He turned the water all the way to cold for a minute, then turned it off completely and reached for a towel. This thing with Ella was one giant mess. He’d found the perfect woman. Only she lived in a different state, had a hair-trigger temper and possessed deep-rooted problems where relationships were concerned. Just his luck to fall in love with a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.
His hand stilled, as the reason for that hollow feeling in his stomach became clear with that thought. He loved Ella. How or when or even why—for God’s sake—he didn’t know, but it was the only possible explanation.
And it explained so much. Not that he had any prior experience with the feeling, but the feeling of utter rightness that settled around him told him he’d identified the emotion correctly.
He loved Ella.
But Ella didn’t love him and didn’t want to hang around to see if she might one day. This had to be some kind of cosmic punishment—karma, as Ella would say.
Karma sucked.
At least Ella got something out of all this. He could take away small comfort at being the subject of one of her paintings.
Her paintings…
Something niggled at the back of his mind. Something Ella had said about painting…
“All of those places are special to me. It’s like I have an emotional attachment to them. I guess you could say I have to love it to paint it.” She’d said it with a shrug, an offhand explanation for both her subject matter and why she kept all the canvases.
“I have to love it.”
Knotting the towel around his hips, he headed for his bedroom. He pulled his laptop out of its briefcase, sat on the bed and waited impatiently for it to boot up. He logged in to his e-mail and ignored the ones from work as he scanned for Gillian’s return address. She’d better have sent it…
There it was: “I could get fired for this. Don’t spread it around—remember I know where you live.”
Another click and Fling filled his screen, bringing a flood of memories now that the initial shock had passed. He didn’t have time to reminisce, though; he was on a quest for answers. A closer look this time showed the unfinished aspects of the picture. Many of the details were missing, rough sketches where she planned to add to the background temporarily filling space.
But the man—him, for God’s sake—was complete. He zoomed in, astounded by the detail. If he looked closely, he could see the fine shading that gave the muscles their definition and created the shallow line of his spine. He could almost count each and every hair on his head. If the digital image showed so much, he could only imagine the detail of the real thing.
But it was the glow around the man, caused by the play of light, that proved his case.
If she had to love what she painted, then she loved this man. Every tiny brushstroke showed the care and attention to detail only someone in love with the subject would take.
Ella loved him.
Then why had she pushed him away?
In that moment he decided he didn’t care why. Ella loved him, and he loved her, and that was all that mattered. He’d do whatever he had to do to get her to admit it.
They would work the rest of the details out later.
He had the area code for south Alabama punched into the phone before he stopped himself. This wasn’t exactly a conversation that would work well over the phone. If she even answered once she saw his name on the caller ID. Ella was trying to get away from this emotional tangle, so she’d probably avoid him at all costs—just like she did last weekend.
He sent an e-mail to his assistant, telling her he’d be out Monday and probably Tuesday, as well, and provided instructions for his current projects for the paralegals to take care of. That gave him three days to get through to Ella. Hopefully she wouldn’t prove too stubborn about it. But if she were, at least his prime piece of evidence would be close by.
Showing up unannounced on her front porch again might get him arrested for attempted stalking, but it was the only plan he had at the moment. It wasn’t much of a plan, granted, but he had a nice long drive to work out the details.
Feeling better than he had all week, he went to pack for the beach.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELLA looked across at Ross as he cut the Jaguar’s engine and silence replaced the low purr that had hummed under her feet on the way home from dinner. His interest in her at Melanie’s house had proved genuine—even if she hadn’t been in prime form that day—and he’d wasted no time in contacting her once back down south. An e-mail invitation to dinner was waiting in her in-box when she arrived home Monday afternoon. Thanks to her deal with her own personal she-devil, she’d felt honor bound to accept.
Big mistake.
Ross was cute, charming and funny. They had lots in common. He had a good job, a nice car and good personal hygiene. By all accounts, he was a prime catch. Her standards weren’t artificially high.
But he wasn’t Matt.
Worse, he was friends with Matt. And that was a big problem in more ways than she could count.
The fact Matt’s name kept coming up at dinner didn’t help. Ross had known Matt and Brian since high school: a good number of his stories started with “The time Brian, Matt and I…” Each mention of Matt was like a knife in her heart. It wasn’t exactly the best way to work on forgetting him. If anything, she was brooding worse than before.
Plus, dating one of Matt’s friends—even if they weren’t really close these days—just seemed wrong. And tacky.
Walking around to the passenger door, Ross opened it and assisted her out of the low-slung car. Completing the “prime catch” standards with good manners, he cupped his hand under her elbow and walked her to her front door. He waited as she slid her key into the lock and opened the door just a crack.
“I had a nice time tonight, Ross. Thank you.”
“Me, too, Ella. And I hope we can do it again soon.”
She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly, yet noncommittal way. As he continued to stand there, she realized Ross hoped to be invited in. There was no way she was ready for that step.
“I’d invite you in, but I’m living in a construction zone at the moment…”
Thankfully Ross accepted the brush-off graciously. “Another time.”
He leaned in to kiss her, and panic swelled in her chest. At the last second she turned and his lips brushed her cheek instead. Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but Ross was gallant enough not to mention it. Hopefully, he’d just think she was an old-fashioned kind of girl and not press his luck.
Relief washed over her as he squeezed her hand and said good-night instead. Then, with a smile that made her wish she wasn’t in love with his friend, Ross headed back to his fancy car and drove away with a wave.
Ella released her breath and relaxed for the first time in hours. She hoped that bottle of wine in the fridge had a full glass still in it. After the past couple of hours, her nerves needed the balm only alcohol could provide.
She pushed against the door, and the hairs on her neck prickled as if someone was watching her. A movement in the shadows to her right caught her attention, and a short scream escaped as a man emerged from the shadows.
Roscoe, woofing loudly at her shriek, bounded off his porch and thundered across the street as his owner’s porch light flipped on.
Matt spoke her name about the same instant she recognized him. A hundred emotions slammed into her at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t have time to entertain any of them. A split second later Roscoe arrived at her side growling menacingly. Although still technically a puppy, he reached Ella’s waist and weighed over a hundred pounds, and he placed himself between Ella and the man he considered a possible threat. Matt wisely stood still, waiting for the dog to calm down.
“Easy, boy,” she said, rubbing his head gently. “It’s okay.” Not convinced, Roscoe moved closer to her, almost knocking her off her feet. The low growl kept Matt where he stood, his eyes drilling into hers. He looked tired. And a bit
peeved, for some reason. Although she wanted to be angry with him for showing up when she was trying to accept his absence, she wasn’t. Well, not completely.
Roscoe’s owner stepped out onto her porch calling, “Everything okay, Ella?”
“Everything’s fine. I just got startled. Could you call Roscoe off, please?”
Roscoe, who took his job as neighborhood watchdog seriously, went home slowly, still woofing in Matt’s general direction. He retreated to his doghouse but lay there watching Matt suspiciously.
Shaking a little from both the adrenaline and his presence, she released the energy on Matt. “You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you? You’re lucky Roscoe’s more bark than bite.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She hated the way her voice shook, and she opened the door with more force than necessary. “What are you doing here, anyway?” She went inside without waiting for his answer, not inviting him in, but not closing the door in his face, either.
She really didn’t want to deal with him right now. She was still reeling and dealing with raw emotions she didn’t know how to handle, and a night with Ross and his trips down memory lane starring Matt hadn’t exactly put her in the proper mind-set for this encounter.
But she couldn’t leave him standing on the porch, either—especially since they’d supposedly cleared the air between them last week—so she waved him in when he hovered in the doorway. “Well?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Matt muttered, seeming uncomfortable.
“You could have just called.”
“But would you have answered?” The cheeky challenge made her want to smack him.
She shrugged before turning to search the fridge for that wine. Relaxing was now out of the question, but steadying would be nice. “Why wouldn’t I? We both apologized for before, and I don’t hold grudges.”
But she was having a hard time holding down her dinner as her stomach roiled. She hoped her voice sounded normal, or, if not, at least could be chalked up to the scare. “Would you like some wine?” When he declined, she pushed forward. “Okay, then, talk to me. I’m listening.”
Matt watched her closely as she poured her wine, and his silent stare frayed what was left of her nerves. She took deep breaths to keep her temper from flaring up, and aimed for a casual tone. “Well?”
“You look like you’re feeling better.”
Okay, small talk it is. And while she knew they were both avoiding something bigger—whatever it might be—it did give her the chance to mentally regroup. “I am, thanks. Fully recovered.”
“Good.”
She was going to scream if he didn’t quit staring and say something. The suspense was killing her, but she’d be damned if she’d ask him again to—
“Please tell me that wasn’t really Ross Kelly dropping you off.”
Her head spun at the sudden change of topic. Dare she hope that was jealousy she heard in his voice? “Do you want me to lie?”
“You’re dating one of my friends? I can’t believe it.” The edge of his voice could cut glass, and she took a deep breath to keep herself from recoiling.
“We had dinner. He’s a very nice guy. Not that it’s any of your business, mind you.”
“Oh, I think it is my business.” With an exasperated noise, Matt caught her hand, pulled her around the counter to the other side and sat her on a bar stool. Instead of taking the other for himself, he stood in front of her, hands braced on his hips. “Ross Kelly is a mama’s boy who—”
She wanted to scream in frustration. “Honestly, Matt. Am I supposed to believe you drove all the way down here to insult my choice in dinner companions?”
Matt simply raised an eyebrow at her.
“I didn’t think so.” Okay, so she was being combative and juvenile, but offense seemed the best defense at the moment. “Why don’t you just say whatever it was you came to say—”
“You are the most infuriating, frustrating woman I’ve ever met. You’re a distrustful control freak who keeps everyone at arm’s length. You, Ella Mackenzie, are a serious trial to a man’s patience.”
His words felt like a slap, and though there was no heat in his voice, it didn’t remove the sting. Anger quickly followed, though.
“Gee, you really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?” Too angry to sit still, she slid off the bar stool and paced. “Let me give you a helpful pointer or two, though. If you’re wanting to get lucky, you might want to work on your pickup lines.”
“I didn’t come all the way down here for a quick lay.” A small muscle in his jaw twitched, but otherwise his face was impassive. She knew better, though. She’d seen that look before. Whatever was going on, she wasn’t going to like it one bit. The quicker she could brazen her way through this, the better. “Look, I apologized for how I acted before. So did you, so I don’t see—”
“I saw the painting, Ella.”
She froze in shock. Oh, hell. “What? When? How?”
Matt chuckled. “It’s kinda nice to see you at a loss for words for once. Gillian’s my neighbor, remember? She couldn’t wait to thank me for sending you her way, and she thought Fling was a pretty good likeness. She says you’re quite talented, by the way, and you should be hearing from her soon.”
Excitement and pride over the professional assessment battled with the mortification of Matt seeing that painting. It was an odd feeling. Words really did escape her this time, and all she could manage was a small, “Oh.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
Good Lord, what could she say?
Matt’s attention shifted to the easel sitting by the window, and her heart jumped into double time when he crossed the room and pulled off the sheet.
She bit her lip, wondering if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment as he studied the painting carefully.
“It’s even more impressive in person. You’re good, El. Subject matter aside, I can see why Gillian’s excited about this one. The chiro…cior—”
“Chiaroscuro,” she supplied automatically.
“Whatever it is, you’re good at it.” His eyes pinned hers. “You should have told me.”
She sorted through possible explanations and discarded them all as lame. “Um, I guess I should apologize for putting that painting out there without your permission. I just wanted to send something different—along with the landscapes, I mean. Something to show I could do more than watercolors and landscapes. It’s not even finished, so I’m sure I can pull it from consideration pretty easily.” Matt kept staring, and she wanted the sand dunes outside to come bury her. He’d missed his true calling by going into contract law. He should be in court, shredding witnesses on cross-examination. “I didn’t think about the possibility of her recognizing you. Honestly.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and I’m sure you know it. Hey, you’re blushing.” Finally bending a little, Matt took her hand and led her to the couch. This time he sat with her. His voice dropped a notch. “I just want to know if it’s true.”
“True?” She stalled, as she racked her brain for possibilities.
“I know I hit my head pretty hard that day, but I distinctly remember you saying you were picky about your subjects. You had to love it in order to paint it. Does that extend to me and my painting?”
Oh, hell. She was trapped. Matt had a knowing gleam in his eye, and for a moment she considered the consequences of a lie. Would he simply accept a denial and go back home? Was this some sort of strange game where he got even with her by getting her to confess to her feelings and leaving, anyway? Admitting she loved him was setting herself up to…to…
“Well, Ella?”
The smug challenge in his voice pushed her over the line, and she let her temper take the lead. “Yes, damn it, it’s true. I fell in love with you, and now this whole thing is a giant mess. There. I said it. Are you happy now?” She met his eyes, fully intending to stare him down, but the bright glow she saw there stopped h
er temper in its tracks.
“Oh, yes.” The corner of his mouth curved up. Reaching for her, he easily maneuvered her into his lap, and her entire body awoke with a loud cheer. When one hand curved around her cheek, her heart accelerated. “Very much so.”
With those words, though, the familiar panic settled into her chest. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t do this. All the pain, all the misery, all the confusion she’d suffered through the past few weeks had only strengthened her resolve that relationships weren’t for her. Especially not with someone like Matt. Someone who completely—
As if reading her mind, Matt whispered, “Just trust me a little.”
“I can’t. I’d like to, but I just can’t.” It had hurt too badly the last time he left. She couldn’t go through that again. And it would only be worse next time.
“Yes, you can.”
The calm surety in his voice both irritated her and soothed her at the same time. It was too confusing and exactly the kind of unbalance she needed to avoid. “Matt, I—”
“You’ve got to let it go, Ella.” His breath tickled the hairs at her temple, and as she inhaled, his scent coiled through her and calmed her. When he put his forehead to hers, caught her in his chocolate gaze and added, “I love you, too,” the tight feeling in her chest loosened.
But old habits die hard. “But what about—”
“Relax. Everything else is details, and we’ll work them out later. This is all that matters.” His lips captured hers, and in that moment she believed him.
Matt’s fingers threaded through her hair, massaging her scalp and fanning the tiny flame that had burned in her stomach since he arrived. She turned to face him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he sat.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
“I love you.”
As soon as she said it, Matt surged to his feet and unerringly covered the distance to her bedroom without ever breaking the kiss.
He laid her carefully on the bed, then stood to pull his shirt over his head, giving Ella a feeling of déjà vu. Only, this time she was looking forward to the “messy” part and everything that came after. Her control-freak nature rebelled, demanding contingency plans and escape routes, but she stomped it down. Going with the flow wasn’t a bad thing—especially considering the company.
The Secret Mistress Arrangement Page 13