Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta

‘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 against her ear. She felt herself being carried across the room. He passed the kitchen table, dumped her handbag on her lap.

‘This is crazy. I’m not ill. I have a cold, that’s all.’

He gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Keys?’

She thought about refusing to tell him, but she doubted it would make any difference, and being locked out wasn’t a sensible idea either because she was coming back tonight if she had to walk it. ‘On the hook by the door.’

Grabbing them on the way, he stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. The click echoed in the dimness. He started down the stairs and she had no choice but to hang on and let him do his macho-hero thing.

His car was parked right out front. She flopped down in the seat with a scowl, but couldn’t help sighing at the sun’s warmth through the windscreen.

Sniffing, she turned her head away so she wouldn’t have to look at him when he climbed in and set the car in motion. Lucky for her, she wasn’t looking for a man in her life. And even if she was, it was lucky Matt McGregor was far too domineering.

Because it meant she could relegate him to the back of her mind and only deal with him when it was absolutely necessary. Like now, unfortunately.

She watched the streetscape change from concrete and retail to the upscale mansions behind hedges and greenery as they neared Belle’s place.

She frowned. So why did her insides still insist on turning themselves about when she thought of him? And how could she help thinking about him when she couldn’t seem to avoid him? Like this morning. How many darn times had he felt that manly need to come to her assistance?

She didn’t need him or his help.

Her inconvenient sneeze prompted a tissue to appear in front of her face. She took it with a scowl and a muttered, ‘Thanks.’ She was not going to be that weak, needy, ditzy woman he seemed to think she was.

‘Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, Ellie.’

She swiped her nose, then stared at him. Did the man read her thoughts now? ‘I didn’t ask.’

His face was in profile; his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. ‘Because you misplaced my business card and didn’t know how to contact me?’

‘Because I…’ She let her head fall back and rolled her eyes up to the car’s interior light. ‘I have Belle’s home number. If I’d needed to, I could’ve contacted you.’

‘And if I’d left earlier for the office, as I’d intended?’

‘Why didn’t you leave earlier—and why are we having this conversation?’

The moment the car came to a halt near the front porch, she swung the door open. Her dressing gown flapped around her ankles in the wind as she walked up the path. How she must look—bed hair and flannel pyjamas and handbag. Yesterday’s make-up. Rudolph’s red nose and it wasn’t even Christmas. She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t even cleaned her teeth this morning.

He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. ‘Go on up. Belle always leaves the bed made in case of unexpected visitors,’ he told her, handing her the supermarket bag. ‘I’ll bring you a cup of lemon tea before I leave.’

She stared at him. Did he not know when to stop? And yet…someone doing something nice for her, looking after her, warmed her insides like Gran’s bread-and-butter pudding.

His brow rose. ‘Unless you want me to carry you again?’

She shook her head and walked towards the staircase.

Ten minutes later Matt appeared with the promised tray of lemon tea, one of Belle’s delicate dishes arranged with sticks of carrot, cheese, olives and celery and an unopened packet of her favourite chocolate biscuits. He set it on the little doily-covered table beside the bed. ‘Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Get some sleep. I’ll be back by teatime.’

‘Thanks. I…appreciate it.’

He reached for her hand and for a furious pulse-beat she thought he was going to bring it to his lips, but he pulled out a pen and wrote a string of numbers on the inside of her wrist.

‘If you need me,’ he told her.

And just like that her whole body melted at the subconscious message those words conveyed. She closed her eyes. ‘I’ll be all right.’