Buch lesen: «When He Was Bad...»
Praise for Anne Oliver:
‘BEHIND CLOSED DOORS by Anne Oliver is an amazing story of an unrequited love that has smouldered for years and is about to come to a head. Ms Oliver’s characters are rich, and create a depth to the story that makes it a tempting read.’
—cataromance.com
‘MARRIAGE AT THE MILLIONAIRE’S COMMAND is a terrific story. Anne Oliver has created a winner in Ben, the hot and sexy, but equally complex, hero.’
—romantictimes.com
‘Anne Oliver’s BUSINESS IN THE BEDROOM is a fun and entertaining tale about the attraction of opposites. The heroine is terrific: smart, fun, and not afraid to go after what she wants.’
—romantictimes.com
‘HOT BOSS, WICKED NIGHTS: this attraction-at-first-sight story has just the right blend of adventure, passion and heartfelt emotion to make you want to spend time with this terrific twosome.’
—romantictimes.com
‘It doesn’t have to be complicated. You and me and a mutual attraction. It doesn’t come much simpler than that.’
‘Good times—is that all you’re about?’ Ellie shook her head. ‘Of course you are. Men like you always are.’
‘Men like me?’
‘Arrogant, ego as wide as the blue Aussie sky.
Always looking out for number one.’
Matt studied her. The tell-tale blush, the sparkle in those eyes, the way her fingers played over the back of the chair. ‘You’re a contradiction, do you realise that? You say you don’t want complicated, yet you’re rejecting simple. What do you want, Ellie Rose?’
Her mouth tightened and she swept to the door, yanked it open. Then she turned and glared back at him. ‘With you, Matt McGregor? Nothing. I just want to be left alone.’
When He Was Bad…
By
Anne Oliver
ANNE OLIVER was born in Adelaide, South Australia, and with its beautiful hills, beaches and easy lifestyle, she’s never left.
An avid reader of romance, Anne began creating her own paranormal and time travel adventures in 1998 before turning to contemporary romance. Then it happened—she was accepted by Harlequin Mills & Boon for their Modern Heat series in December 2005. Almost as exciting: her first two published novels won the Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of the Year for 2007 and 2008. So after nearly thirty years of yard duties and staff meetings, she gave up teaching to do what she loves most—writing full time.
Other interests include animal welfare and conservation, quilting, astronomy, all things Scottish, and eating anything she doesn’t have to cook. She’s traveled to Papua/New Guinea, the west coast of America, Hong Kong, Malaysia, the UK and Holland.
Sharing her characters’ journeys with readers all over the world is a privilege and a dream come true.
You can visit her website at www.anne-oliver.com
Recent titles by the same author:
MISTRESS: AT WHAT PRICE?
MEMOIRS OF A MILLIONAIRE’S MISTRESS
HOT BOSS, WICKED NIGHTS
MILLS & BOON
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With many thanks to my fabulous critique group—for good ideas, good food, good company.
And a special thank you to Piers for your inspired idea of a golden horned unicorn for Belle’s garden!
Chapter One
‘IMAGINE him naked.’
Ellie Rose barely heard her friend’s voice above the nightclub’s musical din, but she recognised the lusty tone. She knew why. And she knew to whom she was referring. The six-foot-something male-model type standing not more than fifteen feet away. As the gyrating crowd parted briefly beneath the swirl of dimly coloured neon lights and bone-jarring bass, she was treated to her first full-length glimpse of him.
He was turned away from her, but she could see that he was tall and dark and…She had a thing for cute rear ends. One butt cheek tightened and…Nice, she thought with a little sigh that tickled like a guilty pleasure down to her toes. Very nice.
Then the crowd closed around him and she cursed her height-challenged five foot two. But no way was she admitting to ogling him with the same lustful thoughts her friend had voiced. She hadn’t known Sasha long, but she did know that she was more than likely to up and invite him over. From what Ellie had observed, Sasha didn’t wait for men to find her; she found them.
Ellie feigned ignorance. ‘Who?’
Sasha lifted her bottle of wine cooler in salute and raised her voice over the noise. ‘You know perfectly well who—the guy up close with that tall chick in leather pants. Better still, imagine yourself naked with him.’
Ellie could. Very well. Too well. On indigo satin sheets…Except that the stunning brunette leaning in for a kiss insisted on sabotaging the image. Ellie swallowed and said in a ridiculously tight voice, ‘We’re not here to pick up guys. We’re here to enjoy the music.’
‘Speak for yourself.’ Sasha tipped her bottle to her lips. ‘If you want to enjoy music, go see a musical. Uh-oh, I think he’s looking at us,’ she said. ‘At you,’ she amended as the crowd between them thinned. She pressed her knuckles into Ellie’s spine, prodded her forward. ‘He’s coming this way. Go on. You could get lucky tonight.’ Sasha leaned closer, spoke into Ellie’s ear. ‘Ask him if he’s got any friends.’
Ellie’s legs began to tremble. She didn’t want to get lucky. Did she? No. Not with a guy who had the potential to make her want things she knew she couldn’t have with a guy like him. He had permanent playboy written all over that cocky smile and confident stride.
He wore black trousers and a white open-necked shirt that reflected the ceiling’s changing light show. His hair was dark, short and spiked with a touch of gel in such a way that it looked as if he’d just rolled out of his lover’s bed. The designer platinum watch adorning his wrist screamed money, money, money.
The lighting changed to an intermittent strobe—it seemed to flash in time to her pulse—as he drew near. And then he was so close that a quick yank of her arm would bring him within lip-smacking distance, and it was like watching one of those flickering black-and-white movies.
His eyes were dark bottomless pools. Mesmerising, magnetic, reeling her in. ‘Hi, there. Can I buy you a drink?’
His voice, liqueur over dark chocolate, slid down deep, coating her insides with its lusciousness. She raised her all-but-empty bottle of cola. ‘I already have one, thanks, and I’m with a friend…’ She trailed off as she saw Sasha making off into the knot of dancers, hips swaying. The rat. This little dinghy was doomed.
‘Looks like your friend knows how to have a good time,’ he said, his gaze following Ellie’s briefly before turning back to her. ‘I haven’t seen you here before.’
‘Because I haven’t been here before. I’m not a regular clubber.’ Sasha had dragged her along despite her protests, insisting Ellie needed more fun in her life.
‘Let’s make you one.’ He reached for her hand. ‘Dance with me.’ A tingling sensation zipped all the way up her arm and settled low in her abdomen. His hand was warm, hard, firm. The way she imagined the rest of his body would feel. She recalled her sheet fantasy—and the brunette. Tension gripped tight in her lower belly.
‘What about your friend?’ She slipped her hand from his. Smoothed the tingly palm over her little black dress. Hitched her miniscule embroidered bag higher on her shoulder.
Uh-oh. Big mistake, voicing that observation, because now he knew she’d been checking him out. But he couldn’t know what she’d been thinking…
Or perhaps he did, because he grinned—the way a man like him would grin if he knew—and Ellie wished she’d never given him the satisfaction.
‘Yasmine’s a colleague,’ he said, that sexy confident grin still in place. ‘I haven’t seen her for a while. I’ve been working in Sydney.’
Hence, the up close and personal, Ellie supposed. She darted a quick glance behind him. She saw a well-endowed blonde in a white halter neck watching him with avaricious intent, but she could no longer see Yasmine. Or maybe her name wasn’t Yasmine at all; maybe she’d just given this guy the flick and he’d moved on to his next target—Ellie. She didn’t know him; he could be lying, looking for an easy lay.
And when it came right down to it, who here wasn’t?
She wasn’t.
Her body wanted, desperately, to refute that claim—with him—but she injected the zap of excess hormonal energy into her spine instead, straightened and stuck to something inanely neutral. ‘You’re from Melbourne originally?’
He nodded. ‘I work on multiple projects, so I commute between the two cities on occasion.’
And he obviously took the high road to town, whereas she lived on the low road.
‘The name’s Matt, by the way.’
No surname, Ellie noted. Obviously not interested in more than a passing flirtation. Fine. Long-term relationships and becoming attached to people always ended in disaster. At least, it did for her. She lifted the bottle to her lips and drained the contents to soothe her throat which felt as if it were coated in sand. ‘I’m Ellie.’
‘How about that dance, then, Ellie?’
A ribbon of heat shimmied through her as the music changed to a slow, thrumming love song.
Body contact.
Perspiration broke out between her breasts, on her upper lip. She tugged at the neckline of her dress a couple of times to create a draught. It didn’t help. ‘I’d rather not at the moment, if you don’t mind…’ Except that the bosomy blonde was sure to pounce…and Ellie found herself smiling up at him. ‘It’s so airless and loud in here, I—’
‘Outside, then?’ he suggested. ‘I could do with some fresh air myself.’
Even better, Matt thought as, with a light hand at her back, he guided her around the sway of dancers toward the club’s secured outdoor area. The sensation of skin-warmed fabric was a tantalising heat against his palm. Anticipation—a different kind of heat—nipped at his skin.
But she stopped midstride and swivelled to face him, looking for all the world like a bunny frozen in headlights, and for a moment there he thought she’d changed her mind. He was prepared to do whatever it took to change it back again, but she gestured to the cloakroom.
‘I…I’ll want my jacket. It might be hot in here, but it’s bitterly cold outside.’
He watched her walk towards the cloak check. He hadn’t intended picking up a woman tonight. He’d come to get away from the pressures of work for an hour or two, but the petite woman with the short flyaway bob had captivated him. Perhaps it was because she was nothing like the women he usually dated.
He liked his women the way he designed his million-dollar constructions—tall, clean-cut lines, elegant sophistication and a sense of style. This girl was tiny, delicately boned but curvaceous. Moreover, every curve looked real. She reminded him of fairy floss—pretty and sweet and fragile.
That warm nip of anticipation struck anew. Harder, hotter. He ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. His suggestion to step outside had been inspired because suddenly he couldn’t wait to find out if she tasted as sweet as she looked. And then…then he wanted to take his time to enjoy, something not easily achieved on a crowded dance floor.
He watched her hand over her ticket to the attendant, her spiky stilettos drawing attention to the smooth, well-turned ankles, her short hem riding up her thighs as she reached over the countertop to collect her coat.
‘Hi,’ a sultry feminine voice said beside him. ‘I couldn’t help noticing your friend leaving.’
He barely glanced at the woman who’d materialised beside him. Blonde. Big…teeth. ‘She’s not leaving,’ he said, his gaze finding Ellie again.
Ellie turned and wide wary eyes met his. She looked away, then looked back, nibbling on her lower lip, and for the second time in as many moments he thought she might bolt to the exit.
To forestall that possibility, he stepped forward quickly to meet her, cupping her elbow as he drew her towards the outdoor area. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You looked a little edgy for a moment there.’
‘Did I?’ A tentative sound between a laugh and a cough escaped her as she accompanied him outside.
An almost solid wall of cold air laden with cigarette smoke met them. Bright lanterns swung overhead, reflecting pools of colour on aluminium tables and overflowing ashtrays. Clubbers huddled in groups around tall gas heaters, smoking, drinking and laughing while couples smooched in shadowy spots around the high-fenced perimeter. And by an amazing stroke of luck one of those spots appeared to be reserved for them.
‘This is better.’ He took her jacket from her hands—a little black number with embroidery on the pockets—and settled it around her shoulders. Her bobbed hair, cut just below chin length, brushed silkily against his fingers.
Her fragrance teased his nostrils. Not perfume, but something that smelled like spiced raspberries. ‘Now we can talk without risk to our vocal chords.’ Her eyes intrigued him. Beneath their placid reserve he glimpsed the promise of passion. ‘So, Ellie, if you’re not into the club scene, what do you do for fun on a regular Saturday night?’
‘I read. Science fiction and fantasy mostly.’ Shrugging deeper beneath her jacket, she said, ‘I know…that probably sounds pathetically solitary and boring to someone like yourself.’ She rolled her eyes to the star-studded sky. ‘But haven’t you ever wondered what’s out there?’
‘Sure.’ He shifted his gaze—not skyward but to the tempting column of her throat. ‘For now, though, I’m perfectly satisfied with what’s right here in front of me.’
‘Oh…’
He blinked. Oh? That was it? Most women would respond with a smile or a giggle or a flutter of lashes—some hint that this game was definitely going somewhere.
Not Ellie. And yet there was no mistaking the latent heat behind her gaze. She tugged the edges of her jacket together with tightly curled fingers and switched topics. ‘What’s been happening in Sydney?’
He rocked back on his heels. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve been too busy to notice.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I’m working on a harbour-side housing project at the moment. How about you? What line of work are you in?’
She moved her shoulders. ‘A bit of this, a bit of that. I like to move around, so I pick up work wherever.’
‘Travel. So I’m guessing you’ve been overseas?’
She coughed out a laugh. ‘I’m afraid nothing near as exciting as that. Name a town between Sydney and Adelaide and I’ve probably been there at some stage in the past few years. I don’t like to be tied down.’ She laughed again but the humour didn’t seem to reach her eyes. ‘Call me irresponsible.’
‘Okay, but at some point, you’d probably like to settle in one place, build a career and take on the responsibility of raising a family?’
She shook her head once. ‘Not me. I’m a free spirit. I go where I please, when I please. And I like it that way.’
Do you? he wondered, watching the play of mixed emotions flicker across her gaze.
‘And I can eat the whole darn cheesecake in one sitting if I want. Now that’s what I call freedom.’ Her smile broadened. This time her eyes danced with devilment and he found himself totally entranced by the way her lips curved, making apples of her cheeks.
‘I guess it is,’ he agreed, smiling back. ‘Free spirit, huh.’ His lips tingled in anticipation of his first taste of her luscious-looking lips. He could almost feel their sweet heat, the warmth of her breath against his cheek…‘Ellie, I want to kiss you,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you.’ And a lot more besides, but he didn’t voice that yet.
Her head snapped back, her eyes locked on his and the slow-burning sexual tension which had been simmering along nicely evaporated in a puff of frosty air. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, then they disappeared altogether as she pressed them into a tight flat line.
His body howled a protest. That’s what you get for being a gentleman, McGregor. He’d not had much experience with women knocking him back. Or he was right and she wasn’t as free spirited as she was making out. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘No.’ Her face reflected the light from the pink lantern hanging nearby as she shook her head.
‘So…?’
Nearby, someone’s glass shattered on the concrete but her eyes remained locked with his. They seemed to say yes, but her behaviour indicated otherwise. The wind scuttled along the high brick fence, scattering dried leaves at their feet and riffling through her bright hair, gleaming like moonlight.
Then her shoulders tightened as she drew in air. ‘So…do it, then.’
Her surprisingly breathy demand had his libido leaping to attention. He leaned closer, watching her chest rise sharply as she drew another swift breath, watching her eyes flare with a mix of vulnerability, hesitance and anticipation.
He barely laid his lips on hers, just enough to feel the warmth there, the texture. It was like tasting summer’s first ripe peach. Sweet, soft. Sensuous. Eliciting a low throaty murmur from her that sang like honey through his bloodstream.
More. It was more than he’d anticipated and it threw him for a loop. He lifted his head to gaze down at her, saw that she was as surprised as he. He hadn’t expected to feel his heart beating oddly out of time, as if he stood on the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the middle of a storm without a safety harness.
Willing to believe it had been a fluke, again he lowered his lips, felt her hesitance dissipate like autumn mist in sunshine as she shifted nearer. Her mouth, tentative and unsure, softened and opened beneath his. He took swift advantage, lifting his hands to cradle her jaw for more intimate access and angling his body so that they aligned in the all right places.
He felt her tiny frame quiver against him as he swept his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers where the flavours were richer, darker, hotter.
Ah, now she didn’t resist. In any way. She was right there with him—he knew by the way her tongue curled with his, the way her body turned fluid and malleable against him. He stepped closer, her legs tangling against his.
Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care. Her hands slid up the front of his shirt. He could feel his heart pounding into her flattened palms. Then she slid them down again and wrapped them around his waist, and leaned in so her breasts pushed against his chest.
He let his hands wander too, over the smooth creamy column of her neck, the delicate heart pendant she wore, inside her jacket until they found the neckline of her dress. Down, palms skimming the outside of her breasts, the womanly shape where her waistline dipped, then flared again as he traced her hips. She was perfection. He wanted more. And with the way she was melting against him, it would appear he was in luck.
Ellie’s knees were so loose it was a minor miracle she didn’t collapse right there on the pavers. Her pulse thundered, her blood sizzled. Her only thought was she couldn’t believe that she was letting this man—this godlike man who smelled sinfully good and probably did this every night of the week with a different woman—kiss her to kingdom come.
Then her eyes closed, her mind shut down and all she felt was sensation. His hands warm and firm on her body, his unfamiliar hot, potent flavour, the sound of fabric shifting against fabric as he drew her closer.
And she was clutching his shirt without even realising she’d reached for him. Her body was burning without any recollection of who’d lit the fire.
His hands began a more intimate journey, seeking out her hardening nipples, drawing them into stiff peaks against the bodice of her dress. Rolling them between finger and thumb. She gasped as wetness accumulated between her thighs and, like a wanton, thrust her breasts forward, willing, willing him to keep doing what he was doing.
He did. Oh, yes, he did. But the ache only intensified, his clever hands sending ripples of desire straight to all her secret places. Her belly rubbed against a powerful ridge of masculinity. A moan rose up her throat at the sensation of the contrasting hardness against her softness.
A ragged answering groan seemed to come from the depths of his being. ‘How far to your place?’ he murmured thickly against her neck.
His voice and the message conveyed broke the lust trance she’d been momentarily lost in and her eyes snapped open. The harsh streetlight over the wall haloed his head, leaving his features obscured. All she was aware of was a dark silhouette looming over her and the unfamiliar scent of a man she really didn’t know at all.
Oh. My. God. Panic clawed up her throat and she pulled free. ‘I…I need to go to the ladies’.’ Clutching her jacket about her shoulders, she took a couple of steps away, and from the safety of distance she pulled her thrumming lips into some semblance of a smile and said, ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
She plunged back into the overheated room, saw Sasha amongst the dancers and caught her eye. Sasha winked over some guy’s shoulder and twirled her index finger in the air—their prearranged ‘goodnight’ signal should they decide to leave separately.
Ellie nodded, manoeuvred her way through the dancers, past security at the entrance and out onto the street, still busy with traffic despite the late hour.
A car filled with loudmouthed teenagers cruised past, their car stereo’s bass competing in an out-of-sync rhythm with the club’s. Cold air stung her face and bare arms as she clung to her jacket, desperately willing a taxi to appear.
‘Wait, Ellie.’ She jumped at the sound of his voice behind her, but she didn’t turn around.
No, no, no. If she looked, she might reconsider and she couldn’t risk that. A fleeting kiss was fine, a little flirting…probably. But a kiss like that, with a man like him…A man who could sweep away her common sense without raising a sweat…
A frantic wave brought a taxi screeching to a halt in front of her. She dived inside, slammed the door and ordered the cabbie to drive.
But before he could pull into the stream of traffic, the door swung open again. Her breath caught and her fingers tightened on top of her bag. Matt whoever-he-was filled the space with his unique brand of woodsy midnight cologne, his smile, his charisma. ‘You dropped your jacket,’ he said, and laid it on the seat beside her. He didn’t attempt to climb in.
‘Ah…Thank you.’ She hadn’t even realised it had slipped off her shoulders and felt like a fool. He hadn’t done anything she hadn’t wanted him to and she’d taken the coward’s way out and ditched him without one word of explanation. Worse, she could see the blonde who’d eyed him up earlier watching the proceedings from the club’s entrance.
‘You sure you don’t want to change your mind?’
No. She dragged her eyes back to his. ‘Yes.’
‘“Yes,” you’re sure, or “yes,” you want to change your mind?’
She shook her head. ‘You know what I mean.’
His smile faded. ‘Maybe, but I’m not sure you do.’ He withdrew a wallet from his hip pocket, flipped it open and pulled out a black-and-gold business card. ‘When you do…change your mind…’
When I do? That’s why she stayed away from men like him. They messed with your head; they were dangerous…and addictive. And when they were finished with you, what did you have? Emptiness, pain and regrets.
When she didn’t take the card, he reached inside and grasped her hand with his large warm fingers, turned it palm up. He pressed a kiss to the centre, then replaced his lips with the card, folded her fingers over the top. ‘Until I see you again.’ Spoken with all the arrogance and confidence in the whole damn universe.
Her palm burned and she curled her fingers into a fist. Protecting the imprint of his mouth or screwing up his card? ‘I don’t think so.’
But he just grinned, as cocky as ever. He peeled off a one-hundred-dollar note from his wad. ‘Cab fare home. Pleasant dreams, Ellie.’
Ellie unlocked the door to her one-room studio apartment, stepped into calming darkness and solitude, grateful none of the other tenants she shared the building with were around to witness her dishevelled state.
Leaning back against the door, she let out a sigh. She could hear her own breathing, still ragged, her pulse, still rapid. What had she been thinking? Letting him kiss her and then…oh…and then letting him come on to her that way? And what was she supposed to do with all that change from the cab fare?
Closing her eyes didn’t help. It didn’t block the images or shut out the memory of how she’d responded to him. ‘Idiot!’ she snarled. ‘I am an idiot.’ She recited the words slowly through clenched teeth. Her fingers closed tightly over the business card she still held. She hadn’t been able to make herself drop it in the gutter like she should have.
Crossing the room, she tossed the crumpled cardboard on her night stand without looking at it, flicked on her bedside lamp and flung herself onto her narrow bed, pulling her comforting pink rug over her body. Then, just to be sure, she sent Sasha a text telling her she’d gone home. Alone—in case Sasha got smart and sent her a fun text about ‘getting lucky’. Lucky? She stared at the ceiling as if she could read answers in the ancient water stains.
She didn’t want to get lucky. She didn’t want to get involved. With anyone. Not that Matt had come even close to suggesting any such thing. It had been obvious where his intentions had been focused. But a late supper, maybe a few dates and who knew where that would have led? On her part, at least. You know exactly where, the little voice in her head whispered.
She didn’t know how, but Matt was unlike any man she’d ever met, and that made him dangerous. Didn’t mean she didn’t know his type. He’d probably already forgotten her.
She’d always been one to get easily attached to people. And when they left, for whatever reason, they took another piece of her with them.
Like when her part-time father walked out on her and Mum for the final time. She’d been three. Then three years later there’d been the car accident which had taken her mum and both grandparents. Her father had come back into her life to take care of her, but he was and always had been a wanderer. It had been a glorious adventure, travelling with him around the country chasing work, but she’d been a hindrance, and at the age of nine he’d left again, tearing out her young heart, and she’d found herself in foster care.
As she’d grown up she’d had boyfriends, and two and a half years ago her first and only serious relationship…She shook her head against the pillow. No, she wasn’t going to think about Heath. But the memories slinked back anyway, like wolves waiting to pounce.
They’d been inseparable for six months. Ellie had thought Heath was serious, but no…Instead, it seemed the gorgeous Brit she’d fallen for had an expiring work visa and the not-so-little complication of a fiancée waiting for him back in London. He’d told her it had been great while it lasted but she’d been a fling, didn’t she understand that?
Her hands clenched around the sheets. Matt whoever-he-was hadn’t only ignited a fire in her belly; one look into his eyes, one brush of his lips over hers and she’d forgotten everything she’d taught herself about self-preservation.
No. Those days were over. She’d never allow herself to get close to a man again. To fall in love. And most definitely, absolutely, she’d never risk marriage and kids. Matt was wrong about that. So wrong. ‘No, Matt whoever-the-hell-you-are,’ she said to the ceiling. ‘I will not change my mind.’
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