More Than Words, Volume 7

by Carly Phillips

  She went straight to the window on the far wall of his office, which looked down on the four studios below. There were two classes currently going on and she watched for a minute. “Nice place. You teach too?”

  “Yes.” It was his cause, and a big part of it was in fact because of her. Hence Kel’s amusement.

  Not that she knew that. Not that she ever would. He moved up behind her to look over her shoulder, but ended up instead absorbing the sensation of having her so close. There was a longing inside him, and it wasn’t the usual physical attraction he might feel for a woman.

  Well, there was that. But again, it was more.

  Far more. With Ellie, his heart was involved and always had been. Whether he liked it or not.

  It had been a very long time since he’d been this close to her, other than when he’d hugged her that day he’d changed her tire. He’d hugged her that long-ago night, too. Hugged her just before he left her at that party in the hills and gone off with some girl he’d hardly known. Nicole something. Ellie had rolled her eyes at him and waved him off, intending to go home with her friend.

  Instead, her friend had gotten wasted and left without Ellie, stranding her out there. She’d left with two guys from her class who’d promised her a ride home, only they’d tried for much more than that. She’d gotten away, but she’d been hurt, and Jack had never, ever forgiven himself.

  Forget keeping his hands to himself. He slipped them out of his pockets and pulled her in against him.

  Turning to face him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him back. Her hair teased his nostrils when he pressed in close for—hell, he didn’t know for sure—comfort? Whatever he was doing, he had no business doing it.

  “What are we doing?” she whispered into his chest.

  “Hugging you hello,” he lied.

  “We did that last week.”

  “Hmm.” She was warm and soft, and so small and vulnerable it made his throat tighten. He didn’t want to let go.

  “Are we going to hug every time we see each other?” She pressed her face into his throat as if maybe she couldn’t help herself either.

  “Is there a hug quota for old friends?” he asked, stroking a hand down her hair.

  She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Friends?”

  “We were friends once.”

  “Yes, and you sure as hell never used to hug me like I was a piece of china that could break if not handled gently.”

  “I’m not doing that.” But he was. Busted, he stepped back and forced a smile. “So let’s get to this mysterious favor. You want to take a class?”

  “No, but I know someone who does. Several someones.” She paused and looked guilty. “Okay, lots of someones. I told you I’ve been running this specialized program for troubled teen girls.”

  “Teaching them what—how to sneak out of their grandma’s house without detection?” he teased. “How to forge a signature on a late slip? No, wait—I know. How to procure alcohol.”

  She shoved his chest with a good-natured laugh. “Hey, I grew up.”

  “I know,” he said, grabbing her hand. “And I know about PIC. I saw the write-up on you from the paper last year. You take a group of girls on for six months and teach them things like self-respect and confidence through film and other avenues, right?”

  She nodded thoughtfully, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he saw a flash of hurt in those green eyes as well. No doubt she was wondering why, if he’d known where she was all this time, he’d never looked her up.

  He’d looked her up.

  Plenty.

  “If you know about my program,” she said, “you probably realize that I’m dealing with the most troubled of girls. Most of them are smack in the middle of unhealthy relationships with their parents, their siblings, their so-called friends. Boyfriends…” She grimaced. “They see so much, they’re exposed to so much. And the danger to some of them seems to be escalating.”

  He nodded. He worked with kids too. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. “How can I help?” he asked.

  “I was hoping you’d be interested in teaching the girls self-defense. I realize that the six-month thing is a huge commitment, but we could make it work with whatever time you have to give, and—”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d try to get you a fair stipend, but the truth is, PIC is nonprofit and barely making ends meet right now—” She broke off and paused. “What?”

  “I said yes. No stipend necessary. I’ll volunteer the time.”

  “Really?”

  He arched a brow. “You thought I’d say no?”

  “Well, I thought at the very least I’d have to work a lot harder to convince you.”

  He leaned back against his desk and studied her. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but he already knew she wasn’t married. She’d dated a dentist for six months last year, but had broken it off. Before that, she’d gone out with an architect.

  Safe.

  She’d dated safe.

  When had she become a person who played safe? Since he was deathly afraid that that very long-ago summer night had caused the change, he purposely let out a protracted, calming breath. “You’re right, convince me. I’ll volunteer my time, and in return you’ll…”

  She gave him a careful, wary look. Smart girl. “I’ll what?”

  “Go out with me.”

  She blinked. “Out, as in…on a date? Like dinner or something?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She nibbled on the inside of her cheek and considered that. Considered him. “What if what I want is complicated?”

  “How complicated can it be, Ellie?”

  Her face flamed red and he found himself smiling. “I’d love to know the thought that put that look on your face. Should I guess?”

  “No! I’m tired. And punchy. And you hugged me, and now all I can think about is—” She gave him a little shove. “Oh, never mind! This is about the girls. No NC-17 stuff.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, happy to know her mind had gone the NC-17 route at all. “Maybe later.”

  “Jack!”

  He was liking this conversation more and more. “Let’s start out with dinner,” he murmured, and ran a finger over her jaw, fascinated by the way her eyes seemed to darken when he touched her.

  “Will you show me some moves first?”

  Well aware she meant on the mats in one of the studios and not in his bedroom, he waggled a brow, teasing her. “Okay, but you should know, I don’t do NC-17 stuff before dinner.”

  She closed her eyes. “You’re not going to let me forget this, are you?”

  “Not anytime soon, no.”

  Dear Diary,

  Standing up for myself, getting out of a bad relationship, making the right choice—not a single one of those things worked out so well. So…any other bright ideas? No?

  Bite me.

  Kia

  Dear Diary,

  So if journals are for emotional growth, here’s mine. I’m figuring things out, starting to see that my life got boring and staid right about the time I stopped really living it.

  Not good.

  I’m changing that. Going for things. Starting now.

  I realize the irony here, that I’m trying to keep the teens to a safe life and I want to leave my safe life behind.

  But I’m also excited. I stepped outside the box and looked up Jack to help me with the girls. And it had hardly anything at all to do with the fact that I’ve missed him so very much.

  Okay, it had a lot to do with that. Shh, don’t tell him.

  Ellie

  In five minutes they were in one of the empty studios, shoes off, facing each other. “So,” Ellie said, and gave Jack a come-on gesture.

  She looked adorable and hot at the same time, and he wanted nothing more than to play, but being on the mats was a serious business. “There are rules,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah. Bring it, Jack.”

  “El, I’m a
black belt seven times over. I can’t bring it, I’d hurt you.”

  “Show me the flip thingie,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You know, where you flip someone over your shoulder to the ground, like you see in the movies. I’ve always wanted to learn to do that.”

  “That’s an advanced move and—”

  She made the sound of a chicken.

  Okay, she was so going down. He smiled at her, letting the gesture come all the way through his eyes as he offered her his hand. Smiling back, softening for him, she automatically put her hand in his. With a yank, he tucked into her and flipped her over his shoulder. But instead of letting her go flying through the air to the mat as he would have with anyone else, he kept his hands on her and eased her gently down to the floor.

  From flat on her back, she looked up at him. “You pulled your punch.”

  “Didn’t want to hurt you.”

  She winced a little and his heart about stopped as he leaned over her. “Ellie. Did I hurt you—?”

  Which was all he got out before she hooked a leg around one of his and tugged.

  And dropped his sorry butt right on top of her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ellie barely felt Jack’s weight before he caught himself and rolled them so that she was on top.

  “Where did you learn that move?” he asked.

  “TV.” She lowered her face close to his. “You went easy on me, Jack.”

  His hands tightened on her, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Told you before,” she said. “I’m not fragile.”

  He started to speak, but the studio door opened and his brother poked his head in.

  “New type of defense?” Kel asked, amused. “Because I like it.”

  Ellie pushed upright and smiled triumphantly. “I pinned him.”

  Kel grinned. “Not many can say that.” He shut the door.

  Ellie looked down at Jack. In their misspent youth he’d been highly skilled at getting girls to fall at his feet. Apparently he’d lost none of that particular talent, because she was falling.

  Hard.

  He stared up at her, and as if he could see her feelings in her face, he very softly murmured her name. She might have been mortified, but he didn’t give her the time for that. He rolled to his feet and pulled her with him.

  He didn’t bring up the moment that night at dinner, for which she was grateful. Instead, they talked about…well, everything else. She learned that his parents had retired to Palm Beach. His siblings had all left the area too, except for Kel.

  “There’s five grandkids,” Jack told her with a baffled shake of his head. “More than enough to take the pressure off me and Kel.”

  “So you have no interest in the marriage-and-kids route?” she asked.

  He shrugged, and her stomach did something funny. Either the food wasn’t agreeing with her, or…

  Or she was the tiniest bit disappointed.

  “When I was in the army,” he said, “my life wasn’t my own. There was no successful way to have a committed relationship. I saw no reason to bring a family into that.”

  “But you’re out now. And your life is your own.” She paused, uncertain. “Isn’t it?”

  “I guess maybe I’m just not used to that fact yet.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t met The One to make it worth it.”

  His gaze locked on hers for a long beat, during which she held her breath and waited for a response.

  “Maybe,” he finally said, so quietly she wasn’t sure if she heard the words or read his lips. Whichever, they warmed her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed warming.

  The next day, Ellie sat alone in the PIC offices, staring at the envelope she’d just opened while going through the mail. Or more correctly, she was staring at a check with a lot of zeros on it.

  An anonymous donation, which had come from a lawyer of a business labeled only BNL, Inc.

  Enough money to move PIC to a safer location and sign a new lease. She was boggled, overwhelmed and touched beyond belief. And for the first time in a long time—too long—she took a deep breath without the punch of anxiety, and wished she could hug her mysterious benefactor.

  Two nights later Jack was back in his studio with Ellie. They were planning out the self-defense curriculum for the girls at PIC. The rest of his employees and students had left for the day, leaving just the two of them in the building.

  For thirty minutes he’d shown her the beginner moves he would teach the girls in their workshop. Ellie was working in her snug yoga pants and a tank top that didn’t quite meet the waistband of the pants, both clinging to her damp skin.

  Jack was trying not to notice.

  They’d taken a break because her cell phone kept going off, and with each call she received, he better understood how much she took on herself to run PIC on top of her full-time teaching job. There were workshops to plan, speakers to arrange for, and then the responsibility for the girls themselves.

  She finally ended her call and apologized for the umpteenth time, coming back to the mat.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re swamped.”

  “Always.”

  “If I heard right, you just booked what sounded like a brain surgeon and a race-car driver for upcoming workshops.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “Good stuff, right?”

  He thought she was good stuff. “Come here, El.”

  “I don’t know…” Her eyes sparkled with good humor as she stood facing him, hands on hips. “The last time, I ended up on my back.”

  That sat between them for a beat, and then she wisely changed the subject.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she said softly. “I love that the girls are going to learn this stuff. From you.”

  Nothing about Ellie Cahn was like any other woman he knew. She said what she meant, no hidden meaning. It was incredibly refreshing.

  Not to mention just a little terrifying. He’d spent his entire life avoiding women who would want things from him.

  Not that Ellie would ever ask for anything for herself…

  But he wouldn’t hurt her. Ever. So why he gave a little tug on her arms, making sure she was off balance enough to fall against him, was anyone’s guess.

  But when she smacked into him, he hugged her close. “You trying to save the world one kid at a time, El?”

  “Maybe.” Pulling back, she met his gaze. “When we were that age, I was on a fast track to nowhere. And then my only anchor left town.”

  Him. The knowledge was a hot poker in his chest. “I had to go,” he said. “There was nothing for me here. I was a punk-ass kid with a chip on my shoulder looking for trouble. And I’d have found it too.”

  “I know.” She entangled their fingers and brought them to her chest, right over her heart. “I needed to make something of myself, too. WET Risk Takers saved my life. They taught me some self-respect, and how to take care of myself. How to stop walking the line of danger and stupidity, because I was worth something and deserved more. I knew if I could maybe do the same for even one girl, then I had to try.”

  He stared at her and felt the catch deep within him. Heat, definitely. But affection too, and something more, much more than either. “You’re amazing, Ellie, you know that?”

  She shook her head, a quiet smile on her face. “You gave your life to protect this country for what, ten years? You’re the amazing one.” The light in her eyes shifted, going from fun and games to that same something that was happening inside him.

  It had happened the instant he’d first seen her again, on the side of the road trying to change her tire, muddy from head to toe.

  It had happened again when she’d first sought out his help here at his studio.

  And again every time he so much as looked at her.

  “Do you want to go get something to eat?” she asked, her smile fading when he paused. “And by your hesitation, I’m guessing you’re trying to figure out how to say no and back out gracef
ully. It’s okay, Jack. I understand.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “And yes, I want to get something to eat.”

  “Are you going to tell me what I don’t under stand?”

  “No.”

  She considered him for a beat, then stood and stretched. Offered him her hand.

  Actually, she was offering more than a hand and they both knew it. He wasn’t an easygoing, lighthearted, laid-back sort of guy. He’d seen a lot. Hell, he’d done a lot. He battled the dark memories with hard work.

  And the occasional relationship.

  Okay, maybe more than occasional. But no one ever snagged his interest for long. Little did. The studios were successful, and doing great, but if someone had only last week asked him if he was happy and satisfied, he’d have to say he wasn’t quite there.

  And now, with Ellie, he was even more confused because emotions had been added to the mix.

  It made him uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

  But suddenly she was right in front of him, touching his face. “Jack,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. Slowly she smiled, then kissed him, and by the time she pulled back, neither of them was breathing steadily.

  “So,” she murmured. “We have the workshop down, I think. It’d be great if the girls could dress appropriately for your class, as they would here at your studio. I was wondering how much uniforms are, and what kind you’d want.”

  “I’ll provide uniforms.”

  “No, Jack. I can’t ask you to do that—”

  “You didn’t ask. You wouldn’t.”

  She looked bemused. “What does that mean?”

  “That you’d find it more preferable to choke on your pride than ask anyone for help.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he arched a brow, daring her to say otherwise.

  “It’s called independence,” she finally said.

  “Or pigheadedness,” he corrected. “Consider the uniforms a done deal, Ellie.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about ‘thank you’.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “And maybe, ‘I’m forever in your debt, Jack.’”