Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta

Good, she told herself as she veered back towards the exit. One less problem. Tomorrow morning was way soon enough to be interacting with him. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with complications. And despite his views about their non -relationship, Matt McGregor was complication in flashing lights. Big red warning ones.

Doing his gentlemanly duty as he saw Ellie preparing to leave, he exited the bar and waited for her outside.

She’d told him she wanted to be left alone, but safety concerns aside, knowing where she’d be this evening had been too much of a temptation for Matt to ignore. He’d wanted to see her again, simple as that. He stepped towards her the moment she appeared. ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

Her head swivelled towards him and her eyes widened. ‘Why are you still here?’

The damp air teased her hair so that it curled in wisps around her face. She must have washed it again because it was lighter—honey blonde with only a streak or two of pink—but the austere light from the street lamp turned it silver-white, making her appear smaller, more fragile.

‘You think I’d leave you here at this time of night without ensuring your safe journey home?’ Wherever that might be.

She pulled her coat tighter, straightened her spine, hitched her bag higher. ‘I can take care of myself.’

‘Yeah, right. Alone, past midnight, in this seedy area. Where’s your car?’

‘I don’t own a car. And I happen to live in this seedy area.’ He didn’t miss the light of contempt in her eyes.

Along with her list of criticisms, did she think him prejudiced? He couldn’t decide whether it amused or annoyed him. ‘How are you getting home?’

‘Public transport.’

‘My car’s across the road. I’ll drop you off.’

‘It’s—’

‘Non-negotiable.’ He placed a silencing finger against her lips.

Heat, as her sharp exhalation of breath streamed over his fingertip. Friction, as his finger drifted lightly over her lips. Desire, sharp and swift, as her lips parted the tiniest bit. In surprise? Or something else? He couldn’t be sure, and for a pulse beat or two he thought she might yield and open further. But she remained completely still.

‘Non-negotiable, Ellie.’ He pressed his thumb to her lower lip, watching her eyes darken to an intense charcoal in the dimness. ‘So get used to the idea quickly.’

Chapter Four

ELLIE didn’t move, didn’t pull away, even as a throng of raucous patrons spilled from the bar and ambled past, their voices raised in some tuneless song. The night breeze, pungent with the sting of exhaust fumes, wrapped around them. In the distance an alarm wailed. He wanted to press his momentary advantage, replace his thumb with his mouth and relive that first kiss.

He could almost smell the desire on her skin, but he didn’t push it. She stepped back, eyes flicking away, as if giving him eye contact might betray her. She scanned the row of parked cars. ‘Let me guess—yours is the champagne-tinted convertible.’

‘Sorry to disappoint—it’s the little bent and black ninety-six Ford.’ He couldn’t resist adding, ‘My Ferrari’s in Sydney.’

Her laugh was spontaneous and unexpected and she seemed as surprised as he. ‘I knew it,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘Red?’

‘Is there any other colour?’ With a light hand at her back, he steered her across the road.

Ellie practically fell onto the seat, willing her pulse to settle down while Matt rounded the car. Good Lord, just that single thumb print on her lower lip had turned her inside out. If he hadn’t stopped—oh, she did not want to think about it. He made her weak. Made her want…what she couldn’t have.

By the time he’d climbed into his seat she’d managed to halfway calm herself. She directed him to a street about a kilometre away. She spent a moment studying the car’s interior rather than the width of Matt’s more than capable hands on the steering wheel, focusing on the engine’s rough-throated purr rather than the scent of clean masculine skin.

But as they neared her apartment her breathing changed for very different reasons. And with every passing moment the band beneath her breastbone tightened.

She’d always sensed Heath’s low opinion of her previous apartment even though he’d never voiced it. As if her living conditions reflected her worth as a human being. She might have been in love with him but her self-confidence and sense of self-worth had taken a battering and never fully recovered. Compared to this dump it had been a palace.

Would Matt the squillionaire businessman judge her the same way? And why did it suddenly seem to matter if he did? ‘You can drop me off here,’ she said, ready to jump out and flee the moment they stopped.

The building she lived in was crammed between the abandoned car park of a graffiti-covered warehouse and a row of currently untenanted shops.

Matt slowed to a stop. ‘This your place?’

His tone didn’t change but her stomach clenched tighter. ‘Yes.’ She knew what he was thinking. She just knew it. She would not let it bring her down.

She reached for the doorhandle. Before she could thank him and escape, he was out of the car and rounding the bonnet.

‘No need to see me inside—I live upstairs,’ she said, climbing out. Somewhere nearby a cat yowled and the din of metal rolling down the street broke the night’s stillness.

‘How long have you lived here?’

‘A couple of months.’ She remembered him quipping about his Ferrari. ‘Would it help if I said I used to live in Toorak?’ she said, forcing humour into her voice as she mentioned one of Melbourne’s most affluent suburbs.

He didn’t return her smile. ‘Only if it helps you.’

It didn’t and her smile faded. Those days were gone. Once upon a time, before the people she loved had been erased from her life for ever, her world had been very different.

But his voice helped. Smooth and steady and even, like a still lake, soothing the rough edges around her heart. Until she looked up into his eyes and saw the storm, all dark and brooding and beautiful. Reminding her that she didn’t want to get involved. With anyone, ever again.

‘Thanks for the lift.’ She paused before adding, ‘And thanks for your assistance at the bar tonight.’

‘No worries.’ He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave.

She hesitated. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

He nodded. ‘You’re coming. Good.’

‘I didn’t get the bar job, so yes.’ She shrugged, trying for philosophical, failing miserably.

‘Because it wasn’t the right job for you.’ There was something in his eyes. Not sympathy—she didn’t want sympathy, nor did she need it. Understanding?

She stood, rooted to the spot, watching him while he jingled his car keys. What the hell would he understand about the tough non-corporate world of low finance?

‘Goodnight, Ellie.’ He touched his lips to hers. A token kiss, almost impersonal. No sexual undertones. Nothing she could call him on.

And nothing to get herself in a lather about.

Because now he’d watched her lose a job on the first night and seen where she lived, what other kind of kiss could it be?

She stepped away before she kissed him back and made it into something it wasn’t. ‘Goodnight.’

She turned abruptly and made it through the entry door and halfway along the common hallway before the door behind her opened again. She looked over her shoulder. Matt’s silhouette filled the space and a thrill of excitement shivered down her spine before she could stop it. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Damn right something’s wrong.’ He stepped inside and walked towards her, his shoes echoing on the worn concrete floor, his features growing clearer as he neared. ‘I should be ashamed of myself. Kissing you that way.’

Huh? Her mouth fell open in astonishment and she remained where she was, sure her heartbeat would wake the entire building. ‘It’s okay.’ The words trembled out. ‘I didn’t—’

‘Since when do you let a guy kiss you like that and get away with it?’ He gripped her shoulders. Walked her back until her shoulders touched the wall, eyes glittering in the dim stairwell’s light. His face was close, his hands possessive, stroking down her upper arms.

With what little strength she had left, she hugged her handbag in front of her like a shield. ‘Depends…On who’s doing the kissing.’ Oh, good Lord, had she said that aloud, and in that thin reedy voice that seemed to be coming from someone else?

His sensuous lips curved and he moved nearer. His jeans brushed against her bare legs. Hard thighs rubbed hers…and heat speared into her lower belly. Her arms slid uselessly to her sides, leaving her bag dangling from one shoulder.

‘I am,’ he murmured before his mouth descended on hers.

She could no more hold back her response than stop the sun from rising. Her lips fell open beneath his and her whole body shuddered against him. Without any idea of how they got there, her hands slid to his waist and grasped fistfuls of his shirt beneath his jacket.

His taste was as she remembered, only more. Richer, fuller, more intoxicating—

‘Excuse me, Ellie…Perhaps you could take your displays of…affection upstairs?’

Ellie jerked back, her head bouncing off the wall. ‘Um, hi. Mrs Green.’ From apartment two. And looking less than impressed that they were all but standing in front of her door. Ducking under Matt’s arm, Ellie spun away into the passage, fumbling with her slippery hold on her bag at the same time. ‘Um. Sorry.’

Matt and Ellie regarded each other without speaking until her downstairs neighbour’s door closed and they were alone again.

It gave Ellie time to gather her jumbled thoughts. She considered it a minor miracle that she was able to say, ‘It’s late and I’m tired,’ in a reasonably steady no-nonsense voice. And she meant it. Every muscle felt sapped of energy and she had no idea whether it was Matt’s fault or the bug she seemed to be coming down with.

Matt, who’d propped himself against the wall, watched her with a hint of the devil in his eyes. ‘Mrs Green’s suggestion sounds good to me.’

‘Not to me.’ Straightening, she pulled out her keys. ‘I’ve worked two jobs today. Goodnight, Matt.’ She caught a glimpse of that sexy grin before she forced herself to turn away and head for the stairs.

It was way, way harder than she wanted it to be.

Ellie was woken by a dull throbbing headache when her alarm trilled at 7:00 a.m. And when she swallowed, it was like forcing a razor blade down her throat. To her surprise, she realised she’d slept the entire night, probably because she’d been so exhausted.

So how come she felt as if she hadn’t slept a wink?

With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed and peered through her dust-spattered window at the heavy-bellied clouds just visible in the dawn sky. A dark rain shower swept across the distant suburbs, wind whistled with malice around the ill-fitting pane.

A perfect day to burrow back under her quilt and nurse her sore throat. But she didn’t have that luxury, so she grabbed a couple of painkillers at the kitchen sink before stumbling to the bathroom.

She stepped beneath the ancient showerhead, shivering as she soaped up quickly under the meagre lukewarm stream. She’d just bet Matt McGregor was still tucked up nice and warm in his bed.

And after that kiss last night…well, she might have been sharing it with him. His hot, hard body pressing her into the mattress, springy masculine hair rasping against her nipples. That deep voice, gravelly with sleep and sinful suggestions while his fingers played out those sinful suggestions over her—

‘Get those X-rated thoughts of your employer’s nephew right out of your head,’ she ordered herself, whipping the shower curtain aside, creating a shivery draught. Grabbing her towel, she rubbed briskly to get the blood flowing beneath her skin. ‘Concentrate on important matters. Like an income.’

Belle paid her generously, but she needed to supplement it with another part-time job and somehow fit both jobs in around the volunteer after-school shifts she worked at the children’s centre around the corner.

She loved kids but she’d never fall in love again, could never risk a failed marriage. Which meant no children, ever. But her maternal instincts were very much alive, and working with underprivileged children was her way of satisfying that natural urge.

Grabbing a muesli bar, she swung her gear onto her shoulder and headed out into the wintry day. The tram was crowded and stuffy with early-morning commuters, and Ellie was glad of the fresh air when she disembarked just after eight and walked the last few minutes to Belle’s place.

Remembering yesterday, she knocked on the back door to let Matt know she’d arrived. She could always hope he’d already gone to work. On the other hand she could hope she’d gotten him out of bed. To see him dishevelled and disgruntled at her early arrival. Bleary-eyed, unshaven…

‘Good morning, Ellie.’

She turned at his voice. He was none of those things.

Fully dressed in dark jeans and a soft-looking cream jumper that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, he ambled from the garage, morning newspaper and a carton of milk in hand. He’d obviously showered and shaved already; the fresh smell of sandalwood soap carried on the breeze. And his eyes were bright, alert and focused. On her.

Memories of last night’s kiss hung in the air between them. But this was a working day, a working environment, and she intended keeping it that way.

‘Good morning.’ She cleared her throat, wincing at the raw pain as she did so and trotted down the back steps with an officious, ‘I’ll be getting on with it, then.’

‘Want a coffee before you start?’

‘No, thanks. I want to make some headway before it starts to rain.’

‘What are your plans today?’

‘I have to finish digging over the plot.’ Which she should have finished yesterday, but with Matt calling the meeting and all, it had put her behind. She kept moving, walking backwards as she spoke. ‘Then it’s the fertiliser and seedlings—Belle left everything in the greenhouse. Are you going to the office?’

‘I don’t plan on it,’ he said, dashing her hopes for a day without the prospect of further interruptions. ‘I’ve a costing to finish and a computer link-up with the Sydney crew.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll come by the door when I’m done.’

When she stopped for lunch, she ate her sandwich and drank her thermos of coffee alone. Despite what she’d told Matt about being self-sufficient, Belle always invited Ellie inside to share her break.

On the last day Ellie had seen her, Belle had offered her a key to the main house, allowing her access to the bathroom and hot water. But she’d felt awkward about the whole idea and refused it. If anything happened in Belle’s absence Ellie didn’t want to be held responsible; it was bad enough that she’d given her the code to the gate.

She’d not glimpsed Matt since she’d started work this morning. Seemed he was in accord with her—business hours were just that. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed.

Her mobile rang as she was packing away her lunch box. She glanced at caller ID and answered straightaway. ‘Sasha. I tried calling you last night. Where did you get to?’

‘I called in sick. I just opened your message.’

Her friend sounded distant and Ellie felt that all-too-familiar clutch in her belly. ‘Are you okay now?’

‘Never better.’

‘So are you up to checking out that Healesville job with me sometime soon? We need to let them know—’

‘Ah, about that…’ A pause, then Sasha went into excitement mode with, ‘I met this great guy at a club last night. Anyway…’ she went on when Ellie didn’t reply, ‘I’ve got the chance to work onboard a cruise ship leaving Sydney in a week’s time.’

Disappointment ripped through Ellie. ‘I thought you said you were sick last night?’

‘Everyone chucks a sickie now and then, right?’

No. Not when it mattered they didn’t. ‘I was counting on you to show me the ropes at the bar last night.’

‘Oh. Sorry. Did you get the job, by the way?’

‘Let’s just say I’m not cut out for that sort of waitressing. Which is why this Healesville job is important to me.’ She closed her eyes, surrendered to the inevitable. ‘Sasha, obviously your heart’s not in this, so take the cruise job and forget Healesville.’ Forget everything.

The bed-and-breakfast place out of Melbourne was offering a four-week stint to landscape their garden, and Ellie had persuaded Sasha to come along. Ellie had explained that she didn’t want to let Belle down while she was away and had promised to get back to them by the end of next week. She intended winning the job, with or without Sasha.

‘Hey, you there, Ellie?’

‘I’m here.’

‘So…I’ll call you when I get back and maybe we can—’

‘There’s no point, Sasha, it’s just not practical. Good luck with everything. Goodbye.’ And have a nice life. She stabbed the disconnect button.

She’d thought they were friends. But true friends didn’t let each other down. When was she going to learn? Ellie had some kind of in-built radar that sent people running in the opposite direction.

Remember that when you think about Matt McGregor.

As befitting her mood, ten minutes later it started to spit—a cold, ugly, misty spit. Ellie pulled on her thin plastic poncho and continued digging. She would not quit on account of rain. Unlike Sasha, she’d prove herself reliable and responsible and accountable if it killed her.

Matt pulled himself mentally and physically out of his work. He glanced at his watch, surprised to find he’d worked through the lunch break he’d set himself. He’d intended talking Ellie into sharing a coffee. Stretching fingers cramped from working the keyboard, he wrapped them around his neck and glanced at the window. Rain spattered the glass.

He walked to the kitchen window and saw her. Mud splattered her overalls up to her knees. She was measuring and pouring pellets into her hand, sprinkling them over the earth, then moving on to repeat the procedure. The misty rain speckled the flimsy plastic she’d pulled on but the cap had blown off, leaving dark honey locks damp and curling over her head.

His gaze narrowed. Yesterday he’d raised the question of her responsibility. After all, it was she who’d labelled herself irresponsible. Was she now trying to prove a point? Responsible was all well and good, but there wasn’t much point to it if the woman came down with pneumonia.

He stalked to the back door, grabbing an umbrella from the coat stand on the way. Rain spattered his soft leather shoes. It wasn’t heavy but constant, and obviously had been for some time. But the wind was fierce—it snuck under the umbrella, threatening to turn it inside out.

She was facing away from him and didn’t hear his approach. Or was she choosing not to?

‘Why the hell are you still out here in this weather?’ He reached for her shoulder to swing her around but she squealed and jerked and he lost his footing in the slimy mud her digging had created. The umbrella was forgotten as he fought the inevitable and ignominious slide to the ground, taking her with him.

At the last second he managed to twist them both so that she landed on top of him in a blur of limbs and bad language. While he was still trying to catch his breath, he stared up at the rain-spattered sky, contemplating this example of life’s little jokes. Cold muddy moisture seeped through the back of his jumper, a striking contrast to the warm wet body plastered against his chest.

When she didn’t move, he raised his head and wheezed, ‘You all right?’

‘Oh, yeah, never better,’ she snapped. Apparently unconcerned that he might be on his last breath, her only movement was to disentangle her legs from his and tug on the strap of her overalls.

He would have laughed at the situation but what air was left in his lungs exploded out of him as her elbow jabbed him in the solar plexus.

‘Sorry.’ She twisted some more, the sound of plastic crinkling as she continued struggling to free herself. He didn’t try to help. Giving up the attempt for the moment, she glared down at him. ‘What were you thinking?’

Rain-spiked lashes blinked at him over those gorgeous lilac-coloured eyes. When he could breathe again, he smelled summer raspberries and her own brand of hot feminine scent. The scent a woman exudes after a healthy bout of exercise. Or sex. He took this unique opportunity to draw it in slowly.

What had she said? Something about thinking…‘I wasn’t.’ If he’d been thinking he’d have engineered this scenario somewhere dry—on Belle’s Persian rug in front of a roaring fire, for instance. Minus the wet clothing.

‘I was reacting,’ he continued, ‘to your hare-brained idea of working outdoors in these conditions.’

‘It’s where most gardening’s done.’ She rolled a shoulder, the movement shifting her breasts against his stomach. He wasn’t sure, but he imagined he could feel two stiff nipples jutting just above his navel.

A spear of heat shot through his body, angling straight to his groin. Doing his damnedest to ignore it, he stared up at the sky again and continued with, ‘So is this your attempt to prove you’re responsible or stubborn or both?’

Her hips chafed against his as she dragged a trapped hand from between their bodies to push at her crinkled hair. ‘What’s a little rain, for heaven’s sakes?’

His gaze shifted to her face. To her eyes, irises dark with some unnamed emotion she refused to admit to. Her mouth, damp with rain and a tempting whisper from his own. He could kiss her now, drink in the freshness of raindrops and Ellie. ‘For one thing, it’s wet. And damn cold.’

She stared back at him, shook her head. ‘You indoor career types are too soft.’

He didn’t feel soft. And if she didn’t quit squirming against him like that she was going to find that out for herself.

And bingo: She went completely still, and when he looked, her eyes had widened. He watched the colour intensify, her cheeks turn a shade pinker before she scrambled up on her knees and pushed away. Up. Pieces of her now-shredded plastic poncho flapped like flags in the wind.

‘Stubborn, then,’ he muttered. He pushed up too, his jumper peeling away from the mud with a slimy sound. An instant chill cloaked his body. ‘We’d better get out of these wet clothes.’

Without looking at him she picked up her trowel. ‘You go ahead, I need to clean up here first.’

‘Leave it, I’ll come out later and tidy up.’

‘My job, I’ll do it.’

‘Fine. Catch pneumonia.’

Without looking at him, she stacked everything in the barrow, including the mangled umbrella, with infuriating slowness, then wheeled it to the garden shed. So be it. He could be as ridiculously stubborn about this as she.

He waited until she locked up, put the key in its hidey-hole, then took her sweet time walking back with her pack on her shoulder. Even from metres away he could see she was shivering, that now the blush had faded, her cheeks were pale and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

He met her halfway across the lawn. He didn’t think about whether she’d object, just took her chilled wet hand in his. ‘Come on.’ He hustled her up the path to the verandah, pulling away the plastic remains of her poncho as they shuffled under shelter and into the laundry. ‘A hot shower will warm you up. Or a bath. Whichever you prefer.’

‘No. I’ll be all right.’

‘Ellie.’ Concerned now, he shot her a stern look. ‘You’re wet through. You’re going to take that shower if I have to put you under it myself.’ He peeled off his sodden jumper, tossed it on the floor.

Her gaze slid like a hot silk glove down his chest. He was about to make a joke of it all, but something warned him she wouldn’t see the humour right now. She gulped, then lifted panicked eyes to his. ‘I’m all muddy.’