When He Was Bad... (13 page)

‘Ellie? What are you doing here by yourself? Has Matt deserted you?'

She didn't need to turn to know it was Yasmine standing beside her, and just as well, because she didn't want anyone to see her infuriatingly damp eyes. Self-pity was not a good look. So perhaps her voice was a little too nonchalant, even acerbic, when she said, ‘I'm just admiring the view. Amazing, isn't it? Matt's literally on top of the world.'

A brief silence. ‘It took Matt years of sacrifice and effort and scaling Mount Everest to get here.' Yasmine sounded defensive.

Ellie's response was cool to her own ears. ‘You two have known each other a while, then, I take it.'

‘Twelve years. You're wondering about our relationship,' she said. ‘Friends, confidants. Never lovers. Does that help?'

Ellie nodded, blurry eyes fixed on a skyscraper in the middle distance. ‘I apologise if that came across as anything other than friendly curiosity.'

‘Doesn't mean I don't care about him. If he was my brother, I couldn't care more.'

Ellie's gaze flicked to Yasmine's reflection in the glass. ‘He's never told me about his family.'

‘It's not something he talks about, with anyone. Not even me. But I do know he's achieved all this on his own. Worked his way through university, wouldn't take a cent from Belle.'

Her stomach suddenly twisting itself into knots, Ellie turned to Yasmine. ‘Thank you for telling me. I think I just said something to him that I shouldn't have.'

Yasmine's smile was genuine. ‘Why don't you go find him?'

Ellie stopped at the supper table with its sumptuous aromas and filled a plate, then looked about for Matt. She saw him on the far side of the room, one hand in a trouser pocket while he talked to a couple of guys and their partners. He'd removed his cloak and was in black from head to toe. He looked divine, if one could look divine and sinful at the same time.

Matt McGregor could.

He caught her staring and the hand in his pocket fisted, a muscle twitched in his jaw. His easy-going smile dropped away and his expression turned serious. He spoke to the group, then made his way towards her while her heart tried to find its rightful place in her chest.

Time seemed to slow. Everything but Matt blurred while he increased in clarity as he drew near. A hint of dark stubble on his jaw, the creases which didn't detract but rather carved his personality into his cheeks. Midnight eyes.

‘Hungry?' she murmured belatedly when he reached her. Still looking at him, she lifted the delicious-smelling plate, noticing her hands were trembling slightly.

He plucked a snack from her offering. ‘Yes. But I'm not thinking food.' He took a bite, slipped the other half between her lips, letting his fingers linger when she opened her mouth for the morsel.

She swallowed, still watching him. ‘I did offend you. I'm sorry.'

‘On the contrary,' he murmured back, holding her gaze. ‘It was more of a reality check.'

‘If I don't understand you it's because you haven't told me.'

But instead of an explanation, he took the plate, laid it on a nearby table, clasped her hand and said so that only she could hear, ‘What say we get out of here?'

The raw and undeniable intent in his words, in his eyes,
shot sparks through her bloodstream. She let her sudden intake of breath out slowly. ‘But don't you want to mingle?'

‘I can think of better ways,' he replied, and tugged her out of the room and towards the bank of elevators.

 

Inside her apartment, he untied her cloak, laid it across a chair and slid his hands over her shoulders, up over her scalp and into her hair. ‘I've been thinking about this all night,' he said, and kissed her. Slowly, deeply, deliciously.

But the tiny room was chilly, the old linoleum creaked and crackled beneath her feet. Yesterday's stale odour of fried cabbage from along the corridor permeated the air. A couple was arguing downstairs. ‘My bed's too small for the both of us,' she whispered when he finally let her come up for air.

‘We can make it work,' he murmured and kissed her once more, his hands cruising down her spine, over her bottom and up again.

Was this his attempt to show her he didn't care where she lived, who she was? It warmed her deep down to the centre of her being. ‘But your bed would be much more comfortable….'

Lifting his head, he grinned, pulled out his phone and called back his driver. ‘We've changed our minds.'

I
N
M
ATT'S
room upstairs in Belle's house they were a world away from thin walls and peeling paint and noisy neighbours. The air was cool but not uncomfortable and tinged with the scent of his aftershave and fresh linen. A shaft of moonbeams slanted over the quilt. An owl ‘mopoked' to another in the trees outside the window.

He undressed her slowly, skilfully, without the need for words. Her beautiful gown slid to the floor, her underwear followed. When she was naked but for her locket, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the string of sparkles. ‘This is yours.' He clasped the stones, warm from his body, around her wrist. ‘Please wear it, no questions asked.'

‘But the auction wasn't finished when we left. You didn't
take
it, did you?' she said, momentarily horrified.

He grinned, kissed the tip of her nose. ‘No, I didn't take it.'

‘Then how—?'

He put a finger to her lips. ‘I said no questions. All you need to know is that the money's going to a good cause.'

‘Oh…yes.' Its elegant beauty and those deep dark eyes of his as they searched hers caught at her chest and made her nose sting and her eyes water. The way she saw it was he'd ensured his would be the highest bid before they left, and now she knew the money was to be donated, how could she
refuse his gift for a second time? ‘Thank you, it's beautiful,' she whispered.

‘The centre's going to have those extensions you were talking about. I'll be there next week to take measurements and have plans drawn up.'

‘Thank you doubly.'

But it wasn't the time to think of tomorrow or next week. That would come later, she thought—when she'd cry and berate herself for letting things get so complicated. For now, as he divested himself of his own clothes and watched her with a reflection of her own desires, she held the moment in her heart and rejoiced.

This moment of tenderness. Quiet murmurs and sighs. Gentle hands, soothing lips and a rolling, restless anticipation tempered by a patience that stemmed from the already familiar.

Moonlight carved a silver blade across his shoulders as he lifted her to the bed, laid her on the fine linen as if she was the most treasured of treasures. He stretched out beside her, and, oh…the feel of his hands as they skimmed over her body, every fingertip a glide of pleasure over shoulders, breasts, belly, thighs.

His lips now as they soothed the places his hands had delighted, warmth leaving a trail of moisture cooling on her flesh. He lingered over her breasts, teasing each nipple with tiny nips and tugs, then moved lower to curl his tongue around her bellybutton.

Slow, languid, yet she felt her breath being snatched from her lungs. Smooth as a glide of water, yet her pulse bumped and blipped as he shifted between her thighs and she realised his intent.

Lower. Skin sliding over skin. Spreading her thighs wider, he bent his head to bring her what she was afraid to want.
What some hazy part of her mind told her she'd remember on some cold and lonely day when he was gone. A memory.

And then even that was forgotten and she was soaring, flying apart into a million pieces, an explosion that shattered her awareness of self and the world as she knew it. He brought her down gently, with skill and a perception she'd never known he possessed.

And it came to her in that brief moment of stillness and fulfilment that, whether she willed it or not, this overflowing sensation of body, mind and spirit was indeed love. Freely given and without regret. Of feeling safe, protected, desired, and yearning to give it back threefold.

And yearning, yearning, to have it returned.

With his arms on either side of her hips, Matt looked down on her. Had he ever seen a more beautiful sight than Ellie rumpled with loving on his sheets? The warmth of her gold locket around her neck, the cool silver stones at her wrist, her halo of hair washed and bleached with the mystery of moonlight.

‘You're almost too beautiful to touch,' he murmured, and saw her eyes fill with a poignancy that caught at his heart. He rolled on a condom, then bent to kiss those lush lips. ‘Almost…'

Sliding into her slick wet heat was like coming in out of the cold. She took him inside her with a sigh, welcomed him with mouth and hands. She warmed places inside him he'd not acknowledged in…forever.

He moved inside her, in a slow sinuous dance, and she matched his rhythm as if she'd been made expressly for him. Here was sanctuary from the day-to-day demands in the cutthroat business world that was his life. In her arms that world didn't exist.

He was wrapped around her, she around him, and he felt
himself drowning, drowning, in the deepening well of her generous and open heart.

Still inside her, but sated and satisfied and blissfully lazy, they lay together in the darkness. Even as Ellie's breathing told him she was asleep, he didn't move, couldn't bear to complete the separation. He'd never known such a connection, a sense of completeness, of oneness.

Ellie was unlike anyone he'd ever known. She was proud yet vulnerable, with a strength of will and an empathy and generosity towards others. She wasn't pretending to be anything other than who she was.

Unlike him
.

The sudden sharp chill of realisation sliced to his core like an icy blade. He hadn't been up-front about his past. Perhaps he should have. But it wasn't as if they had anything permanent.

And yet… As he watched her sleep, the curve of her cheek ivory in the dimness, he could no more deny he wanted her than fly to the moon. He wanted her more than his next breath. He needed her more than his next heartbeat.

But he knew all too well that desire, needs and wants wouldn't cut it with Ellie. He wasn't being fair to her. To them. With the spectres of lost loved ones haunting her past, if anyone needed love and constancy in their life it was Ellie. She'd tried so hard to hide it but he knew that, despite her assertions to the contrary, she wanted security, a home, family.

And he couldn't give her that.

Careful not to disturb her, he eased away. Already he mourned the loss of her sleepy warmth, the feel of her satin-soft skin against his. He stared up into the darkness.

Ellie… He sighed. Fiercely independent, living-life-as-it-comes Ellie. She wasn't as single, carefree and liberated as she
let on. He knew by the shadows in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking.

But over the past couple of days he'd seen glimpses of something else…. It twisted like a fist in his gut and clamped tight around the region of his heart. He'd seen something he should never have allowed to happen.

She was falling for him. The greedy, self-indulgent bastard that he was had seen it… Seen it and continued their affair with selfish and reckless abandon.

He needed to ride.

Slipping out of bed, he dressed quietly and went downstairs, grabbing his helmet and gloves by the back door, and strode out into the cold night air. He had to let her go. Tomorrow. Yes, she knew what they had was temporary—he'd always been up-front about that—but other emotions that he hadn't anticipated had entered into the mix.

His fist rapped the side of the helmet beneath his arm as he passed the garden, glittering with dew in the predawn. Ellie's garden.
‘Dammit.'
His voice cut through the silent air like the crack of a whip. Knowing Ellie as he did now—the caring, vulnerable, love-starved girl that she was—he
should
have anticipated this could only end badly.

He wheeled the bike to the gate so as not to wake her, jammed on his helmet and fired up the machine the moment he was through the gate and set off for…who the hell knew? Cared? Anywhere out of town where the road was long and straight and relatively deserted at 5:00 a.m. Somehow he had to convince Ellie that he wasn't the right man for her.

 

Ellie tipped out another punnet of basil. As she'd drifted off to sleep she'd decided to get an early start this morning. To lie beside Matt, to feel the warmth of his hard masculine body all down her back, his slow breathing against her ear
and wonder if it might be the last time was the best and worst of tortures.

But when she'd reached for him on waking she hadn't expected to find herself alone. She'd ignored the vaguely uneasy feeling at first, telling herself he was probably making coffee. But he was nowhere to be found.

Where was he and why hadn't he let her know his plans? He'd left no note, and when she'd checked the garage she'd discovered his bike gone. Perhaps this was something he did regularly, she comforted herself, like jogging; after all, she'd known him such a short time.

Yes, such a short time, she reflected, and despite all the self-talk and warning bells, she'd fallen in love.

She'd come outside hoping that working the garden would distract her from the dark and crazy thoughts buzzing around her head. She had plans today that she couldn't change. The job in Healesville was full-time but it was more than an hour away and involved catching buses and trains if she was going to stay in Melbourne. But it sounded challenging and exciting and she wanted to see what was involved. The appointment was for this afternoon.

She hoped Matt would be back before she left so that she could tell him—calmly, clearly—that she didn't appreciate his lack of courtesy because it had made her worry. That people who cared about each other or were in a relationship—
any
kind of relationship, no matter how temporary—were naturally concerned about the other.

Or was it already too late for all that? Was their relationship already over?

The full-throated rumble on the driveway heralded his imminent return. Setting her trowel on the muddy earth beside her, she watched his bike come to an untidy halt near the garage. He pulled off his helmet and gloves, set them on the
ground. His expression was grim, from the compressed mouth to the shuttered eyes.

‘Hi.' She stood slowly and walked towards him, dusting the dirt off her overalls while butterflies whirled crazily in her stomach. He didn't make a move to meet her midway, just stood there like one of Belle's crazy garden statues.

She stopped in front of him, those butterflies growing to monstrous proportions. His eyes were bloodshot, probably from lack of sleep but…she couldn't read them. He'd closed himself off from her. ‘What's wrong?'

No response. Nothing. A mask of stone.

Then he reached out, curled his fingers around her upper arms. He smelled of leather and man. For an instant Ellie thought she saw remorse or regret or both. Then he hauled her to him, mashed his lips with hers. Heat, passion, anger— all that and more poured from his kiss in a surging tide that crashed over her, leaving her weak and shaken. Then he lifted his head, dropped his hands to his sides, took a step away— physically and emotionally.

She felt the distance like a chill wind sweeping through her soul and stared at him, not understanding. Rather, not wanting to understand. Because it was suddenly, devastatingly clear where this was headed. She steeled herself for it. ‘Why are you angry?'

‘I'm not angry, Ellie,' he said. ‘Frustrated, perhaps. I'm flying back to Sydney today.'

It was delivered as a cool statement of intent. With no hint of regret on his part.

The big R.

He hadn't said it but it was clear as the prize crystal vase on Belle's dining table. She'd been rejected so often, left behind so many times, she should be immune to its effects now. Surely it wasn't possible for her heart to bleed any more than
it already had? But she felt its life force seeping out, drop by drop.

Why? Their relationship had never been more than temporary. She'd always known, but it didn't make it any less painful. Gut wrenching. Heartbreaking. And yet…last night she could have sworn he…cared. Really cared. ‘I thought you—'
we
‘—had a few more days?'

‘I'm needed there asap,' he said, his voice monotone. ‘It's—'

‘I know—business before pleasure.' She spoke over him, deliberately schooling her tremulous voice to somewhere approaching normal. It was time to reflect on the futility of it all and take control of her own life. Time to leave. This time it would be her doing the walking, not the other way round.

Somehow she pulled her numb lips into some sort of a smile. ‘I understand. I really do. I've some business to attend to myself today. It's been good, Matt, but it's time to move on, we're not—'

‘There you both are.' Belle's voice from the back door had them both turning. Still in her black overcoat, she walked towards them, her fawn hair riffling in the breeze.

‘Belle.' Matt did an abrupt turnabout and strode to meet her, tension visible beneath his jacket's heavy leather shoulder pads. ‘You should have let me know you were coming back today. I'd have picked you up.'

‘No need.' She pecked his cheek, then looked past him, smiling at Ellie while she spoke. ‘I thought you might be busy. I didn't want to disturb you so I caught a cab.'

From behind him, Ellie saw his shoulders lift. ‘We were just—'

‘Yes.' Belle smoothed his cheek, and even from where Ellie stood she could tell by Belle's expression that she'd seen them kissing.

And the rest…had she seen the rest?
Heard
the rest?
Ellie's legs were shaking so hard she thought she might have to sit down.

‘I'll just let you two finish whatever you're doing and go and put the kettle on, shall I?'

‘Be there in a minute, Belle.' He returned his attention to Ellie. Once more there was nothing in his blank expression when he said, ‘Let's go and have that coffee with Belle. We'll talk about us later.'

No
. There was no
us
. But she nodded and they walked to the house in silence.

Somehow Ellie managed to sit at the kitchen table with Matt and Belle and make conversation over coffee and chocolate biscuits, though what she said—what anyone said—she didn't remember.