‘Pretty much,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Ain’t safe round here. It’s just me and Mum, and she’s in a wheelchair, so I keep an eye out.’
‘And you are?’
‘Toby.’ He stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. ‘You Ellie’s new boyfriend?’
‘I’m…Yes,’ Matt decided. One could never be too careful and any woman living alone was always a potential target, even if Toby seemed harmless enough. ‘My name’s Matt. I’ll see you around.’
‘Okay. See ya.’ Toby hunched into his hoodie and headed to the stairwell.
Matt resumed knocking. ‘Ellie, I know you’re in there. Answer the door.’ Finally he heard a muffled sound and the door cracked open. Her face was only partially visible and what he could see didn’t look good.
‘What are you doing here?’ She sniffed, dug a tissue from the pocket of her dressing gown, held it to her nose.
No wonder she hadn’t turned up. ‘You’re ill,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘You should have phoned me.’ He pushed the door wider, took in the dark circles beneath her glassy eyes before closing the door behind him.
‘Why?’ She turned away and headed over the worn linoleum floor towards her bed. She wore flannelette pyjamas under her robe, he noticed, and fluffy pink slippers.
‘To let me know you weren’t coming in…’ His voice was tight and clipped to his own ears. He saw the way her shoulders drooped and softened it with, ‘To let me know if you need anything.’ He glanced about him at the tiny studio apartment. The place was basic at best. And colder than an antarctic winter.
‘On my day off?’
‘Your day off?’
‘I don’t work Thursdays. I told you that at our interview.’ Stepping out of her slippers, she crawled onto the bed, dragging the covers over her. ‘So, if there’s nothing else…Pull the door shut behind you on your way out.’
Even with his jacket on, his skin goose-bumped beneath his cashmere jumper. ‘Don’t you have heating?’
‘It’s broken down,’ she mumbled.
‘I can’t leave you here like this.’
‘Sure you can. Don’t you have appointments to keep? Five-star hotels to frequent?’ A hand appeared from beneath the quilt to grab another tissue.
Five-star hotels? ‘What are you talking about?’ He crossed the room, stared down at her, shook his questions away. ‘Forget appointments, forget work. You shouldn’t be on your own and this place is an icebox. You’re coming home with me.’
‘No.’ HER reply was razor sharp.
‘I don’t want to argue with you, Ellie.’
‘Good.’ A beat of silence. ‘I’m better off here. If I can sleep it off today, I’ll be right for work tomorrow.’
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his shoe skittering against something as he sat. He looked down…
His business card. Crumpled. By one very tight, very deliberate fist, if he guessed correctly. He picked it up, lowered the quilt so he could see her face and waved it in front of her. ‘I must’ve made a good impression Saturday night.’
Her eyes flicked open, then widened as she realised. ‘Oh.’ She blinked up at him. ‘How did that get there?’
He felt a corner of his mouth tip up. ‘You didn’t throw it out.’ He smoothed it out, tapped it against his chin. ‘This tells me something, Ellie.’
Her eyes slid shut again. ‘It tells you I’m environmentally aware, that I was waiting for the paper recycling day to come round.’
‘Yeah. Right.’ He slipped it beneath her pillow with a smile she didn’t see.
He glanced about the apartment. Her fridge was covered in kids’ paintings held in place by frog magnets. ‘Whose artwork?’
‘I volunteer at a homework centre for disadvantaged kids,’ she mumbled into her pillow.
A volunteer? She was more than he’d given her credit for and something deeper stirred inside him. Willing the somewhat disturbing feeling away, his gaze landed on a small but familiar figurine on the scarred night stand.
He looked back at Ellie, her eyelashes resting on pale cheeks, then picked it up, rolled it between his palms. ‘Where did you get this?’
Her eyes opened halfway. ‘Belle gave it to me. She said everyone needs a guardian angel.’
Matt knew it wasn’t a simple trinket. It was one of a kind, according to Belle. She’d bought it in Venice a few years back and paid a fortune in tourist dollars for it. Did Ellie know its true value?
He folded the quilt back and tucked the edge beneath her chin. ‘Guardian angels won’t cut it today. You can sleep in Belle’s guest room.’
‘No.’
He tightened his jaw. ‘I can carry you downstairs in your pyjamas and put you in the car myself or you can get dressed first—your choice. But you’re coming with me in five minutes.’
‘I’m staying here. I’m going to try to sleep. Here. Thanks for your offer, now go away.’
He pushed up. So be it. He found an empty supermarket bag, then scouted the room for something she could wear later—a black tracksuit sprawled over a chair and a pair of sneakers with socks spilling out nearby. ‘Four minutes.’ He opened drawers till he found underwear.
Behind him, he heard her gasp. ‘You are so not touching my—’
‘Think again, honey.’ He pulled out a filmy white bra and panties, tossed them in the bag. Added a pair of socks.
Ellie’s eyes narrowed to slits as she watched Matt’s broad-shouldered shape disappear into her tiny bathroom. Her heart thudded erratically against the mattress. She pushed the tissue against her lips to prevent a whimper when she heard the clatter of bottles being scooped up. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed him to leave. She was an independent woman. Had to be. If she refused to move, made it obvious she didn’t want his assistance, didn’t need it, he’d respect that. He’d—
Her eyes snapped open again when the quilt’s warmth vanished. A tide of cold air and defeat washed over her as she gazed up at one determined man. Mouth resolute. Jaw squared, brow furrowed. Her bag of stuff on his arm.
A man accustomed to having his demands met.
Well, she had news for him. ‘Listen, I…’ His dark eyes challenged hers and she felt her words drain away with her resolve.
‘Since you’re obviously not going to cooperate—’ he continued, sliding his hands beneath her armpits ‘—why wait the extra two minutes?’
As he dragged her upright, she saw the glint in his eyes and her heart leapt with a contrary thrill in her chest. ‘You wouldn’t…’
The glint remained as he slid her slippers onto her feet. He tightened the sash on her dressing gown, fastened the top button of her pyjamas. ‘Yes, Ellie, I would.’ Then scooping her up, he swung her into his arms.
His jumper tickled her nose, his hold was so tight the only air she could breathe was full of his scent. She kicked—uselessly—since her legs hit nothing but air. ‘Put. Me. Down.’ Her futile demand was muffled against his chest.
‘Not until we reach the car.’ His voice rumbled