“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.
Then she spent a good deal of time deciding what to wear.
Since the weather had been quite warm and sunny, she decided on a violet-coloured cotton sundress that she designed. It had an empire waist, a deep v-neck with a ruffled trim and a slight a-lined skirt that hit a couple of inches above the knee. She paired this with silver, flat Capri sandals with a rose at the toe.
Although the deep v-neck was slightly risqué, it was a sweet Audrey Hepburn type of outfit and everyone knew Audrey Hepburn was no hussy.
As she approached the door to the dining room, she saw movement down the hall and stopped in the door to watch Jack walking toward her.
Clearly her efforts at dillydallying had all been for naught.
He had a sleek, black mobile phone to his ear that looked like something George Jetson might own. He was wearing charcoal-grey trousers with an elegant pinstripe, a crisp, light blue shirt and a black, midnight blue and grey patterned tie was hanging loose from his opened collar.
His eyes were on her.
She felt a trill race up her spine that ran along her scalp and made her shiver.
She realised she’d frozen when he stopped close and put a hand lightly to her waist.
Only then did she understand her mistake. She should have been cool, calm and casual and given him a jaunty wave before entering the dining room.
Instead, she’d stood gawking at him like a lovesick teenager.
Proof positive that she lost her sanity around Jack.
“Right,” he said into his phone, his eyes never leaving hers. “E-mail it. I’ll be in the office this afternoon and we’ll discuss it then.”
He flipped his phone shut without saying good-bye and his gaze travelled the length of her.
When his eyes came back to her face, he asked softly. “One of yours?”
Belle, who had fallen into a Gentle Jack Trance, nodded.