again if he wanted something to drink and struggled to respond normally. He was enormously grateful when she left the room and he could shove his head between his knees and pull himself back from the brink of fainting.
Because obviously he’d prefer not to take the concept of falling at Ellie’s feet too literally.
* * *
Ellie skipped down the stairs, belted into the kitchen and yanked her mobile from her pocket.
Merri answered on the first ring. ‘I know that you’re upset with me about extending my maternity leave...’
‘Shut up! This is more important!’ Ellie hissed, keeping her voice low. ‘Mitchell sent me a man!’
Merri waited a beat before responding. ‘Your father is procuring men for you now? Are you that desperate? Oh, wait...yes, you are!’
‘You are so funny...not.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘No, you twit, I’m acting as a Cape Town B&B for his stray colleagues again, but this time he sent me Jack Chapman!’
‘The hottie war reporter?’ Merri replied, after taking a moment to make the connection. She sounded awed and—gratifyingly—a smidgeon jealous. ‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’
‘What’s he like?’ Merri demanded.
‘He’s reluctantly, cynically charming. Fascinating. And he has the envious ability to put people at ease. No wonder he’s an ace reporter.’ When low-key charm and fascination came wrapped up in such a pretty package it was doubly, mind-alteringly disarming.
‘Well, well, well...’ Merri drawled. ‘It sounds like he has made quite an impression! You sound...breathy.’
Breathy? No, she did not!
But why did she feel excited, shy, nervous and—dammit—scared all at the same time? Oh, she wasn’t scared of him—she knew instinctively, absolutely, that Jack was a gentleman down to his toes—but she was on a scalpel-edge because he was the first man in ages who had her nerve-endings humming and her sexual radar beeping. And if she told Merri that...
‘You’re attracted to him,’ Merri stated.
She hated it when Merri read her mind. ‘I’m not...it’s just a surprise. And even if I was...’
‘You are.’
‘He’s too sexy, too charming, has a crazy job that I loathe, and he’ll be gone in a day or two.’
‘Mmm, but he’s seriously hot. Check him out on the internet.’
‘Is that what you’re doing? Stop it and concentrate!’ She gave Merri—and herself—a mental slap. ‘I have more than enough to deal with without adding the complication of even thinking about attraction and sex and a good-looking face topping a sexy body! Besides, I’m not good at relationships and men.’
‘Because you’re still scared to risk giving your heart away and having to take it back, battered and bruised, when they ride off into the sunset?’
Merri tossed her own words back at her and Ellie grimaced.
‘Exactly! And a pretty face won’t change anything. My father and my ex put me through an emotional grinder and Jack Chapman has the potential to do the same...’
‘Well, that’s jumping the gun, since you’ve just met him, but I’ll bite. Why?’
‘Purely because I’m attracted to him!’ Ellie responded in a heated voice. ‘It’s an unwritten rule of my life that the men I find fascinating have an ability to wreak havoc in my life!’
They dropped in, kicked her heart around, ultimately decided that she wasn’t worth sticking around for and left.
Merri remained silent and after a while Ellie spoke again. ‘You agree with me, don’t you?’
‘No, don’t take my silence for agreement; I’m just in awe of your crazy.’ Merri sighed. ‘So, to sum up your rant: you are such a bum magnet when it comes to men that your rule of thumb is that if you find one attractive then you should run like hell? Avoid at all costs?’
‘You’ve nailed it,’ Ellie said glumly.
‘I want to see how you manage to do this when the man in question has moved his very hot self into your rather small house.’
Ellie disconnected her mobile on Merri’s hooting laughter. Really, with friends like her...
Returning to the spare bedroom with towels for his bathroom and a cold beer in her hands, Ellie heard a low groan and peeked through the crack in the door to look at Jack, still sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the bottom of his shirt, pale and sweating.
Hurrying into the room, she dumped the towels on the bed, handed him the beer and frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
Jack took a long, long drink from the bottle and rested the cold glass against his cheek. ‘Sure. Why?’
‘I noticed that you winced when you picked up your backpack. You took your time walking up the stairs, and now you’re as white as a sheet and your hands are shaking!’
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m a bit dinged up,’ he eventually admitted.
‘Uh-huh? How dinged up?’
‘Just a bit. I’ll survive.’ Jack put the almost empty beer bottle on the floor and gripped the edge of his shirt again.
Ellie watched him struggle to pull it up and shook her head at his white-rimmed mouth.
‘Can I help?’ she asked eventually.
‘I’ll get there,’ Jack muttered.
He couldn’t, and with a slight shake of her head she stepped closer to the bed, grabbed the edges of his T-shirt and helped him pull it over his head. A beautiful body was there—somewhere underneath the blue-black plate-sized bruises that looked like angry thunderclouds. He had a wicked vertical scar bisecting his chest that suggested a major operation at one time, and Ellie bit her lip when she walked around his knees to look at his back. She couldn’t stifle her horrified gasp. The damage on his back was even worse, and on his tanned skin she could see clear imprints of a heel here and the toe of a boot there.
‘What does the other guy look like?’ she asked, trying to be casual.
‘Guys. Not as bad as me, unfortunately.’ Jack balled his T-shirt in his hand and tossed it towards his rucksack. ‘The Somalians decided to give me something to remember them by.’
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, bent over and, using one hand and taking short breaths, undid the laces of his scuffed trainers. When they were loose enough, he toed them off.
Jack sent her a crooked grin that didn’t fool her for a second. ‘As you can see, all in working order.’
‘Anything broken?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I think
