When He Was Bad... (3 page)

She glared up at him. So
this
was Belle's hot-shot architect nephew with the million-dollar business—which she'd have known if she'd only looked at his card. What were the odds? She should buy a lottery ticket.

‘Belle sometimes sleeps late,' she informed him coolly. ‘I like to start early. I usually greet her when she comes outside with her morning coffee. I'm running late today because—'

‘You had to wash your hair?'

How did he know? Her hand rose automatically to her cap and she sighed. ‘Several times, actually.' But it hadn't made much of a difference. It was still pink.

‘Ellie.' The sound of her name rolled out like a boulder over a grassy knoll. ‘Ellie…what?'

She straightened her spine. ‘Ellie Rose.'

‘As in hyphenated?'

‘As in Rose is my surname. My mum's surname, actually,' she explained. ‘My father didn't want a kid so Mum…' She trailed off.
Too much information, Ellie
.

‘Well, Ellie Rose,' he said, still eyeing her as if she might pick up the fork the moment he turned his back. And, by crikey, she was tempted. ‘If you'd come up to the house…'

A sense of foreboding slid through her. ‘Pardon? Belle doesn't—'

‘Belle's not here.
I'm
asking you.' He inclined his head. ‘Please.'

‘Is this because I didn't come to work last Friday? I went on a field trip to the botanic gardens and I thought I'd make it up today, so that's why I'm a day earlier.'

‘Just come with me,' he said, gesturing towards the house, and she realised her tongue had run away from her. Again.
Stress, that's what it was, but trying to explain would only make it worse. Was it because she'd left him on Saturday night without any explanation?

He was already walking away, his lanky stride putting more distance between them every second. Ellie couldn't help it; she couldn't drag her eyes away from those tight jeans clenched around that familiar butt. Temptation on legs.

No,
she told herself and darted back into the shed to grab her backpack. Never again. Gorgeous overbearing men were
not
her type.

Lose the attitude, Ellie
. You need the work. Focus on the
work
. Swinging her pack over her shoulder, she hurried to catch up, the nervous fingers of her left hand twirling around the button on her overalls strap. And wouldn't you know it—the pesky thing came away in her hand. The bill of her cap bumped into him, knocking it off and sending the brass disc spinning over the grass in front of him. ‘Oops,' she mumbled to his back. His very broad, very hard back.

He spun around, firm hands closing around her upper arms. She barely had time to absorb their heat and the long lean feel of them before he let her go.

‘My button… Sorry,' she muttered again, and while she was rubbing away the tingles his touch had wrought, he was bending over and searching for her button in the grass. She watched the muscles flex and roll on either side of that long curve of spine, the enticing sliver of bronze flesh below his T-shirt. She wondered what he'd do if she just reached out now and ran her fingernail across—

He straightened abruptly as if he knew exactly what she'd been thinking. She cleared her throat, attempted a smile and held out her hand. ‘Thanks.'

He didn't smile back or answer. He was too busy staring at her hair.

And she'd been too busy checking out his butt—his
back
—to pick up her cap. She swiped it up, aware that her cheeks probably matched her hair by now. ‘Supermarket brands… Never mind.' She jammed her cap back on. She was never,
ever
going to put a colour through her hair again.

‘Fairy floss,' he murmured to himself, still eyeing her cap as if he could see through it.

He dropped the button into her outstretched palm before turning and continuing to the back door, leaving her to struggle with the strap as she followed. She slipped its end through the bib's buttonhole and tied it into a temporary knot and prayed it held.

The kitchen smelled of lemons, cinnamon and rosemary. A homey room with sparkling red and white china and a friendly collection of ceramic cows on the pine dresser. The fragrant miniature potted herbs on the windowsill had been a gift to Belle from Ellie.

‘Have a seat.' He pulled out a chair at the table for her.

Their knees bumped as he sat and his eyes flicked to hers, as if he, too, had felt that zing of sensation. She shifted her legs out of harm's way. Wringing her hands beneath the tabletop, she chewed on her lip to stop herself speaking before he got started on whatever he had in mind.

He set his hands, palms down, in front of him on the table and considered them carefully before he looked at her. ‘I have some questions.'

About Saturday night? Why she'd changed her mind? Rushed off? Not called him?

No. His eyes weren't asking those questions. This was more like a job interview. It didn't seem to matter to him that Belle had already hired her. ‘I thought Belle would've told you about me.'

While she spoke he pulled out a fancy-looking black and silver electronic organiser and began tapping. ‘Not enough,
I'm afraid.' His finger paused over the buttons. ‘First up, how did you come by this job?'

‘Belle contacted me through an ad I posted in the local paper. And she hired me on the spot because I'm a damn good gardener,' she finished, leaning back and crossing her arms. ‘That was a month ago, and it must be true because I'm still here.'

He didn't reply, just continued to study her with a steady, impenetrable gaze. Not a hint of Saturday night's heat there. Ellie refused to be disappointed. Refused.

Maybe if she explained why he could trust her to do a good job… Leaning forward again, she said, ‘This house holds a special significance for me. When I was a kid my mum and I used to walk past here on the way to the tram. She told me the property had been in my grandfather's family at one time. The house was a little girl's fantasy and I loved it—especially the unicorn statue in the front garden. Its horn used to be gold, you know.'

His gaze turned considering. ‘I know.' He studied her in silence a moment longer, then tapped his fingers on the table. ‘References?'

‘I've moved around a lot.'
Call me irresponsible
. Her words spoken in part jest, part bravado last Saturday night spun back to haunt her. Racking her brain, she tried to recall what else she'd said, but unfortunately could think of nothing that would instil confidence.

‘Ah, of course, the free spirit.'

She watched those long fingers punch more buttons while heat bled up her neck and her nipples tingled. Those fingers had—

‘No references. Your address and phone number?'

Her gaze whipped up to his face. That tiny muscle twitched in his jaw again but his eyes betrayed nothing. Not a thing. The heat continued to rise, suffusing her cheeks. She twisted
restless fingers around the locket at her neck. ‘Look, I really don't see that this is any of your concern. I'm Belle's employee, not yours.'

‘Belle can be a little too naive sometimes. I'm making sure she's taken care of. Address? Phone number?'

‘Belle has them.'

‘She's incommunicado. What if something comes up? I need to be able to contact you.'

Holding his gaze defiantly, she snapped out the information.

‘What days do you work?'

‘Wednesdays and Fridays and I alternate Mondays and Tuesdays, but—'

‘I value responsibility. Belle values responsibility. You call yourself irresponsible. So I'm wondering where that leaves us. Or more to the point, where it leaves you. I'd like you to think about that while you're working here.' He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on the table.
Interview over
.

Thank goodness his unfathomable dark eyes didn't drop below her face. Thank goodness her chest was hidden beneath her overalls, because no way her skinny T-shirt would have been enough to hide the sudden way her nipples begged for more of that attention he'd given so generously Saturday night.

But then the cool business facade disappeared. His eyes thawed to a warm chocolate, lips curving into that lazy smile she'd seen across a crowded nightclub. ‘Now we've got that out of the way,' he said in that deep sexy tone she'd been fantasising about in her daydreams. ‘Have dinner with me tonight.'

D
INNER
?
She stared at him, incredulous. He looked genuinely serious. ‘Excuse me? You expect me to go to dinner with you?'

‘Why not?'

‘After that…that
inquisition
?'

‘You need to understand my first concern is for Belle. But we've discussed the terms of your work here. I'm satisfied—' plucking a violet from the little vase in the centre of the table, he twirled it between his fingers ‘—with the business aspect of our relationship.' He flashed her a look that had her heart rate picking up again.

‘But we haven't talked about the personal. We need to. If we don't, it's going to get in the way.' He leaned towards her, tucked the violet behind her ear, just beneath the edge of her cap. ‘Never mix business with pleasure, Ellie.'

Her insides rearranged themselves at the intimate tone of voice. She didn't want business
or
pleasure with this man.

Liar
. Okay, it wasn't wise or sensible to have anything more to do with him—certainly not pleasure. Already
un
-sensible thoughts were racing through her head.

Which reminded her of Belle's comment over a coffee break one day.
Matthew's always been a bit of a playboy when it comes to the ladies
, or some such. Ellie hadn't taken much
notice—until now. Well, she did not intend to play second fiddle to anyone, ever again.

‘I'm thinking I'll give this job a miss until Belle returns,' she said slowly. She placed her hands flat on the table and forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘It's probably best for everyone concerned.' Particularly Ellie. ‘I don't think the employee-employer relationship bit's going to work for us.'

His jaw firmed; his gaze turned thoughtful, then speculative. ‘In which case, there'd be no reason not to have dinner with me, would there?'

She shook her head. ‘I still can't have dinner with you.'

‘If you're worried about your hair…mishap, we can dine in.'

Oh, way to charm the girls, Mr Ladies' Man
.

She tugged the bill of her cap lower, tossed him a narrow-eyed glare and didn't deign to reply.

Or maybe it was just her. She bet he wouldn't say
that
to the type of high-maintenance,
high-class
Yasmine look-alikes he probably dated. He'd told her he was in Melbourne for a couple of weeks. Saturday night proved he was simply out for a good time, and if she hadn't left when she did they'd have ended up in bed. And that would have been a monumental mistake.

 

Pleasure had definitely been on Matt's agenda, but if that wasn't going to happen, so be it; he intended keeping his promise to Belle. Somehow he needed to keep Ellie happy in her job and ensure she stayed on. And what better way than to keep her close, keep an eye on her? Smiling at her, he switched to his most persuasive tone. ‘Ellie, it's just dinner. I'd like your company this evening.'

Unmoved, she met his gaze squarely. Her eyes were the most amazing colour—amethyst with a sprinkle of gold dust… Bewitching…

Focus, McGregor
. ‘Okay, you may as well know up front. Belle asked me to look out for her employee while she's away. I'd like to be able to tell her I've done so.'

A tiny frown furrowed between her brows. ‘I don't need looking after. Why would she ask that of you?'

Wouldn't we both like to know?
‘Seems she's grown very fond of you and was concerned about you working at the house alone. Since I was going to be around, it seemed like a good solution.'

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘It's all irrelevant because I have to work tonight. At least Red's Bar doesn't give their employees the third degree. I was hired on the spot, no questions asked.'

‘Red's Bar.' Surely they'd eat a girl like her alive? ‘That's not a reputable bar and it's not in a safe part of town.'

‘
Some
of us can't be choosy.
Some
of us need cold hard cash to pursue our dreams.'

He didn't bother telling her he'd been there, done that and had the scars and papers to prove it. ‘And what's your dream, Ellie?'

‘To build my own landscaping business. Oh, and did I tell you I'm studying landscape and garden design? In modules. When I can afford it. At the rate I'm going I should be qualified in the next fifty years or so. Which is why I need Red's pay packet at the end of the evening.'

Landscaping business. He nodded to himself. Good, honest work. But what job did she hold at Red's? he wondered, eyeing the defiant lift to her chin. Kitchen hand, bartender, waitress? Or pole-dancer, like his long-lost mother? The thought made him feel physically ill, with a whole bunch of complicated emotions he didn't want to think about whenever his mother came to mind.

But the stubborn image that gyrated before his eyes had
his blood plummeting below his belt. If Ellie chose to pole-dance, he wanted it to be for him. In private.

Back on track
. He cleared his throat and chose the safest option. ‘Waiting tables?'

‘Yes,
waiting tables
, what else would it be? Oh…' A rosy pink bloomed on her cheeks—those apple cheeks that had blown him away the first time he'd met her. When he'd just had to kiss her…

Ignoring his body's response, he focused on the valid reason he was still pursuing this line of questioning. She was playing in an adult playground—did she know the rules and, more importantly, the dangers? But perhaps she was already an experienced player. After all, he hardly knew her.

He knew he wanted her.

Her heightened colour intensified. ‘What?'

‘How long have you worked there?'

She lifted her shoulders, avoided his eyes.

‘How long?' he demanded.

‘It's a trial shift.' She pushed up. For once she had the height advantage and her eyes met his, bright with defiance. ‘And your
babysitting
duties do not extend to telling me where I should or should not engage in paid employment. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a kitchen garden to be getting on with. Since I'm already here, I'll work out today's shift.'

She pushed the chair beneath the table with a sharp scrape. ‘And in case you're wondering, I use the outside loo, I brought my own packed lunch and can let myself out the gate when I'm through for the day. I'm sure you have work too. Lots of work. So if you want to go to the office and catch up with Yasmine…or whatever, don't let me spoil your day.'

Sparks, he noted. Promising. Where there were sparks there was emotion. Passion. Possibilities. He felt a smile kick up at the corners of his mouth. ‘My day's going just fine, thank
you.' Even better when he saw her fingers tighten around the back of the chair as she glared at him.

‘Before I leave, there's still the matter of what went on between us Saturday night,' he said, unable to resist looking at her lips one more time. ‘As I said, ignoring it won't change things.'

She sucked in a breath, studied her hands. ‘It was just a kiss….'

A snort escaped him. ‘Hey, I was there, remember?'

‘Okay, it was more than a kiss.' Cheeks blazing, she lifted her gaze. ‘It was a
mistake
. You're Belle's nephew, Belle's my employer and—'

‘So you
are
going to reconsider working here.'

She shook her head and continued. ‘I don't want, nor do I have time for, anything complicated.'

‘It doesn't have to be complicated. You and me and a mutual attraction. It doesn't come much simpler than that.'

‘Good times—is that all you're about?' She shook her head again. ‘Of course you are. Men like you always are.'

‘Men like me?'

‘Attractive, arrogant, ego as wide as the blue Aussie sky.'

He studied her. The
you-don't-fool-me-for-a-moment-McGregor
stance, the nervous way her fingers played over the back of the chair. ‘You're a contradiction, do you realise that? You say you don't want complicated, yet you're rejecting simple. What
do
you want, Ellie?'

Her mouth flattened and she swept to the door, yanked it open. Then she turned and glared back at him from the safety of distance. ‘With you, Matt McGregor? Nothing. Not a thing.'

Uptight young lady, he mused. Damned if he wasn't going to enjoy finding out why. ‘You know, Ellie Rose, I'm going to prove you wrong about that, and believe me, it's going to be a pleasure.'

He grinned as the door shut firmly behind her. ‘Yes, a real pleasure,' he murmured. ‘For both of us.' He was in for an interesting week.

 

Matt rode the glass elevator to the Melbourne offices of McGregor Architectural Designs, watching a rain shower draw a grey curtain across the cityscape. He never failed to feel the thrill of the ride up to his office on the forty-second floor. The award-winning precinct of glass and brass and green, with its unique interior-walled gardens cascading over half a dozen floors down towards a pool in the main lobby, was his first major achievement. Proof that one could turn possibilities into something real.

And his rapidly expanding Sydney branch was proof that success bred success. He'd worked bloody hard for it. In a roundabout way he had Angela to thank. His ex-lover was the reason his was one of the top architectural firms in Australia. After she'd given up trying to make something of their relationship and eventually walked out on him, he'd put his heart and soul into building his dreams.

Not that he blamed her for leaving. She deserved better than a guy who was incapable of the everlasting love and long-term commitment she'd obviously been looking for. And no-one could tell him he wasn't pleased to know she'd found it with an accountant in rural Victoria.

The current Sydney project was nearing completion. He trusted his hand-picked team of specialist engineers to handle it for a couple of weeks, enabling Matt to think about relocating back to Melbourne in the near future. The city he'd been raised in. Home.

The elevator slid to a soundless stop and he stepped out. Light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows and over miles of pearl-grey carpeting and polished wood.

Joanie Markham, the first face the public saw, glanced up
from the sleek polished reception desk as he approached, her middle-aged smile sparkling at him over her slim reading glasses.

‘Good morning, Joanie.'

‘Mr McGregor, good morning. We weren't expecting to see you today. Didn't Miss McGregor have something she wanted you to take care of?'

An image of Ellie shot into his mind with the force of a blowtorch. And not the image he
should
be focusing on—Ellie in cap and sexless khaki overalls wielding a gardening fork. Instead, he saw Ellie
not
in her little black dress and toothpick heels. He could almost taste that soft skin just below her jaw, her spiced berry scent….

She was something to be ‘taking care of', all right. He pinched the bridge of his nose, concentrated on bringing his wayward libido under control.

‘Mr McGregor…are you okay?'

‘Fine. Fine.' Amazed that his eyes had closed—not surprising with the lack of sleep he'd had over the past few nights—he blinked them open and pasted a reassuring smile on his lips. ‘All under control, Joanie.'

Moving past reception, he skirted desks, design boards, pot plants, greeting staff along the way. ‘Matt.'

He turned at the familiar sound of Yasmine's voice. As usual, she looked stunning in a slim grey suit with a modest scrap of white lace at her cleavage, her raven-black hair tied back in a tidy knot. He admired her clean-cut lines from an architectural viewpoint.

As a friend, he valued her inner qualities. ‘Hi, Yasmine.'

The love of Yasmine's life worked as a geologist at the Mount Isa mines in Queensland and was sometimes away from home for weeks at a time. She and Matt often found themselves unattached at work functions and had forged a
friendship. If either had a problem, they used each other as a sounding board.

Didn't mean he wanted to discuss his current problem, but he had a gut feeling he was about to be interrogated as she rounded her desk and accompanied him towards his corner office with its spectacular one-hundred-and-eighty-degree city views.

‘Well, aren't you the man?' she said with a smirk, the moment they entered.

He closed his door. Firmly. ‘Last time I looked, yes. You have something you want to say, Yaz?'

‘You and that little slip of a girl against the wall on Saturday night,' she said cheerfully. ‘Then dashing after her that way. Hmm.'

‘I wasn't
dashing
.' He felt a prickle between his shoulderblades and rolled his shoulder. He didn't pursue women. Didn't have to. ‘I was making sure she got away safely.'
Hell
. He set his laptop on his desk with a
thunk
, discarded his jacket and laid it carefully across the back of his leather chair. Was it him or was the thermostat set too high in here? ‘No law against that, is there?'

She slid her elegant backside onto the corner of his desk. ‘No. But…you? You're usually so—' she waved an airy hand ‘—totally cool and sophisticated and together with women.'

When he didn't reply—because right now he really couldn't think of a comeback—she cocked her head. ‘So, what's her name?'

‘Ellie.' He switched on his laptop, drumming his fingers on the desk while it booted up. ‘Fancy a coffee? It must be break time.'

‘Just had one, thanks. Are you seeing her again?'

He shot her a dark look. ‘As fate would have it, turns out she works for Belle, so the answer's yes, I'm going to be seeing her again.'

‘Fate.' She arched a smooth dark brow at his choice of words, eyes twinkling. ‘Serious stuff.'