The touch of her lips was like an electric bolt shooting through him. He vaulted the bar, and pressing her back gently into the shadows, he took her in his arms and kissed her again, tenderly, deeply—
"Jack, we can't—"
"We can do whatever you want to do," he argued quietly.
"Tracey told you what happened with Harold, didn't she? I saw you talking to her."
His answer was to lift the brim of her hat. He hissed in air through his teeth and let it drop.
"Can we go outside to discuss this?" she said, staring at him with big, wounded eyes.
"We can go anywhere you want—and I do mean anywhere," he emphasized.
"Paris?" she teased him, finding a glimmer of humor from goodness knew where.
He shrugged. "If that's what you want, I only have to place a call."
She looked at him steadily, and then she said, "Make the call."
This was insane! Jack had whisked her away on his private jet to a boutique hotel tucked away down a cobbled street in the center of Paris. And he'd taken the entire top floor. She fell in love immediately with their private suite, with its quaint wrought iron balconies and fabulous views over Paris and the iconic Eifel Tower. She was a little bit concerned that there only seemed to be one bedroom when the hotel manager showed them around.
"What?" Jack prompted, seeing the concern on her face.
Sinking down onto the bed, she admitted, "I'm not sure what I'm doing here, Jack. The last few days have all been such a whirl. I didn't even stop to think—"
"Sometimes the best decisions in life are made when we don't over–analyze. You didn't need to think, Bella. You only needed your passport," Jack teased her, curving a grin.
"I didn't even tell Harold I was going," she murmured.
"Like he deserved to know." Jack frowned. "And isn't he locked up now?"
"You have been speaking to Tracey."
"Yes, I have. Smart girl. Like you, Bella. Installing those cameras at the club certainly paid off."
"They weren't supposed to be for my protection. I had them installed to keep the staff safe."
"Well, they've paid for themselves twice over. And thank God you had the presence of mind to have them installed. This is one crime Harold Frost won't get away with.
"The first thing he'll do is ask for me," she predicted.
"And you won't be there," Jack said, hunkering down at her feet. "You've been propping him up long enough, Bella. You've done your duty by him ten times over. And just remember that he asked you for a divorce, so you've got nothing to feel guilty about. And I want you to enjoy this break. No one deserves it more than you. So no more talk of the past—okay?"
"Okay," she agreed, unconsciously touching the bruises on her face. And then she smiled. "You know—Tracey trusts you?"
"And?" Jack queried, springing to his feet.
"Tracey doesn't trust anyone—except her girlfriends. I can't imagine why she trusts you."
"Yes, you can," Jack said with a grin. Dropping onto the bed at her side, he brought her into his arms. Smoothing her hair back from her forehead, he kissed her brow, her cheeks, her ears, her eyelids, her neck—
"Jack, we can't—"
"Of course we can," he whispered.
"No. We really can't," Arabella insisted. "I don't even know you—"
"But you will."