Make Me Feel Read Free Page B

on for her article on San Francisco’s homeless youth. Ellie was smiling broadly at the surprise, and looked to be brimming with newfound good health. She’d put on a much-needed ten or fifteen pounds since Harper and she had first met, when Ellie was barely surviving and her “home” was San Francisco’s underground and alleyways. Her dark brown hair was cut in a cute bob that almost entirely hid the burn scar on the side of her face—the product of a sadistic, drug-addicted “friend” of her mother’s. Ellie had carried the scar since she was six. Her clothes, although not expensive, looked adorably chic on her slender figure. Harper shouldn’t have been surprised. Even when Ellie lived on the street, she’d managed to demonstrate her individuality.
    “You look fantastic,” Harper said, beaming after Ellie and she hugged tightly. They’d kept in regular touch since they’d met, but recently only by e-mail and the occasional phone call. “How is college?”
    “Great. My advisor says I should try to apply to San Francisco State University next fall. She says almost all of my junior college credits will transfer. And guess what she thinks I should study?”
    Harper grinned at her enthusiasm. “Fashion? You’re a natural for it.”
    Ellie laughed. “No, journalism.”
    “That’s perfect. You’ll be a natural for that, too.”
    She greeted Cyril and they made their way to a seating area in the luxurious salon of Jacob’s home.
    “Are you sure you’re okay with the idea of the film, Ellie? You said in the last e-mail that you’d called Roger Findlay?” Harper asked after they’d sat and got caught up. Roger was one of Harper’s old friends from college who did a good deal of film production contract work.
    “Yeah, Roger’s been great about walking me through things. That sample contract you sent over might as well have been written in Russian,” Ellie told Cyril. Cyril just smirked back at the girl, and Ellie laughed. “Actually, Cyril’s been great, too. He’s been really patient with me.”
    Cyril had been surprisingly modest and quiet during the two women’s reunion. Harper had a feeling Ellie and Cyril would probably end up getting on famously. They were both scrappers, after all, both fierce individualists. Maybe Ellie herself was one of the reasons Cyril had identified so strongly with Harper’s original story.
    Does that mean that Jacob identified with the tragedy of Ellie’s youth, as well? He’d been the one to originally suggest it to Cyril. Was his gravitation toward Ellie’s story a clue as to what his childhood was like?
    It would make sense. Harper thought of Ellie’s scar, and her own. Jacob and Cyril weren’t the only ones to feel a kinship to Ellie Thornton.
    A spike of sharp longing went through her unexpectedly as she listened to Cyril talk about potential filming locations, and Ellie chimed in occasionally. She’d been separated from Jacob for a half hour, and already she missed him. Was that because it struck her hard in that moment how little she really knew about him?
    Was it because she suspected she’d fallen in love with him?
    Harper jumped into the topic of filming locations, determined to get her mind off the confusing topic of Jacob. She heard the salon doors open briskly. She looked around distractedly, half expecting Marianne.
    Instead, Jacob stalked into the room, his gaze flickering across Harper.
    “Cyril.” He nodded at his friend.
    “Jacob,” Cyril said, clearly as surprised by his unexpected appearance as Harper was. Jacob put out a hand to Ellie. “Jacob Latimer. Welcome.”
    “Ellie Thorton.” They shook, Ellie looking a little starstruck. Harper wasn’t surprised. He looked impossibly handsome and compelling. His unexpected entrance seemed to ramp up the energy level of the room a hundredfold.
    “You don’t seem half as scary as I thought you’d be,” Ellie breathed.
    Cyril snorted with laughter. Jacob’s back was to her so Harper