Free Flirting with Disaster by Sherryl Woods Page B

and tried not to let him see even a flicker of emotion on her face. She took a slow survey of his features—the dark eyes, thick golden brown hair, thin slash of lips. She wanted to remember every detail in case she ever had to describe him to the police. He wore jeans and a grubby formfitting T-shirt.
    â€œI stopped by to see Ellie,” she said more calmly. “Is she home?”
    â€œNow’s not a good time,” he said, and started to close the door.
    Maggie stepped over the threshold before he could stop her. “I’m not leaving till I’ve spoken to her,” she said, meeting the man’s angry gaze with an unblinking stare, even though she felt sick.
    He seemed thrown by her determination. “Look, lady, you can’t just come barging into someone’s home. It’s called trespassing.”
    â€œYou could always call the police,” she suggested mildly. “In fact, I think that’s a very good idea. Why don’t we do that?” She extracted her cell phone from her purse and flipped it open.
    For a minute she thought he might snatch the phone right out of her hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he stormed past her and headed for the elevator.
    Maggie waited until the elevator doors closed and it began its creaking descent before she breathed a sigh of relief. “Ellie?” she called softly. “It’s okay. He’s gone. Where are you?”
    â€œGo away,” Ellie pleaded from behind a closed door. “I know you were trying to help, but you’ve only made things worse.”
    Maggie’s stomach churned at the quiet desperation she heard in her employee’s voice. “Ellie, please, come out here. Let’s talk about this. I want to help.”
    Slowly the door to what was apparently a bathroom opened.
    Maggie wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t Ellie looking shaken but otherwise unharmed.
    â€œAre you okay?” she asked, surveying Ellie closely for signs of bruises.
    â€œBrian would never hurt me,” Ellie said. “Not physically, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    â€œFrom the elevator it sounded like a pretty violent argument,” Maggie said. “I was worried about you. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you by insisting on coming in.”
    Ellie sighed and sank down on a leather sofa. “It doesn’t really matter. He’ll calm down eventually. He always does.”
    â€œThen this has happened before?”
    â€œA couple of times, but not like tonight. This was the worst he’s ever been. I upset him when I told him you might do a showing of my art.”
    â€œI heard something break. Did he throw something at you?”
    Ellie shook her head. “Not at me. At one of my paintings.”
    Maggie heard a defeated note in the girl’s voice that spoke volumes. She finally understood that this was why Ellie was so reluctant to agree to a showing—she could never be certain if she would have anything to show. “He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Destroys your work,” she guessed.
    Ellie nodded miserably. “He says I have no talent, that he doesn’t want me to be humiliated.”
    Maggie felt her indignation rise, but she kept her voice under careful control. “Who is he? Your boyfriend?”
    â€œHe was,” Ellie admitted, shamefaced. “He wasn’t always like this. He’s changed lately. I’ve been trying to break things off with him. I know Brian’s no good for me, but he was my mentor, you see, so it’s hard. There was a time when he encouraged me, when he taught me technique and composition, when he helped me settle on the right medium for my work.”
    â€œThen he’s an artist, too? How did you meet?”
    Ellie nodded. “He was my instructor. Everyone said Professor Brian Garrison was the most talented artist on staff. I was flattered when he took an interest in