‘Belle has them.’
‘She’s incommunicado. What if something comes up? I need to be able to contact you.’
Holding his gaze defiantly, she snapped out the information.
‘What days do you work?’
‘Wednesdays and Fridays and I alternate Mondays and Tuesdays, but—’
‘I value responsibility. Belle values responsibility. You call yourself irresponsible. So I’m wondering where that leaves us. Or more to the point, where it leaves you. I’d like you to think about that while you’re working here.’ He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on the table. Interview over.
Thank goodness his unfathomable dark eyes didn’t drop below her face. Thank goodness her chest was hidden beneath her overalls, because no way her skinny T-shirt would have been enough to hide the sudden way her nipples begged for more of that attention he’d given so generously Saturday night.
But then the cool business facade disappeared. His eyes thawed to a warm chocolate, lips curving into that lazy smile she’d seen across a crowded nightclub. ‘Now we’ve got that out of the way,’ he said in that deep sexy tone she’d been fantasising about in her daydreams. ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’
DINNER? She stared at him, incredulous. He looked genuinely serious. ‘Excuse me? You expect me to go to dinner with you?’
‘Why not?’
‘After that…that inquisition?’
‘You need to understand my first concern is for Belle. But we’ve discussed the terms of your work here. I’m satisfied—’ plucking a violet from the little vase in the centre of the table, he twirled it between his fingers ‘—with the business aspect of our relationship.’ He flashed her a look that had her heart rate picking up again.
‘But we haven’t talked about the personal. We need to. If we don’t, it’s going to get in the way.’ He leaned towards her, tucked the violet behind her ear, just beneath the edge of her cap. ‘Never mix business with pleasure, Ellie.’
Her insides rearranged themselves at the intimate tone of voice. She didn’t want business or pleasure with this man.
Liar. Okay, it wasn’t wise or sensible to have anything more to do with him—certainly not pleasure. Already un-sensible thoughts were racing through her head.
Which reminded her of Belle’s comment over a coffee break one day. Matthew’s always been a bit of a playboy when it comes to the ladies, or some such. Ellie hadn’t taken much notice—until now. Well, she did not intend to play second fiddle to anyone, ever again.
‘I’m thinking I’ll give this job a miss until Belle returns,’ she said slowly. She placed her hands flat on the table and forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘It’s probably best for everyone concerned.’ Particularly Ellie. ‘I don’t think the employee-employer relationship bit’s going to work for us.’
His jaw firmed; his gaze turned thoughtful, then speculative. ‘In which case, there’d be no reason not to have dinner with me, would there?’
She shook her head. ‘I still can’t have dinner with you.’
‘If you’re worried about your hair…mishap, we can dine in.’
Oh, way to charm the girls, Mr Ladies’ Man.
She tugged the bill of her cap lower, tossed him a narrow-eyed glare and didn’t deign to reply.
Or maybe it was just her. She bet he wouldn’t say that to the type of high-maintenance, high-class Yasmine look-alikes he probably dated. He’d told her he was in Melbourne for a couple of weeks. Saturday night proved he was simply out for a good time, and if she hadn’t left when she did they’d have ended up in bed. And that would have been a monumental mistake.
Pleasure had definitely been on Matt’s agenda, but if that wasn’t going to happen, so be it; he intended keeping his promise to Belle. Somehow he needed to keep Ellie happy in her job and ensure she stayed on. And what better way than to keep her close, keep an eye on her? Smiling at her, he switched to his most persuasive tone. ‘Ellie, it’s just dinner. I’d like your company this evening.’
Unmoved, she met his gaze squarely. Her eyes were the most amazing colour—amethyst with a sprinkle of gold dust…Bewitching…
Focus, McGregor. ‘Okay, you may as well know up front. Belle asked me to look out for her employee while she’s away. I’d like to be able to tell her I’ve done so.’
A tiny frown furrowed between her brows. ‘I don’t need looking after. Why would she ask that of you?’
Wouldn’t we both like to know? ‘Seems she’s grown very fond of you and was concerned about you working at the house alone. Since I was going to be around, it seemed like a good solution.’
She waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s all irrelevant because I have to work tonight. At least Red’s Bar doesn’t give their employees the third degree. I was hired on the spot, no questions asked.’
‘Red’s Bar.’ Surely they’d eat a girl like her alive? ‘That’s not a reputable bar and it’s not in a safe part of town.’
‘Some of us can’t be choosy. Some of us need cold hard cash to pursue our dreams.’
He didn’t bother telling her he’d been there, done that and had the scars and papers to prove it. ‘And what’s your dream, Ellie?’
‘To build my own landscaping business. Oh, and did I tell you I’m studying landscape and garden design? In modules. When I can afford it. At the rate I’m going I should be qualified in the next fifty years or so. Which is why I need Red’s pay packet at the end of the evening.’
Landscaping business. He nodded to himself. Good, honest work. But what job did she hold at Red’s? he wondered, eyeing the defiant lift to her chin. Kitchen hand, bartender, waitress? Or pole-dancer, like his long-lost mother? The thought made him feel physically ill, with a whole bunch of complicated emotions he didn’t want to think about whenever his mother came to mind.
But the stubborn image that gyrated before his eyes had his blood plummeting below his belt. If Ellie chose to pole-dance, he wanted it to be for him. In private.
Back on track. He cleared his throat and chose the safest option. ‘Waiting tables?’
‘Yes, waiting tables, what else would it be? Oh…’ A rosy pink bloomed on her cheeks—those apple cheeks that had blown him away the first time he’d met her. When he’d just had to kiss her…
Ignoring his body’s response, he focused on the valid reason he was still pursuing this line of questioning. She was playing in an adult playground—did she know the rules and, more importantly, the dangers? But perhaps she was already an experienced player. After all, he hardly knew her.
He knew he wanted her.
Her heightened colour intensified. ‘What?’
‘How long have you worked there?’
She lifted her shoulders, avoided his eyes.
‘How long?’ he demanded.
‘It’s a trial shift.’ She pushed up. For once she had the height advantage and her eyes met his, bright with defiance. ‘And your babysitting duties do not extend to telling me where I should or should not engage in paid employment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a kitchen garden to be getting on with. Since I’m already here, I’ll work out today’s shift.’
She