“Hm?”
“And a ring.” She jerked away so abruptly she almost toppled out of his lap. “I’m assuming I get a ring out of the deal, right?”
Stunned by the swift flow of her thoughts, he could barely muster a nod.
“Good.” Her decisive nod yanked another laugh from him. She blinked those wide, innocent eyes. “What? I’m not real big on jewelry, but I think that’s kind of an important tradition.”
“I bet you do.”
Her grin turned unabashedly wicked. “Second thoughts?”
“Never.” With that, he palmed the back of her head and pulled her down for another kiss. “I’m gonna hold you to it,” he said as he let her go.
“I’m counting on it.” Ellie slid from his lap and scrambled to her feet.
With her cap of close-cropped dark curls and lush curves, she looked more like a nymph than the elf he often accused her of being. When she offered a delicate hand to help him up, he took it without hesitation. He might outstrip her by nearly a foot and well over fifty pounds, but he had a healthy respect for Ellie’s strength.
She hauled him up and he held her close, wrapping himself around her. He swayed a little, but her arms banded around him and hung on tight, helping him to find his balance. As clumsy as he could be at times, he didn’t worry about disappointing her. Ellie was his center.
Even if he did have a hard time getting a hold on the way her mind worked.
Resting his chin atop her head, he rolled her earlier statement around in his head, trying to puzzle it out before he gave in and asked the question.
“What did you mean, come up with a better story?”
Ellie chuckled as she disengaged. Smiling up at him, she planted both hands in the center of his chest and pushed, knocking him back onto the bed. Jack couldn’t bite back the growl that escaped him when she crawled up to straddle his groin. He reached for her hips, his fingers pressing into plush flesh as he steadied her above him.
She blinked then gazed down at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “You aren’t going to tell my daddy that you proposed to me naked, are you?”
His jaw dropped open, but no words came out. His brain was too busy struggling to make the connection between the taunting question and the tempting woman who’d posed it.
She circled her hips in a roll so seductive a dead man would have risen to the occasion. “Are you going to tell Grandma Bernice it was after you rolled me out of bed and onto the floor?”
“Ellie—”
She cut him off with another slow roll, but this time she let her head fall back, exposing her throat. “Tell my mother we were still all hot and stick—”
He lunged. His lips closed around one velvet-smooth ear lobe. His teeth sank into the tender flesh. Jack growled with pleasure when she yelped. He rolled the right direction this time, pinning her under him.
“We’ll tell them I asked, and you said yes.”
“That’s not going to be good enough.”
“Gonna have to be,” he insisted, pressing her hands high and fitting his body to hers. “We’re not packing tonight, either.”
A smile of pure feminine delight curved her lips and a soft purr hummed in her throat. He chased after it with kisses.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Her fingers flexed on his. “Gives us more time to…work on our story.”
He placed a loud, sucking kiss on the side of her neck, the adolescent trapped inside of him hoping to leave a mark. If there was any moment in his life that needed commemoration, it was this one.
“Jumbotron.” He murmured the word against her collarbone.
“I was thinking billboard.”
The wispy breathlessness in her voice made his heart beat in double time. “Skywriter,” he suggested. “Since we met in an airport.”
She tipped her head back, sinking into the pillow as he dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat. “Perfect. Tell them it said, ‘Surrender Ellie.’”
The laugh rolled up from his toes. He raised his head to let it go, but it died in a rush of breath when he looked into her eyes. She stole whatever oxygen he had left as she returned his fading smile with a shaky one of her own.
He asked the first question to come to mind. “Are you scared?”
She bounced a glance off his naked chest before looking into his eyes and raising one dark eyebrow. “Of this?”
“All of it.”
Ellie hesitated for only a moment then shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
Jack ignored her whine of protest when he pried himself off her. He located the crumpled wad of denim that was once his jeans and groped the coarse fabric until he found what he wanted. Clutching the small velvet box, he dropped to one knee beside the bed and popped the lid with a flick of his thumb.
The diamond caught the waning sunlight filtering through the window. Prismatic rainbows danced on the ceiling and walls. Jack would have laughed at the cheesy scene, but he couldn’t manage it when Ellie was looking at him as if he’d created them. Because, in a way, he had.
“What do you say, El?” he asked at last. “Trick or treat?”
Her eyes twinkled when she finally glanced down at the ring then back at him. “I say I got a rock.”
Veterans of Domestic Wars
“Gah!”
Ellie abandoned her hold on the box she’d been trying to wedge onto the closet shelf in favor of shielding her head from a deluge of sporting goods. It crashed to the floor as a soccer ball bounced off her shoulder. The tinkle of breaking glass made her cringe. She batted away a fielder’s glove intent on palming her skull and squeaked with outrage when a plastic tube of shuttlecocks bopped her in the nose. She stared down at it, incensed by its impertinence as it ricocheted off her half-smashed box and clattered to the floor. The apartment door opened just as a mesh bag unfurled on the shelf. Neon yellow tennis balls rained down, pooling at the bottom of the closet.
“Whoa.” Jack dropped his computer bag inside the door and rushed to her aid, but it was too late. His skis and poles attacked her flank. An overstuffed golf bag loomed ominously against the rear wall. He wrapped his arms around her as she took a step back, completely forgetting that she was perched on the flimsy plastic storage cube she’d been using as a step stool. “Easy, killer, you’re tearing my place to pieces.”
His words and the laughter in his voice were a match to a powder keg. She turned on him so fast he actually gasped in surprise. “Your place! Your place? I thought this was our place?”
“Hey.”
He exhaled the word in a placating rush. His arms tightened as he lifted her off the crate like she weighed nothing more than a feather. Ellie closed her eyes, anger and mortification warming her cheeks. She couldn’t even enjoy the ride as she slid down the front of him. Her toes touched the floor, and she gripped the lapels of his suit jacket. The diamond he’d slid onto her finger days before caught the light. Ellie held on tight, praying she could stay grounded enough to say what she needed to say. These days she felt about as substantial as a feather.
Ten days had passed since she gave up her apartment, her job, and her independence to be with Jack. Ten days and she was no closer to feeling settled into her new life. And even though it was a life she chose, Ellie couldn’t help thinking maybe she made a mistake. The Chatham Hotel Group didn’t want her. Jack barely made room for her. Living in close proximity to her mother and sister was already making her crazy. The scratchy throat and earache she awakened to the day after the move turned out to be the sinus infection to end all sinus infections. There was no place to put her pictures. No lid to fit the pots in the cabinets. No way to find her bearings.
A full course of antibiotics did nothing to dissolve the tiny knot of resentment that formed in the pit of her belly when she arrived at his Chicago apartment. He’d cleaned out half the bedroom closet and a shelf in the medicine cabinet in preparation for their shacking up. And nothing more. The knot grew into a nugget when they shoved everything but her clothes and
a few boxes of essentials into a rented storage space with an open-ended lease. The damn thing had reached fist-sized by the time she finally felt well enough to cook something more than a can of soup. She opened the cabinets to discover that the man owned a set of chipped stoneware bowls, exactly four forks, and a charred scrap of sheet metal he claimed was a baking sheet.
“Elfie?”
He whispered her name soft and tender, the dregs of the virus she’d shared with him loaning his sexy baritone an even sexier rasp. The pucker of concern between his brows made her feel instantly contrite. Worry darkened his cocoa-colored eyes to a rich bittersweet. She pressed her lips into a thin line, determined to hang onto her anger just a moment longer. He could make it disappear far too easily, and that irked her. His big palm cupped her cheek. She fought the urge to lean into the caress as his fingers slipped into her hair.
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes snapped open wide. Sexy rasp or not, the patronizing undertone in the question danced a jitterbug on her very last nerve. She jerked away from him, waving her arms wide and wild to fend off any other advances he might be planning. His hand hung in the air for an over-dramatic second then slowly sank to his side.
“Do I live here or not?” His eyebrows jumped. A pointed glance between her and the front door painted the question in an absurd light, but Ellie refused to retract it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and shot her hip. “I mean, I know I can claim a third of the bed, half the closet, and one whole shelf in the bathroom. I’d like to think I’d have had a drawer to start with if we’d lived in the same area code when we met.”
“I, uh….”
His stammer shot a spark of triumph through her. Jack was seldom at a loss for words. It took even more to throw him off balance, but somehow her opening salvo managed to do both. That spark combined with his blatant confusion kindled the dry resentment in her gut. Damn, it felt good to melt down. Somehow, losing control over her carefully concealed dismay made her feel more in control.
“I wanted to make stir fry for dinner, but you don’t have a wok.”
The lack of segue made him blink. The promise of food cooked in his own home made his nostrils flare. But it never took Jack long to catch on. At least, not to some things. A slow smile unfurled. That irresistible dimple in his check winked at her. “I’ll go buy one right now.”
“I have a wok,” she said through gritted teeth. The smile faded as Jack shook his head in puzzlement. The helpless gesture sent her hurtling over the edge. “I have a fabulous wok. I have an Emeril Lagasse wok that came with a cookbook!”
“So use your wok.”
“I don’t have my wok. My wok is in storage with practically everything else I own. Everything except for that box right there.” She jabbed an accusatory finger at the crumpled cardboard carton she’d tried to wedge into the closet crammed with his sporting equipment. His head swiveled to the box and back to her with gratifying velocity, but she wasn’t nearly ready to let him off the hook. “Do you know what’s in that box, Jack?”
He opened his mouth to speak but regained his senses at the last second. Clamping it shut, he wagged his head and raised his shoulders in mute surrender.
“Pictures, Jack. Framed pictures. But there’s no place to put a framed picture around here because you have an old trunk for a coffee table and nothing else. No bookshelves. No mantle. No entertainment center.” She flung her arms out wide. “No end tables. No nightstand!”
“So we’ll go buy furniture.”
His casual dispatch was the wrong tactic, and Jack was clever enough to know he’d made a grave error. The horror dawning on his handsome face made her almost feel sorry for him. Sadly, Jack didn’t possess a time machine. She could see him wishing the words back, but Ellie wasn’t inclined to show mercy. She wanted to twist the knife. She also knew the man well enough to know that yelling at him was not the way to do that.
Keeping her voice pitched low and as steady as possible, she stared him straight in the eye. “I have furniture, Jack. I have boxes and boxes of pots and pans. I have a really nice set of bookshelves that would look great on the wall across from the couch, but you said we wouldn’t need any of my stuff. You said we’d need a bigger place first, but we don’t, do we, Jack?” She took a step back, opening up a twelve-inch gulf between them that seemed impossible to span. “We need a place that’s as much mine as yours.”
“Ellie.” He took a brave step into the abyss, but at the moment she wasn’t in the mood to meet him halfway. She shook his hand from her arm. His gorgeous mouth thinned into a line of resolve. “This is your place.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.” The confession came out in a whisper. Knowing she needed to flee before she caved completely, she backed away. “Ask me which pictures they were, Jack,” she prompted as she edged toward the bedroom.
She could see by the tight lines bracketing his mouth he was all too aware which pictures were in that box. “I’m sorry.”
His voice cracked and she almost did too, but it wasn’t good enough. Curling her fingers into a fist, she pressed her knuckles into her hip, trying to maintain the mad a little bit longer. Pressing her advantage, she held his gaze. “Do you know which pictures they were?”
A muscle ticked in his tense jaw. His crumpled suit jacket hung loose from slumped shoulders. The five o’clock shadow darkening his throat failed to mask the bob of his Adam’s apple. He nodded without a word but didn’t look away.
“Fix it.”
She whispered the challenge, spun on her heel, and dashed for the bathroom. Locked safe inside, she turned on the faucets in the tub, hoping the gush of water would cover the sound of her tears.
****
Jack chased after her. Hell, he didn’t even give it a second thought. He’d been following her for nearly a year, and if they could make it past ‘I do’, he’d keep chasing her for the rest of their days.
The click of the lock stopped him in his tracks. Even though the paned bathroom door was meant to look like the windows of a French door, the damn thing was nowhere near as see-through. Still, he stared hard, just in case x-ray vision was a hidden talent he hadn’t discovered yet. He fixed a measuring gaze on the brushed nickel doorknob. He could kick the door in without breaking a sweat. One well-placed heel and the frame would splinter. He could toss her over his shoulder, carry her to the bed, and pin her down until she listened to him. Then, he could discover fire and invent the wheel before going out to kill a bison with his bare hands so he could present it to her as an apology.
What woman could resist a nice bison?
Pushing his palm against one of the patently non-see-through panes, he closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “El? Elfie, I’m sorry.” His hand fell to his side. He pressed an ear to the door. The cool wood eased the fire in his cheek. “I didn’t know. I didn’t…think.”
That blatantly obvious confession came equipped with a shrug. Helpless and aching because he’d hurt her, he shifted his weight, rolling his forehead against the smooth surface of the door between them. It killed him to be separated from her, even though they were mere feet apart rather than the miles they’d become accustomed to navigating. Nearness was proving to be every bit as difficult as those endless days of distance.
“I just…I wanted you here so bad, I didn’t think about anything but you. I’m sure the wok is nice, but I really only wanted you.” His shoulders tensed when he heard a loud sniffle. “Elfie, don’t cry. Please….”
“Leave me alone.”
The hoarse croak startled him. He blinked and jerked away from the door. The tears clogging her throat made his tighten. He stared at the closed door, wondering if she knew him so little as to think he’d give up so easily. Anger, red-hot and irrational, boiled up from his belly. Straightening his shoulders, he glared at the door, mentally calculating the cost to replace it once he turned this one into toothpicks.
“I just…I need to think.”
The hushed defeat in her voice
sent a ripple of apprehension up his spine. He fixed his gaze on the knob, his eyes narrowing with determination. The door rattled in its frame. Jack blinked. For one crazy, joyful second he thought maybe he’d incinerated it with his latent x-ray skills. But the damn thing held. That soon-to-be-kindling remained so stubbornly solid. It took a few seconds to register that it rattled because she was standing close on the other side.
So much for kicking it in.
He pressed his palm to the center of one pane as if he could reach straight through to her. “We’ll go get your stuff this weekend.”
“That’s not going to fix this.”
Her voice drifted through the door, soft and sad and so tantalizingly close he revamped his plan to include a screwdriver and the hinges. “It’s a start, though.” Jack cringed when he heard the ragged edges of desperation in his voice. “Ellie, I can’t do anything about the job thing. I would if I could, but I can’t. You won’t let me use my credentials to intimidate people anymore,” he reminded her, hoping to coax a little laugh. As always, jokes made at his expense worked. A watery chuckle seeped through the wood. “They’re fools, Ellie, but I’m not. They’ll see what a big mistake they made in letting you go. Hell, I’m pissed that there isn’t anyone from Chatham standing here talking to you through the door too. They screwed up just as much as I did.”
Jack gritted his teeth and waited, hoping he could shift the focus of her anger a bit. Unlike her one-time employer, he was the one who wanted to sign her to a long-term commitment. So he’d screwed up on the no-muss-no-fuss move in strategy. How was he supposed to know? He’d never lived with a woman other than his mother, and as far as he knew, his mother never needed a wok.
Luckily, he was wise enough to know now was not the time to claim innocence. He needed to accept his sentence and move straight to the rehabilitation portion. Resigned to his fate, he held his breath as the silence hung thick and heavy. It stretched on for endless heartbeats and proved to be far more formidable than a closed bathroom door. Every nerve in his body registered the shift when she moved away from the threshold. He started to count backwards from ten, figuring it would be enough time for her to move far enough into the room to be clear when he kicked the door to kingdom come.
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 117