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She glanced around the room. "I don't even have a suitcase with me."
"You won't need many clothes."
Jack was already working on the buttons on her shirt.
"But I'll need some clothes."
"I'll buy you all the clothes you could possibly need."
"I can't take your money." That much was fact. The rest was swiftly becoming a blur of thrill and shock, and breath–stealing anticipation.
"You can pay me back," Jack insisted. "I'm quite happy to extract repayment in kind."
Her heart was going crazy, and then Jack's hand found her breast. She exclaimed with shocked excitement as his thumbnail found her nipple and gently abraded it. Raising himself on one elbow, he stared down at her and frowned. "Whatever happened to that gorgeous red dress I sent you?"
"It was you?"
"I hope there weren't any other suspects in the ring?"
"I thought it was a mistake," she admitted. "There wasn't a note to say who'd sent it, so I thought the store had got the wrong address."
"No you didn't," Jack argued, smiling his challenge into her eyes. "You just didn't want to believe it. I'm just glad it arrived."
"Oh, Jack. I feel terrible now. You must think me so ungrateful. It arrived just before Harold burst into the club. I'd tried it on by then, and was wearing it. It looked amazing," she said wistfully, thinking back.
"So, what happened to it?" Jack prompted.
She couldn't meet his eyes.
"What happened to the dress, Bella," he repeated mildly.
"Harold...and his friends—" Her anxious gaze flashed up to his. "They cut it off me."
Jack's face turned hard in a way she'd never seen before.
"But thanks to those cameras," she said quickly in an attempt to defuse the cold fury on his face, "Harold's been arrested along with his friends. Our town has a no–tolerance approach to domestic violence, and Tracey tells me the police are going to throw the book at them. I'll have to appear in court, but then..."
Jack was staring into the middle distance in a way that would put the fear of God into more of a man than Harold could ever be.
"Let the police handle it," she said quietly. "They know what they're doing. And you're right...let's not talk about it anymore."
Standing down, Jack gradually relaxed, but she could still feel his tension when he brought her into his arms to kiss the top of her head. Just for a few moments, she did put everything ugly out of her mind, and wondered when she had ever felt so safe.
"I would have liked to see you in that dress," he murmured, pulling back to smile down at her. "I would have liked taking it off you too. Perhaps we'll find another one in Paris..."
She had fallen asleep in Jack's arms, Arabella realized, waking slowly to find Jack kissing her. "I'm so sorry—"
"Don't be silly," he growled against her mouth. "You must have needed that.
"I did," she admitted.
"What are you doing?" she asked as Jack started undressing her.
"Sleeping fully dressed is understandable when you're mentally and physically exhausted, but making love fully dressed presents an unnecessary challenge—"
"Making love?" she exclaimed, holding on vice–like to her clothes. "No, Jack. You can't see me naked."
"Why not?"
