Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.
should step back, give her privacy, but his eyes refused to look away. His feet held fast and his hand tightened around the edge of the door.
He wanted to cross the room, brush his hand over her hair and enjoy its texture. To skim her cheek, lay his lips on hers and reacquaint himself with her taste.
He imagined her waking to his touch. Amethyst eyes blinking up at him, turning dark as he slid his palms between flannel and warm skin. Then he’d soothe that innate caution she seemed to have with soft words, softer kisses. His fingers itched and his mouth watered.
He dragged his gaze away from the bed to the darkened window while his thoughts drifted back to yesterday. She wasn’t as carefree and irresponsible as she’d initially have had him believe. And perhaps she wasn’t the type of woman he could easily walk away from without it playing on his conscience.
He’d need to make it clear that there was no chance of anything serious developing between them. He didn’t do long-term. He’d been unable to give Angela the happy-ever-after marriage and children because long-term commitment didn’t work—he’d been witness to that too many times to count. He knew Belle’s heart had been broken when the man she’d loved had walked away, even though she’d never discussed the details.
And the innocent kids when two people decided they’d had enough—where the hell did that leave them? Ellie’s father. His own mother. He didn’t want to hurt Ellie the same way.
Didn’t mean he wanted her in his bed any less. As soon as she’d recovered, he told himself.
The following morning Matt stood at the kitchen window watching the rain while he scooped up cereal, racking his brains for a reason other than gardening to keep Ellie here for the day. Assuming she was well enough. Hoping she was recovered because having her sleep so near that he could practically hear her breathing was playing havoc with his libido.
Ellie appeared in the doorway, already showered and dressed in her tracksuit. Her complexion was pale, her nose still red, but other than that, she looked…like Ellie.
He couldn’t believe the way her presence lifted the kitchen’s ambience. And his mood. ‘Good morning.’ He hefted the coffeepot. ‘You’d be feeling like a coffee, I imagine?’
‘Hi. Yes. Please.’ She walked a few steps, hesitated. ‘I didn’t mean to sleep all night. Sorry if I inconvenienced you in any way. I intended going home.’
‘I hardly knew you were here.’ Yeah, right. He’d not been able to think of anything else. For most of the night he’d been uncomfortably awake and aware that she’d been a few quick steps down the hall. He set a mug of coffee on the kitchen table. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’
‘Much better, thanks.’
‘I’ll let you know now, I don’t expect you to work in the rain.’
‘Oh. Good.’ She picked up the mug but remained standing. ‘So, I…’
‘So, I…’
Both spoke at the same time. She raised her mug at him. ‘Yes?’
‘I was going to say if you’d like to work today and you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got an indoor job for you.’
‘Oh?’ Relief crossed her expression. ‘Great. I could do with the extra money.’
‘The downstairs windows could do with a wash. I’m sure Belle would appreciate it.’
She smiled. ‘Just show me where the gear is, point me in the right direction and I’ll get started.’
‘No rush. Finish your coffee while I make you some breakfast.’
‘You don’t have to go to all that trouble, the caffeine hit’s fine.’
‘Belle would skin me alive if I forced you to work on an empty stomach. How does scrambled egg sound?’
‘Wonderful, but I can do it if you need to be somewhere…’
‘I’ve got a luncheon appointment but that’s hours away. Why don’t you find what you need in the laundry and set up while I cook?’
Ellie set to work as soon as she’d eaten the meal Matt had prepared for her, which had been every bit as tasty as she’d expected. To her relief, he didn’t sit with her while she ate because a business call came through requiring his attention.
She started in the dining and living rooms, admiring the exquisite cream, rose and jade furnishings against the dark antique furniture as she set up the stepladder and got to work.
Next she chose a cosy little room down the hall which would catch the afternoon sun and give hours of pleasure on a cold winter’s day. Bookcases overloaded with classics lined one wall.
Another shelf was crammed with fifties memorabilia. A selection of old vinyl 45s sat atop a small record player. Bill Haley’s ‘Rock around the Clock,’ Pat Boone’s ‘Love Letters in the Sand.’ The Platters, Elvis.
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.
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