Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta. Kathryn Ross
Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta
despite his unwillingness to open up, he also had a nurturing, caring side no other male had ever shown her. In fact, he could be downright chivalrous, and that was so…attractive. Seductive. Alluring as it was alarming.
Which meant she needed to be on her guard at all times.
His voice carried through the open doorway. She heard the name of a five-star hotel mentioned. And then the lobby at 8:00 p.m. He’d be a little later than they’d arranged. Unavoidably detained…Looking forward to catching up…
Was his tone an indication that he was talking to a woman or did he speak to everyone in that deep velvet voice? She didn’t know him well enough to tell…was this just Ellie being slightly paranoid Ellie?
‘Matthew’s always been a bit of a playboy…’
Something hard and heavy lobbed dead centre in her chest. She jabbed the point of her knife into her half-eaten steak, hacked off a piece, jammed it in her mouth. Why the hell did it matter who he met? She chewed vigorously. Or what he did with whomever it was tonight? At 8:00 p.m. In one of the best hotels in the city.
She tried to swallow but the food lodged behind the knot which had formed in her throat over the past couple of minutes.
‘Meat not to your liking?’ Matt took his seat once more and resumed eating.
‘It’s…very nice,’ she managed and swallowed carefully. ‘Just a bit of a sore throat.’ She reached for her juice to wash it down. ‘I need an early night. In fact…’ She made a show of glancing at her watch, didn’t note the time. ‘I’ll get going. There’s a tram due in ten minutes. I’ll collect my other clothes later.’
‘I’ll drop you home.’
‘Not necessary, I’ve an umbrella in my bag.’ And you have a date.
‘I insist. I have to go out in any case—I’ll drop you off on the way. Just give me a moment.’
She accepted because she really didn’t feel one hundred percent and it was easier than arguing. But she almost changed her mind when he reappeared in dark trousers and a smart charcoal jacket that looked as if it had been tailored exclusively for him. A few wisps of masculine hair were visible at the open neck of his shirt.
He’d splashed on that cologne she’d smelled the other night. Something free and fresh and foresty that reminded her of secret midnight trysts.
She thought about that—and him—when she climbed into her narrow bed after he’d dropped her outside her apartment building a short time later. And reminded herself that permanent playboys were not for her.
Matt rolled over, peered at the digital readout on his clock and swore. Seven-thirty.
He dragged a hand over his face. He felt as if he hadn’t caught more than ten minutes’ shut-eye at any one time. Erotic dreams had plagued him from the moment his head had hit the pillow. The kind of dreams he’d not experienced since puberty.
Ellie was entirely to blame.
Pushing the quilt down to cool his overheated body, he stared at the ceiling’s blank canvas, hoping to rid himself of the images still dancing behind his eyes.
No such luck. It didn’t make a scrap of difference that he’d chatted up a tall well-constructed New York advertising executive after his meeting with Cole. Lysandra. Lissendra? He’d bought her a cocktail and they’d discussed…Global warming. A couple of cocktails on, she’d had a few interesting suggestions to help cure his insomnia. And he’d come close to letting her try.
Until a vision of Ellie Rose wearing nothing but that towel had sauntered into his mind like a siren from days gone by…He sat up in bed, scratched his morning stubble. Damn it.
Since when had he turned down a woman like Lissandra whose requirements ticked all the right boxes? Why would he pass up an opportunity like that for a girl who didn’t want to get involved, despite her eyes and the way she kissed telling him otherwise? A girl nothing like the women he dated.
And that girl would be turning up at any moment, if she wasn’t here already. Easing off the bed, he padded down the passage and into a spare bedroom for a view of the backyard. Low on the horizon, the early morning’s thin lemon sunlight was sliding obliquely between the clouds, glistening wetly on the lawn. He scanned the boggy patch where Ellie had been working yesterday. The garden shed. The back porch.
No sign of her.
She’d be here, he told himself; she wanted the job. Still, he felt oddly disappointed she hadn’t arrived yet. He wanted to see that glimpse of sunshine turn her hair to old gold and watch the jaunty, carefree way she had of moving.
He folded his arms across his chest as chilly air prickled his skin. Yeah, right. Watching her while he stood here naked. Scowling, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Lucky for you, you’re not here yet, Ellie Rose.
Meanwhile he needed a cold shower and he needed it fast.
While he shivered and soaped up under the spray, he made a decision. This thing between them needed serious attention. Tonight. Get it out of their systems—two rational, consenting adults—then they could move on.
He turned off the taps, reached for his towel. Satisfied with his plan, he lathered on shaving cream and reached for his razor.
He checked his emails over fruit and toast. Coffee in hand, he made a follow-up call to last night’s meeting with Cole. Then he phoned the office to inform Joanie he’d be in before ten and took the next little while to look over a new project.
When Ellie still hadn’t turned up by nine o’clock he grew annoyed. He paced to the window. The devil of it was, he had no good reason to be so ticked off. Ellie kept her own timetable and Belle hadn’t expected him to wait around. But he was here now, and in Belle’s absence he felt he was entitled to know Ellie’s plans for today. Keep an eye on things. Keep his finger on the pulse.
He swung away. No, not Ellie’s pulse. Although if she didn’t get here soon he might have to throttle her.
He was a busy man. He didn’t have time to…He checked his watch. Nearly nine-fifteen…Didn’t have time to waste.
At ten o’clock he rang Joanie to tell her he’d been detained, that he’d phone again when he was on his way.
Responsibility. They’d talked about it. Ellie had worked two days and been on time. Perhaps that was her limit. He tapped in her phone number. Swore when her phone was switched off. She had no answering service so he couldn’t leave a voice message.
He paced to the window, glared at the front gate. When she arrived he’d tell her his expectations: While he was here, he preferred—wanted—her to keep regular hours…Damn, why wait until she’d arrived? He’d go inform her himself. That way he could drive her here if she was running late.
A short time later he parked and stared up at her sorry-looking apartment building. Daylight showed the dull facade in all its unspectacular glory. Grey peeling paintwork. Dusty windows.
He climbed out of his car and walked to the door. In this instance he was relieved it wasn’t a coded entry—except that anyone could walk in off the street. He took the stairs two at a time and followed a dingy passage until he found apartment number four, then knocked on the door.
No answer. Impatience snapped at him; he barely waited before knocking again, louder, longer. ‘Ellie, are you in there?’
A scruffy-looking sort in a grey hooded jacket with straggly blond hair and teenage fuzz above his upper lip exited an apartment down the hall. Mid- to late teens, Matt figured. The odour of sweat and dirty sneakers preceded the guy as he approached.
Matt’s nostrils flared in distaste. But Ellie had no choice; she couldn’t afford anything better. Matt understood that all too well.
‘She ain’t left yet,’ Scruffy said as he passed Matt.