MoreThanWords

More Than Words

Karla Doyle

A brutal mugging two years ago left
Calli terrified to go out after dark, and incapable of real dating. Hanging out
with a resentful Chihuahua every night hasn’t filled the void, and all the sex
toys from the store she owns could never replace a flesh-and-blood man. An
online Scrabble site promising anonymous, flirty fun sounds like just the
ticket. A like-minded geek, that’s what she needs. Unbeknownst to her, the man
on the other end of the game is anything but geeky.

Tired of the party scene, Travis
seeks a venue where he can meet a woman who is drawn to his mind, not his
profession. Having women chase after his bad-boy musician persona has grown
stale. After heating up the tiles online with Calli, he knows he must meet her
in person. Touch her in person. And when he does, their chemistry is
undeniable. She stimulates him, mind and body. But when he discovers her tragic
past he realizes it will take more than words to win her heart…and her trust.

More Than Words

Karla Doyle

Dedication

To Todd and Amanda, for nagging me daily to get off Twitter
and finish writing the damn book…I love you guys so much!

For Lisa. You kept me F&P every time my writerly ADD
threatened to sneak in. Your praise, honest criticism and chat room floggings
kept me on track. So glad we found each other, my friend.

And always, a special thank you to Grace, my incredible
editor. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars to have snagged
you.

Chapter One

The soft music ended mid-song, replaced by a throbbing dance
mix. Calli glanced at her watch. Five on the dot. She’d gone to the back office
when things died down half an hour ago. By the volume and singing coming from
the front of the store, Caitlyn had already flipped the sign and locked the
door. Calli followed the techno beat and found Caitlyn’s backside in clubbing
mode, swaying and thrusting to the music as she refolded panties at light
speed.

Excited about going out…must be nice.

“I’ll do that, you’re off the clock,” Calli said, pulling a
tiny pink thong from her sister’s manicured hands.

“Hey, boss lady. Checked the till—another totally awesome
day today. A thirty-percent increase over this day last year.”

Despite being relieved of duty, Caitlyn continued stacking
underwear into organized piles. Every time the song’s chorus came on, she gave
Calli a hip bump. Caitlyn was a force of nature, impossible to resist, and
Calli found herself bumping alongside her before the song changed. Smiling,
even.

Finished with the bottoms, they moved to the wall displays
and began straightening bras, peignoir sets, nighties and robes. Calli had
lucked out hiring her little sister. Caitlyn had the looks of a gorgeous
plus-size model, the sex appeal of a centerfold and the dedication of a
business partner—even though she wasn’t one. Customers loved her. Calli loved
her. And by the never-ending pings and chimes coming from Caitlyn’s cell phone
in her pocket, plenty of other people loved her. And were waiting.

“Get out of here, now. That’s an order.”

“Okay, I’m going.” Caitlyn practically bounced across the
room with her purse and jacket. “You should come with us. There are soooo many
hot guys there.”

“Sounds great. I’ll pass.”

“You have something against hot guys?”

“You know I don’t.” Calli turned away from her sister and
continued straightening racks. Celibacy sucked. The toys she sold at Romance U
were a sorry substitution for a flesh-and-blood partner. She’d happily trade
their ability to go all night for a hit of hot manliness. If only it were that
easy.

A reassuring arm folded around her shoulder. “Hey…I’d be
with you the whole time. I promise not to leave you alone, not even for a
second.”

Late-night clubbing with Caitlyn and her outgoing, fun-loving
crew. The music, dancing and laughing would be fun, but it was just…impossible.

“Tell me all about the hot guys tomorrow. Take some pictures
on your phone and text them to me.”

Caitlyn sighed, her lips drawing downward. “I’ll let you off
the hook for now, but I’m not giving up on you. Not ever.”

“Even if I wasn’t the Wikipedia poster girl for fucked-up,
I’d still be too busy to go out. It’s that time of year.” She waved off the
incoming pity hug. “I’m fine.” Bullshit, and both of them knew it. “Go, have
fun.”

The store in order a short time later, Calli double-checked
the locks, turned out the lights, collected the day’s receipts and climbed the
back stairs. Dancing of the four-legged variety was happening on the other side
of the closed door. She opened it slowly, not wanting to send Prince Charming
flying across the room.

“There’s my big boy.” She bent to scoop up all eight pounds
of him. “I missed you too.” Bumping and grinding with hot men had nothing on
cuddling with a Chihuahua that vibrated faster than the high-speed setting on
her bullet. Right. Sure it didn’t.

By the time she’d finished with her spreadsheets and supper,
the November sky was utter blackness. Her love for this time of year died with
the closed sign. Business was fantastic, everything else made her want to curl
up in a ball and rock until the sun returned. She shut out the night—and the
nightlife of Belmont Village—with each snap of blinds in her little apartment.

She snuggled into the couch with her dog and her laptop. Not
much had changed in the blogosphere since her last tea break. She logged into
her game center and played all her moves within ten minutes. None of her book
club buddies were online to return the favor—even
they
had lives after
sundown. Saturday night television sucked. She could read, but her latest batch
of romance novels was in a pile by her bed. Too far away.

She drummed her purple nails on the side of the computer.
“This takes pathetic and desperate to a new low.” She keyed in the address one
of her Scrabble pals had forwarded.
Online games for the friendly and the
flirtatious
, the website’s banner bragged. Ha. Online games for the homely
and pathetic was probably closer to the truth. And she was one of them.

She set up a user ID and entered a bunch of profile
information. A few clicks later, a list of open games popped up. Lots of
animated avatars with big eyes and bigger boobs stared out from the screen.
Ugh, lame. A dramatic black rose caught her attention, the perfect counter to
her red rose avatar. Travis—male, thirty-two, single, heterosexual, located in
Southern Ontario, it read. Heterosexual her ass. Not with a flower as his
profile pic. No sexy guys for her, not even in cyberspace.

Whatever Travis might be like in real life, he was an
aggressive Scrabble player. Calli respected that. Hell, it was kind of
exciting, sad as that was. Halfway through their game he played
quartz
for one hundred forty-five points. She’d been playing Scrabble since the third
grade, probably had thousands of games under her belt, but she’d never scored
that high with a single word. The move was smokin’, whether he was or not.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. To chat, or not to
chat. Might as well…she was here to be friendly and flirtatious, right? She
rolled her eyes at the screen, typed her message in the chat pane and hit the
send key with gusto.

You’re kicking my ass.

A reply popped up immediately, one that made Calli choke on
her root beer.

Want me to kiss it better?

His comment shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The site was
for playing games of the social kind, not just the wordy kind. Truth was, she’d
been hoping for something more exciting than triple-word scores and bingos. Now
the dark rose, Travis, was inviting her to play a different kind of game. Her
secret extroverted side jumped in.

Maybe. Depends on what type of kisser you are.

His reply came immediately.
One who pays attention to the
woman I’m kissing.

The number of guys Calli had kissed in her thirty-one years
could be counted on her hands. None of those men could make that sort of boast.
All the kissing she’d experienced belonged in one of three not-so-exciting
categories—slobbery, dry as the Sahara, and
look-out-here-comes-my-giant-tongue. Her dates had kissed a set of lips, not
Calli the woman.

She sighed and hit send.
Then you have a very lucky
girlfriend.

Not currently. What I have are lonely lips. Help me out,
pucker up.

Cute. Well, his humor was, anyway. Travis probably had a
great personality and mutt-ugly looks, a diamond inside a lump of coal. Otherwise,
why would he be hanging out online on a Saturday night? Playing Scrabble, no
less. Since they were in cyberspace, though, all that mattered was the diamond
part.

She typed in her message.
Nice girls don’t kiss on the
first game board.

That wasn’t exactly a no. Maybe you’re not so nice?

In reality, she was nothing but a nice girl. But this wasn’t
reality.
You’re right. Lay one on me…

What she expected to see was some silly emoticon with big
lips that would make her cringe. She braced for it, ready to end their chat at
the first sign of a circular, yellow face.

Not so fast. Before I kiss you, I need to know a couple
of things.

Not what she was expecting, but it wasn’t a smiley, thank
god.
Don’t worry, I’m clean. No viruses here. Your hard drive is safe.

Very witty. I like smart women.

Even if they’re trolls?
His answer to that one ought
to be interesting. Anything other than a
no
was a load of bull.

I bet you’re not.

Ha, he managed to worm his way around that question quite
nicely. Putting herself down was so automatic, she almost started typing a list
of her flaws. But this was virtually anonymous. Travis didn’t know she was a
fearful, shy, pasty-faced wallflower. Online, she could be anything she wanted
to be, all of the things she dreamed of being. Her true, inner self. No one
would ever know.

Yep, she was going with that.
Good save. So, what do you
want to know?

Whatever you’re willing to tell. Start with your name.
Does C Ya stand for something?

She tapped her fingers next to the mouse. Asking about her user
name, huh? Telling him her actual name was risky—for more than the obvious
safety reasons. Anything that could lead him to discovering the real,
incredibly boring Calli Yates was out of the question.

Didn’t mean she couldn’t answer his question.
Yes, it
stands for something.

Funny girl. So literal.

She smirked at the screen.
What did you expect? I’m a
word nerd.

My favorite. Nerd girls are hot.
Travis’ message
popped up quickly, as the others had. He must have quick fingers…that could
come in handy.

Lord, she really was desperate, fantasizing about a faceless
man’s fingers. She flicked herself in the forehead and typed a message.
My
thighs are hot…from the laptop. Does that count?

Definitely. What else are you going to tell me, my
hot-thighed, nerdy girl?

The possession in his question made her shiver. Even when
she’d had boyfriends—fleetingly—they’d never done anything to claim her for
their own. Not one time. She’d just been too insignificant. Travis had made her
feel better in this stint online than any live, in-the-flesh man had ever done.
Pretty pathetic.

So for Travis, she’d pretend to be hot. Even if went against
her nature and the truth.
I have very long, dark-brown hair. Fair skin and
blue eyes.

Do you wear glasses?

Because all nerds wore glasses, is that what he thought? She
tsked at the screen while hitting Enter.
Only safety glasses.

Interesting. I’m picturing you as a sexy construction
worker of some kind.

He’d never have guessed the truth, that she wore them while
drilling tiny pilot holes through stones and other doodads for the jewelry
making that satisfied her creative bent. But a female construction worker,
really?

Close. At the club where I strip, my most popular routine
involves a costume of safety glasses, a tool belt and not much else.
She
hit send on the enormous lie and giggled.

Nice. Work boots or high heels?

Work boots, for authenticity. But with hot-pink, sparkly
laces.

I’d pay to see that.

Not a bad idea. Calli had the usual fare in the accessories
area of her store—French-maid outfits, nurse costumes, bunny ears with matching
fuzzy tails—but this construction babe thing might grow wings and fly. If she
couldn’t find a kit in one of her wholesaler’s catalogs, she’d take a daytime
outing to Home Depot and make one herself. Too bad she didn’t have a real man
to test it on.

Even virtually, outright lying gave her a pang. She’d
learned early on that her face gave everything away. Apparently her tendency
toward full disclosure carried over to anonymous online conversations. Wordy
she might be, worldly she was not. So she typed the truth and banged the Enter
key.

Truth time. I’m not an exotic dancer.

So I’ll put my five-dollar bill away, but I’d still like
to see your costume.

This was nothing more than fantasy talk from a faceless
stranger. So why was her pulse jumping? Because she hadn’t been treated to this
much flirtation since the ninth grade, when her fully developed thirty-six C
cups earned her extra attention for a while, that’s why.

This was much more fun.

She hurried to type a comeback.
For all you know, I might
be the most hideous woman in the world, with three arms and a giant, hairy
mole.

His reply appeared even quicker.
The extra arm could have
its advantages, so I guess it all depends where that mole is. Do tell.

Her laughter was startling against the silence of her
apartment, making Charming jump off the couch, a totally disgruntled expression
on his furry face.

Are you as cute as you are funny?

Not really. Still want me to virtually kiss you?

Huh. He could’ve said yes, she’d never know the truth. Yet
he hadn’t. Now that was sexy. She typed,
I’m waiting
.

His message took longer to pop up than the previous
ones—totally worth the wait.
Your hair feels like silk around my fingers. I
could touch it for hours. The back of your neck fits perfectly in my hand.
You’re soft and warm…your pulse is pounding faster than before.

Calli’s hand moved to her throat. He was right, it was
hammering like crazy.

Another message appeared on his side of the window.
And
now you’re blushing.

Her cheeks were on fire—he was right about that too.
Everything
makes me blush, it’s a curse.

No way. Blushing makes you irresistible. And that shy
smile. Such pretty lips. Soft too. Sweet. Your mouth is smooth and warm.
Delicious, like fruit.

Calli’s head fell back as she closed her eyes, letting the
fantasy wash over her. She touched her lips. They parted slightly, as if the
tips of her fingers were his lips, his tongue. It’d been so long since she’d
had a real kiss. Even a sloppy one would be better than nothing at this point.