Untamed Bachelors

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.

Chapter Eight

DARKNESS was already swallowing what little day was left when Matt dropped her outside her apartment building to change for dinner. The rain clouds had blown away, leaving a hard indigo sky. The aroma of damp bitumen and a charcoal grill somewhere hung on the still air.

A car cruised the street, slowing as it neared. Ellie tugged her tracksuit jacket a little higher. She never let thoughts of murder and mayhem bother her. If she did, she’d never go anywhere. But she breathed a little easier when it passed by.

Climbing the stairs in the dimness—the darn stairwell light hadn’t been replaced for three weeks—she dug in her pocket for her keys. Her thoughts were focused on a quick shower in her draughty bathroom, a little make-up…

But rational thought evaporated when she lifted her hand to put her key to the lock. Splintered wood. Her whole body tightened and her blood drained into her legs.

While she’d been overnighting at Belle’s place someone had intruded on her sanctuary. The one place she should be able to feel safe. How long she stood there she didn’t know—listening for noises from within, hearing only her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Gradually she became aware of other sounds. Down the hall the reassuring sound of Mrs Larson’s TV and, intermittently, Toby’s voice. Outside, city sounds. Inside…silence.

Scarcely aware that she was holding her breath, she reached out, fingers touching the scarred wood. The door opened with a light push. Keeping her gaze dead ahead, she felt for the switch to her left. Light flooded the room and spilled into the bathroom beyond. Empty. The one advantage to having a studio apartment was the ability to see everything in a single glance, she thought grimly, stepping inside and pushing the door closed behind her.

The inspection didn’t take long. Then she sat on her bed and started to laugh, a touch hysterically. The laugh was on them—financially challenged Ellie Rose had nothing of value to steal. But they’d obviously taken exception to the time and effort they’d wasted and left the contents of her fridge strewn over the floor.

She realised her hands were shaking and her throat was dry. Someone had touched her things, breathed the same air, invaded her space. Chills crawled over her flesh and down her spine. Grabbing her quilt, she tugged it around her, then almost as quickly pushed it away—irrational, but it felt dirty somehow and a chill shuddered down her spine. What if whoever-it-was had touched it? She felt violated and alone.

Jerking up, she paced to the kitchen sink, adrenaline and anger pumping through her body.

Matt found her crouched by the refrigerator, mopping up the mess with a kitchen sponge. The fact that her door was open and damaged and that she hadn’t answered his knock had struck him with fear like he’d never experienced. A primitive instinct to protect what was his drummed through his body. ‘Ellie.’

She jolted at the sound of his voice, then froze for a second like a trapped animal. ‘I’m…Okay.’ She resumed her task with a choked attempt at a laugh. ‘The scumbag hung around here long enough to drink my last can of Coke.’

Crouching down beside her, he took the sponge from her fingers. ‘Leave it, Ellie.’

‘I have to clean this mess.’

‘No. You don’t. I’ll have a cleaning service come in tomorrow.’

‘I need to keep busy.’ She waved a hand. ‘Nervous energy and all that.’

He tipped her chin up, hating the naked distress he saw written all over her face. ‘Busy, hmm?’ He smiled into her eyes, taking his time about it. ‘I can help you with that.’ He kept his voice light, teasing even, but inside…inside he wanted to punch the living daylights out of the low-life who’d done this to her.

He rose, pulling her up with him, his hands beneath her elbows to steady her. ‘Did they take anything?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Have you rung the cops?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll do it now, then.’ He smoothed his hands down her back, drawing her closer. ‘It’s going to be all right, Ellie. I’m here.’

The last words didn’t surprise him, but the emotions they invoked did. Feeling the fragility of her bones beneath his hands and that tiny slender frame against his…it drew up a well of tenderness he’d not known existed. He wanted to go on holding her and—Protect what was his?

His whole body tightened. Where the hell had that come from? He’d seen the broken lock and Ellie on the floor and had simply reacted. He was no knight in shining armour.

Loosening his hold, he stepped back, uneasy with the emotions she’d conjured in him. Assured himself it was a momentary thing. She’d proclaimed herself an independent woman; she had no need for such masculine displays of chivalry.

‘I can manage,’ she said, backing up at the same time. As if she’d read his thoughts. But beneath that I-don’t-need-you-to-take-care-of-me facade he could see the little-girl-lost lurking in her eyes and he had to clench his fists at his sides so as not to reach for her again. If he touched her, he might give her more than she was willing to accept. More than he was willing to give.

Swinging away, he paced to the other side of the room. ‘I’ll double-check everything’s okay—you might have missed something. I’ll look into finding you alternative accommodation tomorrow.’

‘But I don’t have the finances to—’

‘Don’t worry about that now.’ He waved a hand. ‘I’ll arrange something. I know people. There are studio apartments near the university. Safe and clean. It’ll be fine, trust me. I’ll make those calls, then we’ll get something to eat. Takeaway’s probably best under the circumstances.’

‘Something hot with a bite to it,’ she said, swiping at her damp-kneed sweatpants with a muttered curse. ‘Beef vindaloo with teeth.’

Over the next twenty minutes he rang the police, organised a cleaning service and someone to fix the door and add extra security—no way was he waiting around for some absent landlord—while Ellie showered and changed.

A couple of hours and a police report later, they were in the car on the way back to Belle’s place with Ellie’s requested Indian takeaway.

How had she gone from living in relative comfort as a child to…this? ‘You don’t have to answer this, Ellie,’ he said as the car idled at an intersection. ‘But wasn’t there some sort of inheritance when your mum passed away?’

She was silent a moment and he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally she said, ‘My family invested in a company that went bust. They lost a substantial amount of their wealth only months before the accident.’

‘That’s tough.’ Damn, he should have kept his mouth shut. As the lights changed, he set the car in motion again. ‘Forget I asked.’

‘I don’t mind.’ From the corner of his eye he saw her chin lift. ‘I’m not ashamed.’

‘Nor should you be.’

‘Mum left what she had to my father. When Dad walked out on us, she obviously gave no thought to changing her will, which she’d made before I was even born. I only learned about it when I was old enough to understand.’

So that’s why Ellie’s father had turned up after her mother’s death—not out of any sense of parental duty but because he thought he’d come into wealth. Matt’s lip curled in disgust. ‘What about his family?’ he asked. ‘Your paternal grandparents? Couldn’t they help?’

‘Both dead, back in England. He emigrated here on his own. Of course he used what money there was to keep us together,’ Ellie hurried on. Seemed she was determined to defend him. ‘Even though we moved around a lot, we lived in nice places, ate at the best restaurants. But he was a gambler,’ she finished quietly.

Ah. It didn’t take a PhD to figure the man had left his daughter again when the money had run out. ‘Didn’t the courts make provisions for you as her daughter?’

‘They did. It was kept in trust for me until I turned eighteen…’

Something in her voice alerted him, pushed him to say, ‘Let me guess, your father turned up.’

She didn’t reply.

He shook his head. ‘Ellie, Ellie. Don’t you know feeding a gambling problem only makes it worse?’

‘He said he’d changed. He’s my father. The only family I have left.’

Her tone tugged at something deep down inside him. ‘He used that against you—you know that, don’t you?’

He could feel the pain his words caused across the space between them and felt like a jerk, but she said, ‘I insisted he use it to get help. And at least I used some of it to finance most of my horticultural course.’

‘I didn’t mean to insult you.’

‘I know. It’s just that people like you don’t have a clue about people like me.’

He let it pass. You don’t want to talk about yourself, Matt—don’t bring it up.

They turned into the driveway; the gates swung open, revealing the magnificent home in all its eccentric splendour. Proclaiming wealth from the tip of its spired turret to the landscaped front garden with its statues, ponds and carefully tended topiary.

He knew how it must look, but Ellie had no idea how much they had in common.

Matt switched on the TV and left Ellie in the lounge room while he found plates and set their meal out on the table.

Then since they weren’t eating out, he headed upstairs to change into something casual. A shadow of movement alerted him as he passed Belle’s room. He saw Ellie place Belle’s angel on the night stand.

‘Ellie?’

She jerked at his voice and spun to face him. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that. I’m jittery enough as it is.’

He stepped into the room, intrigued. ‘Why would you return a gift?’

She turned her attention back to the angel, caressed it. ‘It’s safer here. Thank you. For helping me out. And for this afternoon with the kids.’

She looked over then, and smiled at him—just a hint but, ah, God, it was as if the sun came out. He wanted to pull her close, kiss away the demons he saw in her eyes, but that special kind of intimacy was more than he had in him to give. He didn’t want to get emotionally involved. For her sake as well as his own. He turned away. ‘Anyone would do the same. Let’s go put a dent in that curry.’

They sat down to tandoori chicken and beef vindaloo with rice, servings of crisp pappadums, cool cucumber raita and tangy mango chutney. Ellie attacked her meal with a vengeance which appeared to be borne of anger rather than hunger.

Finding your apartment ransacked was a rotten end to anyone’s day. He picked up his glass, took a few mouthfuls of water—she’d refused his suggestion of wine so he’d opted out too—and watched her. The way her lips closed over the spoon, lightly glossed with oil. Her fingers, slender with short, unpolished nails.

He could almost feel those fingers drifting over him in pleasure, clutching at him in passion. He shifted uncomfortably on his chair. In the silence he could almost hear his own blood rushing through his veins and making his jeans two sizes too tight.

Timing again.

The best he could do was to take her mind off her troubles and his mind off his libido. ‘What do you do when you’re feeling down, Ellie?’

‘I’m not down, just angry.’ She stabbed a cube of beef, shoved it in her mouth and chewed vigorously.

‘So what do you do when you’re angry?’

‘Run.’ A small smile lifted the edges of her mouth. ‘Not the running-away quitting kind of running, the simple mind-clearing act of pushing one’s self to the limit. That nervous energy I mentioned? I channel it. If there was a beach nearby that’s what I’d do. With the wind on my face and the sound of surf in my ears. I’d run until I couldn’t run another step, then I’d stand on a cliff and watch the waves roll in. And pray for a storm.’

He set his glass down, laid his hands on the table. ‘How about now?’

Ellie’s brow pleated. ‘It’s hardly beach weather.’

‘Does that stop you?’

‘Well, no…’

He leaned back and watched her. ‘Ever ridden a motorbike?’

‘No.’

‘There’s nothing like it. Hitting the bitumen, outriding your problems. Ride till you come to the end of the road. Same rush, same result. I have an idea.’ He rose, skirted the table and reached for her hand, tugged her up, then headed for the door.

‘Wait up, where are we going?’

He turned to her and grinned. ‘My place.’

‘Your place?’ Ellie stared at those beguiling brown eyes while her heart thudded loud and strong against her ribs. ‘I thought you lived here when you come to Melbourne.’

‘Nope. My place is down the coast a bit along the Great Ocean Road. Lorne has the best view in the world.’

‘But Lorne’s a couple of hours’ drive away.’

‘Less if the traffic’s light. It’s a clear night. What better way to dust off the cobwebs and get that adrenaline pumping?’

‘Hang on…’ A frisson of something like excitement inextricably bound with alarm zipped down her spine. ‘A motorbike was mentioned. You’re going to ride there?’

‘No, we’re going to ride there.’ When she just stared at him while that adrenaline geysered up and churned with her dinner, he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Ellie. I’ve got two helmets and I don’t take risks.’

‘But it’s already nearly ten o’clock.’ She did not add that 10:00 p.m. was her routine bedtime. Although tonight she wasn’t anywhere near ready to sleep.

His eyes darkened and his voice deepened. ‘Guess that means we’ll be staying the night.’

Chapter Nine

STAYING the night. In Matt’s house. Just her and him and…Ellie’s pulse leapt. And…? And if she wanted, she could let herself go for once and give in to this attraction.

One night with Matt McGregor.

She steeled herself to hold his gaze and that now-familiar current of energy arced across the space between them, sparking flashes of anticipation along every nerve ending. ‘I’ll need to collect a few things on the way.’

His eyes twinkled with something like amusement. ‘I have a spare toothbrush.’

Her jaw firmed at the timely reminder. She just bet he did. Probably a whole box for all those unexpected female guests who slept over. She refused to let the doubt demons get to her. Tonight Ellie was going to be that guest, and tonight was all that mattered.

‘And an efficient underfloor heating system,’ he went on smoothly. ‘So you don’t need a thing.’

No, she didn’t imagine she did. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. ‘I hope the view’s worth it.’

His gaze flicked briefly to the cleavage she’d unwittingly created, then just as quickly back to her face. ‘Oh, it will be, I assure you.’

Her nipples tingled and tightened as heat spurted up her neck, bled into her cheeks. Were they talking about the same thing? She’d not participated in this kind of sexual innuendo in more than two years. Not since Heath…

‘Grab your jacket and I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes.’

She grabbed her backpack from the couch in the lounge room, her problems shoved to the back of her mind and a sense of anticipation rocketing through her as she slipped a cardigan over her sweater and dragged on her jacket before hurrying downstairs.

He’d changed and wore a black leather bomber jacket over his white T-shirt and jeans and was holding two helmets. The evening breeze slid through his spiked hair, giving it a reckless windswept edge. He looked more than a little bit dangerous.

Her heart skidded to a halt, then resumed at twice its speed. Beneath the canopy of inky sky with a whiff of motor oil in her nostrils and the throaty sound of the black-and-silver monster warming up beside him…well, it felt like some sort of illicit fantasy.

He must have transferred that recklessness to her. The spine-tingling prospect of freedom and being with Matt on that metallic beast as he whisked her away from reality…Just for tonight she wanted to forget everything and enjoy the ride—and it wasn’t only the bike she was thinking of.

As he settled the helmet on her head, helped her adjust it, she admitted, ‘I’ve never been game enough to ride on a motorbike.’

He climbed on, turned the key, patted the seat behind him. ‘It’s easy,’ he said over the noise. ‘Just hang on and let me do the rest.’