When He Was Bad... (12 page)

 

After Matt's chauffeured vehicle dropped her home on Monday morning, Ellie decided to take the rest of her free day to inspect a couple of job prospects advertised at the local council in today's newspaper in case the Healesville one she was looking at tomorrow didn't pan out.

Sitting around her apartment feeling sorry for herself would give her too much time to think, and she didn't want to think. She didn't have anything suitable to wear to a big-deal office party, and even if she did, she didn't fit in with those high-flying career types.

She showered and dressed in black trousers and business jacket, her mind going around in circles. Matt had been preoccupied with work during the flight. No mention of when he'd see her again. She wondered if he'd decided to call it quits since she'd refused his party invitation. Except that now she'd have to face him when she turned up at Belle's for work.

When her mobile rang, she stood a moment, chewing on her lips. If he was trying to change her mind… But when she picked it up she didn't recognise the caller ID. ‘Hello?'

‘Ellie? Hi, my name's Yasmine and I work with Matt at McGregor Architectural.'

Ellie gulped, sinking onto the nearest chair, her knees turning to jelly. ‘Um, hi…'

‘Matt's busy right now but he asked me to give you a call
and see if I couldn't change your mind about joining our festivities this evening, and before you say no, I'll tell you now that I'm afraid if I'm unsuccessful, I could be looking for a position elsewhere tomorrow morning.'

‘Oh. I—'

‘Are you at home now?'

‘Yes, but—'

‘Great, I'm right outside on the footpath. With cake.'

‘Uh…' Phone in hand, Ellie yanked her door open, hurried to the window overlooking the street at the end of the building's corridor.

And directly below her stood Yasmine, her beautiful business-clad butt on the bonnet of a sexy little silver hatch-back, a phone pressed against her glorious sweep of black hair.

Ellie's fingers tightened on the phone. ‘Oh, crap.'

Yasmine grinned at that, then lifted her face so that the sun worshipped her stunning cheekbones and waved up at her.

This time Ellie covered the mouthpiece, swore again, then waved back. ‘Come on up.' What else could she say?

Ellie rushed back inside, decided it wasn't worth trying to make the place look presentable and, breathless, met Yasmine at the door thirty seconds later. ‘Hi. Come in.'

Yasmine didn't bat an eye at her lowly apartment. ‘I've been looking forward to meeting you ever since I saw you two together at the club.' She set the box from a local bakery on the table, her ring finger glittering with a starburst of diamonds.

Ellie tried not to notice the sparkly jewellery and feel pleased while she busied herself clearing the clutter of mismatched dishes to one end. ‘We weren't together… I mean we were just— Matt's
talked
about me?'

‘
Mentioned
you. But you know men—they never
talk
, particularly about women to other women. If only they knew it's
what they
don't
say that gives them away every time.' She opened the box, revealing a selection of pastries and iced cupcakes. ‘How was Sydney?'

When Ellie jerked around to stare at her, Yasmine was smiling. Grinning, actually. Showing perfect white teeth. ‘Um… Great.' Snapping her mouth shut, Ellie swivelled towards the sink. ‘Coffee?'

‘Love one.'

Yasmine pulled out a chair and made herself at home while Ellie switched on the kettle and struggled to remember where she'd put the blasted stuff. ‘How did you know? About Sydney?'

‘I heard him making dinner reservations for two—best table, best wine, la-di-dah-di-dah. When he asked me to contact you this morning, I realised you're the mystery woman who's had him distracted for the past week.'

Distracted? Matt? Fingers trembling slightly, Ellie splashed hot water onto the coffee grounds, carried the mugs to the table, grabbed the spare carton of milk from the cupboard and sat down gratefully. ‘But we're ju—'

‘So as the event organiser, I really need you to come tonight or he's going to be absolute hell to work with tomorrow.' Yasmine slid the cakes Ellie's way. ‘Help yourself to a bribe. Either that or I'll be polishing up my résumé.'

Ellie shook her head. ‘I don't have anything to wear.'

‘Not a problem. I have a stack of costumes in the car. There's sure to be one that fits.' She sipped her coffee, eyed Ellie over the rim of her mug. ‘So, I'll just shoot downstairs and grab them, shall I? Then I have to get back to work and tell the boss the good news. At least then we might be able to put in a few productive hours before this evening.'

‘I—'

‘Great.' Beaming, she rose, headed for the door. ‘Back in a jiff.'

Ellie blew out a slow, not-so-steady breath. It seemed Cinderella was going to the ball after all.

M
ATT
was out of the chauffeured car the moment it pulled up outside Ellie's apartment. He tugged at the sweeping emerald cloak's tie which was all but strangling him. His hands felt a little clammy, his pulse a tad faster than usual, and for a moment he felt as if he was on his first date. And, in a way, escorting Ellie to a function as his partner for the evening
was
a first date for the two of them.

Thanks to Yasmine, colleague extraordinaire and miracle worker.

He knocked on her door. Odd—his breathing was slightly elevated while he waited for her to answer. As if he was nervous. Then the door opened and his lungs all but collapsed at the sight before him.

A petite vision in a medieval long-sleeved gown of dark crimson velvet which flowed to dainty slippered feet. A matching hooded cloak lined and trimmed with snowy fur. An ivy wreath crowned her head, tiny red berries sprinkled amongst the soft blonde hair—which was sleek and straight this evening.

He took another moment to linger in the depths of those violet eyes, sparkling with nerves tonight. Her fingers gripped the strings of the velvet pouch bag she held so tightly her knuckles were white.

‘Aren't you going to say something?'

‘Good evening, Ellie.' He had his breath back. Barely. And her familiar spiced-berry scent washed over him like a dream. ‘You look absolutely amazing.' He kissed her cheek, respectable and civilised, the way a gentleman greets his partner on a first date. But inside…inside an unfamiliar sensation stumbled around the region of his heart. Suddenly the thought that he'd be back in Sydney in a couple of days wasn't something he wanted to think about. Tonight might be the last chance they'd have to be together.

‘Thank you,' she said, bringing him back to the present. ‘You're looking pretty sensational yourself.'

Her gaze stroked down his cloak, lingered a moment on the black-clad torso beneath. Little darts of heat prickled his skin, fed into his bloodstream, tightened his groin.
Later,
he promised silently. Later he was going to enjoy more than just her gaze….

‘The Holly King,' she said, lifting her eyes to his. ‘As befitting the boss, I guess. Yasmine told me all about it. Question, though—where's the holly wreath that's supposed to be on your head?'

Grinning, he shook his head. ‘I'm not a masochist.'

‘Pity.' She smiled. ‘I hadn't realised there was so much tradition attached to the evening. Guess it's more a northern hemisphere event.' She closed and locked the door behind her with the new deadlock he'd had fitted.

‘So you and Yaz got along well, I take it?' Matt took her elbow as they descended the shabby stairwell.

‘She's a good friend to you—you're lucky to have her.' Her pensive tone reminded Matt of Ellie's wandering and no doubt lonely lifestyle.

‘She can be your friend too, you know.'

‘I don't think that'll happen. You're leaving soon….'

Whether it was the chill in the air or her words, he didn't
know, but something like a shiver ran down his spine as they stepped into the cold winter street.

‘In you get,' he said, making an effort to lighten up as the chauffeur opened the door.

Ellie settled the cloak about her while Matt climbed in beside her. He poured a couple of glasses of champagne, handed her one. ‘To a pleasant evening.'

She clinked her glass to his. ‘A pleasant evening.'

Chauffeured limos, champagne en route. She marvelled at how quickly she'd become accustomed to this kind of luxury. How easily it could be taken for granted if you'd never known anything else.

She reminded herself this was a one-off as they cruised down the street and headed towards the city centre. Their destination speared into the sky, all twinkling lights and power and wealth.

‘Something to wear tonight,' Matt said, drawing a rectangular velvet box from his pocket.

‘Um.' Her heart stammered at the unexpected gesture. ‘It's not necessary….'

‘Maybe not, but I wanted to.' Relieving her of her glass, he pressed the box into her hands. ‘Open it,' he told her when she didn't make a move to do so.

Her fingers felt awkward as she lifted the lid. A delicate single strand of what could only be diamonds winked at her on their bed of black satin. A bracelet that must have cost The Earth.

Stunning. Sensational. But also shockingly, outrageously expensive. How could anyone justify spending so much on a piece of jewellery? She'd live her life worrying if someone was going to steal it. Still, her fingers drifted over the stones. ‘It's beautiful,' she breathed. ‘But I'd never have an occasion to wear it….'

‘You have tonight.' He lifted it, draped it over her wrist and fastened the clasp.

She lifted and rotated her arm, watched it glitter in the night lights. ‘I wonder how many Third World children we could feed with the money it would fetch?'

‘Ellie, it's not always about the money. It's a gift because I wanted to show you how much you…'

When he trailed off, she looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Still a thrill of illicit pleasure lanced through her.

‘…how much I've enjoyed having you with me this past week,' he finished. ‘Please accept it for what it is.'

If she didn't know better she'd have said his voice sounded strained. Vulnerable? Nah, not Matt McGregor. Unlike her, he probably hadn't given its value a second thought.

Rather than look at him and read into his gaze something that wasn't there, she admired the bracelet's sparkle again. Looking at him would only remind her that their time together was nearly up. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful or mercenary.' Its beauty would always be a cherished memory of this interlude in her life.

‘You didn't. Not quite.' Smiling, he leaned across the seat, tilting her face so that he could plant warm lips on hers.

Interlude
. Was that really all this was? she wondered as she let herself sink into the kiss. This heart-stopping, all-enveloping, all-consuming…
Careful, Ellie
. Digging her fingernails into her palms as he drew back, she turned to watch Southbank's lights reflect on the River Yarra. Yes, interlude. She wouldn't let it be anything else.

 

McGregor Architectural's meeting rooms on the forty-second floor, with a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view over the city, were decked out in abundant winter greenery—rosemary,
laurel, ivy, pine boughs. The forest fragrance mingled with the scent of melting wax, beer and hot cider.

Matt felt a warm feeling of satisfaction when Ellie's first impression when they stepped out of the elevator was, ‘Wow.'

He'd devoted the past fifteen years to growing the business. Day and night, often seven days a week for months at a time. ‘Yasmine and the organising committee have done a terrific job.' He stood a moment, enjoying the celebrations taking place in front of them, enjoying the feel of Ellie's hand in his.

Warm colours of red and amber and gold in the tall free-standing candles, rainbow hues in the sun catchers suspended from the ceiling. Paper lanterns, medieval music, platters of cheese and nuts and winter fruits on gold cloths.

‘Come and meet some of my colleagues.' He'd taken barely a step when Yasmine, in a snowy Grecian-type robe that showed off plenty of bare shoulder, pounced on them.

Her sunburst headband of gold beads swayed as she pecked his cheek. ‘Hi, there, handsome.' Then she linked arms with Ellie. ‘Good choice,' she said, her charcoal eyes sweeping Ellie's costume. ‘Come with me, there's someone I want you to meet and then we're going to check out what exciting treasures are on offer at the silent auction tonight. You don't mind, do you, Matt? John Elliot wants to talk to you about the zoning requirements for the Dockland development anyway.' She waved a vague hand towards the knot of men in the corner and swept Ellie away before he could mutter more than, ‘No worries.'

He discovered he
did
mind. For once in his life he didn't want to talk business. He glared in Ellie's direction, watching her and Yaz disappear amongst a throng of women. He
wanted
to talk to his date. To share the evening with her, not with some hardnosed guy who never knew when to quit.

A bit like an older Matt McGregor.

The realisation was a solid punch to his gut. God, did he really see himself as a future J. H. Elliot? Middle-aged bachelor on the edge of a breakdown with nothing but work to fill his later years?

And wasn't that where Matt was headed? In less than twenty years he'd be alone on the wrong side of fifty too. Not so appealing.

But it could never be anything else. He, Matt, had engineered it that way.

He needed a drink to wash away the sobering prospect. He strode to the table, helped himself to a goblet of mulled wine, then mingled with staff as he manoeuvred his way to the windows where the lights of the city centre twinkled, and further out to the inky blankness of Port Phillip Bay.

‘Matt.'

Distracted, he turned to see his receptionist wearing a heavily brocaded vermilion gown. ‘Joanie. You're looking lovely tonight.'

‘Thank you.' She handed him a squat fat candle. ‘Looks like this solstice evening idea's a success.'

He nodded. ‘How's the auction going?'

‘Very well. What charity did you decide on?'

He'd thought of Ellie and knew she'd be happy with the idea. He'd already considered drawing up plans. ‘We're going to give a local disadvantaged kids' homework centre a generous makeover. I'll give you the details later.'

Joanie nodded. ‘A worthy cause.'

He spotted Ellie amongst the crowd talking with Spencer from accounting downstairs. Must be a fascinating conversation because she was smiling up at the guy. Leaning closer to hear what he said. Enjoying herself.

Which was what he'd wanted, right? But a fist knuckled beneath his breastbone and his jaw tightened as he watched them. He'd always disliked the guy.

‘…so you know the tradition?' he heard Joanie say.

His eyes remained on Ellie. ‘Yaz filled me in.'

‘Why don't we make a start? I think everyone has a candle now.'

A tinkle of silver on glass got everyone's attention and at Joanie's request they formed a circle. Before the ritual got under way, Matt crossed the space and clasped Ellie's hand. ‘Before we get started, I'd like to introduce Ellie.' He looked into those amazing eyes, felt himself falling, heard himself saying, ‘She's with me.' Something inside him rocked off-centre; he'd never heard that possessive tone in his voice before.

But then a murmur of greetings followed, Yaz requested they seat themselves on the floor and the room was plunged into darkness. Only the city lights forty storeys below lent a soft sheen to the ceiling. It cast Ellie's face into dimness, but it was enough to make out her long eyelashes and the curve of her cheekbone. The tilt of her chin.

Vaguely he heard Yaz speak about long-ago traditions around the winter solstice. The battle between light and dark. A time for releasing personal resentments and regrets. He curled Ellie's fingers into his palm and his gaze remained locked on hers in the Moment of Silence for Personal Reflection.

Who was the real Ellie behind those violet eyes? Would he ever really know before he left? He knew some of her hopes, some of her fears. What of her secrets?

Her lips—a little wistful, a lot tempting. He bent his head to touch them to his. And lost himself in the warmth, her fragrance, her whisper of breath against his cheek…

Someone shuffled, Ellie drew back and he heard Yasmine's whisper at his other ear. ‘Ah, Matt, when you're ready…'

He mentally shook himself.
For God's sake
. The sooner he left Melbourne, the better off he'd be. The sooner he could
refocus on his work. His reason to get up in the morning. His life's core and purpose.

Rising, he placed his candle in the bowl of water which Yasmine had set in the centre of the circle. As he lit the wick, the tiny flicker glowed yellow against his palm. In turn, each participant stepped up, lit their candle from his, then placed it around Matt's. Finally Yasmine spoke of the Sun Child and the promise of light and a glowing future.

Lights were switched on, the music cranked up and goblets filled with all manner of spiced wines, ciders, beers. Caterers began bringing out platters of skewered meats and savouries. Hot herbed bread and appetising dips. A variety of soups served in chic individual shot glasses.

As Matt took Ellie's hand to lead her to the window, he noticed her bare arm. ‘Where's your bracelet?'

Ellie didn't look at her wrist. She knew she didn't have the finances to contribute, so she'd done the only thing she could; she'd donated her bracelet to the cause.

‘I haven't had the chance to tell you. When I learned you were donating the proceeds to the centre, I wanted to help. It's worth a lot more there than on my arm.' Before he could answer, she jumped in with, ‘I'm sorry if that offends you.'

He tilted her chin up with a finger and looked steadily into her eyes. His touch was so infinitely gentle her stomach quivered. ‘It doesn't offend me, Ellie.'

‘I wouldn't expect you to understand, Matt,' she said softly. ‘You wouldn't know about going without.'

For an instant she thought he was going to say something but then he shot her a curious look. ‘If you'll excuse me a moment, there's a matter requiring my attention.' He did an abrupt about-turn and made his way through the hanging lanterns and across the room.

Turning away, she studied the panorama below. She
had
offended him. In this particular instance she didn't care. It was
just another example of how they didn't fit as a couple, another reason to ignore her heart telling her this man was different. One of a kind. Special. She pressed a knuckle beneath her nose, telling herself the misty outlook was rain, not tears.