Arabella shook her head. "I think I've only scratched the surface where you're concerned, Jack Castle, but at least I understand why you're so driven now."
"And why I'll stop at nothing," he said, bringing her into his arms. "And now I'm going to take a shower. But first..."
She went willing into his arms as Jack kissed her again.
"But first?" she prompted when he released her.
"I want to tell you, not just how much you mean to me, but how much I love you."
After what Jack had told her about his childhood, she was shocked into silence. She assumed that love for him was a huge deal.
"I mean it," he said. "I love you, Bella. I've loved you from the first day when you hammered on my hood—" His mouth tugged in a smile, but then he frowned. "Even before that," he admitted. "I've loved you since I watched you hesitating between those two stores—dowdy or glamor? Which would it be? I desperately wanted you to buy the red dress, and when you turned away, I had to know why. In that moment I decided I would buy the dress for you, and that you would wear it just for me."
"Oh, Jack..."
"You are not allowed to get emotional,' he instructed. "You'd better know that I'm going to keep on buying you red dresses until you tell me to stop."
"Don't stop," she whispered.
"Shower," he said with a reluctant sigh.
"Jack—" She caught hold of his arm.
"Yes?" he said, turning back to her.
"I love you too."
Curving a smile, Jack brought his fingertips to his lips, then placed them against her mouth. "I love you," he echoed.
"Sorry—the call is from whom?" She had to stick a finger in her other ear. The line was bad, and Jack sounded as if he was standing under Niagara Falls.
"Jack's lawyer. And I need to speak to him in person, please."
"I'm afraid you can't do that just now. He's not here." Which was true. "Can I take a message?"
The female voice was faintly hostile, and there was an unspoken question hovering in the air: who was Arabella, and what was her relationship to Jack?
"If you could just ask Jack to call me."
The hostility ratcheted up several notches. "Is there anything you can tell me so he knows what the call is about?"
There was another silence on the end of the line, until finally the lawyer said, "You could tell him that I've got the signature he needed. I got it just before the man in question was taken away by the police."
"Oh. That does sound dramatic." And familiar, Arabella thought, feeling dread creep up on her. "I'll be sure to tell him," she confirmed tensely.
"That's not the end of the message."
"Oh?"
"You need to tell him that I'm leaving it to him to get the other signature, but he needs to get it soon, or the deal won't go through. Tell him not to worry, and that I'm mailing him a copy of the document. I'm sure the hotel will print it out for him."
"What document is this, please?" Her voice sounded very small, Arabella thought as she swallowed on a dry throat.
"The contract of sale for the Old Hall?"
When she didn't speak, the lawyer added impatiently, "Jack will know what I'm talking about."
Her hand was shaking as she replaced the hotel phone in its nest. This time in Paris with Jack wasn't real. It was a fantasy, a ruse to win her trust so she would sign over the house to him.