Falling for Her Soldier (17 page)

He traced his fingers up her spine, then slid a hand under her hair, resting it on the back of her smooth neck. When they finally kissed, he felt the strangest sensation of coming home, like when he took that first step onto American soil after a long deployment. His heart pounded hard, pushing hot blood through his veins, while at the same time, he felt at peace with her, free, yet securely connected.

Ellie took his face in her hands, gazed into his eyes, then kissed him slowly, taking the lead again. He ran his hands up and down her arms, across her softest skin. She kissed him again, on the mouth, on the nose, then she pulled back and pressed her forehead against his. Charlie was breathing so hard, it felt like he’d just bench-pressed an elephant. Twice.

“Well, that move is out,” Ellie whispered matter-of-factly.

Charlie laughed into her hair. “Ya think?”

“The ball isn’t technically a family show, but it should be rated PG.”

Charlie couldn’t help laughing again. “Like this?” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a warm, PG-rated hug. She rose onto her toes and hooked her chin over his shoulder, their bodies moving in breaths together, instinctively, like he’d been created to hold this woman in this exact way.

Finally, he gave her a squeeze and dropped his arms. She blinked up at him, looking disappointed but more beautiful than ever. With his fingers, he combed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.

“I think I need a cold shower,” he admitted.

Ellie giggled; her cheeks glowed with a feminine blush. “We should probably quit while we’re ahead,” she said, stepping back from him. “Aside from, ya know”—she waved a hand in the general location of where they’d been making out—“I think we’ve got it.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, walking toward his bottle of water, wondering if he should dump it over his head.

Ellie took a drink from her own bottle. “It’s not perfect, but we did one all the way through without a single misstep. We can always improvise the rest.”

“I don’t know how to improvise.”

In the middle of a swallow, Ellie gasped, choking on a laugh. “Uh, yeah, sport…ya do.” She turned around and fanned her face.

Charlie felt burning sparks in his chest as he watched her walk away.

Oh, boy. He was spiraling hard and fast for this woman, no other explanation. The thought was somewhat comforting. Falling in love was bound to happen to him at some point. How lucky that it was happening with Ellie Bell, the most amazing woman ever to walk God’s green earth.

But then the icy stab of guilt was back, more severe than ever. He knew there was no way he could wait another three weeks to tell her the truth, despite what he’d promised Sam and his own concern about PCS-ing early. He didn’t want to screw things up for the ball, though, so he would tell her after that…right after that. The knot in his chest unraveled some, but it didn’t go away.

Chapter Fifteen

Ellie surveyed his refection in the wall of mirrors. Infinite Hunters. He went on forever. She wouldn’t mind going on forever with him, especially when he did that little pelvisy move. Yee-gads. She fanned her face again and drained the rest of her water.

In the scheme of things, it was probably a little ridiculous to make them wait three weeks just so she could reach her goal. It hadn’t been a full year, but wasn’t that just a technicality? Hadn’t her point been made?

No, Ellie. This is important. Remember, in ballet it’s all about perfect technicalities.

If it hadn’t been for Hunter stopping them every time, reminding her of her goal, his shirt would’ve been torn off an hour ago.

Chippendales? Seriously?
She squeezed the water bottle in her fist until the plastic crackled under the stress.
What is he trying to do to me by bringing up that image?

“Want to go to the WS with me?” she asked, grabbing her duffel bag from the floor.

“I’ll go anywhere with you.” His smile made her feel all melty. It was a struggle, but she managed to not run over, knock him to the floor, and rip that shirt off for good.

“I don’t have much PR experience,” she added, “and I’m sure Chick has even less. He’ll probably need all the support he can get.”

“Okay,” Hunter said, then tilted his head. “Support for what?”

“The interview. Remember, I told you about it when you first got here.”

He rubbed his chest. “Oh. Well, I might not have been concentrating on your words then. But I am now.”

“Your friend Rick,” she explained, “is coming over with a camera crew from some TV station. Oh, and I met Mac at his office.”

Hunter leaned against the mirrored wall, looking sexy-smug. “Still jealous?”

She felt herself blush at her earlier behavior. “They kissed in front of us.”

He laughed. “They have a tendency to do that. I told you, she’s just a friend.”

“I also met Tess.”

A smile spread across Hunter’s face. “Yeah?”

“She had very nice things to say about you.”

“I pay her well,” he said, walking over.

“I like her.”

“Well, I haven’t spoken to her today, but I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” He reached out and slid a hand to the back of Ellie’s neck, under her heavy hair. She was probably a little sweaty there, but she didn’t care. His touch had become so familiar, yet the way it made her body react felt new every time.

She’d gotten used to the idea of his being a soldier, even grown more attracted to him because of it—how selfless he was in his choice of career, how brave and strong, the solidarity he had with his unit. Fear for his safety would always be an issue, but that wasn’t a reason not to love him.

The thought of him potentially leaving so soon, however, made her want to lean into him, hold on, and never let go.

“Rick bought a whole table,” she said, trying to think of something logical to say, while Hunter was running his thumb over the sensitive spot on her neck. “He said he was going to invite your whole family but I told him that was too much pressure for you.”

He laughed softly. “Thank you. It’ll be bad enough that I’m quite possibly going to make a mug of myself in front of Franklin’s elite—I don’t need my sister reminding me about it for the next fifty years.”

Ellie slid her fingers around the curve of his arm, feeling his heat, his strength. “You’re a pretty brave guy,” she said.

“More like a fool in love.”

Neither of them said anything, just stared at each other. But the charged pause hanging in the air was electric. Seemed as though “the L word” was everywhere today. Ellie’s pulse was going a million miles an hour. Could Hunter feel that on her neck?

“Anyway.” He removed his hand, combing his fingers through her hair in the process. “When did you say Rick will be at the WS?”

“In about two hours, maybe.”

“That’s a lot of time. Whatever should we do?”

She smiled and shook her head. “We’re not dancing, so you can get that idea out of your head.”

“Never in the history of mankind has a woman had to tell a man she didn’t want to tango with him when he does.”

“You may be right.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “And unless we leave in the next five minutes, Jane might make me take the class and I’ll be stuck here.”

“Grab your stuff.”

Ellie couldn’t help squealing in delight as she twirled around and trotted to the piano in the corner to get her phone and purse. When she turned back, Hunter was standing there 100 percent shirtless.

Jeez Louise. Chippendales got nothin’ on that.

“What are you doing?” she yelped, coming out of her lusty fog.

“Changing. It’ll just take a second.”

“Oh.” She nodded, not quite able to pull her eyes off his bare upper body, the way his shoulders curved like stones, leading to his perfect chest, light brown hair speckling down toward his crazy-ripped six pack. She felt a little pervy staring, but didn’t care enough to stop.

When he rotated to pull a clean shirt from his bag, she admired the way his back muscles flexed and rippled, leading down to his narrow waist and the…

Luckily her eyes stopped right there before she got carried away.

“Ready?” he asked, then glanced at her, evidently catching her stare of lust. “Unless you’d like to change your shirt next. I’ll wait. I’ll even help.”

“I’m good,” she said, even though her body temperature was hotter than normal, suggesting maybe she
should
remove her shirt.

He slung his bag over one shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

While they drove in the Impala to the WS, Ellie kept glancing at the space of the bench seat between them. When she’d gotten into the car, why hadn’t she slid over to the middle seat? She was such an idiot.

Hunter revved the engine as they idled at a red light.
What a sweet car,
she thought.
I wonder if he lets anyone else drive it.
Probably not, not from what she knew about guys and their “babies.” Yeah, she’d seen it in his eyes.

The WS was busy for a Thursday afternoon, and they had to park way in the back. Chick was in one of the group meetings, as was Sam, so Ellie and Hunter took over his office, making phone calls and steadily checking off their long to-do list.

It was late in the afternoon by the time Chick came through the door. Knowing he’d probably reached a stopping point, Ellie sent Hunter to play pool with some other guys while she and Chick discussed the fund-raiser for a while longer. Since the ad hit the
Franklin Standard
online homepage six hours ago, they’d sold eight more tables. Everything seemed to be set, not a single hiccup, which was pretty miraculous.

Ellie wasn’t a worst-case-scenario gal, but she knew something was bound to go wrong at some point. She hoped it would be minor like the napkins or tablecloths being the wrong color, and not a major snafu like the liquor license not getting approved.

“You’re okay to be interviewed?” she asked Chick as they wrapped up their meeting.

“I’ll be fine. I did some PR in the service.” He displayed his jovial smile. “About fifty years ago.”

“You’ll do great. Just speak from your heart,” Ellie said. “I expected them here thirty minutes ago.”

“Maybe they forgot,” Chick said hopefully, wringing his hands.

Ellie didn’t think so. Rick Duffy did not seem like the forgetful type. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” Hunter caught her eye. He was standing by the front door with his cell to his ear, gesturing outside. A minute later, he was propping open the door for three men, one holding a pretty intimidating camera. Rick was not with them.

Ellie took in a breath and walked over, wishing she’d had the brains to run a brush through her hair. But she could still feel where Hunter’s fingers had combed through it, and she preferred that.

“Hi,” she said to the guy with the square jaw and rather overly quaffed hair. “I’m Ellie Bell. Rick Duffy sent you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said. “Steven Ealer, Fox News.”

Wow. Fox. That was pretty big time.

She also met the cameraman and the tech guy. They chatted for a few minutes while the cameraman set up. There was a bit of a crowd now, and Ellie spotted Hunter and Sam standing a few feet away. Hunter lifted a hand and waved. She nodded back, feeling warmth seep into her pores, just knowing he was near.

“Should we get started?” Steven Ealer asked, glancing down at his phone. “My producer wants to go live in twenty.”

“Live?” Ellie balked. “Rick said it would be taped.”

“Did he?” Ealer said, not looking up.

A hand of nervousness seized her throat, and she automatically looked to where Hunter had been standing just a few minutes ago. He wasn’t there, though; he was already striding toward her, a look of concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We’re going live,” she said.

Hunter looked at Ealer. “Rick said taped. No one here is a professional.”

“Relax,” the newsman said. “Ellie and I were talking a few minutes ago.” He glanced at her. “Say exactly what you said to me, and you’ll be golden.”

“But…” That fist gripped her throat again. Then she felt Hunter at her side, his hand pressing into the middle of her back, then going around her shoulders. She exhaled and leaned against him. “I’m not doing the interview,” she said. “Chick is.” She pointed toward him standing with a couple of guys outside his office. “Chick Taylor. He’s the one you really want to talk to.”

Ealer gave Chick a clinical glance then turned back to Ellie. “No,
you’ll
look better on camera.” He tilted his head, regarding Hunter. “Is this the dance partner?”

Ellie felt Hunter’s body go very still. Was he holding his breath, too? “Um, yeah,” she said. “But he’s not—”

“Are you two…together?” Ealer cocked an eyebrow.

She sputtered. “Umm…”

“Yes,” Hunter said and tightened his arm around her. “We are.” She looked up to find him staring straight ahead, the cutest little crooked smile curling his lips. Her heart sputtered and skipped around inside her chest like a happy hummingbird. Yes, they were together, and she was proud of it.

“Fantastic,” Ealer said. “We’ll get you on camera, too.”

Hunter stiffened again. “No.”

“No, no,” Ellie added in a panic. “Not him. It’s just me and Chick—or just me if you want. No one else.” She leaned into Hunter and whispered, “Don’t worry, I got this.”

“Thank you,” he whispered back, squeezing her side.

Ealer was talking on his phone, relaying information to the tech guy, then he pulled a small mirror out of his inside jacket pocket. “We’re on in ten. Get some shots of the room,” he told the camera guy. “Then sweep over to me.” After checking his reflection, he grabbed his phone and started flicking a finger across the face. “Ellie,” he said.

“Show time,” Hunter said in her ear.

Just as his arm around her was sliding off, he suddenly gripped Ellie’s waist and spun her to his chest, giving her just enough time to gasp before he pressed his mouth over hers. This would usually cause her body to go into hyperventilation, but instead, it calmed her down, soothed her, as his warm hand held the side of her face, his thumb slowly stroking her cheek.

“You’ll do great, Eleanor,” he whispered over her mouth. “And I’ll be right here, watching all your greatness.” He kissed her cheek, her nose, then her forehead.

“Thanks,” she whispered back, holding onto his sides, not wanting to let go.

He gave her one more kiss, slower this time, releasing woozy chemicals into her bloodstream. “Try not to look too sexy,” he added, resting his forehead to hers. “I’m going to be fighting off half of Indiana after this.”

She giggled softly, wondering if she would be able to walk away from him without stumbling and falling on her face…on live TV. “I’ll try,” she said.

When she finally stepped back, Chick was behind her. “Hey, good news,” she said. “You’re off the hook.”

Chick blew out a breath, tension visibly leaving his face and shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yep, it’s just me. I hope that’s okay.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you kidding? I was sweating bullets. People would much rather see you than an old jarhead like me.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Ellie muttered. “I don’t know what I’m going to say.”

Chick touched her arm. “Just speak from the heart,” he said, giving her the advice she’d given him a few minutes ago.

Ellie rolled her eyes at the good-natured irony. “Thanks a lot.”

Steven Ealer promptly ushered them to another side of the room where there was better light. He inserted a single earbud and spoke in the mic. “You got me?” he asked, probably communicating with someone at the station. “Right. We’re set here.” He nodded at Ellie. “Ten seconds.”

She shook out her clammy hands and glanced at Hunter, who was a few feet away out of the shot. He gave her the thumbs up.

What happened next was kind of a blur. Ellie was too nervous to speak as eloquently as she’d wanted, but hopefully the heart of the message got through. It took all of ninety seconds to answer Ealer’s questions, and while still in mid-sentence, he glanced down at his phone, reading something on the face.

“Now let’s meet your dance partner,” he said. “This is the real story, folks. He’s never danced before and now he’s being paired with a professional. That’s something out of Hollywood, isn’t it?”