“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.”