His preference being that very day.
If not, the next day, if he could manage it.
Obviously, Myrtle and Lewis making an appearance worked in his favour. And Jack Bennett was not one to waste an opportunity.
So he didn’t.
The night before, Belle had sat at his side at dinner and before they left the table, she’d turned her head to him and timidly asked if she could join him during his nightly walk with the dogs or, more precisely, she’d asked his shoulder.
He’d agreed and they’d taken their silent but peaceful stroll.
When they came back, he went to his study and she went in search of her grandmother.
Not long later, a soft knock came at the door.
When he called, he was surprised to see Belle put her head through and even more shyly ask him if it would be too much bother if she sat with him.
He knew this mortified her on about the same significantly elevated level as it pleased him.
What he didn’t know was how to make something that was clearly difficult for her, easier on her.
He decided simply to nod. She’d scooted in with her sketchpad and a box of coloured pencils, head bowed, cheeks pink and without a word sat in the armchair across the room from him.
Then she’d spent the evening in his study while he worked at his desk.
This, too, they did silently until it was late and she was so drowsy, he saw her head was nodding in an effort to stay awake.
Although Jack very much liked Belle sitting, feet tucked underneath her, silent and busy while he worked, the only noise being the scratching of her pencils on her sketch pad and he wished this to continue, he’d taken pity on her.
He’d finished with his work and escorted her to her room. There, he lifted her face to his with a hand at her jaw and touched her lips with his own.
Then he left her at her door.
He had every intention of going to his room, preparing for bed and joining her in hers but he’d had a call come just as he was about to leave his room.
Five minutes into his call, there was a knock on the door.
Still talking, he opened it.
Belle stood there wearing a cream-coloured silk nightgown with thin straps, a chiffon ruffle at the hem at her knees as well as around the neckline. Although it exposed a good deal of skin, it was not overtly tempting. It was simple, delicate, intensely feminine and, because of all of this, very sexy.
He knew instantly she’d designed it.
Her eyes went to his phone and Jack said into it, “A minute.”
Then he took it from his ear and Belle, a hint of accusation mingling with the embarrassment in her voice, didn’t hesitate in saying, “I thought you said you were sleeping with me.”
Jack controlled his desire to laugh at her disgruntled discomfiture at the same time he fought against catching her in his arms and kissing her breathless.
“I did,” he replied.
She looked down the hall then at him and asked, “Well?”
“I’ve got a call, poppet,” he told her unnecessarily.
Baron and Gretl were pressing for her attention and she bent to give them pats while looking down the hall again.
Then he watched her wet her lips.