Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(42)

He ignored the unease he felt at her reaction and stated, “Belle, I don’t have time for this. Say what’s on your mind so I can explain why I need to speak with you and then get on with my day.”

She stared at him a moment as if she’d never seen him before then he watched her squeeze her eyes shut and turn her face away.

She took in a deep breath and her gaze came back to his face. This time, she focussed on his nose.

“Of course, James. You’re very busy,” she said softly. “What did you need to speak with me about?”

He ignored her question and asked his own, “You said, ‘It’s true’. What’s true?”

“Nothing,” she muttered. “What did you want to talk about?”

Without a reserve of patience to draw on, Jack quickly lost his again.

This made his tone sharp when he demanded, “Belle, just answer the f**king question.”

He watched her body jerk and after a moment’s hesitation, her chin lifted, her eyes caught his and she spoke.

“I never liked Miles,” she announced and Jack braced, instinctively knowing he would not like where this was going before she continued. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your brother but it’s true. I don’t know why I went out with him in the first place. Even after considering this question for four months, I still don’t have an answer. He showed no regard for me, or my wishes, ever.”

She stopped speaking and Jack waited.

Then she started speaking again.

“You did.”

This time, he felt his body jerk and watched as her arms moved to wrap around her midriff in a way that looked protective before she went on.

“You seemed to know I was different, I had phobias, I was neurotic and you didn’t care. You acted like you liked it, like you thought it was cute.” She threw out a hand. “Or something.” She paused as she wrapped her arm back around her. “Now I know.”

Jack crossed his own arms on his chest, not really feeling like getting into this, talking about Miles or her time with Jack and definitely not how she felt about it.

Even so, he found himself asking, “Now you know what?”

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and unbelievably sad. “Now I know that night was an act. It was all an act because the Jack I met that night would never have carried me down the ladder like that, knowing he’d frighten me the way you just did.”

She couldn’t have scored a better hit if she’d pulled a trigger at point blank range.

Before Jack could form a reply, she kept going, softly, her voice now devoid of emotion sounding like it came from an entirely different being, not Belle.

“Now, James, what did you need to speak to me about?”

“It wasn’t an act,” Jack stated, again ignoring her question.

Belle didn’t reply.

She just stared at him, right in the eyes as if she had no neuroses, no phobias, no anxiety, no self-consciousness and lastly, no fear of him.

At this, his unease grew.

“It wasn’t an act,” he repeated.

She sighed then requested quietly, “James, just tell me what you need to tell me.”

He covered the two steps distance between them in an instant.

She didn’t flinch or back away.

His unease shifted to something that felt a great deal like alarm. This alarm drove him to do something about her mistaken impression. Something which he found he couldn’t abide, not for another second.

She was carrying his child and she thought he was a heartless bastard.

Because of this, he found he was willing to do whatever he had to do to disabuse her of that mistaken impression once and for all.

Jack looked down at her as she tipped her head back to regard him and his course, already started, became clear.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?” he asked softly.

He saw anger cross her expression before she said, “The papers think I’m a moron, I know. But you shouldn’t make the same mistake because I’m not. I won’t fall for your game twice.”

“No, you won’t,” Jack agreed. “Mainly because you didn’t fall for anything the first time.”

“Honestly, James, I thought you were busy –” she said and may have intended to say more.

Jack would never know.

Because his hands shot out, closed at her waist and he yanked her body to his.

Then his head descended and his mouth crushed down on hers.

Her h*ps pulled at his hands but his arms wrapped around her and he held her tight against him.

She felt, he noted immediately, better than he remembered.

But he couldn’t taste her.

She wouldn’t open her mouth and she was pressing at his shoulders at the same time she was pushing her weight against his arms.

She tore her mouth from his and snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Proving it wasn’t an act,” Jack replied calmly as she squirmed, her soft body moving against his and Jack remembered how good that felt too.

“By kissing me?” she screeched.

“Poppet,” Jack murmured and when he did, she stilled in his arms. “That wasn’t a kiss.” His hand slid up her spine, her neck and into her hair, holding her head steady. “This,” he muttered, “will be a kiss.”