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She gave a nervous laugh. She had no idea how to handle compliments. She wasn't exactly showered in them in the general run of things.
"What now?" she asked with an awkward shrug.
"Now?" His handsome brow pleated as his dark eyes narrowed on her face. "Now I take you over there—see that shade beneath the trees, beside the stream? I'm going to lay you down on a soft, yet firm bed of moss, and then I'm going to make long, slow love to you."
Chapter Three
"What?" She jumped back a yard. "No! Absolutely not! Please! No! Stop! Don't even think it!"
"Why not?" He was still smiling. "Personally, I can't think of anything else," he drawled.
"But I don't even know your name," she protested, and then she had to laugh, if only at the craziness of the situation.
Raking his thick black hair, he raised his smiling eyes to hers. "Apologies. I got so carried away, I clean forgot about introductions."
Breath shot out of her as he dragged her close. She was taken aback. She didn't have any experience with this, and so she didn't have the tools to deal with it. When he brushed her lips with his, she remained absolutely static. She didn't dare to move a muscle. She was incapable of reacting, beyond convincing herself that she had recently cleaned her teeth and didn't need to hold her breath.
As if encouraged by her complete lack of reaction, the touch of his lips became a little more insistent, and as if her body had a mind of its own, she found herself leaning into him, tightening her arms around him, and even lifting her face to his.
"That's better, isn't it?" he murmured, smiling down at her.
Did he expect her to respond? She was still mesmerized as he deepened the kiss, working his mouth insistently against hers, until she parted her lips and invited him in.
That was how easy it was to fall from the straight and narrow into a life full of complications, even if it was just a dream—
A dream that would soon become a nightmare if she didn't stop this now!
"I'm married!" she protested, jerking away. "I know I should have told you before, but—"
"My name is Jack," he said, not in the least bit fazed.
"Well, I'm really sorry, Jack. I don't know what came over me
. I should never have led you on."
He laughed, a blinding flash of those perfect teeth. "You're not leading me on...?"
"Arabella," she supplied as Jack stared questioningly down at her.
"I like that." He smiled. "I'm going to call you Bella," he said, as if there was the remotest chance they'd meet again.
"Bella," she echoed. "I like it," she admitted.
"Then, Bella it shall be. You didn't lead me on Bella. I led you here, and I brought you into my arms and kissed you. You can't punish yourself for kissing me back."
She could. But as Jack's arms were still linked around her waist and she had allowed herself to dream, she had to tell herself sternly that this was no reason to bow to the rules of the Ladies Club, which, had they been written down, would almost certainly say that it was perfectly fine to shag a stranger under a tree.
A lifetime of rigid living and conformity didn't allow for such behavior. She had joined the Ladies Club, not because she wanted to shag herself to death, but because she had found friendship amongst the other women. They stuck by each other through thick and thin—and there was a lot more thin than thick in the Ladies Club. Take her marriage as an example. She was doomed—
She was not doomed. She was stuck like so many other women in an unhappy relationship that could only get worse. And what was the alternative? She had no doubt that gorgeous Jack could take her to paradise and back again several times over. He certainly looked as if he had the stamina. But what happened the day after the amazing sex? That could be spelled out in one word: trouble. And that was one thing she'd had more than enough of. And, as of now, she didn't know what she was missing in the sex department, so it was better not to find out. The warmth and humor in Jack's face was enough to prove addictive, without trialing him in other ways.
"I'll take you back," he offered.
He was looking at her quizzically, almost as if he understood. He had no clue, thank goodness. He would never guess how much she wanted him—wanted this. She could only thank her lucky stars that she had more sense.
"Don't look so worried, Bella. I understand."
Did he? She had never once crossed the line, and if she did that with Jack there would be no going back, and however unfair life was, and however unkind Harold could be, no one could ever accuse her of giving up on her sham of a marriage.
