More Than Words, Volume 7

by Carly Phillips

  With a laugh, she shifted close again. She slid a hand along his arm until he automatically stepped into her, going for the embrace, registering a split second too late her wicked intent as she hooked a leg behind his calf and dropped him.

  Not a complete fool, he took her down with him, and—

  “Hello? Ellie, is that you?” came a tinny voice.

  Ellie lifted her head off the floor in confusion at the voice echoing in the studio around them. “Grandma?” Jack blinked. Grandma?

  “Dear?” came the older woman’s disembodied voice. “I think you pocket-dialed me again.”

  Ellie pulled her phone from her pocket and winced. “Yep, that was me. I’m sorry.”

  “You sound breathless, dear. What are you doing?”

  Ellie’s gaze flew to Jack. He started to speak, but she put a hand over his mouth. “I’m exercising,” Ellie said to her grandma, then grimaced at the lie. Jack grinned.

  “Well, don’t overdo it,” her grandma said. “You might get hurt.”

  Jack ended the call for Ellie and tossed the phone aside.

  “Am I going to get hurt, Jack?”

  He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then rose and pulled her up to her feet. “No,” he said firmly, and took a big step back from her to ensure it.

  For the rest of the week, Ellie kept herself too busy to acknowledge the ball of sadness in her chest. She told herself that it was midterms, and she had kids panicking, not to mention papers to grade and PIC to deal with. She was taking applications for kids for the next session, and planning new workshops and…

  And.

  It wasn’t school.

  It wasn’t PIC.

  It was the look on Jack’s face when she’d been in his studio.

  Determination.

  To not hurt her.

  He was backing off so that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, hurt her.

  Which was fine. She understood. She really did. And telling herself that, she simply stepped on the hamster wheel and kept going.

  Fortunately, there hadn’t been any more unpleasant messages left on her car. Even better, she’d procured a lease on a building in a safer area and was making plans to move PIC for the next session.

  Unfortunately, Kia had come to school with some suspicious bruising on her arm, which she’d claimed had happened at basketball practice.

  Ellie hoped that was true.

  At the end of the week, one day before Jack was to give his first self-defense workshop at PIC, he appeared in the doorway of Ellie’s classroom about fifteen minutes after the last kid had left.

  “Hey,” she said from behind her desk, doing her best to remain cool and calm. Not easy when he was the best thing she’d seen all week. “You need help with preparation for tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  She waited, but he said nothing more.

  “Is this a social visit?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, he pushed off the doorjamb and came close, leaning a hip on the edge of her desk as he studied her. “I have a question.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Are we avoiding each other for any particular reason?”

  She met his inscrutable gaze and decided to go with the only thing she had—honesty. “I don’t know about you, but I got the impression you were walking away from a personal relationship with me, and I didn’t want to face it. Denial is my friend.”

  He didn’t smile. “I’m not walking away.”

  “Regret then. You’re regretting…me.”

  His eyes were reproachful. “Don’t put words in my mouth, El.”

  “Then give me your words.”

  He pulled her out of her chair and into him. His arms came around her, warm and strong and familiar, and in spite of herself, she melted against him. “Maybe I got…unnerved,” he said.

  “Maybe? Or definitely?”

  He let out a breath and pressed his forehead to hers. “Definitely. But I’m working on it.”

  “Yeah. How’s that going?”

  An almost smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “I’ll keep you updated. I can be…a little slow on the uptake.”

  “Yes. It’s a genetic flaw in the male design.”

  His huff of laughter said he agreed. “I was hoping for patience from you.”

  “I have buckets of patience.”

  His mouth twitched. “Want to exercise some of it while we go to dinner?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah. Now.”

  As if she could resist.

  They drove to the shore. Since it was early spring and freezing, they were the only crazy people there. Jack took her to a small seafood café on the water, and afterward they walked along the pier. Side by side they watched the last of the day fade away.

  Then Jack shifted to face her and looked deep into her eyes. She liked that, she’d discovered. Far more than she should, given that he was a huge risk to her emotional well-being, not to mention her heart, which wanted to roll over and reveal its tender underside to him. “You’re going to face twenty teenage girls tomorrow,” she said. “Nervous?”

  He laughed softly.

  “Right.” She shook her head at herself. “I guess compared to the things you’ve faced, it’s going to be a walk in the park.”

  He pressed his mouth to her jaw and said nothing.

  “You probably saw things,” she said. “In Special Forces.”

  He kissed the spot beneath her ear and she shivered. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “No, you’re distracting me.” He shifted to the corner of her mouth.

  “Where were you stationed?”

  And then the other corner… “In places hotter and sandier than you can imagine.”

  She ignored the fact that her knees were wobbly. “Did you ever get hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart ached. “A lot?”

  “More than I wanted to.”

  Her eyes met his. “Did you ever think you were going to die?”

  He sighed and lifted his head. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t.” He cupped her face. “Any more questions that you need answered right now?”

  She could feel his body against hers, strong and warm. “No,” she whispered. “Not right now.”

  “Good.” And his mouth covered hers.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dear Diary,

  Ms. Cahn is always telling me that I’m stronger than I think. That I can walk away. That I can say no.

  That I have the power.

  If that was really true, I’d have longer hair and better eyelashes. I’d have better grades. I’d have friends who liked me for me and not for the fact that they think my boyfriend is cool and want to date his friends.

  I’d have a mom who was home more. And a dad who hadn’t moved on to his second family, forgetting me.

  And a boyfriend who never expected me to do things I didn’t want to do. You know?

  Oh, why am I even asking you? You’re a text file.

  Kia

  Dear Diary,

  Putting myself out there is a thrill I’d forgotten about. I feel happy, exhilarated.

  Alive.

  Probably I’m heading for a world of hurt but I’m going to have to worry about that later. Because now is working for me for the first time in a long time.

  Keep wishing me good luck. I think it’s helping.

  Ellie

  The next day, Jack was at PIC, surrounded by a group of teenage girls wearing martial arts uniforms provided by No Limits. He’d been introduced to each of them by Ellie, who stood at the back of the large room, leaning against the wall.

  Watching him.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” he asked the girls.

  “Yes,” said a dark-haired, petite girl with the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen. “You’re going to teach us how to protect ourselves.”

  “My mom says violence is never the answer.” This from a blonde.


  Kia, standing next to her, made a teenage sound of disagreement. “It’s always the answer.”

  Jack looked at her, not missing the defiant misery in her eyes. “Martial arts isn’t about violence.” He focused on all of them. “Or about gaining the winning edge in a fight.”

  “But I thought that’s exactly what it is for,” Kia said, sounding as if she needed to believe it, as if she had a few fights of her own coming up. “To win fights.”

  “It’s true that the disciplines were conceived in the context of hand-to-hand combat,” Jack said. “But most masters have zero tolerance for using their skills aggressively.”

  “What should they be used for?” one of the girls asked.

  “Exercise for one, or a way to strengthen your body and soul.”

  Kia looked hugely disappointed. “Strengthen a soul? How do you strengthen a soul while kicking butt?”

  Jack resisted looking at the woman at the back of the classroom, the woman who strengthened his soul by just being. “Through balance,” he said. “Through flexibility, coordination, stamina and posture. For instance, you’re slouching. Do you know what that tells me?”

  Kia lifted her chin. “That I’m bored?”

  “That you’re not very sure of yourself. Which leaves you open and vulnerable, and all because of perception. Perception is everything.”

  Kia immediately straightened her shoulders and he nodded. “That’s good. Show inner strength. Even if you have to fake it. Fake it long enough and it becomes habit, and more importantly, real.” He looked around the room as every girl in it straightened their shoulders. “You all look stronger already. Now let’s train to avoid conflict.”

  Kia didn’t say anything to that, and Jack knew he had to show, not tell. Gesturing them to the mat, he began with a few basic white belt jujitsu moves. An hour later, they’d learned how to escape from a wrist grab, a front stranglehold, and how to fall.

  “I want to learn how to drop someone,” one of the girls said. “My brother. He’s obnoxious and mean, and shoves me around all the time. If I could drop him just once, he’d leave me alone, I know it.”

  Jack gave Ellie a ‘come here’ gesture.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, but she was smiling when she stepped close, her body language warm and open.

  And he couldn’t help but smile back. “Throw a punch,” he told her.

  Game, she did just that, which he stopped with a basic inside forearm block, stepping in with his left foot to the left of hers. Twisting on the ball of his foot, he slid his arm behind her, holding her bicep as he rotated his upper body, sweeping her leg back, and out from beneath her. But instead of letting her fall, he lowered her gently to the ground.

  Everyone clapped and applauded, and in the next minute, they were all eagerly trying it out on each other.

  Much later, when the session was over and it was just himself and Ellie left alone at PIC, she smiled at him. “They liked you.”

  “They like the sense of power I gave them.”

  “That too.” She walked up to him, her hips swaying gently, a soft smile on her face. “I sure like the power you give me.” She kissed his jaw and blew all his brain cells with nothing more than the feel of her lips on him. “I like having you in my life, Jack.”

  His heart skipped a beat. It’d been a long time since he’d let someone in. Longer still since he’d wanted to. He knew very well he’d started this, but it didn’t stop the doubts. Or the knowledge that eventually he’d hurt her if they kept at this. “Ellie—”

  “Shh, Jack,” she said softly, which completely and utterly belied the distinctly ungentle way she used his own move against him, dropping him to the ground.

  For the third time since they’d found each other again. Maybe he should just stay down for the count. He hit the mat and stared up at her. “You’re getting good.”

  She laughed. Hands on her knees, she bent over him. “Need to be more aware of your surroundings, soldier.”

  “True.” Then he kicked her feet out from beneath her and caught her as she fell, rolling her flat to the mat and pinning her there beneath him. “Likewise.”

  Not looking particularly disturbed, she grinned up at him.

  Take your hands off her, he told himself. She’s looking for more than you ever planned to give her. It was all over her. “Ellie,” he said, voice raw, and rolled her off him.

  Ellie watched as Jack rose literally to his feet in one economical, graceful movement, pulling her up as well. “I have to go, El.”

  “Scared you off, did I?”

  “I have other classes to teach this afternoon.”

  Not exactly an answer, but she nodded, even managed a smile when he leaned in to kiss her goodbye. He looked at her in a way that stole her breath. The way he touched her, kissed her, how he’d stepped in to work at PIC…it all spoke of how much he cared.

  And yet…and yet when they had a moment, whenever there’d been the threat of getting too close, of possibly giving too much of themselves too fast, he backed off.

  Shaking her head, she went to her office to catch up on paperwork. Much later, she’d gotten little done other than staring out the window. Oh, and she’d twirled her hair around her finger. And connected her paper clips into a long string. Nice multitasking. She moved on from that to thinking about Jack.

  She was going to get hurt.

  That was pretty much a given. Just like all those years ago, he allowed himself into her life—up to a point. He’d give her the shirt off his back and probably the last dollar in his pocket if he thought she needed it, but he’d withhold his heart.

  She more than anyone understood the need for self-protection, but at least she wasn’t afraid to go for what she wanted. And she had no idea how someone as strong and tough and brave as Jack could be, either. She’d like to ask him outright, just say “what are we doing here?” but she wouldn’t.

  Couldn’t.

  She refused to show him how much it would hurt to watch him walk away again.

  Leaving PIC, she drove on autopilot toward home, but the oddest thing happened. Her car took her to No Limits.

  She found Jack in the middle studio, wearing black-on-black martial arts gear, going hand to hand with another man. The hits came solid and steady, each man’s face fierce with intense concentration. Less than a moment in, it became clear to her that Jack was far better and stronger, and when he dropped the other man to the mat, he offered him a hand.

  The guy shook his head and stayed down. “Uncle,” he gasped.

  Jack swiped a forearm over his brow. Though his skin gleamed with sweat, his breathing was steady and even. “That was much better, Mike.”

  “And yet here I lie.”

  A small smile crossed Jack’s mouth, and again he offered a hand, pulling Mike upright, clapping him on the shoulder. “See you next week.”

  Mike straightened with an exaggerated groan and headed toward the locker rooms.

  Jack turned to Ellie then. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Not that it’s not good to see you,” he said, “but what are you doing here?”

  “I had a question for you.” She watched the wariness come into his eyes and wondered what he was afraid of. Did he really think she’d ask him for something he didn’t want to give?

  “Call on line two for you,” Kel shouted to Jack through the opened studio door.

  “Saved by the bell,” she murmured.

  “No.” Jack grabbed her hand when she would have walked away. “Your question.”

  “You have a call.”

  “Question first.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was just something along the lines of, Are you about to run like a little girl because this is getting too real? That sort of thing.”

  A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. “Like a little girl?”

  “Jack!” Kel called again. “Phone.”

  They walked out of the studio to the front desk, Jack not letting go of Ellie’s hand, sen
ding yet another mixed message.

  Tuning out his phone conversation, she let her gaze wander around. There were awards on the walls and pictures of both students and teachers. The reception counter was neat and clutter free, except for a sign-in sheet and a stack of outgoing mail, and—

  And her eyes snagged and held on to the return label stuck to the top envelope.

  BNL, Inc.

  Her stomach constricted, and suddenly there wasn’t quite enough air in the room.

  “Ellie?”

  Jack had hung up the phone and pulled her around to face him. “What’s the matter?”

  Fighting to match his calm, she said. “BNL, Inc.” She pointed to the envelope. “I was just standing here trying to figure out how I know that name.”

  Because it was the name of PIC’s mystery benefactor, the one who’d sent her the huge anonymous donation.

  Jack’s face was carefully blank, but he nodded. “It stands for Buchanan’s No Limits, the name we’re incorporated under. Kel and I have several other studios in other cities.”

  She stared at him for a long beat. She had no idea what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this easy confession. “You’re BNL.”

  “Yes.”

  “You gave me money because…” She struggled a moment with that, couldn’t think past what was happening between them—or more accurately, what wasn’t happening between them. “Because you thought I couldn’t make it.”

  “No. No, that’s not it at all. You were stressed and I wanted to help.”

  “You did. So very much. But this way, all stealthlike, makes it feel like you didn’t believe in me—”

  “Jack,” a little boy called from the door of one of the studios. “Come look at me kick.”

  “Give me a second, Jeremy,” he said without taking his gaze off Ellie. “Look, you needed help and I had the means. The end.”

  Ellie let out a breath and nodded. “And I’m very grateful for that.”

  He studied her carefully. “So…are you okay? Are we okay?”

  “When were you going to tell me?” It took two seconds of searching his gaze to know. “You weren’t going to tell me.”

  “Jack!”

  He nodded at the little boy. “One more minute, Jeremy. I’ll be right there, I promise.” He shifted closer to Ellie. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel indebted. And I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”