Untamed Bachelors. Susan Stephens

ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

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       Copyright

When He Was Bad …

      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 Mills & Boon 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.

      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