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

A photo album caught Ellie’s eye. On the front was a black-and-white image of a teenage Belle. Ellie recognised the shape of her face, the wide eyes and broad cheekbones. But the hair was a surprise—pulled back in a curly ponytail, not unlike her own unruly locks. She was dressed in a full-skirted gingham-checked dress cinched at the waist with a wide belt and wore a heart-shaped locket around her neck.

Ellie’s fingers tangled in the slim chain of her own locket which had belonged to her mother. A tingle danced over her nape, as if someone had stroked a finger down her spine.

Shaking the sensation away, she set the album back in place. But for just a heartbeat or two she’d been mesmerised by the image and a strange feeling that she was missing a piece of a puzzle.

Chapter Seven (#ulink_d7ae89c4-a4ed-5a4f-afe3-ba68f704977d)

A SHORT time later she was halfway up the stepladder when Matt appeared to inform her he was leaving. He wore a white shirt, silver-grey silk tie, dark trousers and a chocolate-brown suede jacket. Smelling fresh and masculine and entirely too sexy to be heading out to anything remotely concerned with business.

But then…he hadn’t mentioned business, had he? Only that he had a luncheon appointment. Which was open to all manner of interpretation.

Something slithered through Ellie’s belly and coiled tight around the top of her already stuffy chest, making it hard to breathe. Something that felt horribly, unimaginably like…possessiveness. Her fingers tightened on her little bucket of water, her other hand clutched the top rung of the ladder. No. It was not that. No way.

She saw his brows pull down. ‘Are you okay?’

And before she could blink he’d crossed the room and was beside her, his face too close, his hands reaching for her shoulders. With Ellie on the ladder, they were the same height. His eyes almost lined up with hers. His mouth was…too close.

‘You startled me, damn you.’ Damn his luncheon date. And damn her dumb reaction. She jerked away from his touch.

A few drops of water splashed out of the bucket and onto his shirt.

‘Ah…’

‘Yes, ah.’ He took the bucket from her nerveless fingers, set it down out of harm’s way, then straightened to face her.

Biting her lip, she stared at the damp splotch, but then her traitorous gaze shifted to the dark hairs barely visible beneath the fine textured fabric. To his neck, and the pinpricks of newly shaved stubble. His Adam’s apple.

She sucked in a breath, bringing the scent of his aftershave with it, and she forgot all about luncheon dates and being snippy.

She was too busy being turned on.

An image of her loosening his tie, slipping his buttons undone and spreading his shirt open, sliding her hands between fabric and olive skin danced behind her eyes. Setting her mouth to that masculine throat…

Swallowing hard, she dragged her eyes away…and up…to meet a pair of dark assessing eyes. ‘Sorry—’ she lifted one finger of her free hand ‘—about the shirt.’

He leaned nearer. She could see flecks of hazel in his dark irises. A tiny bald patch in his left eyebrow.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ His breath whispered against her mouth, a current of energy arcing between them.

‘Um, I have a dry cloth somewhere…’ She didn’t try to find it. Sparks. She was sure there must be sparks.

‘Won’t help.’ He slid his free hand over her shoulder, traced a line over her shoulderblade. Used the move to draw her closer. She could feel his masculine heat and strength radiating off him. ‘Ellie?’

Her legs threatened to give way. They weren’t even touching but his lips were heating hers, making the blood rush to her cheeks, sending those sparks sizzling through her blood. ‘Yes?’

‘Kiss me.’

Her breath stalled in her throat. ‘What?’

His deep chuckle vibrated along her bones. ‘You know how it goes. You put your lips on mine and I…reciprocate.’

‘I’m working. And it’s business hours.’ But, oh, the temptation. It tingled on her lips, her tongue. Tap-danced over her skin and twisted through her limbs.

‘I won’t tell the boss.’ He leaned in, lips puckered. ‘Your call, Ellie. You’re in the driver’s seat with this one.’

She huffed, ‘Fine, then, if it’ll get you to leave quicker,’ and leaned in to meet him.

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.