One Night of Misbehavior (3 page)

“You’re my boss.” She wanted freedom to do her own thing, to explore the world outside the current bubble of her life. And while she might hook up with a man, she didn’t want anything permanent. It was too risky.

“I was your lover first,” Ash said. “I’m a professional. I can keep my hands off you at work, but after hours is a different story. I’m going to run my hands across your naked body, suck your pretty apricot nipples into my mouth and fuck you blind every opportunity I get.”

“Oh.” Charlotte bit her bottom lip. Was it possible for her face to get any redder? Any hotter?

“Charlotte, pay attention. The onions are burning,” Elizabeth said. “Get off the phone. Jenny is expecting an important call.”

Surely she could use her cell phone?
Charlotte grabbed the pan off the heat, wrinkling her nose at the onions. Not too bad. She’d saved them.

“Who is that?” Ash’s voice changed, letting her know he’d heard every word.

“My stepmother.”

“Not the Wicked Witch of the West?”

Charlotte giggled and slapped her hand across her mouth when she realized the sound had come from her. “No. I’d better go. I’m meant to be cooking dinner.”

“Which hospital is your Gran in?”

“She’s in intensive care at Auckland hospital.”

“Say hello for me. We’ll catch up soon,” he said. “Dream of me, Princess.”

The faint click of the phone told her he’d hung up. She hit the end button, dropped the phone on the counter.

“Who was that?” Jenny asked. “Ash who?”

Charlotte hesitated. There was no reason she shouldn’t tell the truth, but she didn’t want her stepsisters to pick apart a precious evening and soil her memories. “That was Ashley Marlborough. He offered me the job at Marlborough Media.” A streak of elation zapped her. She wanted to whoop and holler and run around in a crazy celebration. Too bad if Jenny wanted the same job. She didn’t think it was selfish of her to accept employment when she’d won it on her own merits. A doubt demon chose that moment to give her a swift kick in the conscience. She had earned the job on her artistic merits and talent, right? It hadn’t been because Ash Marlborough wanted her for sex?

“You?” Jenny’s face crumpled and guilt swept Charlotte again.

“They liked my portfolio.”

“But you have no qualifications. You didn’t even finish your tech course.”

“I’m sorry, Jenny. Maybe there will be another opportunity—”

“Mum, she stole my job,” Jenny wailed.

Uh-oh
.
This couldn’t end well. Charlotte turned away from mother and daughter and set the onions on the heat again. She put on a pot of hot water for the spaghetti. Tuning out the tears and accusations, she added garlic and mushrooms to the onions, cooking them until they browned. Spinach and a cupful of frozen corn kernels went in next. While the spinach wilted, she added the fresh pasta to the boiling water.

“Charlotte, I’ll speak to you after dinner. Come to the study once you’ve done the dishes and tidied the kitchen.” Elizabeth’s cool voice sent prickles of foreboding through Charlotte and robbed her of appetite.

Almost two hours later, she rubbed her clammy hands down her black skirt and knocked on the door.

“Come.”

After sucking in a fortifying breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. Elizabeth sat behind a large desk made of native kauri wood. Her cool blue gaze appraised Charlotte as she gestured her to come closer. She indicated the empty chair, but Charlotte preferred to take her punishment standing.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Elizabeth began. “Your recent behavior has bordered on despicable. You duck out on your duties and return home with disgusting marks on your neck. You arrange interviews without my permission and now you’ve snatched away a job from Jenny without a hint of remorse. And to top all that off, you weren’t here when Mum needed you most. I’m sure Richard would be disappointed in you—God, rest his soul. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Charlotte remained still, silent mutiny her sole weapon. There was no point trying to argue with Elizabeth or point out she’d won the job fair and square. And if her father were here, he’d act like a proud parent instead of playing favorites.

“You have nothing to say, no excuses for your abominable conduct?”

Charlotte swallowed, waiting for her punishment.

“If your behavior doesn’t take a swift three-sixty, I’ll be forced to make you leave.” She offered a mirthless smile when a gasp escaped Charlotte. “I thought so. I expect you to spring clean the house from top to bottom. We’re having guests next weekend. I want you to ready their rooms and prepare menus for the length of their stay. Jenny said you haven’t ironed her work clothes yet, and Mum’s room requires tidying. And as for the job, you will decline the offer. You promised me you’d look after Mum, and getting a job is going back on your word. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said, while Ms. Feisty muttered mutinous words, enough to make her brain want to explode. Instead she shifted her weight, spreading it evenly on both feet and clasped her shaking hands behind her.

Her soldier impersonation seemed to placate her stepmother because she nodded. “You can go now.”

Charlotte exited the office and closed the door behind her. Back in the kitchen, she rang Esther and learned the doctors suspected damage to Gran’s heart, a symptom of lupus. They intended to do tests the following day to ascertain the extent of the injury.

Charlotte remembered her portfolio and went to pick it up from the hall. The contents had been removed and stuffed back inside with no regard to creases. Someone had ripped two of her pieces in half. No prizes for guessing the culprit. Jenny’s clear spite and her stepmother’s lecture pissed her off. They might think the matter was settled but somehow she intended to take the job. Gran wanted her to live a little, and Charlotte didn’t intend to let her down.

Gran’s face was a horrid shade of gray when Charlotte walked into the intensive care room midmorning the next day. She bit back her concern and forced a bright smile to match Gran’s tremulous one.

“Are they looking after you? How are you feeling?”

“I have more tests this afternoon, but it’s my stupid heart. It’s shutting down on the job.”

Fear coiled Charlotte’s gut tight. Life without Gran was unthinkable. She couldn’t lose her. “But they can fix you?”

“I don’t know. I can tell they’re worried.” Gran didn’t believe in sugarcoating the truth, but Charlotte could have done with blissful ignorance right about now.

“Oh.” Charlotte’s fixed smile wobbled.

“I hear you got the job.” A burst of excitement flared in Gran’s blue eyes, the emotion magnified by her lenses. “I’m so pleased. I told the man I spoke to about your talent. I said he’d miss an opportunity to nurture raw talent if he didn’t give you an appointment slot.”

“Elizabeth told me I have to turn down the job.”

“Over my dead body,” Gran snapped, and Charlotte winced. “I’ll talk to Elizabeth, child. You grasp this opportunity with both hands.”

“Why does she hate me so much, Gran? She hated me from the first moment Dad introduced us. Since Dad died…” She trailed off, blinking rapidly to rid herself of the prickle of tears.

“Oh, child. Elizabeth loved your father very much, and I think she was a little jealous of Richard’s first wife. It doesn’t help you’re the splitting image of your mother.”

“Or the fact it was my fault Dad was out driving in such atrocious conditions and crashed.” Elizabeth’s accusation still stung after all these years because it held truth. If it hadn’t been for her… Charlotte gulped, the sting of her eyes tipping over into tears. They welled in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away.

“Don’t worry. We’ll work out something.” Gran winced, one hand creeping up to massage her temple.

“Should I get the nurse?”

“No, child. My headache isn’t severe. Tell me about the interview.”

Footsteps sounded behind them, the rustle of paper and cellophane. They both turned to study the new arrival.

“Hello,” Ash said, his grin broad and roguish and irresistible to any woman with a pulse. And while his scars were horrid, the man’s charisma made Charlotte forget them after a while. They were as much a part of him as her red hair. “Charlotte said you were in hospital, so I thought I’d pop in between appointments and cross my fingers I’d run into Charlotte too.” He set the flower arrangement aside—miniature roses in a delicate apricot combined with baby’s breath and greenery. “The color reminded me of you,” he said, his gaze at Charlotte direct and sizzling.

An inappropriate lick of heat speared to her sex and ricocheted back to her breasts, touching every sensitive spot between. Her nipples stiffened, rubbing against the cups of her cotton bra. She froze. Maybe if she didn’t move, the forbidden sensations would disperse in a harmless fashion.

“Are you going to introduce me to your young man?” Gran focused on his scarred face. She stared for an instant. “He has pretty eyes.”

Charlotte gave a silent groan while resisting the urge to hide her hot cheeks with her spread fingers. “This is my new boss, Ash Marlborough. Ash, this is my grandmother, Ivy McDougal.”

“Ah, I recognize the name.” Laughter rippled through his tone. “You browbeat me into giving Charlotte an interview.” As he spoke he moved closer and brushed an errant lock of hair off Charlotte’s face. “Did Charlotte tell you we met at the charity ball on Friday night? Neither of us realized it until the interview.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to protest and shut it again when she noticed the spark in Gran. She would weather the embarrassment if it helped Gran rally.

“No, she never mentioned that.” Gran squinted at him, mischief playing on her lips. “Are you the man responsible for the hickeys on her neck?”

“Gran.” Her protest did nothing to halt their shared laughter at her expense. “He’s not.”

“I am,” he countered, the twinkle in his blue eyes daring her to reinforce her fib. His gaze zoomed in on her neck, and the heat in her face intensified to excruciating levels. “We had a great time at the ball.”

She wondered if she could get away with murder and shot him a glare—lethal of course—to get herself in a killing frame of mind. She met his impish grin and wavered. It was difficult to stay mad at this man when he smothered her with charm and perked up Gran with his easy manner.

“She made a pretty princess.” He winked at Gran.

“I can’t work for you,” Charlotte blurted.

His laughter dropped away. “You can. Don’t let my teasing put you off. You have talent and a good feel for color and textures. It will be a crime if you don’t pursue a job in some form of design.”

“I agree with Ash.” Gran was rubbing her temple again, the furrow between her eyes telling Charlotte the pain had worsened.

“You won’t be working with me,” Ash said, refuting one of her mental arguments. “Not on a day-to-day basis if that’s worrying you. No one will know we’re dating.”

Charlotte gasped and tugged at the end of her braid. “You think the press members from the social pages who follow you around won’t notice this hair?”

“Ah, so you do intend to go out to dinner with me tonight then,” he said with bald-faced satisfaction.

“No, that wasn’t what I meant. Look, thank you for the job offer, but—”

“Charlotte, no,” Gran ordered. “I promise I’ll talk to Elizabeth as soon as I see her.”

“Talk to Elizabeth about what?” Elizabeth appeared at the entrance of Gran’s room. “Charlotte, what are you doing here?” Her face froze in an impassive mask, tripping foreboding in Charlotte. She knew what would come next and steeled herself.

“I came to see Gran,” Charlotte blurted after seconds of unbearable, taut silence. “I wanted to tell her about my new job.” Cripes. That wasn’t what she’d intended to say. She’d done it now. Ms. Feisty had overruled her commonsense. She darted a glance at her stepmother and saw her expression hadn’t shifted. Her stomach hollowed, waiting for the fallout because it would come.

“It was nice to meet you, Ivy. I’ll leave you with your family. Charlotte, I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner. I have your address.” And with a wave and an audacious wink, he left.

“What was Ashley Marlborough doing here?” Elizabeth demanded. “And why is he taking you to dinner?”

Charlotte swallowed, her bravery seeping through the soles of her cheap runners. She had little money and nowhere to go. She couldn’t afford to alienate Elizabeth. “I met him last week, before I went to the job interview.” She watched Elizabeth and could pinpoint the exact moment her brain fired, adding two and two and coming up with four, damn it.

“He’s responsible for those disgusting things on your neck.” Elizabeth gestured at her in disdain. “You slept your way into this job.”

“That’s enough,” Gran said, steel behind her words. “Charlotte won this job fair and square.”

“I’ll see you at home,” Elizabeth said, and Charlotte could tell she’d managed to land herself in deeper trouble.

“Charlotte is going out for dinner,” Gran said.

Charlotte frowned. Gran didn’t look well at all. “I’ll get a nurse for you.” She stooped to kiss Gran’s soft cheek and smiled, even though she wanted to cry at the way Gran appeared in the hospital bed. Her earlier bravado had faded, and she now looked pained and shrunken.

“Tell me about your date when you come to visit tomorrow,” Gran said, a trace of sly darting across her face. “I want to hear everything.”

“Charlotte can’t gallivant around town while you’re ill.”

“Hearing about Charlotte’s dinner will give me something to look forward to.” Gran closed her eyes, her breaths harsher now.

“I’ll give you a report tomorrow,” Charlotte promised. “I’ll send in a nurse on my way out.”

Worry cast a heavy weight on her shoulders for the rest of the afternoon. She couldn’t get excited about a date—the first one she’d had in months—when Gran was so sick. But she couldn’t beg off either because Gran had made it plain to both her and Elizabeth she expected a report the following day.

She spent the unexpected free time spring cleaning the lounge and preparing dinner. After making a vegetable bake and a large salad for her stepmother and sisters’ dinner, she mixed a batch of cupcakes. Once they’d cooled, she pulled out her piping bag and decorated them, making each one unique.

Her stepsisters arrived home, and Charlotte retreated to her room to change. With limited wardrobe choices, she went with her black skirt again, adding a castoff pale blue blouse she’d remade to look modern. She decided to leave her hair loose but applied a little more makeup than she had for her interview.

The doorbell rang at two minutes to seven. Charlotte picked up her black handbag and slipped her feet into a pair of black heels.

“Ash, what are you doing here?” Jenny recovered from her shock with style. “Come in. Would you like a drink?”

“No, thanks. Ah, Charlotte. You look lovely.”

Charlotte joined them in the entrance hall, a laugh slipping free when she spied Jenny’s gaping mouth.

Ash grinned at Charlotte. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her firmly on the mouth, despite their audience. “Are you ready?”

One kiss was all it took. The slow burn of desire simmered through her, and she realized she’d been fooling herself. The wretched man had burrowed under her skin like a nasty parasite the second she clapped eyes on him at the ball. While the feminine part of her enjoyed the attention, she knew it could only be fleeting. Their lives were too different. He had everything and she…she had nothing.

But that would change, she told herself. One day.

“You’re going out with her?” Jenny found her voice.

“I am,” Ash said. “We’re going out to dinner.”

“But what about our dinner?” Jenny asked.

Ash’s dark brows rose, and Charlotte spoke before he could voice his disbelief. “There’s a vegetable bake in the oven and I made a salad. It’s in the fridge. There are cupcakes for dessert.”

“Cupcakes?” Ash’s eyes blazed with interest. “Could I have one?”

“I thought you wanted to leave at seven?”

“I have time to get a cupcake. Maybe we could get two and have them for supper?”

“Supper?” Jenny said sharply. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, accepting the inevitable. Rachel was in the kitchen or she had been. She led Ash through to the kitchen, aware of his hand at the small of her back. He smelled like a decadent treat, his spicy scent bringing back memories of their torrid lovemaking. A shiver worked through her, weakening her limbs. She stumbled and he caught her against his side.

“You okay?”

She nodded without meeting his eyes.

“Rachel, this is Ash. Ash, my other stepsister, Rachel.” As she spoke she walked to the pantry and grabbed a plastic container large enough for two cupcakes. “Here they are. Which ones would you like?” She’d gone with a steampunk theme after reading Gran an excellent steampunk romance, written by an Australian author. Small fondant cogs and top hats decorated some of the cakes. Others bore fob watches while she’d frosted another with a vampire in a billowing black cloak.

“You did the decorations?” Ash asked after inspecting the cakes.

“Yes. I…yes.” There was no need to tell him the task had filled the hours she’d normally spend looking after Gran.

“They’re amazing, Charlotte. I’ll take these two,” he said pointing.

The warmth in his tone made her all too aware of the way her clothes draped her body, pushed to mind how his tongue felt licking along the folds of her sex. But the intrigued expression on Rachel’s face and the mounting anger in Jenny now that her stepsister had regained her wits dragged Charlotte back to the present. She picked up one cake decorated with a clock face and another with a hat and cogs and closed the lid on the container.

“Are you ready to go?” Ash asked.

She jerked her head, in a hurry to leave. She’d known going out with Ash would cause tension, and Jenny was showing signs of an impending explosion.

Ash guided her outside to his sedan. It wasn’t a showy vehicle, but one intended to blend with the other cars on the road. He waited for her to settle in the passenger seat before closing the door. She set the cupcakes on the floor in the back, hoping they wouldn’t move around too much.

“I’ve picked a restaurant I haven’t visited much in the hope I won’t be recognized,” he said. “I want to enjoy our dinner without pressure from outside forces.” He backed out of the drive. “I thought of having dinner at my home, but I didn’t want to scare you. Do you enjoy Mediterranean cuisine?”

“I don’t know, but I adore trying new foods.”

“Good.” His reply held approval and counteracted some of the angst unsettling her stomach. “How long have you lived in Remuera?”

“All my life. My father remarried when I was in my teens and we moved into Elizabeth’s house. He died in a car accident a few years later.”

“I have a house in Mission Bay.”

Not surprising he lived in an exclusive part of the town. “Do you overlook the water?”

“I do,” he said. “We’ll have dinner there next time, and you can tell me what you think of my vista.”

Charlotte shot him a look, her brows rising in suspicion. His soft chuckle confirmed her thoughts. If he had his way, she’d see only one room. “Do you have a sea view from your bedroom?”

“As it happens I get a great one from my bed.”

“I’m not going to bed with you.”

“Why not? We’re good together.”

Too good. He made her dream of happy ever after, but she couldn’t let him sweep her off her feet. Nothing but hard work awaited her because she refused to ape her stepsisters, only interested in snaring a rich man to keep them in comfort. No, she wanted an independent life where she was answerable to no one. The freedom to work all night on her art projects and to eat whenever and wherever she desired.

“I agreed to dinner,” she countered, shying away from the subject of sex. A change of subject would help. “Can you tell me about the projects I might be working on?”