When He Was Bad...

by Anne Oliver

  He pushed the salad bowl her way. ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘Thanks. Avocadoes too—my favourite,’ she said to lighten the atmosphere as she spooned salad onto her plate.

  So he didn’t want to talk about it. She understood that. Men didn’t delve into personal and emotional issues. Matt’s mother’s absence in his life—for whatever reason that he wasn’t inclined to share with her—had left scars. As it would, of course. But she had a feeling it went much deeper than grief. There was a bitterness and anger there too.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, listening to the sound of the rain lashing the window. The stormy weather had intensified over the past hour.

  ‘Do you ever—’ The jingle of Matt’s mobile phone in the adjoining room cut Ellie off.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  Matt rose, leaving her alone in the kitchen with a jumble of thoughts running through her head. The family he didn’t want to discuss and the walls he’d erected.

  He’d made no attempt to disguise his attraction to her, but obviously that was as far as it went. His interest was purely physical. Unfortunately it was becoming more and more obvious that, for her, it went beyond that. His sheer magnetism drew her, sparking an undercurrent of excitement which flowed constantly just beneath the surface of her skin, so strong she wondered that she didn’t glow in the dark, and leaving her in a perpetual state of anticipation. She’d never known anything this intense.

  But despite his unwillingness to open up, he also had a nurturing, caring side no other male had ever shown her. In fact, he could be downright chivalrous, and that was so… attractive. Seductive. Alluring as it was alarming.

  Which meant she needed to be on her guard at all times.

  His voice carried through the open doorway. She heard the name of a five-star hotel mentioned. And then the lobby at 8:00 p.m. He’d be a little later than they’d arranged. Unavoidably detained… Looking forward to catching up…

  Was his tone an indication that he was talking to a woman or did he speak to everyone in that deep velvet voice? She didn’t know him well enough to tell…was this just Ellie being slightly paranoid Ellie?

  ‘Matthew’s always been a bit of a playboy….’

  Something hard and heavy lobbed dead centre in her chest. She jabbed the point of her knife into her half-eaten steak, hacked off a piece, jammed it in her mouth. Why the hell did it matter who he met? She chewed vigorously. Or what he did with whomever it was tonight? At 8:00 p.m. In one of the best hotels in the city.

  She tried to swallow but the food lodged behind the knot which had formed in her throat over the past couple of minutes.

  ‘Meat not to your liking?’ Matt took his seat once more and resumed eating.

  ‘It’s…very nice,’ she managed and swallowed carefully. ‘Just a bit of a sore throat.’ She reached for her juice to wash it down. ‘I need an early night. In fact…’ She made a show of glancing at her watch, didn’t note the time. ‘I’ll get going. There’s a tram due in ten minutes. I’ll collect my other clothes later.’

  ‘I’ll drop you home.’

  ‘Not necessary, I’ve an umbrella in my bag.’ And you have a date.

  ‘I insist. I have to go out in any case—I’ll drop you off on the way. Just give me a moment.’

  She accepted because she really didn’t feel one hundred percent and it was easier than arguing. But she almost changed her mind when he reappeared in dark trousers and a smart charcoal jacket that looked as if it had been tailored exclusively for him. A few wisps of masculine hair were visible at the open neck of his shirt.

  He’d splashed on that cologne she’d smelled the other night. Something free and fresh and foresty that reminded her of secret midnight trysts.

  She thought about that—and him—when she climbed into her narrow bed after he’d dropped her outside her apartment building a short time later. And reminded herself that permanent playboys were not for her.

  Matt rolled over, peered at the digital readout on his clock and swore. Seven-thirty.

  He dragged a hand over his face. He felt as if he hadn’t caught more than ten minutes’ shut-eye at any one time. Erotic dreams had plagued him from the moment his head had hit the pillow. The kind of dreams he’d not experienced since puberty.

  Ellie was entirely to blame.

  Pushing the quilt down to cool his overheated body, he stared at the ceiling’s blank canvas, hoping to rid himself of the images still dancing behind his eyes.

  No such luck. It didn’t make a scrap of difference that he’d chatted up a tall well-constructed New York advertising executive after his meeting with Cole. Lysandra. Lissendra? He’d bought her a cocktail and they’d discussed… Global warming. A couple of cocktails on, she’d had a few interesting suggestions to help cure his insomnia. And he’d come close to letting her try.

  Until a vision of Ellie Rose wearing nothing but that towel had sauntered into his mind like a siren from days gone by… He sat up in bed, scratched his morning stubble. Damn it.

  Since when had he turned down a woman like Lissandra whose requirements ticked all the right boxes? Why would he pass up an opportunity like that for a girl who didn’t want to get involved, despite her eyes and the way she kissed telling him otherwise? A girl nothing like the women he dated.

  And that girl would be turning up at any moment, if she wasn’t here already. Easing off the bed, he padded down the passage and into a spare bedroom for a view of the backyard. Low on the horizon, the early morning’s thin lemon sunlight was sliding obliquely between the clouds, glistening wetly on the lawn. He scanned the boggy patch where Ellie had been working yesterday. The garden shed. The back porch.

  No sign of her.

  She’d be here, he told himself; she wanted the job. Still, he felt oddly disappointed she hadn’t arrived yet. He wanted to see that glimpse of sunshine turn her hair to old gold and watch the jaunty, carefree way she had of moving.

  He folded his arms across his chest as chilly air prickled his skin. Yeah, right. Watching her while he stood here naked. Scowling, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Lucky for you, you’re not here yet, Ellie Rose.

  Meanwhile he needed a cold shower and he needed it fast.

  While he shivered and soaped up under the spray, he made a decision. This thing between them needed serious attention. Tonight. Get it out of their systems—two rational, consenting adults—then they could move on.

  He turned off the taps, reached for his towel. Satisfied with his plan, he lathered on shaving cream and reached for his razor.

  He checked his emails over fruit and toast. Coffee in hand, he made a follow-up call to last night’s meeting with Cole. Then he phoned the office to inform Joanie he’d be in before ten and took the next little while to look over a new project.

  When Ellie still hadn’t turned up by nine o’clock he grew annoyed. He paced to the window. The devil of it was, he had no good reason to be so ticked off. Ellie kept her own timetable and Belle hadn’t expected him to wait around. But he was here now, and in Belle’s absence he felt he was entitled to know Ellie’s plans for today. Keep an eye on things. Keep his finger on the pulse.

  He swung away. No, not Ellie’s pulse. Although if she didn’t get here soon he might have to throttle her.

  He was a busy man. He didn’t have time to… He checked his watch. Nearly nine-fifteen. …Didn’t have time to waste.

  At ten o’clock he rang Joanie to tell her he’d been detained, that he’d phone again when he was on his way.

  Responsibility. They’d talked about it. Ellie had worked two days and been on time. Perhaps that was her limit. He tapped in her phone number. Swore when her phone was switched off. She had no answering service so he couldn’t leave a voice message.

  He paced to the window, glared at the front gate. When she arrived he’d tell her his expectations: While he was here, he preferred—wanted—her to keep regular hours… Damn, why wait until she’d arrived? He’d go inform her himself. That way
he could drive her here if she was running late.

  A short time later he parked and stared up at her sorry-looking apartment building. Daylight showed the dull facade in all its unspectacular glory. Grey peeling paintwork. Dusty windows.

  He climbed out of his car and walked to the door. In this instance he was relieved it wasn’t a coded entry—except that anyone could walk in off the street. He took the stairs two at a time and followed a dingy passage until he found apartment number four, then knocked on the door.

  No answer. Impatience snapped at him; he barely waited before knocking again, louder, longer. ‘Ellie, are you in there?’

  A scruffy-looking sort in a grey hooded jacket with straggly blond hair and teenage fuzz above his upper lip exited an apartment down the hall. Mid- to late teens, Matt figured. The odour of sweat and dirty sneakers preceded the guy as he approached.

  Matt’s nostrils flared in distaste. But Ellie had no choice; she couldn’t afford anything better. Matt understood that all too well.

  ‘She ain’t left yet,’ Scruffy said as he passed Matt.

  He studied the youth through narrowed eyes. ‘And you’d know this how?’

  Scruffy popped a wad of chewing gum in his mouth. ‘See everyone from my living room window. You dropped her off last night. Night before too. Black Ford, right?’

  A twinge of concern jolted through Matt. ‘Do you watch everyone’s comings and goings?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Ain’t safe round here. It’s just me and Mum, and she’s in a wheelchair, so I keep an eye out.’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Toby.’ He stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. ‘You Ellie’s new boyfriend?’

  ‘I’m… Yes,’ Matt decided. One could never be too careful and any woman living alone was always a potential target, even if Toby seemed harmless enough. ‘My name’s Matt. I’ll see you around.’

  ‘Okay. See ya.’ Toby hunched into his hoodie and headed to the stairwell.

  Matt resumed knocking. ‘Ellie, I know you’re in there. Answer the door.’ Finally he heard a muffled sound and the door cracked open. Her face was only partially visible and what he could see didn’t look good.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She sniffed, dug a tissue from the pocket of her dressing gown, held it to her nose.

  No wonder she hadn’t turned up. ‘You’re ill,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘You should have phoned me.’ He pushed the door wider, took in the dark circles beneath her glassy eyes before closing the door behind him.

  ‘Why?’ She turned away and headed over the worn linoleum floor towards her bed. She wore flannelette pyjamas under her robe, he noticed, and fluffy pink slippers.

  ‘To let me know you weren’t coming in…’ His voice was tight and clipped to his own ears. He saw the way her shoulders drooped and softened it with, ‘To let me know if you need anything.’ He glanced about him at the tiny studio apartment. The place was basic at best. And colder than an antarctic winter.

  ‘On my day off?’

  ‘Your day off?’

  ‘I don’t work Thursdays. I told you that at our interview.’ Stepping out of her slippers, she crawled onto the bed, dragging the covers over her. ‘So, if there’s nothing else… Pull the door shut behind you on your way out.’

  Even with his jacket on, his skin goose-bumped beneath his cashmere jumper. ‘Don’t you have heating?’

  ‘It’s broken down,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I can’t leave you here like this.’

  ‘Sure you can. Don’t you have appointments to keep? Five-star hotels to frequent?’ A hand appeared from beneath the quilt to grab another tissue.

  Five-star hotels? ‘What are you talking about?’ He crossed the room, stared down at her, shook his questions away. ‘Forget appointments, forget work. You shouldn’t be on your own and this place is an icebox. You’re coming home with me.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘NO.’ HER reply was razor sharp.

  ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Ellie.’

  ‘Good.’ A beat of silence. ‘I’m better off here. If I can sleep it off today, I’ll be right for work tomorrow.’

  He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his shoe skittering against something as he sat. He looked down…

  His business card. Crumpled. By one very tight, very deliberate fist, if he guessed correctly. He picked it up, lowered the quilt so he could see her face and waved it in front of her. ‘I must’ve made a good impression Saturday night.’

  Her eyes flicked open, then widened as she realised. ‘Oh.’ She blinked up at him. ‘How did that get there?’

  He felt a corner of his mouth tip up. ‘You didn’t throw it out.’ He smoothed it out, tapped it against his chin. ‘This tells me something, Ellie.’

  Her eyes slid shut again. ‘It tells you I’m environmentally aware, that I was waiting for the paper recycling day to come round.’

  ‘Yeah. Right.’ He slipped it beneath her pillow with a smile she didn’t see.

  He glanced about the apartment. Her fridge was covered in kids’ paintings held in place by frog magnets. ‘Whose artwork?’

  ‘I volunteer at a homework centre for disadvantaged kids,’ she mumbled into her pillow.

  A volunteer? She was more than he’d given her credit for and something deeper stirred inside him. Willing the somewhat disturbing feeling away, his gaze landed on a small but familiar figurine on the scarred night stand.

  He looked back at Ellie, her eyelashes resting on pale cheeks, then picked it up, rolled it between his palms. ‘Where did you get this?’

  Her eyes opened halfway. ‘Belle gave it to me. She said everyone needs a guardian angel.’

  Matt knew it wasn’t a simple trinket. It was one of a kind, according to Belle. She’d bought it in Venice a few years back and paid a fortune in tourist dollars for it. Did Ellie know its true value?

  He folded the quilt back and tucked the edge beneath her chin. ‘Guardian angels won’t cut it today. You can sleep in Belle’s guest room.’

  ‘No.’

  He tightened his jaw. ‘I can carry you downstairs in your pyjamas and put you in the car myself or you can get dressed first—your choice. But you’re coming with me in five minutes.’

  ‘I’m staying here. I’m going to try to sleep. Here. Thanks for your offer, now go away.’

  He pushed up. So be it. He found an empty supermarket bag, then scouted the room for something she could wear later—a black tracksuit sprawled over a chair and a pair of sneakers with socks spilling out nearby. ‘Four minutes.’ He opened drawers till he found underwear.

  Behind him, he heard her gasp. ‘You are so not touching my—’

  ‘Think again, honey.’ He pulled out a filmy white bra and panties, tossed them in the bag. Added a pair of socks.

  Ellie’s eyes narrowed to slits as she watched Matt’s broad-shouldered shape disappear into her tiny bathroom. Her heart thudded erratically against the mattress. She pushed the tissue against her lips to prevent a whimper when she heard the clatter of bottles being scooped up. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed him to leave. She was an independent woman. Had to be. If she refused to move, made it obvious she didn’t want his assistance, didn’t need it, he’d respect that. He’d—

  Her eyes snapped open again when the quilt’s warmth vanished. A tide of cold air and defeat washed over her as she gazed up at one determined man. Mouth resolute. Jaw squared, brow furrowed. Her bag of stuff on his arm.

  A man accustomed to having his demands met.

  Well, she had news for him. ‘Listen, I…’ His dark eyes challenged hers and she felt her words drain away with her resolve.

  ‘Since you’re obviously not going to cooperate—’ he continued, sliding his hands beneath her armpits ‘—why wait the extra two minutes?’

  As he dragged her upright, she saw the glint in his eyes and her heart leapt with a contrary thrill in her chest. ‘You wouldn’t…’

  The g
lint remained as he slid her slippers onto her feet. He tightened the sash on her dressing gown, fastened the top button of her pyjamas. ‘Yes, Ellie, I would.’ Then scooping her up, he swung her into his arms.

  His jumper tickled her nose, his hold was so tight the only air she could breathe was full of his scent. She kicked— uselessly—since her legs hit nothing but air. ‘Put. Me. Down.’ Her futile demand was muffled against his chest.

  ‘Not until we reach the car.’ His voice rumbled against her ear. She felt herself being carried across the room. He passed the kitchen table, dumped her handbag on her lap.

  ‘This is crazy. I’m not ill. I have a cold, that’s all.’

  He gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Keys?’

  She thought about refusing to tell him, but she doubted it would make any difference, and being locked out wasn’t a sensible idea either because she was coming back tonight if she had to walk it. ‘On the hook by the door.’

  Grabbing them on the way, he stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. The click echoed in the dimness. He started down the stairs and she had no choice but to hang on and let him do his macho-hero thing.

  His car was parked right out front. She flopped down in the seat with a scowl, but couldn’t help sighing at the sun’s warmth through the windscreen.

  Sniffing, she turned her head away so she wouldn’t have to look at him when he climbed in and set the car in motion. Lucky for her, she wasn’t looking for a man in her life. And even if she was, it was lucky Matt McGregor was far too domineering.

  Because it meant she could relegate him to the back of her mind and only deal with him when it was absolutely necessary. Like now, unfortunately.

  She watched the streetscape change from concrete and retail to the upscale mansions behind hedges and greenery as they neared Belle’s place.

  She frowned. So why did her insides still insist on turning themselves about when she thought of him? And how could she help thinking about him when she couldn’t seem to avoid him? Like this morning. How many darn times had he felt that manly need to come to her assistance?