s an investigative journalist. He uncovered something that the rest of the media, even after a year of her being under scrutiny, didn’t find. He has skills. As I’ve explained it to you, you’re aware that we’re currently involved in an unusual situation where we have very little knowledge of what’s going on considering what precipitated it happened over two hundred years ago. The story is old, the trail is cold and his skills might prove useful.”
“I see,” Olive muttered.
“Bring him to me,” Jack ordered.
“Consider it done.”
He always did after he gave Olive a directive.
Without another word, Olive left.
Jack turned back to the view and listened as his dogs again settled.
He studied it until it brought him peace.
Then he turned from the window, strode through his house with his dogs at his heels and he went to his and Belle’s bedroom.
He disrobed and pulled on some pyjama bottoms as he heard Baron and Gretl settle on Belle’s side of the bed.
Then he slid in beside his sleeping Belle, curled into her warm body and the peace he’d garnered from the view settled deep.
I love you, Jack Bennett.
Curled into Belle, Jack fell asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Beyond Belief
Jack
“So, when will you be home?” Belle’s honeyed voice asked in his ear.
It was afternoon the next day and Jack was sitting behind his desk in his London office. As he listened to Belle, his eyes went to the door which had opened.
Olive stuck her head through.
Her lips moved, no sound came out but he saw them mouth, “Dempsey.”
He lifted one finger to her. She nodded, ducked out and closed the door.
Jack went back to Belle.
“I have one more meeting and then I’ll be on my way home.”
“So, you’ll be home for dinner,” she murmured, sounding slightly uneasy and Jack’s back went straight.
But his voice was gentle when he asked, “Is there a reason you sound concerned about my being home for dinner?”
“Just that, um, Dad has decided to commandeer the kitchen.”
Jack closed his eyes.
“And,” Belle went on, “he’s done this because he’s decided to introduce you all to American food.”
Jack opened his eyes.
“He does know that I, and Mum, and Yasmin, have all been to America?” Jack asked.
“Um… I did inform him of that,” Belle answered.
“Repeatedly,” Jack added.
“Uh… yes. Actually, Joy shared that. He’s still determined,” she replied.
“And this dinner would entail?” he prompted.
Her voice was tight but not with anxiety, with suppressed laughter when she replied, “I don’t know. It could mean his Texas chilli which is so hot it’s inedible. Or it could mean his barbeque ribs which are so messy we’ll all have to wear bibs. Or it could mean his famous flame-grilled hamburgers which would require, um…” she paused then stressed her final three words mock-ominously, “an open flame.”
The thought of Jensen Abbot anywhere near an open flame did not fill him with delight.
“Poppet,” Jack said quietly, “The Point has withstood centuries of bad weather, wars, different political regimes, religious unrest and a triple murder. I like our home. You like our home. Please, for me, encourage your father to cook something that would not threaten its destruction.”
He was pleased to hear her laughter wasn’t suppressed when her sweet voice vibrated through her response. “I’ll see what I can do, honey.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Jack muttered.
The humour was sadly gone and her voice was soft and strangely wistful when she said, “I know you’re busy, Jack, but I need to share something with you.”
His voice was also soft when he returned, “I am busy, love, but never too busy for you to share something with me.”
She hesitated and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she went on quietly, “I called Dr. Flanagan and made an appointment. As you know because of… well, everything… that I’m not and haven’t been on birth control for a while. I think maybe we should, um… since we’ve started again, you know, yesterday and, um, last night and, uh… again this morning, maybe… we should see to that. I don’t want to –”
“Excellent, my love,” Jack whispered back. “When we’re ready to try again, we’ll plan it.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice again soft and in it was also the wistful.
But a better kind.
“Do you want me to go with you to see Dr. Flanagan?” he offered.
“If you have time. If you don’t, Mom or Gram will come with me.”
“We’ll talk about it tonight.”
“Okay, Jack.”
“In the meantime, we’ll take other precautions.”
“That sounds fun,” she muttered and he grinned because she sounded like she didn’t think it sounded fun at all.
“How about we make it fun, my love?” he suggested and his body reacted to her breathy one syllable response.
“Oh.”
He took in a deep breath to control his reaction at the same time he struggled to control all his myriad thoughts as to how they would make it fun then unfortunately he had to change the subject.
“The man I’m meeting is here. I have to go.”
“Okay,” she repeated then whispered, “See you soon. Love you, Jack.”
His body responded again to her last three words. Words she’d whispered to him for the first time last night. Words that affected him deeply then.
Words that affected him no less deeply now.
“And I you, poppet,” his reply was low and vibrating. “See you soon.”
“’Bye, Jack.”
“Soon, Belle.”
He heard her disconnect and he touched the button on his mobile. Then he dropped it to his desk, leaned forward and touched a button on the phone on his desk which would buzz on Gillie’s phone indicating that he was ready for his visitor.
Seconds later, the door opened and Olive walked in, escorting a rather good-looking man with dark brown hair and the bulky, honed body of a prize fighter.
Jack had taken some time that day to do an internet search on Mickey Dempsey. Without the time to give it the attention it needed, it was by no means thorough. Nevertheless, the articles Dempsey chose to write, most especially the exposés, painted a vivid picture of the man, his interests and his principles.