When He Was Bad... by Anne Oliver Page B

with.
    Matt, who’d propped himself against the wall, watched her with a hint of the devil in his eyes. ‘Mrs Green’s suggestion sounds good to me.’
    â€˜Not to me.’ Straightening, she pulled out her keys. ‘I’ve worked two jobs today. Goodnight, Matt.’ She caught a glimpse of that sexy grin before she forced herself to turn away and head for the stairs.
    It was way, way harder than she wanted it to be.
    Â 
    Ellie was woken by a dull throbbing headache when her alarm trilled at 7:00 a.m. And when she swallowed, it was like forcing a razor blade down her throat. To her surprise, she realised she’d slept the entire night, probably because she’d been so exhausted.
    So how come she felt as if she hadn’t slept a wink?
    With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed and peered through her dust-spattered window at the heavy-bellied clouds just visible in the dawn sky. A dark rain shower swept across the distant suburbs, wind whistled with malice around the ill-fitting pane.
    A perfect day to burrow back under her quilt and nurse her sore throat. But she didn’t have that luxury, so she grabbed a couple of painkillers at the kitchen sink before stumbling to the bathroom.
    She stepped beneath the ancient showerhead, shivering as she soaped up quickly under the meagre lukewarm stream. She’d just bet Matt McGregor was still tucked up nice and warm in his bed.
    And after that kiss last night…well, she might have been sharing it with him. His hot, hard body pressing her into the mattress, springy masculine hair rasping against her nipples. That deep voice, gravelly with sleep and sinful suggestions while his fingers played out those sinful suggestions over her—
    â€˜Get those X-rated thoughts of your employer’s nephew right out of your head,’ she ordered herself, whipping the shower curtain aside, creating a shivery draught. Grabbing her towel, she rubbed briskly to get the blood flowing beneath her skin. ‘Concentrate on important matters. Like an income.’
    Belle paid her generously, but she needed to supplement it with another part-time job and somehow fit both jobs in around the volunteer after-school shifts she worked at the children’s centre around the corner.
    She loved kids but she’d never fall in love again, could never risk a failed marriage. Which meant no children, ever. But her maternal instincts were very much alive, and working with underprivileged children was her way of satisfying that natural urge.
    Grabbing a muesli bar, she swung her gear onto her shoulder and headed out into the wintry day. The tram was crowded and stuffy with early-morning commuters, and Ellie was glad of the fresh air when she disembarked just after eight and walked the last few minutes to Belle’s place.
    Remembering yesterday, she knocked on the back door to let Matt know she’d arrived. She could always hope he’d already gone to work. On the other hand she could hope she’d gotten him out of bed. To see him dishevelled and disgruntled at her early arrival. Bleary-eyed, unshaven…
    â€˜Good morning, Ellie.’
    She turned at his voice. He was none of those things.
    Fully dressed in dark jeans and a soft-looking cream jumper that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, he ambled from the garage, morning newspaper and a carton of milk in hand. He’d obviously showered and shaved already; the fresh smell of sandalwood soap carried on the breeze. And his eyes were bright, alert and focused. On her.
    Memories of last night’s kiss hung in the air between them. But this was a working day, a working environment, and she intended keeping it that way.
    â€˜Good morning.’ She cleared her throat, wincing at the raw pain as she did so and trotted down the back steps with an officious, ‘I’ll be getting on with it, then.’
    â€˜Want a coffee before you start?’
    â€˜No, thanks. I want to make