When He Was Bad... (9 page)

D
ARKNESS
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.'

S
TAYING
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.'

Still, perching herself behind him—

‘Closer,' he ordered, voice muffled through the helmet as she wiggled into place. ‘Don't be shy.'

Easy for you to say
,
your private parts aren't touching mine
. She did as he requested, scooting close. His body heat
warmed her inner thighs through the double layer of denim, her hands slid around his waist and over the soft leather.

At first the ride jerked and twisted as they crossed the suburbs, stopping for traffic lights and accelerating away at what felt like breathtaking speed but probably wasn't. But once they hit open road she relaxed, leaning into his sheltering body, revelling in the way the chill wind snuck under her visor and skimmed over her knees.

The cold was exhilarating, invigorating and a stunning contrast to his warmth all down the front of her body. The monotonous hum of the powerful machine vibrated through her bones, soothing her into a soporific state of well-being.

They stopped briefly near Geelong for hot coffee and cruised down Lorne's main street soon after midnight. A moment later Matt extended one arm to the view at the top of a crest in the road where she saw white foam curling and crashing over worn rocks along the shoreline.

A short distance from the township Matt turned off the main road and followed a track through tall skinny eucalypts, coming to a stop in front of a sprawling dwelling cleverly camouflaged to blend with its surroundings. He parked beneath a wide verandah, switched off the ignition.

Ellie climbed off, removed her helmet. Salty air heavy with the fragrance of eucalyptus swept through her hair and filled her nostrils. After the noisy journey the sudden silence rang with the sounds of the bush. An animal scuttled through the undergrowth, the soft clack of higher branches as the wind buffeted treetops, all against the background sound of distant surf. A gibbous moon spangled the leaves with silver.

‘Here we are. Home sweet home.'

He produced a key and unlocked the front door, flipped a switch, illuminating dozens of downlights, giving the room a mellow ambience as she followed him in.

It had to be the most unique home she'd ever seen, all odd
angles and glass and slabs of colour that blended with the natural environment outside. A ceiling that soared and dipped, invoking a feeling of space and movement. ‘No walls.'

‘Don't need them.'

Her brows rose in surprise. ‘Not even the bathroom?'

He grinned. ‘The exception. Through here.'

Huge. With a spa big enough to need its own lifeguard, double shower, double vanity. It was another fantasy of glass, but private at the same time, and looked out onto a roomy columned courtyard of lush native flora accessed only through the bathroom.

‘Cyathea australis.'

‘If you say so.' Matt grinned. ‘I prefer to call them tree ferns. It's easier to say.'

‘You designed all this?' she said, following him to the living space.

He nodded, removing his jacket, tossing it over a wide leather couch. ‘It's flexible in that I can add modules to extend living space as required. This suits me fine as it is for now.'

Ellie stared at the expensive fittings, the flow of honeyed wooden flooring. ‘Not bad for a weekender.'

‘Not a weekender,' he said. ‘It's my home. I want you to see the view of the bay from upstairs.' He led her up a shallow flight of floating steps to the mezzanine level. Her feet made no sound as she crossed the thick carpet. The huge irregular hexagonal window framed a spectacular view of Louttit Bay filmed with moon glow. Lorne's lights twinkled through the trees. Possums partied on the roof, their bush sounds the only noise in the room's silence.

‘Now isn't that a sight for inspiration?' He was standing close behind her, his voice rumbling softly at her ear.

‘Oh, yeah.' His warmth spread across her back like a blanket. She placed a hand against the glass. So many contrasts. Heat and cold, the dark rise of the land against the moon-
drenched water. Man-made in harmony with nature. And the man who'd built it all slid his hands loosely around her waist. Strength and tenderness. She didn't need protecting, but it was there in the way he shielded her with his body.

His hands now on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. ‘Ellie.' Her name had never sounded as beautiful as it did coming from his lips. And the sight of this gorgeous man before her was more inspiring than any view behind.

And more terrifying.

She'd sworn never again to allow a man to seduce her and here she was. Yet staring up at him she sensed no intended seduction as such. Just a burning desire. One he'd carefully banked. One she shared.

She didn't need a man, yet in this moment, with the starlight reflecting in his eyes and the cool night radiating through the glass at her back, she wanted
this
man.

Neither did she need his support—unless it was the kind of support which would keep her upright on legs that were weakening with every beat of her pulse.

His hands slid over her shoulders, her arms, then inside her jacket, palms brushing the sides of her breasts, every fingertip sending sparks of excitement shooting to her feminine places.

What she needed… She
needed
his hands on more of her. On all of her. Her own hands trembled as they followed the hard contours of his chest through the soft jersey of his T-shirt. Up…until she felt his heart thud fast and heavy beneath her palm.

The fragrance of the cold night's ride clung to his clothes, his skin. Leaning up on tiptoe, she breathed him in, right in the little hollow at the base of his neck. Dizzy with his scent, his proximity, she dropped her head on his chest.

Her whole body throbbed with heavy anticipation, yet she felt as light as air, as if the slightest puff would blow her away.
Had she ever felt this way? She might have thought so once, but she couldn't have—she'd have remembered something this intense.

Cupping her face in both hands, he tilted it towards him, and what a view she was treated to. A strong jaw etched in the moon's silver glow, hair backlit with gold from the light filtering up from downstairs, lips that no artist could do justice to, eyes as dark as midnight. Eyes that could make a girl forget how to breathe, let alone her well-rehearsed lessons in self-preservation.

He whisked a thumb over her lips, just once. ‘What do you want, Ellie?'

Be careful what you wish for
. The little warning voice she'd learned to listen to and followed religiously dulled to a whisper, then faded completely.

One night. Her choice. Her decision.

Stepping out of his arms, she shrugged out of her jacket, let it fall to the floor. ‘You. Here. Now.'

If it were possible, his eyes darkened further, but he didn't move except to let his arms drop to his sides. ‘Are you sure? Because I don't know if I can stop if—'

‘Yes, I'm sure,' she snapped out, unbuttoning her cardigan. She had no illusions about Matt where relationships were concerned, but now she'd made her decision she wanted to get on with it. ‘One night.' She lifted her chin, every cell in her body jangling. ‘That's the way you play the game, isn't it? One night at a time?'

He hesitated, the acknowledgement written on his face as he rocked back on his heels. ‘But I'm not sure it's the way you do.'

No, it wasn't, but the other way hadn't worked for her in the past so perhaps it was time she tried something different. Knowing it all up-front meant no expectations, no disappointments and, most important of all, no broken heart. Without
breaking eye contact she slipped off her cardigan. ‘Wasn't it you who suggested the other day that we do something about this…tension between us? Get it out of the way?'

‘Yes, but after what happened, you might—'

‘I'm calling you on it now. I want to forget this afternoon.' Still watching him, she toed off her sneakers, peeled off her socks. Her toes curled into the warm carpet. ‘I feel like I'm about to explode. I still have all this pent-up angry energy I need to get rid—'

Matt cut her off with a hard-mouthed kiss that echoed the wildness he sensed within her, barely glimpsing her surprised eyes as he dragged her against him and answered her request.

She didn't miss a beat, meeting him with the same force, the same heat, the same passion. Her hands shot upward, clutching fistfuls of his T-shirt, lush lips parting beneath his, tongues touching, tangling, thrusting in a tantalising prelude to what he wanted to do with her. To her. In her.

The hot potent flavour of her residual anger flowed over his tastebuds like dark chilli chocolate as he searched out all the hidden recesses in her mouth while his hands explored the firm flesh beneath her skinny T-shirt. Curves he'd not expected, dips he'd never seen, made all the more enticing by his long-endured anticipation—a neat little bellybutton, the indentation he discovered at the base of her spine when he slid a hand below the waistband of her jeans.

Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head, watched the same anticipation colour her eyes that deep dark amethyst he found so fascinating. Skimming his palms up her sides and taking her T-shirt along the way, he dragged it off, tossed it over his shoulder, leaving only her locket winking erotically above her cleavage.

A glimpse of white lace bra before he yanked it down to her waist so he could bury his face in the smooth fragrant
valley between her luscious breasts, cupping their weight, then massaging them so that her nipples beaded tightly against the centre of his palms.

Her low keening moan triggered a thousand impatient needs, a thousand desperate desires. Dazed and driven by his own impatience to get naked right along with her, he dragged his T-shirt over his head. ‘Jeans off, now.'

He watched her shimmy out of her jeans and a pair of cute white knickers with hearts on while he discarded his boots, then shoved down his own.

Like a man dying of starvation, his eyes devoured her body, shimmering in the room's soft glow. Shadows and light. Exquisite. Perfection.

Where have you been all my life?

The question hovered on the edge of his mind, unsettling him momentarily. He dragged his gaze back to her face, reminding himself she was here now, his to enjoy, his to pleasure. Reminding himself that he didn't measure his relationships by time, but by mutual satisfaction and respect.

So why did he hesitate to touch? Why did his hand shake when he reached out to trace a line down her body, from cheek to collarbone and over her left breast where he stopped to feel her heart thud in time with his?

Her eyes were taking their own erotic journey—he could almost feel the caress—a hot silk glove stroking his erection to almost unbearable hardness.

‘Don't stop now,' she demanded.

He looked down at himself, choked out a half-laugh, then met her eyes once more. ‘Do I look like I want to stop?'

‘No…' Her eyes sparked with arousal.

His eyes remained on hers as he reached for her hands, drew her against him. And in that first glorious instant when her body melted against his, warm and willing and all woman, his toes curled off the carpet and he shuddered to the soles of
his feet. When she gasped and plucked at his shoulders, he answered with a groan that seemed to come from the depths of his being.