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 pushed the chair beneath the table with a sharp scrape. ‘And in case you’re wondering, I use the outside loo, I brought my own packed lunch and can let myself out the gate when I’m through for the day. I’m sure you have work too. Lots of work. So if you want to go to the office and catch up with Yasmine…or whatever, don’t let me spoil your day.’
Sparks, he noted. Promising. Where there were sparks there was emotion. Passion. Possibilities. He felt a smile kick up at the corners of his mouth. ‘My day’s going just fine, thank you.’ Even better when he saw her fingers tighten around the back of the chair as she glared at him.
‘Before I leave, there’s still the matter of what went on between us Saturday night,’ he said, unable to resist looking at her lips one more time. ‘As I said, ignoring it won’t change things.’
She sucked in a breath, studied her hands. ‘It was just a kiss…’
A snort escaped him. ‘Hey, I was there, remember?’
‘Okay, it was more than a kiss.’ Cheeks blazing, she lifted her gaze. ‘It was a mistake. You’re Belle’s nephew, Belle’s my employer and—’
‘So you are going to reconsider working here.’
She shook her head and continued. ‘I don’t want, nor do I have time for, anything complicated.’
‘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?’ She shook her head again. ‘Of course you are. Men like you always are.’
‘Men like me?’
‘Attractive, arrogant, ego as wide as the blue Aussie sky.’
He studied her. The you-don’t-fool-me-for-a-moment-McGregor stance, the nervous 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?’
Her mouth flattened and she swept to the door, yanked it open. Then she turned and glared back at him from the safety of distance. ‘With you, Matt McGregor? Nothing. Not a thing.’
Uptight young lady, he mused. Damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy finding out why. ‘You know, Ellie Rose, I’m going to prove you wrong about that, and believe me, it’s going to be a pleasure.’
He grinned as the door shut firmly behind her. ‘Yes, a real pleasure,’ he murmured. ‘For both of us.’ He was in for an interesting week.
Matt rode the glass elevator to the Melbourne offices of McGregor Architectural Designs, watching a rain shower draw a grey curtain across the cityscape. He never failed to feel the thrill of the ride up to his office on the forty-second floor. The award-winning precinct of glass and brass and green, with its unique interior-walled gardens cascading over half a dozen floors down towards a pool in the main lobby, was his first major achievement. Proof that one could turn possibilities into something real.
And his rapidly expanding Sydney branch was proof that success bred success. He’d worked bloody hard for it. In a roundabout way he had Angela to thank. His ex-lover was the reason his was one of the top architectural firms in Australia. After she’d given up trying to make something of their relationship and eventually walked out on him, he’d put his heart and soul into building his dreams.
Not that he blamed her for leaving. She deserved better than a guy who was incapable of the everlasting love and long-term commitment she’d obviously been looking for. And no-one could tell him he wasn’t pleased to know she’d found it with an accountant in rural Victoria.
The current Sydney project was nearing completion. He trusted his hand-picked team of specialist engineers to handle it for a couple of weeks, enabling Matt to think about relocating back to Melbourne in the near future. The city he’d been raised in. Home.
The elevator slid to a soundless stop and he stepped out. Light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows and over miles of pearl-grey carpeting and polished wood.
Joanie Markham, the first face the public saw, glanced up from the sleek polished reception desk as he approached, her middle-aged smile sparkling at him over her slim reading glasses.
‘Good morning, Joanie.’
‘Mr McGregor, good morning. We weren’t expecting to see you today. Didn’t Miss McGregor have something she wanted you to take care of?’
An image of Ellie shot into his mind with the force of a blowtorch. And not the image he should be focusing on—Ellie in cap and sexless khaki overalls wielding a gardening fork. Instead, he saw Ellie not in her little black dress and toothpick heels. He could almost taste that soft skin just below her jaw, her spiced berry scent…
She was something to be ‘taking care of’, all right. He pinched the bridge of his nose, concentrated on bringing his wayward libido under control.
‘Mr McGregor…are you okay?’
‘Fine. Fine.’ Amazed that his eyes had closed—not surprising with the lack of sleep he’d had over the past few nights—he blinked them open and pasted a reassuring smile on his lips. ‘All under control, Joanie.’
Moving past reception, he skirted desks, design boards, pot plants, greeting staff along the way.
‘Matt.’
He turned at the familiar sound of Yasmine’s voice. As usual, she looked stunning in a slim grey suit with a modest scrap of white lace at her cleavage, her raven-black hair tied back in a tidy knot. He admired her clean-cut lines from an architectural viewpoint.
As a friend, he valued her inner qualities. ‘Hi, Yasmine.’
The love of Yasmine’s life worked as a geologist at the Mount Isa mines in Queensland and was sometimes away from home for weeks at a time. She and Matt often found themselves unattached at work functions and had forged a friendship. If either had a problem, they used each other as a sounding board.
Didn’t mean he wanted to discuss his current problem, but he had a gut feeling he was about to be interrogated as she rounded her desk and accompanied him towards his corner office with its spectacular one-hundred-and-eighty-degree city views.
‘Well, aren’t you the man?’ she said