Good, she told herself as she veered back towards the exit. One less problem. Tomorrow morning was way soon enough to be interacting with him. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with complications. And despite his views about their non -relationship, Matt McGregor was complication in flashing lights. Big red warning ones.
Doing his gentlemanly duty as he saw Ellie preparing to leave, he exited the bar and waited for her outside.
She’d told him she wanted to be left alone, but safety concerns aside, knowing where she’d be this evening had been too much of a temptation for Matt to ignore. He’d wanted to see her again, simple as that. He stepped towards her the moment she appeared. ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’
Her head swivelled towards him and her eyes widened. ‘Why are you still here?’
The damp air teased her hair so that it curled in wisps around her face. She must have washed it again because it was lighter—honey blonde with only a streak or two of pink—but the austere light from the street lamp turned it silver-white, making her appear smaller, more fragile.
‘You think I’d leave you here at this time of night without ensuring your safe journey home?’ Wherever that might be.
She pulled her coat tighter, straightened her spine, hitched her bag higher. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘Yeah, right. Alone, past midnight, in this seedy area. Where’s your car?’
‘I don’t own a car. And I happen to live in this seedy area.’ He didn’t miss the light of contempt in her eyes.
Along with her list of criticisms, did she think him prejudiced? He couldn’t decide whether it amused or annoyed him. ‘How are you getting home?’
‘Public transport.’
‘My car’s across the road. I’ll drop you off.’
‘It’s—’
‘Non-negotiable.’ He placed a silencing finger against her lips.
Heat, as her sharp exhalation of breath streamed over his fingertip. Friction, as his finger drifted lightly over her lips. Desire, sharp and swift, as her lips parted the tiniest bit. In surprise? Or something else? He couldn’t be sure, and for a pulse beat or two he thought she might yield and open further. But she remained completely still.
‘Non-negotiable, Ellie.’ He pressed his thumb to her lower lip, watching her eyes darken to an intense charcoal in the dimness. ‘So get used to the idea quickly.’
ELLIE didn’t move, didn’t pull away, even as a throng of raucous patrons spilled from the bar and ambled past, their voices raised in some tuneless song. The night breeze, pungent with the sting of exhaust fumes, wrapped around them. In the distance an alarm wailed. He wanted to press his momentary advantage, replace his thumb with his mouth and relive that first kiss.
He could almost smell the desire on her skin, but he didn’t push it. She stepped back, eyes flicking away, as if giving him eye contact might betray her. She scanned the row of parked cars. ‘Let me guess—yours is the champagne-tinted convertible.’
‘Sorry to disappoint—it’s the little bent and black ninety-six Ford.’ He couldn’t resist adding, ‘My Ferrari’s in Sydney.’
Her laugh was spontaneous and unexpected and she seemed as surprised as he. ‘I knew it,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘Red?’
‘Is there any other colour?’ With a light hand at her back, he steered her across the road.
Ellie practically fell onto the seat, willing her pulse to settle down while Matt rounded the car. Good Lord, just that single thumb print on her lower lip had turned her inside out. If he hadn’t stopped—oh, she did not want to think about it. He made her weak. Made her want…what she couldn’t have.
By the time he’d climbed into his seat she’d managed to halfway calm herself. She directed him to a street about a kilometre away. She spent a moment studying the car’s interior rather than the width of Matt’s more than capable hands on the steering wheel, focusing on the engine’s rough-throated purr rather than the scent of clean masculine skin.
But as they neared her apartment her breathing changed for very different reasons. And with every passing moment the band beneath her breastbone tightened.
She’d always sensed Heath’s low opinion of her previous apartment even though he’d never voiced it. As if her living conditions reflected her worth as a human being. She might have been in love with him but her self-confidence and sense of self-worth had taken a battering and never fully recovered. Compared to this dump it had been a palace.
Would Matt the squillionaire businessman judge her the same way? And why did it suddenly seem to matter if he did? ‘You can drop me off here,’ she said, ready to jump out and flee the moment they stopped.
The building she lived in was crammed between the abandoned car park of a graffiti-covered warehouse and a row of currently untenanted shops.
Matt slowed to a stop. ‘This your place?’
His tone didn’t change but her stomach clenched tighter. ‘Yes.’ She knew what he was thinking. She just knew it. She would not let it bring her down.
She reached for the doorhandle. Before she could thank him and escape, he was out of the car and rounding the bonnet.
‘No need to see me inside—I live upstairs,’ she said, climbing out. Somewhere nearby a cat yowled and the din of metal rolling down the street broke the night’s stillness.
‘How long have you lived here?’
‘A couple of months.’ She remembered him quipping about his Ferrari. ‘Would it help if I said I used to live in Toorak?’ she said, forcing humour into her voice as she mentioned one of Melbourne’s most affluent suburbs.
He didn’t return her smile. ‘Only if it helps you.’
It didn’t and her smile faded. Those days were gone. Once upon a time, before the people she loved had been erased from her life for ever, her world had been very different.
But his voice helped. Smooth and steady and even, like a still lake, soothing the rough edges around her heart. Until she looked up into his eyes and saw the storm, all dark and brooding and beautiful. Reminding her that she didn’t want to get involved. With anyone, ever again.
‘Thanks for the lift.’ She paused before adding, ‘And thanks for your assistance at the bar tonight.’
‘No worries.’ He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave.
She hesitated. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
He nodded. ‘You’re coming. Good.’
‘I didn’t get the bar job, so yes.’ She shrugged, trying for philosophical, failing miserably.
‘Because it wasn’t the right job for you.’ There was something in his eyes. Not sympathy—she didn’t want sympathy, nor did she need it. Understanding?
She stood, rooted to the spot, watching him while he jingled his car keys. What the hell would he understand about the tough non-corporate world of low finance?
‘Goodnight, Ellie.’ He touched his lips to hers. A token kiss, almost impersonal. No sexual undertones. Nothing she could call him on.
And nothing to get herself in a lather about.
Because now he’d watched her lose a job on the