she’d expected.
She whimpered and covered her face with her hands, even though there was no one there to see her blush.
How was she going to face him in the morning?
CHAPTER SIX
MARK stumbled downstairs some time after ten. He’d intended to get up earlier, but he hadn’t dropped off until dawn and then his sleep had been heavy, full of dreams where he was running from unseen predators. He’d wanted to be fresh and calm this morning, to deal with the aftermath of last night’s events with just a little panache.
He didn’t have to search hard for Ellie, though; he could smell something delicious wafting from the kitchen, and he followed the mouthwatering smell like a zombie.
Well, almost like a zombie. His heart rate was pattering along too fast for him to be considered officially dead. Was he … was he nervous?
He’d spent hours last night in his study, going over and over it all in his head. Not that he’d come to any earth-shattering conclusions. He had a housekeeper. She kissed like a dream. That was about the sum total of it.
All he’d done was kiss her. It was hardly a big deal.
All he’d done … He should listen to himself.
If it had just been a kiss, his heart wouldn’t be flapping around inside his chest like a fish out of water.
He liked Ellie. And not in the let’s-have-dinner-at-the-Ivy kind of way he normally liked women. It felt different. As if this kind of liking had a different shape, was a different kind of entity all together.
Now, that was a scary thought.
Like Helena, Ellie was one of those delicate beings, beautiful in their frailty like an orchid or a butterfly. And that made her even more dangerous. He knew he couldn’t resist getting drawn in by women like that, finding himself wanting to protect them, to care for them until they were whole again. It was a weakness, he knew, but one that he channelled into his clients these days, by being the best manager in the business. At least they paid him for his devotion.
That kind of woman sucked everything out of a man until he had nothing left to give. And then she took what he’d done, all the tender, loving care he’d given, and bestowed it on someone else, someone who didn’t remind her of the pain. Someone who didn’t remind her of who she used to be when she was just a shell, empty and hurting.
He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t be that for anyone again.
So he would just have to deflect Ellie, dazzle her, and move things back to where they should be—on a purely professional level.
If he could talk a highly strung diva down from demanding three-hundred-pound-a-bottle mineral water that had been blessed by a Tibetan priest in her dressing room, he could surely manage this. And then he would invent a reason to go and stay at his flat in London for a few days. It wasn’t running away; it was self-preservation.
‘Morning,’ he said, overcompensating a little and sounding much too relaxed as he entered the kitchen. Ellie had her back turned to him. She was stirring something in a saucepan on the hob and returned his greeting in a cool, clipped voice, not looking up from the pan.
‘What are you doing?’
Ah, yes. This is the smooth wit and banter you are famous for … This will charm the socks off her and sort everything out.
Ellie didn’t say anything, just stirred harder.
‘It smells great. What is it?’
‘I decided to make a big batch of bolognaise and freeze it in smaller portions for quick suppers,’ she said in a starchy voice. ‘Would you like me to stop and fetch you breakfast?’
That was the last thing he wanted. Far too awkward.
‘It’s okay. I’m more than capable of getting my own coffee.’
He grabbed himself a mug of coffee and sat down at the circular wooden table near the French windows that led to the garden. Ellie was pushing what he now recognised as beef mince round the pan with a wooden spoon. It spat and hissed, the only sound in the rapidly thickening atmosphere.
He cleared his throat. ‘Ellie, listen …’
‘Look, Mark, I know where this is going.’
‘You do?’ He rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand.
‘I do. And let’s not go there.’
Good. They were reading off the same page. Why, then, had his stomach bottomed out like a plummeting lift?
‘Okay,’ he said, not trusting himself with anything more complicated. It seemed as if Ellie was doing fine on her own, anyway. She took a deep breath in readiness for another speech.
‘You’re my boss. You spend your time flitting around the globe and living the high life. And I’m …’ She looked at the ceiling, searching for the right word.
‘I know I’m your boss—of course I know that—and you’re …’
Surprising? Appealing? Unforgettable? Those were the words that filled his head. None of them were the right ones to come out of his mouth, though.
‘You’re …’
Ellie’s gaze wandered down from the heavens and settled on him. ‘I’m your housekeeper.’
‘Right.’ That was correct. But it didn’t feel like the right answer.
She shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly. ‘To be honest, you and me, it’s just—’
‘Complicated?’
She shrugged one shoulder. ‘I was going for tacky or predictable, but your word works too.’
Ouch.
‘I’m your employee, and I think we should keep our relationship on a professional basis,’ she said, turning to face him fully.
‘I agree with you one hundred percent.’
He looked hard at her, trying to work out what she was thinking. Her words were telling him she was fine, but her tone said something entirely different.
‘You seem upset …’
She waved the wooden spoon in dismissal.
‘Upset? I’m not upset!’
‘Good.’
She gave him a blatantly fake smile, and returned her attention to the meat in the pan.
‘Annoyed, then?’
More frantic stirring.
‘Nope. Not at all.’ She started jabbing the wooden spoon at the remaining lumps.
Ellie
