When He Was Bad... (8 page)

Didn't mean he wanted her in his bed any less. As soon as she'd recovered, he told himself.

 

The following morning Matt stood at the kitchen window watching the rain while he scooped up cereal, racking his brains for a reason other than gardening to keep Ellie here for the day. Assuming she was well enough. Hoping she was recovered because having her sleep so near that he could practically hear her breathing was playing havoc with his libido.

Ellie appeared in the doorway, already showered and dressed in her tracksuit. Her complexion was pale, her nose still red, but other than that, she looked…like Ellie.

He couldn't believe the way her presence lifted the kitchen's ambience. And his mood. ‘Good morning.' He hefted the coffeepot. ‘You'd be feeling like a coffee, I imagine?'

‘Hi. Yes. Please.' She walked a few steps, hesitated. ‘I didn't mean to sleep all night. Sorry if I inconvenienced you in any way. I intended going home.'

‘I hardly knew you were here.' Yeah, right. He'd not been able to think of anything else. For most of the night he'd been uncomfortably awake and aware that she'd been a few quick steps down the hall. He set a mug of coffee on the kitchen table. ‘How are you feeling this morning?'

‘Much better, thanks.'

‘I'll let you know now, I don't expect you to work in the rain.'

‘Oh. Good.' She picked up the mug but remained standing. ‘So, I…'

‘So, I…'

Both spoke at the same time. She raised her mug at him. ‘Yes?'

‘I was going to say if you'd like to work today and you're feeling up to it, I've got an indoor job for you.'

‘Oh?' Relief crossed her expression. ‘Great. I could do with the extra money.'

‘The downstairs windows could do with a wash. I'm sure Belle would appreciate it.'

She smiled. ‘Just show me where the gear is, point me in the right direction and I'll get started.'

‘No rush. Finish your coffee while I make you some breakfast.'

‘You don't have to go to all that trouble, the caffeine hit's fine.'

‘Belle would skin me alive if I forced you to work on an empty stomach. How does scrambled egg sound?'

‘Wonderful, but I can do it if you need to be somewhere….'

‘I've got a luncheon appointment but that's hours away. Why don't you find what you need in the laundry and set up while I cook?'

 

Ellie set to work as soon as she'd eaten the meal Matt had prepared for her, which had been every bit as tasty as she'd expected. To her relief, he didn't sit with her while she ate because a business call came through requiring his attention.

She started in the dining and living rooms, admiring the exquisite cream, rose and jade furnishings against the dark antique furniture as she set up the stepladder and got to work.

Next she chose a cosy little room down the hall which would catch the afternoon sun and give hours of pleasure on
a cold winter's day. Bookcases overloaded with classics lined one wall.

Another shelf was crammed with fifties memorabilia. A selection of old vinyl 45s sat atop a small record player. Bill Haley's ‘Rock around the Clock,' Pat Boone's ‘Love Letters in the Sand.' The Platters, Elvis.

A photo album caught Ellie's eye. On the front was a black-and-white image of a teenage Belle. Ellie recognised the shape of her face, the wide eyes and broad cheekbones. But the hair was a surprise—pulled back in a curly ponytail, not unlike her own unruly locks. She was dressed in a full-skirted gingham-checked dress cinched at the waist with a wide belt and wore a heart-shaped locket around her neck.

Ellie's fingers tangled in the slim chain of her own locket which had belonged to her mother. A tingle danced over her nape, as if someone had stroked a finger down her spine.

Shaking the sensation away, she set the album back in place. But for just a heartbeat or two she'd been mesmerised by the image and a strange feeling that she was missing a piece of a puzzle.

A
SHORT
time later she was halfway up the stepladder when Matt appeared to inform her he was leaving. He wore a white shirt, silver-grey silk tie, dark trousers and a chocolate-brown suede jacket. Smelling fresh and masculine and entirely too sexy to be heading out to anything remotely concerned with business.

But then…he hadn't mentioned
business
, had he? Only that he had a luncheon appointment. Which was open to all manner of interpretation.

Something slithered through Ellie's belly and coiled tight around the top of her already stuffy chest, making it hard to breathe. Something that felt horribly, unimaginably like… possessiveness. Her fingers tightened on her little bucket of water, her other hand clutched the top rung of the ladder.
No
. It was
not
that. No way.

She saw his brows pull down. ‘Are you okay?'

And before she could blink he'd crossed the room and was beside her, his face too close, his hands reaching for her shoulders. With Ellie on the ladder, they were the same height. His eyes almost lined up with hers. His mouth was… too close.

‘You startled me, damn you.'
Damn his luncheon date. And damn her dumb reaction
. She jerked away from his touch.
A few drops of water splashed out of the bucket and onto his shirt.

‘Ah…'

‘Yes,
ah
.' He took the bucket from her nerveless fingers, set it down out of harm's way, then straightened to face her.

Biting her lip, she stared at the damp splotch, but then her traitorous gaze shifted to the dark hairs barely visible beneath the fine textured fabric. To his neck, and the pinpricks of newly shaved stubble. His Adam's apple.

She sucked in a breath, bringing the scent of his aftershave with it, and she forgot all about luncheon dates and being snippy.

She was too busy being turned on.

An image of her loosening his tie, slipping his buttons undone and spreading his shirt open, sliding her hands between fabric and olive skin danced behind her eyes. Setting her mouth to that masculine throat…

Swallowing hard, she dragged her eyes away…and up…to meet a pair of dark assessing eyes. ‘Sorry—' she lifted one finger of her free hand ‘—about the shirt.'

He leaned nearer. She could see flecks of hazel in his dark irises. A tiny bald patch in his left eyebrow.

‘What are you going to do about it?' His breath whispered against her mouth, a current of energy arcing between them.

‘Um, I have a dry cloth somewhere….' She didn't try to find it. Sparks. She was sure there must be sparks.

‘Won't help.' He slid his free hand over her shoulder, traced a line over her shoulderblade. Used the move to draw her closer. She could feel his masculine heat and strength radiating off him. ‘Ellie?'

Her legs threatened to give way. They weren't even touching but his lips were heating hers, making the blood rush to
her cheeks, sending those sparks sizzling through her blood. ‘Yes?'

‘Kiss me.'

Her breath stalled in her throat. ‘What?'

His deep chuckle vibrated along her bones. ‘You know how it goes. You put your lips on mine and I…reciprocate.'

‘I'm working. And it's business hours.' But, oh, the temptation. It tingled on her lips, her tongue. Tap-danced over her skin and twisted through her limbs.

‘I won't tell the boss.' He leaned in, lips puckered. ‘Your call, Ellie. You're in the driver's seat with this one.'

She huffed, ‘Fine, then, if it'll get you to leave quicker,' and leaned in to meet him.

Hah
. From the instant their lips touched, any notion that she held the upper hand was whipped away by a blast of astonishing masculine know-how. She should have known better with a man like Matt McGregor. In a response that screamed need, Ellie relinquished that control. She wanted more—craved it as his hands cruised up and down her spine, as he tilted his head for better access.

Her mouth fell open beneath his. She tasted temptation and desire—his and hers. Heard both in the soft throaty sounds scrambling up her throat. Felt it in the heavy hardness that rocked against her belly as his hand slid over the curve of her buttocks and tilted her toward him.

It should have been enough, this fleeting sensory indulgence; temporary was all she knew he was looking for. It should have been enough for her too.

But he lifted a hand to cup her jaw as if he held antique china, and the determination behind her resolve melted like frost on grass on a bright winter morning. This man was… more. Dangerously more.

Because he drew emotions from her that she'd learned to keep buried down deep, that she no longer wanted to
acknowledge. The warm feeling of being wanted, valued as a person. Cherished, even, for who she was. She'd become an expert at holding that part of herself back until Matt McGregor had strolled into her life. And it came at a price. Vulnerability.

She yanked herself out of his hold. Gripped the ladder with both hands. Her arms felt leaden, her muscles had turned to water. And it was only marginally comforting to see that he was as breathless as she. That his eyes blazed with the same heat she was sure hers signalled.

But his interest was skin deep. And that heat would cool soon enough, she knew. It always did. Turning away, she reached for the cloth she'd left on top of the ladder. ‘You'll be late for your luncheon appointment.'

Who he was meeting was none of her concern. They'd kissed. So what? It didn't make them an item. Permanent playboy and gardener did not a couple make.

‘Have dinner with me tonight.'

His deeper-than-midnight voice had her turning back to look at him. ‘Dinner?'

He shrugged. ‘Why not? It's after-hours. There's a new Moroccan restaurant not far away I've been wanting to try. Or we can do something else, if you'd prefer….'

‘Dinner's good,' she said quickly. Dinner was probably the lesser of two evils. The way he'd said ‘something else' sounded decidedly risky if the way her pulse had tripped was any indication.

‘I'll make a booking.' He passed her the bucket of water. ‘I'm calling by the office after lunch so I'll pick you up from your place around 6:00 p.m.'

‘Umm,' she murmured, her mind all over the place. ‘Oh— It's Friday.'

‘Is that a problem?'

‘I'm at the homework centre Friday afternoons. I'm there till six. Never mind about dinner, another—'

‘We'll make it seven. Where's the centre?'

‘In that old church building with the peppercorn tree out front a couple of blocks from my place, but—'

‘Okay. I'll see you later.'

 

Ellie worked furiously for the next few hours, stopping only to put together a sandwich while she stressed about the upcoming evening. It felt strange helping herself to the contents of Belle's fridge, but what choice did she have? She'd been practically kidnapped here.

Matt was weakening her resolve not to get involved, that's what he was doing. Breaking down her defences with serious acts of gallantry, seducing her with searing hot looks and that deep velvet voice.

She plunked her backside on the bottom rung of the ladder. No fancy wine—she'd stick to mineral water. Just because she didn't intend getting involved—with anyone—didn't mean she couldn't enjoy some company, and he was going to turn up at seven o'clock in any case.

Next problem—what to wear? Her one and only black dress? She frowned. It might give him the impression she'd dressed up especially for him. So jeans and T-shirt with her black jacket for warmth.

Decision made, she packed the belongings she'd brought with her to Belle's and headed off for the kid's centre.

 

‘Okay, crew, who wants to help plant the pansies?'

A chorus of ‘Me, me, me' chimed around Ellie as the kids clustered eagerly about her.

‘Okay, here we go.' She handed out the punnets she'd paid for herself. ‘Careful, there's plenty for everyone.'

Ellie had established a garden plot at the back of the
building with the help of half a dozen interested kids. They'd planned what they wanted as a team, designed the plot and purchased the plants, giving them pride and ownership. An older girl, Jenny, was helping Wayne to separate parsley seedlings and plant them into prepared holes.

But Brandon was having none of it. He lounged on the sideline, all skinny limbs and attitude, but Ellie knew he wanted to join in, and her heart went out to him. She knew he lived with a father who didn't give two hoots. If she only knew how to involve him.

‘How about hunting for wildlife, then?'

Ellie's head swivelled at the sound of Matt's voice behind her. He gave her a quick look and a murmured, ‘I've cleared it with the boss inside,' then approached Brandon and squatted beside him, holding a box. He was still wearing the suit jacket he'd left home in earlier.

‘There's no wildlife here,' Brandon scoffed, rolling his eyes. The corner of his mouth curled…as if a grown man could be so dumb.

‘Sure there is. Slimy snails and creepy crawlies. Huge fat spiders with hairy legs, if you know where to look. Want to help me find them?'

‘Nope.'

‘Okay… By the way, my name's Matt and I'm a friend of Ellie's.' He produced a couple of magnifying glasses from the box. ‘Ever watched the forensic scientists on those crime scene investigation programs on TV?'

Brandon gave him a cursory glance. ‘We don't have a TV.' He scuffed a worn sneaker along the ground. ‘But I've seen it on Nan's.'

‘Well, you'll know that sometimes they look for insects and stuff to help solve a crime scene. I'm going to have a look round here and see what I can find. I need an assistant with good investigative skills to help me. How about it?'

And just like that, Matt had Brandon eating out of his hand.

Ellie watched them scour the seemingly lifeless asphalted area a few moments later. Watched their heads bent close together as they studied something in the weeds along the perimeter. Who'd have thought the man would have a way with kids? Yet she knew nothing of his past or how he'd come to live with Belle, except that the memories still haunted him.

A short time later she saw the pair of them sitting on a log seat away from the rest of the kids. This time Brandon was doing the talking, Matt was listening. Nodding. Sharing. And Ellie's heart rolled over like a giant tumbleweed in her chest.

‘…And we want to extend the rear of the building into a music-cum-dance-cum-drama room,' Ellie said as they exited the centre and walked towards Matt's car. She'd given him a tour of the place and told him all about the grand albeit pie-in-the-sky plans they had. ‘And if we had the finances we'd employ artists and musicians and offer a breakfast program. These kids need all that and more.'

‘You're really passionate about it, aren't you?'

A warm feeling that he understood burrowed through her. ‘You'd better believe it. Thanks for your help with Brandon. He's a tough little nut to crack.'

Matt pulled out his car key, pressed the remote. ‘Next time I come, I'll bring my microscope.'

She stared at him over the top of the car. ‘You'd come again?'

‘Sure.' He grinned at her. ‘Why should you get to have all the fun?'

Ellie nearly melted right there. He liked kids. Oh, dear. She was a goner.