“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 f**king 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 h*ps 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.