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‘For heaven’s sakes, Yaz, give it a rest.’
As always, undeterred by his scowl, Yasmine swung one long leg while she twirled her fingers through a container of paperclips. ‘Are you bringing her to the staff do?’
‘Staff do?’
‘Have you forgotten? You approved the idea. Twenty-first of June—next Monday night for those who forget to look at the calendar. Formal or fancy dress or Celtic, yet to be decided. A money raiser. Charity to be determined by the boss.’ She tapped his chest. ‘That would be you.’
He grunted. Someone had come up with the idea in February for a winter solstice celebration as a morale booster, he remembered, but he’d been working in Sydney for most of this year and it had slipped his mind.
‘So are you going to bring her?’ she asked again.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Because…? He preferred the idea of something more intimate for their first date, not a roomful of colleagues garnering Ellie’s attention. When he and Ellie got together—and they would—he didn’t want an audience. ‘We’re not involved.’
‘Yeah, I noticed,’ Yasmine said dryly. ‘Bring her anyway. Make Belle happy.’
It would be a way to keep his word to Belle that he was looking out for Ellie. ‘We’ll see,’ he muttered, more to shut Yasmine up than any promise on his part. But for now…He clicked open a folder on his computer. ‘Moving on to more important matters,’ he said, ignoring Yasmine’s grin. ‘Bring me up to speed on the Dalton project.’
‘Six beers, two tequilas, one rum and Coke,’ Ellie recited to herself, sliding the requested drinks order onto her tray. She started towards the table of rowdy guys, wishing her black skirt was a few centimetres longer.
The atmosphere inside the club oozed sweat, cheap aftershave and testosterone. A lone pole-dancer was doing her thing to bad music over a poor sound system. According to Ellie’s fellow waitress, Tuesday night wasn’t usually busy, but an entire football team had turned up after training and were jostling for viewing space.
Her throat felt scratchy with the constant strain of having to raise her voice over the noise. They were one staff member short. Sasha, who’d arranged the shift for Ellie and was supposed to be here to help her through the first night, hadn’t turned up. Ellie suppressed her annoyance. Perhaps Sasha was sick, but she should have phoned.
Well, she was doing just fine tonight without her help, thank you very much. Only a few more hours with Sleazy in the cheap business suit mentally undressing her from his corner table and she was out of here.
She offloaded the beers, carried the rum and Coke to Sleazy’s table.
‘How about a nightcap when you finish up here?’ he asked her breasts as she set the glass down.
‘No, thanks.’ Booze had made him more obnoxious than he’d been an hour earlier.
‘Come on, babe. We’d make a good team, you and me.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She turned to leave but he grasped her wrist. She wrenched her arm away, toppling his drink. Liquid splashed the table, sloshing over the edge and onto his shiny polyester trousers.
‘Everything okay, here, Ellie?’ A familiar deep voice behind her.
She darted a look over her shoulder, glimpsed Matt and groaned inwardly. With relief, with embarrassment. ‘How long have you been here?’ And how come she hadn’t seen him arrive?
‘Long enough.’ Then to Sleazy, he leaned low and murmured, ‘I suggest you leave while you still can.’
Sleazy glared at Ellie a moment as if deciding to make something of it, then rose. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he muttered, swiping at the damp patch on his leg. He didn’t give eye contact to Matt, she noted, but he sent Ellie a final glare, then pushed his way towards the bar.
‘You okay?’ She felt Matt’s hand at her back but shrugged it off before she did something stupid—like arch against it and purr. ‘I’m fine. Please let me get on with my job.’
He stepped back. ‘Fine. Get on with it.’
His clipped reply reminded her that she’d been prickly and ungrateful—a survival mechanism, but rude nonetheless—so she followed up with, ‘Would you like a drink? On the house.’
He nodded. ‘Mineral water. Thanks.’
She watched him return to an empty table on the far side of the room, away from the tables she was serving, and flick open a folder he’d left there. His dark eyes met hers again, sending ripples of awareness down her spine.
Smoothing her skirt, she headed to the bar to place his order and paid for it herself. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had bothered to come to her rescue. Even if she hadn’t needed it. She reminded herself she didn’t need anyone, particularly Matt McGregor, stamping all over her independence.
So when she came by with his drink a few moments later, she couldn’t help herself. ‘There are much better strip clubs in town, as I’m sure you—’
‘Yes. I know.’ He studied her a moment, an almost-grin lurking around his mouth. Then picked up his glass, raised it to her, took a long slow swallow. ‘But the evening’s young yet.’
Something hot quivered low in her belly, prompting her to say, ‘Unless the stripper’s a personal friend of yours?’ She saw his eyes narrow and leaned towards him a fraction. ‘You’re checking up on me,’ she accused. ‘Did you think I was lying to you this morning?’
‘Would you lie to me, Ellie?’ His gaze slid to her lips. ‘About how you feel, for instance?’
Her pulse jumped up a notch and she took a swift step back. Away from the incredible aura he seemed to exude. ‘Why would I?’
‘Only you can answer that.’ Still watching her, he took another swallow from his glass.
‘Listen, I don’t need a minder—’
‘Belle’s idea.’
She huffed an impatient breath. ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean for you to intrude on my private life.’
‘I have a moral obligation since I don’t consider this a safe working environment. And hasn’t that been proven justified?’
She looked away, only to catch the disapproving eye of the bar manager. So it seemed it was okay to be sexually harassed and threatened but chatting with the customers was frowned upon. ‘I need to get back to work.’
He set his glass down, flicked an eye over his folder, then drew out his phone. ‘And I need to make a call.’
She knew Matt was there, was conscious of his eyes following her for the next couple of hours, even though whenever she glanced his way he had his nose buried in his folder or was speaking into his mobile phone. At one point he was smiling while he talked and she just knew he wasn’t talking business—unless it was funny business. And that, she told herself, was none of her business.
It was sometime after midnight when the manager paid her at the end of her shift and told her that her services were not required. He told her there’d been a complaint, that she’d come on to a customer, then deliberately spilled his drink when he’d knocked her invitation back. So the manager had docked her the cost of the drink for the damage that the customer had caused.
Resentment spiked through her bloodstream. ‘That’s not how it was and you know it.’ Giving him the best evil eye she could manage, she stuffed what was left of her night’s pay into her bag, buttoned her coat with quick jerky movements. ‘You can take your lousy job and stick it in a very dark place,’ she snapped out on her way to the nearest exit.
Ellie was accustomed to people expecting her to be an easy walkover. Usually she fought back. She could have argued her case; she was the injured party here. Tonight, as she manoeuvred her way through testosterone city, all she wanted to do was get out of this pit and lay her throbbing head on a pillow and sleep for a week. Was she coming down with a bug?
She shook it away. Not going to happen. She had to rise and shine early tomorrow. At this point she really, really needed Belle’s part-time job. And now it came with an additional problem…Speaking of which, did she say goodbye to Matt or what? Would he think she was angling for a lift home? Or more? She glanced to where he’d been sitting moments earlier but he’d left. Without a word.
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 (#ulink_42144449-6db5-5fac-b431-f6c031dd883a)
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?
