“No, it’s just Gram that’s talented,” she told him.
He got closer, his chin dipping down further to look at her and he asked, “I thought Miles said you made your dress?”
Immediately, Belle looked away.
“Belle,” he called again but she didn’t look back.
Instead she answered the sea, “Yes, I made the dress.”
“It’s beautiful,” he complimented her and she felt that trill go up her spine again. So strong it not only raised the hairs on the back of her neck, it tingled all along her scalp.
“Thank you,” she whispered then sought to find another subject, any subject and luckily her mind found one. “Which piece of Gram’s do you have?”
He thankfully allowed the subject change and replied, “It’s called ‘Sedona Bloom’.”
Belle smiled at the sea and nodded. “I think I remember that one. She did a Sedona series when we lived there. The Arizona desert is remarkable in bloom.”
“So, you’re from Arizona,” he noted and she shook her head, crossing her arms on her chest under his jacket.
“We’re from everywhere.” She kept speaking to the view, finding it easier to hold this conversation when she could pretend he wasn’t there and so damned close. “Mom and Dad got divorced when I was six and Mom and I followed Gram wherever she went. Which was a lot of places.”
“Like where?” James asked.
It was at that moment that it occurred to her that James had known her for barely an evening and Miles had known her for a month. And Miles didn’t know her grandmother was Lila Cavendish or that her parents were divorced or that she moved around a lot.
He didn’t know any of this because he’d never asked.
“Arizona, California, Colorado, New Mexico,” Belle answered. “Gram went through a New Orleans phase so we stayed there for a school year. And she became infatuated with Savannah so we were there for an entire summer.” She stopped and when he didn’t speak she decided she should go on, so she noted inanely, “It was very humid.”
“Interesting life for a child,” James muttered. “What did your father think of this?”
Belle’s hand came out from under the jacket and she waved it in front of her. “Oh, he didn’t mind. He was a wanderer too. I never saw much of him, really.”
“You don’t sound like you find that upsetting,” he observed.
Belle shook her head. “I didn’t have much of him but he’s a big personality. When I did have him, I had all of him and that was better than most kids have.”
She felt his heat and knew he’d drawn closer.
She tried to pretend that didn’t happen too.
“I hear Lila Cavendish is a bit of a character as well.”
She knew what he meant.
If her father was a big personality and Gram was a character, what happened to her?
She didn’t know why she said what she said next. Maybe it was the sea, the puppies, the several glasses of champagne she had at the party.
Or maybe it was just him.
But she said it.
“I used to wish I was like her,” Belle confided softly. “She and my Mom are cut from the same cloth. They light up a room.”
Forgetting her fear of heights, she walked to the edge and leaned her shoulder against the door, losing herself in the view and kept talking.
“Once when I was young, we visited my great-grandmother in a retirement home. It was the first time Gram and I visited her after Gram moved her in there. We walked in and it was dreary. Depressing.” Her voice dropped even lower. “You wouldn’t believe it.”
Belle shut her eyes against the memory, opened them and forged on.
“I remember Gram taking one look at all those old people in their bleak rec room and muttering, ‘This will not do.’ Then she dug in her purse and pulled out her bag of lemon drops. To this day, she always carries a bag of lemon drops.” This last came out in a barely there whisper.
She twisted her head to look at him and saw he was watching her, his arms crossed on his chest, his face so gentle and striking she had to look away so she’d have the courage to continue.
Belle pulled in a breath and watched a wave break against the jagged rocks of the shore before she went on.
“Anyway,” she said in a brighter voice, “she went around the whole room offering the old folks lemon drops, telling jokes, laughing and talking and livening up the room. That’s all it took. Gram and a bag of lemon drops.”
When he spoke, his voice was closer and her body jerked in surprise as she turned to see he was again at her side.
“There are many ways to light up a room.”
He would, she thought, know all about that. His magnetic beam probably entered a room ten minutes before he got to the door.
“Some women,” he continued, “light up a room just wearing an extraordinary dress.”
She looked away and nodded in agreement. “Like Yasmin.”
“Yes, like Yasmin. Though Yasmin’s dress tonight doesn’t come close to the one you’re wearing.”
Belle’s body jerked again and her head twisted around to look at him. It did this so quickly she thought she might have pulled something.
Before she could assess if she needed medical attention, he finished softly, “And she didn’t design hers.”
Something was happening.
She knew this because he was getting even closer.
Panic ensued, quickly chased by hysteria. She moved back but her shoulders were against the door and one side fell away to nothing so she froze in sheer terror.
His hands came to her waist and he moved directly into her space. So into it, her space evaporated and their space took its place.
“James –” she began in a warning protest, her voice trembling.
“Jack,” he muttered as his head bent, his hands sliding around her waist to her back, his fingers putting pressure there so her body touched his.
And then he kissed her.
Kissed her.
Belle couldn’t believe it.
His mouth on hers was firm and warm and his hands at her back were burning into her flesh. She felt the trill up her spine, the tingle along her scalp, her belly flipping then warming.
All this felt good. It felt thrilling. It felt like something she wanted more of (a lot more).
Still, she put her hands to his arms, gave a good shove and pulled her mouth away from his.
“We can’t,” she told him but her voice was oddly breathy.
“We can,” he replied instantly.