More Than Caring

Lauren was expecting Sam to be the keenest but before the young woman even had a chance to offer, Marc was on his feet and making his way to the front of the group.

‘It would make more sense if I volunteered,’ he said firmly, the direct expression in those smoky grey eyes almost daring her to object. ‘Then all the others get an equal chance to see what’s going on.’

He was right, of course, but just the thought of being in any sort of close contact with the man was enough to have her pulse throbbing at twice its usual rate.

‘Well, yes, of course,’ she muttered, startled to realise that there was more than a little anticipation mixed in with the apprehension. ‘Good idea.’

‘So,’ he said as he pushed his sleeves up to reveal surprisingly muscular forearms shaded with dark hair, ‘what do you want me to do?’

‘Grab me…or rather, grab my clothing,’ she directed, then prayed that she’d manage to fight the blush working its way up from her throat. ‘I want to demonstrate how to break your hold.’

It didn’t take long to demonstrate several ways to break an attacker’s hold but Lauren was glad when it was time for each member of the class to take a turn to be victim and aggressor. At least with Marc sharing the supervision she had a chance to calm down.

It shouldn’t be like this, she told herself sternly. He was just a colleague, and a rather disapproving one at that. He certainly wasn’t someone who should be sending her hormones into orbit when all he was doing was grabbing hold of a handful of her clothing.

‘Now, grab my hair,’ she directed, trying to adopt an air of briskness as she demonstrated several ways of breaking his hold while losing as little hair as possible in the process. ‘And don’t forget, as soon as you’ve broken free, run before he’s had a chance to work out how you got away.’

Once again, Marc assisted as each of the members of the class practised the simple manoeuvres that would startle an attacker into releasing his hold.

It was just by chance that Lauren caught sight of the clock on the wall and realised that they’d overrun their allotted time.

She could almost have predicted the groans that went up when she called an end to the session. All of them were obviously taking everything seriously, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t prepared to have fun while they were learning. Especially if it came at Marc’s expense, it seemed.

‘If you’re going to start teaching them how to throw me around, I don’t think I’ll come next time,’ he groaned theatrically as they made their farewells. The others laughed sympathetically and promised to dump him gently if he was brave enough to turn up for the next instalment.

Lauren was surprised at the sudden stab of disappointment his announcement caused, then cross with herself for being disappointed.

She hadn’t expected him to turn up in the first place and when he had, she hadn’t expected that he would be so helpful, not after the way he’d been keeping such an eagle eye on her in the ward.

She also hadn’t expected to find herself responding to him as anything other than the man intent on watching and waiting for her to make a disastrous error of some sort. She certainly didn’t want to see him as an attractive man who set her blood racing.

‘Thank you for your help,’ she said politely as he waited beside the door to switch the light off behind them.

‘You’re welcome. I actually enjoyed it.’

Lauren couldn’t help chuckling. ‘In a masochistic way?’

‘Sounds like it, doesn’t it?’ He gave one of those grins guaranteed to set a firecracker under any woman’s libido. ‘I actually meant the whole thing. You’re good at putting the stuff across so they take it in.’

‘I had a good teacher,’ she said briefly, allowing herself a fleeting memory of the indefatigable woman who had made it her life’s mission to teach self-defence after she’d lost her only daughter in an attack.

They’d reached her car, sitting safely under the blue-white glow of the safety light. As she turned to say goodnight she was suddenly aware of a strange reluctance for the evening to end. Not that she had any reason to prolong her farewell. Marc was far too busy even to take time out to attend her class this evening, let alone walk her out to her car.

‘Lauren, you haven’t remembered anything more about the other night, have you?’ he demanded, much to her surprise. She’d actually managed to put the whole incident to the back of her mind.

‘Remembered anything more?’ she repeated, puzzled. ‘Like what? I barely saw the man because it was so dark, remember?’

‘So you wouldn’t recognise him if you saw him again?’

‘Not if he were standing in front of me right this minute,’ she confirmed honestly.

‘Well, did he say anything? Make any threats? Did he have a particular regional accent, for example?’

‘I honestly can’t remember…’ she began, only to pause as that niggling impression rose up from its hiding place in the back of her mind. ‘Wait a minute…There was something…’

He started to speak but she put up her hand to stop him, not wanting anything to interfere with her concentration. There had definitely been something odd about the encounter…something that had stuck like a burr in a totally inaccessible place…

‘He called out to me,’ she said aloud as she ran through the events, like replaying a video in her mind. ‘I’d broken my own rules because until he spoke I hadn’t even realised that he was there. Then he grabbed me…’

‘And you sent him neatly over you to land in a heap,’ Marc finished for her with an unexpected edge of satisfaction in his voice. ‘I saw that part, but do you remember what his voice sounded like? Or what he said?’

‘My name. No! That was it! It wasn’t my name, but just for a moment I thought it was, so I was a bit slow on the uptake.’

‘So, what did he say?’

‘He called me Laura…no, Laurel something. I can’t remember exactly.’ Lauren resorted to the trick she used with crossword puzzles of running through the alphabet in her mind. She’d almost reached the end when she exclaimed, ‘Wright! No, that’s still not quite…Something-Wright…Arkwright? Wainwright? Yes! That’s it. He called me Laurel Wainwright.’

‘And you’ve no idea why?’

‘None at all. I’ve never heard the name before.’

‘And it’s not as if you’re from the area, so he couldn’t have recognised you and just forgotten your name,’ Marc mused.

‘Oh, well. It’s probably destined to remain one of life’s great mysteries,’ Lauren quipped. ‘Along with what happened to my other pair of walking socks when I did the laundry yesterday. I could have sworn I put both pairs in, but only one pair came out.’

‘Hmm. They can’t have gone to the Planet of Lost Socks, then. They only accept them if they arrive one at a time,’ Marc retorted with a straight face, then spoilt it by laughing at her expression.

Lauren couldn’t help joining in. The last person from whom she’d have expected such whimsical nonsense was super-efficient, perennially serious Marc Fletcher, but with just that one sentence he’d revealed another, deeply hidden facet.

Suddenly, she knew she was in trouble; knew it was time she said a swift goodbye and made her way as far away from the man as quickly as she could.

It had been easy to resist his physical attraction…with a minor lapse or two while she’d watched that gorgeous body striding away down yet another corridor. All the while he was being so suspicious and grouchy her emotions were in no danger.

Unfortunately, the Marc Fletcher she’d seen this evening was another matter altogether—generous with his time, sharply intelligent, and with a surprising sense of the absurd.

This was a man who could easily chip away at the self-sufficiency that had become so much a part of her over the last decade or so.

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