The early morning breeze was chilly, a fine spray of rain misting through the air. Traffic was slowly picking up as shift workers passed the service station on their way to work, several cars pulling in to fuel up.
Nice weather, but it made her leg ache a little.
Pulling on her jacket, Ella stuck her hand in the pocket to pluck out the car keys.
“’Bout time you got a new one.” Wiping his hands on a dirty rag, Vangard surveyed the old car.
“No point wasting good money.”
“A reliable car is never a waste of money.”
“This is reliable.”
“It’s decrepit.”
“Just keep it going, Van, and I’m a happy camper.”
Tucking the rag into the back pocket of his already oily overalls, he shook his head. “Ella, you can’t-”
“Can, have done, will do.” Sliding behind the steering-wheel, she started the engine. “Purrs like a kitten.” Putting it in gear, she studied the traffic on the road. “Take the bill out of my pay.”
Driving out of the garage, pulling into the morning traffic, she didn’t need to look in the rear-view mirror to know he was watching her. But she did it anyway. It never hurt to check behind her.
Ever. That had been a rather painful lesson that ensured she’d never forget.
Pointing the bonnet towards home, she threaded her way through the traffic that was slowly increasing. A police car approached from behind, siren blaring, and blew on past her to disappear into the misty distance.
Not even curious, she flipped on the radio to listen to the morning news. All bad, as usual, but she listened nevertheless, smiling when a particularly juicy bit of news came on.
“And news breaking story, a well-known prestigious lawyer, Harld Becker, has been questioned by police, the subject as yet unknown. There is no comment from police at this time other than he is helping them with inquiries. We await further updates.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Turning into her street, Ella tapped a forefinger against the steering-wheel. “It’s coming. Trust me.”
As she rounded the gentle curve, she noticed several people standing on the sidewalk. In front of her house. Gawking, she saw as she turned into the driveway and drew to a stop. Braking, she studied the house. “Well, dear me. Guess I ruffled someone’s feathers.” At the knock on her window, she obligingly rolled it down. “Good morning, Mrs Featherstone.”
“Did you see what someone did to your house?”
“Kind of hard not to.”
“Your landlord will be livid!”
Very true.
Lips pursed, resting an elbow on the door frame, she surveyed the front of the house. Painted in dripping red paint - nice touch - were the words ‘wore of a gosiper’.
“It’s outrageous!” Her neighbour announced.
“Absolutely. They could at least get the spelling right.”
Mrs Featherstone tugged her cardigan closer around her. “This is bad.”
Getting out of the car, Ella slung the strap of her bag over one shoulder. “Could have been worse.” At the askance glance thrown her way, she explained, “Could have been a broken window. Now that would have sucked lemons. Imagine all that rain getting onto the carpet.”
“Are you going to call the police?”
“Did you see who did it?”
“No. It was like that when I got up.”
“Then I doubt they left a calling card.”
“Ella-”
Limping slightly, she started up the path. “I’ll see you later.”
“Ella!” With an exasperated sigh, Mrs Featherstone strode back to her own home, the few gawkers doing the same.
Stopping next to the wall, Ella touched her finger to the paint. It was wet, but then again the misty rain wasn’t going to help it dry. There were no drops of paint on the ground, so it had done early in the night before the rain started. Handy. At least Tom wasn’t going to bitch about paint on the path.
Going up onto the veranda, she was greeted by the old, crabby, one-eyed, one-eared tabby tomcat who had adopted her soon after she’d moved in.
Squatting down, she gave his ears a rub, rewarded by his purring. “Now, if I hadn’t seen you sitting on the chair waiting for me to come home and bring you breakfast, Boof, I would have been worried. Good thing you gave me the slip last night and took off before I could lock you inside.” Giving him a last rub, she straightened and looked at the security door, pleased to note the lock hadn’t been forced. Tucked into the door was a slip of paper. Plucking it out, she read the typed words. It was short and to the point. “Huh.” Thoughtfully, she rolled the paper up and tapped it against one open palm. “Okay, Boof, maybe it’s time I got a little security.”
She detoured around the back to check the surroundings but nothing was disturbed, the security screen door undamaged and all locks intact. The laundry on the right of the back veranda was still securely shut, not that there was much to steal there, but a bottle of laundry detergent was still a bottle of laundry detergent. Stealing just got right in her craw.
Along with a lot of other things.
Unlocking the back door, she pushed it wide open, eyes scanning the interior. All was quiet so she reached around and snapped the light on, the glow filling the kitchen to reveal emptiness.
If anyone was inside, they weren’t making it obvious. She doubted very much that anyone lurked within, but one could never be too careful.
When Boof walked past her inside, she raised her eyebrows. “Okay, then, no one lurking in the house.” If anyone had been inside, the cat would never have set foot in the doorway.
Regardless, she did a tour through the old house, checking the rooms. Once satisfied that it was empty of intruders, she returned to the kitchen to feed Boof before setting the kettle on to boil and retreating to the shower.
The hot water running over her leg eased the ache. Leaning back against the wall, she let the wet heat beat down across the scars as she lathered up the face washer and scrubbed the scent of fuel and deep fried food from her skin and hair.
As the soap swirled down the plug hole, she felt a small measure of contentment at knowing someone else’s life was going down the drain just as fast.
Bastard.
Later, sitting in the kitchen with a hot cup of tea steaming at her elbow and a plate of toast slathered in butter and Vegemite, she started to flip through the phone book.
Security cameras were a good idea.
~*~
Entering Wells Security, Ryan took off his sunglasses, glanced around and found everything in order as usual. It’d be a rare day that Raymond didn’t have control of the reception, ruling it with the iron fist of an ex-college professor with an IQ that was almost off the charts.
Anyone would think a man of his calibre would have found a high paying job elsewhere, but the burned out professor had found this job at Wells Security and was more than happy with it. It also helped that Aaron, boss and owner of the company, used him to help plot strategies when needed, and do research at which Raymond excelled.
“’Morning.” Raymond’s voice was deep for such a skinny little bloke.
Ryan nodded.
“Aaron’s with a client.”
Ryan nodded again.
Raymond turned back to the computer. “Two sets of security cameras to go in today, the mayor’s office called to see if anything else was required for you to know in time for the convention next week, the new shopping arcade wants a quote done for both security cameras and a static guard.”
“Onto it.” Walking past the reception desk, Ryan went through the door into the office where desks were set. One was his alone, several others for the other security team to enter their data and do their paperwork.
Marietta was already seated, brow furrowed, chewing her bottom lip as she concentrated. Going behind her, Ryan stopped and surveyed the screen.
On it was a photo of a car. Raymond’s car. She hadn’t bothered to even blot out the number plate. She had, however, in artistic abandonment, added a pink banner down the side emblazoned with ‘Shag Wagon - for a good time call Ray-Ray! Double rates for double-ups!
Silently shaking his head, Ryan started past her. Raymond would wig out when he saw it, which was just what the mouthy and sometimes outrageous Marietta was aiming for, much to the security team’s amusement. They did a dangerous job, though, and fun times helped ease the tension, so he wasn’t going to stop the fun until he decided it had run its course - or Aaron decided it.
So caught up in her nefarious deeds, she suddenly realised someone was walking behind her and quickly flashed up some form onto the screen, twisting in the chair to give Ryan a smile as sweet and innocent as a newborn babe.
A babe that could appear from seemingly nowhere to slip a knife between your ribs before fading back into the shadows.
Sitting behind his desk, Ryan fired up his computer.
“Hey,” Marietta greeted him. “Aaron is seeing a possible client which you would normally deal with, seeing as it’s just security cameras.”
He nodded.
“And, you know, I only just got in from shift and no one else was available to do it.”
He nodded again.
“You’re a little late. It’s ten o’clock.”
“Worked late last night.”
“Oohh, did Aaron send you out on a job that interfered with beddy-byes?”
He slanted her a look.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Or…” She smiled wider. “Did you have a date?”
He brought up the email.
“Did you take her somewhere nice? Wine and dine her, buy her flowers?”
“Who?” Ben appeared in the doorway that led to the small hallway behind them.
“Ryan was out on a date last night.”
Ben’s mouth fell open.
“Fact.”
Sceptically, Ben looked at Ryan. “Fiction.”
Ignoring them, Ryan started methodically checking the emails.
“He was rabbiting on about it to me.” Marietta placed one hand on her chest. “Cross my heart.”
Shaking his head, Ben disappeared back into the hallway and up the stairs to Control Centre.
“My God, everyone wants to talk at once.” Marietta returned cheerfully to her mischief.
Doing a quick perusal of the emails, Ryan saw nothing amiss. The usual were there, forwarded on to him by Aaron after he’d personally scrutinized them first - contact from those doing bodyguard duty, reports from the monitors at the mayor’s office, the requests that Raymond had mentioned, reports from the security teams currently covering the government officials gathering in Canberra, another report from a security team covering a visiting A-List actor from the US that had requested Wells Security while in Australia, and finally the reports from the security teams in two middle Eastern countries covering dignitaries.
All was under control.
Once Aaron was finished with the potential client, Ryan would go to him and they’d organize the day’s work, his boss filling him in on reports he’d personally gotten. Not everything went through Ryan, even though he was Aaron’s second-in-command. Aaron liked to keep his fingers strongly on the pulse of his organisation, often getting correspondence that Ryan didn’t - namely anything that faintly smelled of terrorism that he would pass on to his contact at the Federal Police. Other things such as the darker side of the organisation - things that happened to keep things running smoothly that no one but the highest authorities had to know - went directly to Aaron. From there, he passed on what needed to be done to Ryan.
The sound of voices approached from the hallway behind which Aaron’s office came off. He was finished with the client.
“Thank you,” a woman’s voice said.
Ryan’s head snapped up. That voice… His eyes narrowed, gaze zeroing in on the doorway. It couldn’t be…
Aaron’s deeper voice responded, “Ryan will organise for someone to go out to your house and assess the best places to put the security cameras.”
“I appreciate it,” came that familiar, dulcet tone.
A voice he hadn’t heard in years. A voice he knew so well. A voice that had echoed on and off in his memory for so long. A tone that - in a lightening move he was on his feet, striding past a startled Marietta who swung around in her chair to watch.
Reaching the doorway, Ryan stepped into the hall, his eyes locking onto the woman moving out of Aaron’s office. Her back was to him, but he knew.
He knew.
With that uncanny ability Aaron sensed his shock, his gaze lifting from the woman to fasten on Ryan, his pale blue eyes taking in whatever expression Ryan wore though not one flicker of an eyebrow betrayed his knowledge of his second-in-command’s reaction to her.
Disregarding his boss, Ryan stared at the woman’s back. Golden blonde hair bundled up in a ponytail, prettily plump hour glass figure, sweetly rounded rump beneath black slacks, a thin black jumper hugging into a dipped-in waist and curvy hips.
He knew.
Mouth going dry, every nerve-ending in his body snapping to attention, heat, longing, regret - all surging through him with cruel, raking nails.
Turning, she started to smile at him, and froze.
He knew. He knew every line of that pretty face, the big dark grey eyes framed with naturally thick, black eyelashes. Knew the lushness of those pink lips, the sweet taste of her mouth. The way that small chin could firm stubbornly. The way those big breasts overflowed his palms, the press of pink nipples against his skin.
The way she fit so perfectly beneath him, all those plump curves open to his caresses, his touch, his lips, his tongue.
The way her body gave to him, welcomed him in deep. So very decadently deep.
He knew.
Shocked, he stared at her. Never thought to see her again, not after… Not after so long and what he’d done.
The woman’s eyes were wide with equal shock before fury flashed briefly, a world of pain quickly shuttered as she stiffened, her shoulders drawing back and chin lifting.
Aaron surveyed Ryan calmly before his gaze dropped thoughtfully to the golden-haired head that barely reached his shoulder.
“Ella?” Ryan whispered disbelievingly.
In a decisive move she stepped to one side to look up at Aaron. “Ryan works for you?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
“Ella?” Still not quite believing that she was actually here, in this very building, Ryan took a step forward.
“I’ll get back to you,” Ella told Aaron. “I just realised that I need to review my budget before I give a definite ‘yes’.”
Not by a flicker of an eyelash did Aaron betray his thoughts on her about-face. “Just let us know.”
“Thank you.” Turning, she walked towards Ryan.
Heart in his mouth, heart beating a rapid tattoo, he watched her, drinking her in. “Ella-”
“No.” She gave him one last, angry look before sliding past him into the office where Marietta made no attempt to hide her fascination.
Jesus. Ella’s scent filled him, the warmth of her hip as she brushed past him sending a fissure of forgotten flame licking through his body. He could only watch as she strode through the office into the reception area, automatically noted her limp slightly, heard her bid Raymond a good day before the door dinged as it shut behind her.
Leaving him staring in her wake, his emotions in turmoil, his usual calmness so rattled at the knowledge that she was here, in this city, this state. So close.
And she hates me.
His gut clenched, emotion surging through him.
She hated him. Hated him, didn’t want to acknowledge him.
Looked like he’d succeeded in his plans. He just hadn’t counted on what seeing her again would do to him.
“Ryan.”
It took him several seconds to realise that his boss was talking to him, Aaron having to call his name a second time before it registered. “Yes?”
“Come in. Shut the door.”
It wasn’t a request. Regaining focus, he took a deep breath and followed Aaron down the hallway into his office.
Taking the chair on the other side of the desk, Aaron leaned back in a familiar pose - one ankle resting on the opposite knee, elbow on the armrest, mouth resting lightly against his hand as he studied Ryan.
Inside might be turmoil, but Ryan was a master at controlling his expression and emotions around others. Seeing her again had sent it all into a spin, but with practised ease he resumed impassively meeting his boss’s scrutiny.
The silence lengthened as they regarded each other.
Normally Ryan had no problem with this, it was something they often did when Aaron was thinking or even on the phone, talking while watching him, neither of them in the least ill-at-ease, Ryan waiting for him to start talking. Now, however, Ryan had other things churning in his mind, such as why Ella had turned up here, and at the thought his gut clenched. Security cameras. She’d come for security cameras. That had to mean she felt threatened.
His hands clenched, knuckles going white at the thought. Catching Aaron’s gaze drifting down to study the involuntary action, he deliberately straightened his fingers, rested his palms on his thighs.
Then he did something he had never done in all the time he’d known and worked for Aaron Wells. He broke the silence first. “What’s her story?”
“What’s yours?” Aaron answered quietly.
Before Ryan could even reply, the phone rang.
Without breaking the deadlock of their gazes, Aaron picked up the phone and spoke immediately. “Hello, Ella.”
No guesses to know before he’d even spoken who was on the other end. It didn’t surprise Ryan.
“I see,” Aaron said. “Thank you for letting me know.” After a couple of seconds he added, “Goodbye” and hung up.
Ryan’s jaw clenched a little. “She doesn’t want Wells Security.”
“No.” Relaxing back in the chair, Aaron resumed his usual pose.
Because of me. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “How bad does she need this security?”
Reaching out, Aaron placed the tips of his fingers on the introductory detail sheet and pushed it across the desk before leaning back in the chair.
Picking it up, Ryan read through the details, each one jumping out at him. Vandalism and some harassment. Not a good neighbourhood . “What was her excuse for turning us down?”
“She rethought the costs and decided she couldn’t afford it right now.”
Involuntarily, Ryan’s hand crushed the section of paper in his fist as anger coursed through him. “That’s bullshit.”
If Aaron was surprised by his swearing, the unusual show of emotion, he didn’t show it, simply nodded agreement.
“It’s because of me.”
One eyebrow quirked slightly.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan smoothed the crumpled sheet out and placed it back on the desk. “I’ll talk to her.” He shoved upright.
Aaron waited until he got to the door. “Do I need to be worried?”
“About Ella? No. I’ll sort it.”
“About you.”
“No.”
“Ryan.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Talk? “No.” Hell, no.
“Do you need to talk about it?”
His hand tightened on the door handle before easing. “No.”
Aaron studied him before nodding and sitting forward, picking up the crumpled introductory sheet. “All right.” He glanced up once. “You know where I am.”
No way in hell was he about to have a heart-to-heart chat about his past to anyone. He’d never been one to spill his guts and he wasn’t about to start now.
Well, he had been once, but that was long ago. And he was a different man now. Too different.
Leaving the room, Ryan ignored the furtive glances Marietta cast him from the printer in the corner. Retrieving the keys from the key cabinet, he strode back out into the car park behind the Wells Security building, climbing into the Toyota Landcruiser parked in the employees’ eight car garage.
He didn’t need to write the address down, it was burned into his mind.
Pulling into the traffic, he drove with single-minded determination, threading through the morning traffic, going deeper into the city then out again until he came into a more trodden-down estate.
Now that he was over the shock of seeing her, other thoughts swamped him. Why was she living here? Why was Ella not back in Victoria? And even more, why had she been limping? What had happened? Had someone - his gut clenched, knuckles whitening on the steering-wheel - hurt her?
He’d kill them. He’d find the bastards and do some slicing and dicing. No regrets.
No regrets like he had now.
Too late for regrets.
Forcing himself to concentrate, he studied the neighbourhood in which she lived. It was old, the houses small, some of the gardens flourishing while others lay as barren wastelands according to the whims of the owners. Her address was near the end of the cul-de-sac, the house old but like the garden neatly maintained - nothing fancy, a very basic small lawn with a few flowering hibiscus bushes and two Frangipanis.
Braking to a stop in the driveway, he studied the house wall. The red paint was garish against the dingy white, the words large and misspelt - ‘wore of a gosiper’.
Ella was neither, no, not his Ella.
Though she wasn’t his Ella anymore, was she? He’d seen to that.
Pain bit deep inside him but with ruthless precision he shoved it back down, threw the lid closed and locked it firmly. That it could hurt so much after all these years was shocking in its extremity.
The veranda creaked under his boots as he strode across to the door while scrutinizing the security screen. Sturdy, good condition. The windows didn’t have security screens, she better have locks installed, though against someone not averse to busting the windows it wouldn’t help. The house needed security screens on the windows.
Knocking on the door, he waited.
No answer.
Another knock. Still no answer.
Crossing to the garage, he checked in the dingy window. No car. Didn’t mean she wasn’t there, she might not have a vehicle though he remembered how proud she’d been of the little white Hyundai she’d bought when she got her first job.
Long time ago. Everything was a damned long time ago.
Striding around to the back door, he knocked, checked the security screen. Everything locked.
A movement at the kitchen window caught his eye and he looked up to find himself being surveyed by a ratty old cat with one eye and a missing ear. It was eyeballing him warily through the kitchen window.
Now that is one ugly cat.
Almost immediately dismissing that realisation, he stepped back and pulled his mobile from his pocket, only to stop with his thumb raised above the keys.
Shit, he didn’t know Ella’s number. That had never happened before, he’d never forgotten to get any client’s or potential client’s phone number. But then again he’d been in the rare position of being rattled when he’d left the office.
Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he dialled the office.
“Wells Security,” Raymond greeted. “Raymond here. How can I help you?”
“It’s Ryan. I want Ella Attwood’s phone number.”
Ever unflappable - except when it came to Marietta’s mischief - the receptionist replied, “Just a minute.” Within less than ten seconds he was back on the phone. “Tell you or text?”
“Text.”
Minutes later Ryan stood on the edge of the back veranda with his mobile to his ear as he gazed at the clothes flapping on the line. She still wore lacy underwear. Amongst the plain t-shirts and slacks on the line were a lacy nightgown and equally lacy panties and pretty bras.
He remembered the feel of lace being drawn down by his fingertips, her warm, satiny skin beckoning to him. Her husky, teasing laughter…
As a recorded message answered, his fingers tightened on the mobile. All he could leave was his number. Wisely he refrained from stating his name, sure Ella wouldn’t return the phone call if she knew it was him.
Sliding the mobile back into his pocket, he walked out into the yard and turned to survey the back of the house, mentally noting the best positions for security cameras.
Woman might not want Wells Security, but she was going to get them.
Moving around the house, he counted the number of security cameras needed, tested the windows - at least she had them locked - and the strength of the security doors. He’d have to talk to her about security screens on the windows.
Standing at the front of the house studying the red paint on the wall, he felt eyes on him and turned his head to see a round-faced, elderly woman peering over her fence.
“You’re not Tom,” she stated bluntly.
“Tom.”
“The landlord. God knows he should have been here by now getting that terrible slur painted over.” She sniffed. “Not that Ella probably told him, mind you.”
Font of all knowledge, and he was going to take full advantage of it. “Oh?”
“Too stubborn for her own good, thinks she can handle whatever comes her way.”
“And what’s come her way?”
The woman glanced at the red paint on the wall. “Can’t you see?”
“Paint.”
“Then you must see that disgusting sentence.”
“Any idea who did it?”
“Could be a couple of people, she’s annoyed a few.” Then apparently remembering that she didn’t have a clue who he was, her eyes narrowed. “What did you say your name was?”
“A friend of Ella’s.” She was obviously waiting for him to reveal his name but Ryan had no intention of giving it. “Where is she?”
Dubiously, she stared at him.
He looked steadily back at her.
Sure enough, after a couple of seconds she looked a little rattled, her gaze darting away as she grew uncomfortable under his expressionless regard. “No idea. She came home from nightshift and then took off again.”
Nightshift. Nurse? Cop? Night packer in a supermarket? Nursing home?
“So…anyway…” She cleared her throat. “I better go in, hubby’ll be calling me for his cuppa any minute.” With that, she disappeared back behind the fence.
Ryan listened to the sound of her door shutting while regarding the houses opposite. All was quiet, everyone either indoors or at work, kids at school. No little kids played in the yards, no howling babies sounded, no dogs barked.
Crossing to his car, he got in and backed out, casting the house one last look before pulling away.
He’d be back.
She’d better be there.
~*~
Sitting at the café outdoor bench and table, a can of Diet Coke in hand, Ella stared unseeingly out at the calm ocean.
Ryan Hargreaves was here, in this very city, at the very security company that was known to be the best in the country. There was no way she could use that company now, not with him there.
Taking a sip of the cold, fizzing drink, she watched the roll and ebb of the ocean frothing along the shoreline.
Seeing him right there, right in front of her… God, it had hit her hard, like getting dowsed in the face with a bucket of cold water. It was as though time rolled back, all the hurt, pain, and betrayal vanishing, leaving her looking at the face of the man she’d loved so much. The face of the man who’d held her, made love to her, whispered sweetness in her ears and laughed with her.
The memory of him, his taste, his touch, his masculine, clean, male scent as he’d pulled her into his arms, laughed softly in her ear as he skimmed the clothes from her body, all those hard, muscled planes pressed so firmly against her, the skill, the tenderness…
The rejection.
The hurt and pain.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Yeah, she had to remember the pain. Sweet, hot memories were all very well and good, but they were shattered, torn apart, shoved so very far down in a well of despair and humiliation that she could never afford to forget it. Had vowed never to have her heart broken again.
Another long swallow of Diet Coke, her fingers trembling just a little. No, she couldn’t forget, wouldn’t forget. It was lousy luck that he was here now but it didn’t mean she had to see him. God knew how long they’d both been in the same city without knowing the other was present.
Her mobile rang softly but she didn’t bother to pick it up, letting it go to message bank.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Glancing up, she smiled at the woman who worked at the real estate office beside the service station. “Hey, Shelly.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”
“Soon.”
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Welcoming the chance to change her train of thought, Ella gestured with the can. “Day off?”
“Still on holidays. Back to work on Monday, worse luck.”
“How’d the camping trip go?”
“Dead loss. All I got was a cold arse and something bit me.”
“On the arse? It was a decrepit old camping ground with no real toilet. Maybe you sat on an old dunny and got bitten by a Redback spider, ever think of that?”
“I squatted out in the grass, you ever think of that?”
“Too much information.” Ella laughed.
“I was bitten on the arm, wise guy. I think it was a mozzie.” Shelly rubbed her arm under the jumper sleeve. “Man, can you believe how chilly it is today? Way too chilly for the beginning of autumn.”
“Is that what we’re being relegated to? Talk of the weather?”
“Up yours. So you’re not working tonight?”
“Actually, I am.”
“So shouldn’t you be getting some beauty sleep? ‘Cause I hate to be mean, but you look like crap.”
“I feel so much better, thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Shelly grew serious. “So why are you here instead of bed?”
“Trouble sleeping.”
“Problem?”
“No.” Yes.
The mobile rang again, Shelly looking questioningly at her when she didn’t pick it up.
“Can’t be bothered.” Without looking, Ella drained the contents of the can before tossing it with unerring accuracy into a nearby rubbish bin. “I’m just having a touch of insomnia.”
“Sucks.” Shelly brightened. “Hey, I know this girl who sells herbs and stuff, why don’t you go see if she’s got something to help you sleep?”
“It’s all good, mother hen, I promise you.” Ella faked a yawn and stretched leisurely. “I think sitting here has helped lull me a little, I’m actually starting to feel tired. Think I’ll head for home and bed after all.”
Shelly glanced at her wrist watch. “I’m heading off, too. Got some shopping to do then I’ve a date with the vacuum cleaner.”
“Your son didn’t do the housework while you were away?”
“Man has no concept of what a vacuum cleaner is for unless it’s to clean his car.” Flashing a grin, Shelly stood. “Catch you later. Sleep well.”
Ella watched her go before getting slowly to her feet. Sitting here all day wasn’t going to do any good. She had work tonight and needed to get some sleep in regardless of her chaotic thoughts.
No, she thought sternly, not chaotic. He’s not worth getting churned up about.
Driving home, she forced herself to focus on the radio, even singing along to the songs, so determined to put Ryan from her thoughts that she’d do practically anything.
Pulling into the driveway, she eyed the red paint on the white wall of the house. Hell, she’d even paint the wall right now if she could muster the energy. Now, however, she really was feeling a little tired. Time to hit the sack and be done with it. She had two days off starting tomorrow and could repaint the wall then.
Counting her lucky stars that Mrs Featherstone hadn’t seen her arrive, she shut the garage door, hoping that would prevent her neighbour from coming over to nag her about ringing Tom. The man would moan and groan and she really didn’t have the patience for it right now.
Fifteen minutes later she was showered and fast sleep.
Five hours later she was woken by knocking on the door.
Trying to ignore it, she pulled the pillow over her head and curled up under the Doona, Boof giving a disgruntled meow of protest at her feet. The knocking continued, however, this time at the back door.
Flinging back the Doona, she swore. “This had better be bloody worth it.” Then, just to give the unwanted guest the shits and time to leave, and yes, a little bit of vanity in not wanting morning breath - or afternoon breath, take your pick - to greet them in case it was Tom, she yelled out ‘Just a minute!”, gave her teeth a quick brush, gargled water, swallowed several mouthfuls and checked her hair. The braid was a little messy but so sad, too bad.
The knocking had stopped, so maybe whoever it was had left. Even better.
Muttering to herself, she dragged a thin dressing gown over her nightie as she strode into the kitchen and yanked open the back door. At the sight of the man standing on the edge of the veranda with his back toward her, her mouth went dry.
She didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. One look at those broad shoulders under the blue polo shirt, the dark brown hair, was enough. More than enough.
At the sound of the door he took his sunglasses off and looked around - right as she shut it in his face.
It was a move that wasn’t going to work, she just knew it. Sure enough, he knocked. Folding her arms beneath her breasts as she unknowingly curled inward a little, she stared at the door.
“Ella.” Ryan’s quiet voice came through the door. “Open up.”
She swallowed.
“Open up.” There was a resolute firmness about his tone.
Involuntarily, her fingers clenched in the thin material of the dressing gown.
“Ella.”
If she ignored him, stayed quiet, he’d go away and-
“I’m not leaving.”
What? Could he read her mind or something? Wait… She bit her lip. Yes, he probably could. He’d always known what she thought, what she felt. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.
“I’m not leaving,” Ryan restated.
Straightening her shoulders, she scowled. She wasn’t the same person he’d left behind, she could stand on her own two feet and that included standing against the one who’d hurt her the most. Yanking open the wooden door, she snapped, “Go away.”
His face remained calm. “Open up.”
“I’ll call the police if you don’t get off my freakin’ property!”
Those brown eyes were locked onto hers, the intensity in them a quiet burn. “Open up.”
“We can talk through the door. If I wanted to talk,” she added, “which I don’t.”
“Open up.”
“Do you know any other words? Such as ‘goodbye’?”
This time he didn’t answer, just continued to gaze through the security screen at her.
He wasn’t going to leave, she just knew it. It was either let him in or have him still standing there tonight when she left. And then he’d get her.
Calling herself all kinds of an idiot, she flipped the lock on the door and swung away to cross to the sink, filling a glass of water so she’d have something to do with her hands. Okay, and allow her to watch in the reflection of the kitchen window as he entered.
It was as though his presence suddenly filled the room, pressing in upon her, which was just ridiculous. Taking sip of water, she schooled her features before turning to eye him coolly.
Ryan looked good, damned good. Tall, broad-shouldered, tanned skin, dark-eyed and dark-haired. Muscular under the short-sleeved, navy polo shirt bearing the Wells Security logo in pale blue stitching on the breast pocket. The navy blue pants skimmed his legs but she knew full-well muscular thighs were hidden beneath. Lace-up black boots shod his feet, no doubt steel-capped for kicking the shit out of anyone who dared cross him, because hell, his face also had something it had never possessed back in the day. A hint of cruelty.
Her fingers tightened a little on the glass as she took in his air. Yeah, it was there, his handsome face a little older, so serious, so grim, with a hint of cruelty in the features, the watchfulness of a predator. His eyes that once laughed and sparkled with life now assessed her kitchen as he swept it with a narrow-eyed gaze right before that assessing gaze stopped on her.
He watched her with an almost dark, brooding air and now she could feel it, a subtle shift of danger around him, the way he held himself seemingly relaxed but so alert, so ready to spring into action, a stillness about him as he dissected her with his gaze, those brown eyes making her squirm inside with the sheer intensity of it.
Like a predator assessing prey.
Her knees practically knocked together, a rush of anger and desire rushing through her at breakneck speed before her lips tightened. Damn it, she wasn’t prey. Not anymore. And she didn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings - if the bastard even had any left.
“So,” she said coolly when it appeared he wasn’t going to speak first, “now you’ve gotten what you wanted, what is it?” Before he could reply, she raised a finger. “Wait. Let me guess. You’re running me out of town?”
If anything, that had the intensity in his eyes sharpening.
“Or maybe you’re here to warn me off the business? Maybe because I’ll - oh, I don’t know, cause you a problem?”
Oh boy, if she’d thought the air of danger around him was subtle, it was way off from there now. It practically seeped from him like invisible tendrils.
Looked like Ryan Hargreaves was getting a little miffed.
Ella couldn’t help but feel a little savage satisfaction. “Or maybe you’re shacked up now with some sheila and you’re worried that I’ll influence her with my presence? Or tell her that we were once a couple?” She shook her head, tsked. “I promise I won’t taint your reputation, Ryan. I’m hands-off your girlfriend - wife, family, whatever. So you can take your little threatening air and skedaddle out of here.” She waved her fingers toward the door. “Nice meeting you again and all that polite crap.”
Oh yeah, that cracked his composure a little. His lips tightened, his eyes narrowed, and that danger practically thickened the atmosphere.
With a smirk, she drained the glass of water, placed it on the sink and proceeded to stride from the room. “So if you’ll be so kind as to shut the door on the way out - and oh, what’s the saying? Don’t let it hit you on the arse? Although, you know, I don’t really care about that last bi-”
Her triumphant exit was marred by a big hand wrapping around her upper arm as Ryan jerked her to a halt. She half expected to be shoved against a wall, instead he held her still, stepping closer so that her upper arm brushed his chest as he held her side-on to him.
If silence could be loud, this was it. They stood, Ella’s heart rate picking up alarmingly as she felt the heat of his body seep into her, the feel of his hand wrapped around her arm, his muscled forearm pressed against her side, his very closeness eliciting all kinds of disturbing sensations.
His scent filled her, every inhale sucking clean male and a faint hint of soap into her lungs. That big hand wrapped around her upper arm felt like it could burn through the thin material of her dressing gown, warmth emanating to spread through her arm.
Swallowing down the nerves that sprinkled through her, she lifted her chin, so very aware of his gaze fastened on her as he waited for her to make the next move.
Or maybe he was planning his own.
Lifting her chin, she forced herself to turn her head unhurriedly and look down at his hand before slowly travelling her gaze up his chest to that rock-hard jaw, those unsmiling lips, that straight nose to finally meet brown eyes that were locked onto her with an intensity that was almost frightening.
Still he didn’t speak, just held her before him.
There was no doubting the nerves dancing under her skin, but she refused to show it. Or hoped she didn’t show it, because this lethal man could probably see it in her eyes.
“I’m not here to hunt you away, Ella,” Ryan said quietly, “I don’t have a girlfriend, family or wife. I’m not shacked up with any sheila. You won’t taint my reputation or that of Aaron’s company. You will be getting security cameras installed by Wells Security.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve news for you, mate, and it’s all bad.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not having Wells Security, I’ve cancelled it. Now let me go and get out of my house.” When not an eyebrow twitched nor a muscle jumped on that damned, hard, handsome face, she looked down at his hand still wrapped firmly around her upper arm. “Do you need that in writing?”
In reply, he released her.
Inwardly relieved, she pulled away from him and walked out the room, more than conscious of his gaze following her. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo but she kept her head up and back straight, exiting with as much dignity as she could muster. Let him find his own way out.
Resisting the temptation to go to the lounge room and peek through the window to watch him leave, she instead entered the bathroom. There was no way she could sleep now so she might as well shower early and get a few things done.
It was only when the water was beating down and she picked up the soap that she noticed the tremble of her hand. Looked like his turning up had disturbed her more than it should have done.
There was no point denying it, just as there was no point dwelling on it. Time was better spent on finding another security firm to put up cameras. It was a shame, Wells Security had the best reputation around, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and no way did she want to be connected in anyway with a company for which Ryan worked.
In the middle of shaving her legs, she paused. As a matter of fact, just why was Ryan working for a security company? The last she’d seen of him, she’d been watching through a haze of tears as he’d walked away without a backward glance to resume his Commando duties in the Army.
Even as she wondered, she pushed the thought away. Didn’t matter, he wasn’t registering on her radar anymore. She’d flicked him off long ago and now had a new life. True, it wasn’t the great life she’d expected and planned but it was still her life. Give her lemons and she’d make lemon- ah bugger it, she’d give the sour shit to someone else to make damned lemonade. She had bigger fish to fry.
In fact, she’d thrown those fish right into the middle of the frypan.
With that thought, she smiled and finished shaving her legs.
Feeling better, she finished her shower and dressed in shorts and a button-up blouse, slid on a pair of thongs and surveyed her toe nails. Pretty pink polish, still unchipped. Not bad. Bundling her hair into a careless bun, she returned to the bedroom to slip the nightie under the pillow and make the bed. Opening the window, she let the fresh breeze blow the curtains back into the room and inhaled. The chill rain was gone, the sunny afternoon pleasantly warm. Autumn was around the corner but the days were still nice.
Maybe she’d amble down to the paint shop and get a few things ready for the paint job tomorrow on the front of the house. Tom need never know what had happened, a slap of paint and no worries. While out she’d call in to another security business. Time to check out the phone book before she left.
Walking down the small hall, she slowed when she heard a voice.
A male voice.
A very familiar male voice of someone who had no right to be there.
In her bloody kitchen.
Temper flaring, she swung into the kitchen to find Ryan bent over her kitchen bench, his mobile beside his hand and an open notebook before him that - Goddamn it! - had a hand-drawn picture of her bloody house on it!
As she entered practically breathing fire, his face remained impassive while his gaze slid over her before returning to the paper.
“Cameras set at strategic places will cover all areas,” he was saying.
“What the hell are you-” Ella began furiously, only to have him hold up one finger.
One finger. At her. A gesture to be silent.
“You arrogant-”
“Ella?” Tom’s voice came from the mobile which was obviously on speaker. “Wells Security is putting cameras up.”
“What? No.” Bracing her palms on the bench, Ella stood opposite Ryan, glaring daggers at him. “I’m not hiring them.”
“No, you’re not. I am.”
“Look, Tom, you’re my landlord not my babysitter.”
“Vandalism costs me money, Ella.”
“I don’t want that company.”
“I do.”
Ryan scrutinized her face with a cool look before returning to jotting on the diagram of her freakin’ house.
Protesting, she made to snatch the notebook away. “I’m paying the damned rent!”
Ryan caught her wrist. When she tried to wrench away, his fingers merely tightened firmly.
“Your point?” Tom demanded.
“Cameras don’t come under the rent agreement.” Glaring at Ryan, Ella mouthed let go.
He released her. “Tom, I’ll have the quote to you within the hour.” Angry and frustrated, she opened her mouth only to be completely flummoxed when he quietly ordered, “Behave yourself. Tom, I need to get things moving.”
“You do that.”
Behave herself? Had he actually dared to say that as though she was a misbehaving child? Prepared to give him a verbal blasting, she was blindsided by her landlord.
“And listen to the man, Ella. Behave yourself and stop whining. The cameras are going up.” Tom was definitely annoyed. “I’m coming over tomorrow to see this vandalism for myself, so don’t think you’re going to paint over it so I won’t know. Ryan sent me a photo and Mrs Featherstone filled me in when, apparently, you couldn’t be bothered. We’re going to have a few words.”
Oh, like that bothered her. But that he could actually take the side of the sanctimonious prick standing across the other side of her kitchen bench was like rubbing salt into a wound.
“There’s no need for any of this,” Ella replied. “I can look after myself.”
“Then you wouldn’t need security cameras at all, but you went looking for them so what does that prove?” Tom shot back.
Ohhh, Tom was seething, she was so worried. Not. Normally a sweet, placid elderly man, by tomorrow he’d have cooled down. She’d talk him around and that would be an end to this fiasco.
Tom hung up and Ryan turned his mobile off, placed the pen down and looked at her. Unblinkingly, gaze boring into hers, not giving away anything of his thoughts.
“It’s not happening,” Ella informed him frostily.
He just continued to watch her.
“So don’t put too much effort into the quote.”
Releasing her, he pocketed the mobile and notebook while keeping those inscrutable eyes on her.
“Well, you got your way. Now get out.”
“Any idea who vandalised the wall?”
“Someone who can’t spell.”
She watched as he walked around the bench to stop right next to her, facing her while resting a lean hip against the bench and folding his arms loosely, causing his biceps to bunch impressively.
Not that she cared.
Refusing to back away, she arched an eyebrow in silent, angry query.
“What happened to your leg?” Ryan asked abruptly.
“My leg?”
“You limp when you walk.”
“Old war wound.”
He waited silently.
“Twisted my ankle a week ago, it’s still a little tender.”
That steady regard didn’t waver.
“Why the hell would you care, anyway?”
He didn’t blink.
Suddenly tired of it all, Ella said tightly, “You lost all right to ask anything personal a long time ago, Ryan. Your choice, remember? You walked away and I picked up my life and moved on, just like you did. So that includes anything personal.”
Something flickered in his eyes but he didn’t argue.
“Your dealings with the cameras are between you and my landlord.” Moving past him, she picked up her shoulder bag and plucked the keys from the hook on the wall. “Now, I’m going out to attend to a few things, so if you’re not going to leave and let me lock up then at least shut the door behind you.”
Yeah, that had him moving. The thought of an unlocked door just had to rattle his security-conscious nature.
She stood aside to let him exit.
The man couldn’t just walk out, could he? No, he had to stand there and hold the door open for her, waiting in silent contemplation. In no mood to argue she strode past him, locking the door when he shut it before walking off the veranda and around to the garage without looking at him, passing Boof lying under a bush on the way. Ryan must have let him out while she was showering.
Sitting in her car, she watched in the rear-view mirror as the Land Cruiser pulled out onto the road, Ryan handling the large car with ease. Once he’d disappeared down the street, she let out a deep breath and eased the tight grip on the steering-wheel, not really surprised to find her hands trembling.
It was ridiculous. Lips tightening, she backed out onto the road and drove off, blinking away the sudden sting in her eyes.
Lack of sleep, she assured herself. It was all due to lack of sleep.