It was spectacular.
She looked down at the dog, which had sat next to her and bent slightly to stroke his head.
“I could live here for a thousand years and never get used to this view,” she told the dog.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” the very deep, very masculine, very unmistakable voice of James Bennett said from behind her.
Terror shooting through her, Belle straightened and whirled to face the room. She did this so fast the blood rushed to her head and she swayed slightly while her eyes focussed on where the voice had come from.
On the couch she could see long legs covered in dark trousers stretched straight out. There was a white shirted chest, one arm cocked so a shadowy dark head could rest on a hand and the other arm up, looking like it was holding a glass.
Her first petrified thought was to run directly from the room.
This was a good thought, a thought she was ready to go with wholeheartedly.
Unfortunately, Belle’s feet had somehow come detached from her brain’s commands and didn’t move.
“I’ve lived here thirty-eight years and don’t even see it anymore.” He continued speaking, not moving from his position but she knew from her melty stomach and the hairs prickling at her neck that his eyes were on her.
From the silence in the room, she realised something was expected of her and she swallowed.
Finally, she mumbled, “That’s kind of sad,” because it was.
Then her locked body became frozen as she watched the white shirt move, curling into the trousers and she knew he was going to stand.
Now! Her mind screamed at her immobile feet. Now’s the time to run!
Her feet stayed stubbornly stationary.
She saw James was on his own feet and coming her way.
Belle stared at him, body statue-still, as he approached then kept approaching then kept approaching until he was not even a foot away.
Then he stopped and she nearly let out the breath she was holding but he immediately leaned in close.
Too close.
Magnetically close.
She steeled her body against his pull and her lungs began to burn as she looked up at him to see that he was gazing over her shoulder.
Then she saw his eyes flick down to hers in the moonlight even though he didn’t lean away.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “It is sad.”
Do something! Her mind shrieked.
“Um…” her mouth said.
Then she stopped speaking.
“Yes?” James prompted, still not leaning away.
“What?” she asked quickly, mind all of a sudden completely blank.
“You were going to say something,” he told her.
Was she?