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
And just like that, Matt had Brandon eating out of his hand.
Ellie watched them scour the seemingly lifeless asphalted area a few moments later. Watched their heads bent close together as they studied something in the weeds along the perimeter. Who’d have thought the man would have a way with kids? Yet she knew nothing of his past or how he’d come to live with Belle, except that the memories still haunted him.
A short time later she saw the pair of them sitting on a log seat away from the rest of the kids. This time Brandon was doing the talking, Matt was listening. Nodding. Sharing. And Ellie’s heart rolled over like a giant tumbleweed in her chest.
‘…And we want to extend the rear of the building into a music-cum-dance-cum-drama room,’ Ellie said as they exited the centre and walked towards Matt’s car. She’d given him a tour of the place and told him all about the grand albeit pie-in-the-sky plans they had. ‘And if we had the finances we’d employ artists and musicians and offer a breakfast program. These kids need all that and more.’
‘You’re really passionate about it, aren’t you?’
A warm feeling that he understood burrowed through her. ‘You’d better believe it. Thanks for your help with Brandon. He’s a tough little nut to crack.’
Matt pulled out his car key, pressed the remote. ‘Next time I come, I’ll bring my microscope.’
She stared at him over the top of the car. ‘You’d come again?’
‘Sure.’ He grinned at her. ‘Why should you get to have all the fun?’
Ellie nearly melted right there. He liked kids. Oh, dear. She was a goner.
DARKNESS 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