One Night of Misbehavior

CHAPTER Eleven



The scent of roast chicken wafted on the air when Ash walked through the front door. A multitude of feelings assailed him—pleasure, hunger because he’d missed lunch, and above all, contentment because Charlotte was waiting for him. He set his laptop bag by the door and went searching for her. He found her perched on a stool at the breakfast counter, peering at her sketch pad. A frown of appraisal creased her brow as she chewed on the end of her pencil. A wave of rightness tightened his chest, drawing him toward her. When she looked up, he pressed a kiss on one pale cheek.

She cocked her head, a lock of red hair falling over one eye. An impatient hand brushed it away. “Is that all you’ve got?”

A bark of laughter escaped him and he lifted her off the stool, ignoring her surprised squeak to dip her, his lips firm and hungry against hers. When he set her back on her stool, she was breathing hard.

His gaze lingered on her breasts before lifting to survey her kiss-swollen lips. “How was that?”

“A very Zorro-type move,” she said with approval.

“I do my best.” Ash debated relocating to the bedroom then decided the top of the kitchen counter would work for what he had in mind.

“Don’t you get sick of the reporters and photographers standing in front of the house? Shouting nosy questions?”

And maybe hot sex wasn’t on the agenda. Bloody reporters. Concern flooded him as he brushed the errant lock of hair behind her ear. “Did they hassle you?”

“They snapped my photo and followed when I went out earlier. The lawyer called about attending the reading of Gran’s will, and a reporter and photographer chased me to the bus stop.” She paused the rapid-fire summary of her day to take a quick breath.

“But you’re okay?”

“Yes.” She sighed, a flash of something indefinable causing her forehead to furrow. “Gran left me some money, but Elizabeth is contesting the will.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Ash reached for her hand and linked their fingers. “Are you okay? What are you going to do?”

Charlotte shrugged and tugged her hand free. “Nothing in life is easy. Why should this be any different? I’m cooking roast chicken for dinner.” She took measure of his expression and scowled. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not complaining. I’m speaking the truth. Listening to the lawyer reading Gran’s will reminded me of her fighting spirit. Even though she suffered from the lupus, she never gave up. She always tried to see the best in everyone. It’s not a bad way to live.” She sauntered to the pantry and pulled out half a dozen potatoes and two kumara.

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

“You know I enjoy cooking. Besides, it’s the least I can do to repay you for taking me in.”

Some of his good mood faded. He didn’t want her gratitude. “I have a party to attend on Friday night. Would you go with me?”

She hesitated before replying. “I don’t want to appear in the gossip papers.”

Words of reassurance rose to his lips, but he bit them back. This was his world, and she’d need to accept him, warts and all, for their relationship to grow. As much as he wanted he couldn’t protect her from everything. “Sorry. Comes with the territory. Do you need help with dinner?”

“No, the veg won’t take long to prepare. I suppose I could go to the party.”

“I need to shower.”





His back was stiff as he strode out of the kitchen. Charlotte frowned after him, aware she’d upset him. In truth, one date wasn’t much for him to ask of her. She picked up a kumara and peeled away the purple skin of the sweet potato. Yes, she could face reporters and photographers if he stood at her side. She owed him that much at least.

In the distance the shower switched on. She finished the vegetables and checked the chicken before returning to her laptop.

“How does this look?” she asked when Ash entered the kitchen.

He rested his hand on the back of the chair, his breath stirring her hair as he leaned over her shoulder. “This is good, but it’s too pink.”

Charlotte studied her pink design. “But beauty salons are for women. Women like pink.”

“Pink and women together is a stereotype.”

Maybe he was right. “What about blue?”

“Try red or green, or you could go gold and black.”

Charlotte clicked her mouse, turning her motif into gold and black. “That’s it,” she said, excited by the simple changes. Now the motif appeared sophisticated and drew the eye. She turned in her chair and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you.” Her lips met his, and she nibbled and licked, using tongue and teeth. When she tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back.

“I don’t need your gratitude.” Ash stalked across the kitchen and stared out the window before turning around to face her. He folded his arms across his chest, his mouth pulled to a tight line. “I don’t need sex if you’re only sleeping with me now out of a sense of obligation. Damn it, I’m not desperate.”

“No, it’s not like that,” she said.

Ash stomped to the fridge and pulled out a beer and a bottle of white wine. He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “Make me understand because I’m getting the impression you feel obligated to cook for me, offer sex and go out with me in exchange for living here.”

“No!”

“Okay then. Explain,” Ash said. “Because from where I’m standing that’s what I see. I’ve had men and women offer themselves in exchange for favors from me—dates, photo and business opportunities in exchange for sex with The Beast.”

“No, Ash. I like you. You. Not your money and position.” His expression didn’t shift. “Damn it. I slept with you the night we met when I had no idea who you were. I’ve never done that before. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

The buzzer went off, and Charlotte jumped to her feet to check on the chicken.

“Is that all?”

“No. Ash. You’re funny and sweet and sexy. Why wouldn’t I want to share your bed?”

“I have burn scars on my face and chest,” he snapped. “No one can honestly look at me and say they don’t want to look away. I’m The Beast.” He raked her with a harsh glare.

“Of course I see your scars. I’m not blind, but I see your kindness, your smile and so many other great things.”

Ash sipped his beer, his gaze slicing and dissecting. “Okay,” he said, but his tight jaw indicated his real opinion on the subject.

Well, damn. That sliver of mistrust went both ways. She was a penniless nobody and would remain that way if Elizabeth had her way. Why was he interested in her? Offering her help? There were invisible strings somewhere. Charlotte wanted to demand answers too, but instead she added the vegetables to the roasting dish and returned the chicken to the oven. “Tell me about the party. How dressy will it be? Will my flapper dress work?”

Despite his protestations, she did owe him, and going to a party was a small way to repay his kindness.




* * * * *

“Where have the reporters gone? The photographers?” Charlotte asked as Ash drove them to the party later that week. “All week they’ve jumped out of the bushes whenever I poke my nose outside.” They’d made her feel caged.

“We’re in luck,” Ash said. “Rita Brooks, the soap star is filming a movie here. Most of the reporters are chasing her and her current boy toy while she’s staying in Auckland.”

“I wish I could shake her hand and thank her in person.” Charlotte wondered how famous people coped with the constant glare of publicity even as she experienced a wave of relief. The tension between them had dispersed with each passing day, and they seemed to be friends with benefits again.

Ash aimed a wry smile at her before pulling up for a traffic light. “Their absence does make a change.” He paused and shot her a glance before accelerating. “You realize the reporters will learn your name tonight.”

She shrugged, pretending the notoriety didn’t bother her. “I figured someone would spill details soon anyway. Tell me more about the party. Is there anyone I should try to impress?”

“No, be yourself and have fun. Dance with me and let me cop a feel in the dark corners.” When he pulled up at the next set of lights, he leaned over to brush a kiss on her cheek. She breathed in the clean scent of him, the aftershave she’d opened and sniffed in the bathroom when she was feeling lonely during the day. Not that she’d ever confess her silliness to him. It would make her seem tragic and clingy. Not the impression she wanted him to receive.

Instead she flashed a grin. “Funny. Will I know anyone there?”

“I doubt I’ll know half the people,” Ash said. “But I’ll introduce you to my friends. Don’t worry. You’ll have fun tonight.”

Charlotte spotted a familiar face on entering the hotel function room. Jenny. She was with a date, a man Charlotte hadn’t met before. Her stepsister wore a strapless blue gown, the perfect foil for her blonde hair. She paused when she recognized Charlotte before turning away in a pointed snub.

Her date had no such qualms. “Ash, how are you? I haven’t seen you at the gym for weeks, and I can see why.” He shot a swift glance at Charlotte. “Are you going to introduce me to Red? I’ll get to tell everyone I met her first. Jenny, come and meet the famous mystery woman.”

Ash shot Charlotte a quick look as if asking for direction. Ms. Feisty gave Charlotte a swift kick in the ribs. Do something! she screeched.

Charlotte winked at Ash, and his smile became more natural. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Charlotte Dixon. Jenny and I already know each other since she’s my stepsister. And your name is?”

“Jason, my dear,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you now that Ash has let you out of his lair. Jenny, you didn’t say anything during the ride here.”

Jenny shot her the look, the one that was half stink eye and the other part promising retribution if she didn’t zip her lips. “I didn’t realize Charlotte was attending the party.”

“Excuse me, Jason. I see our host and hostess. I’d like to introduce them to Charlotte and wish them a happy anniversary.” He tucked his arm around her waist and guided her away. Lowering his head, he whispered, “Your stepsister looked as if she’d taken a bite of Snow White’s apple. Someone should tell her she’ll get premature lines if she keeps up the scowls.”

Charlotte laughed. A camera flash went off nearby, rapidly followed by another. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over their incessant need for photographs.” She hastened her pace, until the photographers were safely behind them.

“Gerard, Maria, happy anniversary,” Ash said. “I’d like you to meet my date, Charlotte Dixon.”

“Ah, the mystery Red,” Maria said in amusement and offered her hand in greeting. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Where has Ash been hiding you?” Gerard asked.

“No hiding, but I am staying with Ash for a few days.” He’d tire of her soon. She was sure of it.

“I see. You look lovely,” Maria said. “I love the way both of you have dressed tonight. Everyone will be copying the look by the end of next week. Mark my words.” She stared so hard Charlotte started to wonder if she had a wardrobe malfunction. “Have you done any modeling?”

“No.” There wasn’t much call for modeling while she’d looked after Gran.

Maria cocked her head then prowled in a circle around Charlotte. “Perfect,” she said finally. “I’m hosting a fashion parade at the Malbrook Hotel. One of my models has the flu. I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow night and would be willing to donate some time for an Alzheimer’s fundraiser?”

“I—”

“Maria has already conned me into buying tickets,” Ash said. “I was going to give them away, but if you’re modeling, I’ll attend.”

Everyone focused on her, waiting for her reaction.

Let’s do it! Ms. Feisty jumped up and down in strident demand, and Charlotte found herself nodding and smiling, a bit like a puppet guided by a puppeteer.

Maria seized Charlotte’s hands and squeezed. “Thank you so much. This fashion parade means a lot to me because my mother suffered from Alzheimer’s. It’s such a terrible disease.”

“I’m happy to help,” Charlotte said. “Do I need to try on outfits or something beforehand?”

“I’ll need you to come to the shop tomorrow morning. Can you manage that?”

She glanced at Ash, and after seeing his quick nod, said, “Yes, I think so.”

“I can drop you off in the morning,” Ash said. “I was going to suggest you visit Maria anyway. We have business dinners and balls on the calendar. Charlotte needs suitable outfits.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to argue, but this wasn’t the place.

“We’ll leave you to greet the rest of your guests,” Ash said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlotte,” Maria said. “And thank you. You’ve saved me a sleepless night. I thought I’d have to take to the catwalk myself.”

“Nice to meet you,” Charlotte said, letting Ash guide her away.

“Sorry to spring that on you,” he murmured against her ear. “I need a date at some of these events, and you make them fun. Will you let me buy you some dresses in exchange for sitting through a few boring dinners?”

“You’re a sneaky man,” Charlotte said. “Of course I’ll go with you, but you’d better let me do the cooking when we’re at home.”

“You’re going to deprive me of one of my hobbies,” Ash said.

Charlotte flapped her hand in dismissal. “I won’t let you play me every time, you know. You can buy me dresses this time, but in future I prefer to do my own shopping.”

Ash nodded. “Deal. Let’s waltz. I see a dark corner at the far end of the floor.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, but she took his hand and let him lead her toward the other dancers.





He held her close, content to feel her breasts and legs brush against his and to smell the light floral scent she wore. Charlotte fought him at every turn, so unlike the women in his past who’d accepted his gifts without a quibble.

Apart from her laptop and e-reader, she didn’t own gadgets, and she seemed to enjoy the simple things like eating fish and chips on the beach or licking an ice cream. She’d even helped him in his vegetable garden. Most of their outings consisted of free things—concerts in the park, walking around little known reserves where people didn’t bother them. He found the entire courtship of Charlotte liberating and refreshing, and the nights they lay in his bed, arms around each other, just talking were a revelation. Charlotte Dixon was a woman in a million.

“Where is this dark corner?” She leaned closer. “Did I mention I’m not wearing panties?”

His groan slipped free unbidden. “You’re a minx.” A contrast of shy and daring. Intelligence and humor. Sexiness. She was the perfect woman for him. “We have a perfectly good bed at home.” His breath caught as he heard himself—the naturalness in the way he combined them into a couple.

“You’re right,” she said with regret. “There are too many people around. The last thing I want is a photographer snapping a photo of my bare butt.”

His hand slid lower to rest on her ass. “My eyes only.”

“Did you put a Zorro tattoo there when I wasn’t looking?”

He drew back to meet her laughing gaze, unable to resist a quick taste of her lips. “I’m not telling.”

“Is Maria nice? Can I trust her not to have a photographer perched inside a cupboard?”

Ash barked out a laugh. “They’d need to watch out for her broomstick. Maria doesn’t put up with any crap. This fashion parade is her baby. She’s held it every year since her mother died, and she won’t stand for anything reeking of scandal if it might overshadow the event.”

“Good. I liked her, but I’m a bit wary of trusting my intuition.”

“You have good instincts. You hooked up with me, didn’t you?”

Charlotte pressed back against his chest. “So I did.” Her voice was muffled, and frustration tore at him. How long would it take her to realize he wanted her in his life on a permanent basis? That he’d do nothing to hurt her.

“After this dance I’ll have to speak with some acquaintances. I can introduce you to a few people, so you can chat and dance while I’m doing business.”

“Can I come with you? I like listening to you wheel and deal. You’re a shark and most of the men are too stupid to see it.”

The music finished with the band taking a break. Ash guided her off the floor, nodding at various acquaintances without stopping.

“They’re curious about me,” she whispered into his ear.

A now familiar quake rippled through him, one he was becoming used to while in Charlotte’s proximity. All she needed to do was touch him, glance his way and lust swelled in him. The strange thing was she didn’t even suspect the sway she held over him—the power to inflict pain.

“Let them be curious,” he said lightly, shoving away his ruffled thoughts. She wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. He knew it with the same certainty he knew they’d appear in tomorrow’s paper. “They’re used to seeing me with a different woman at each event I attend. I’m behaving out of character and everyone is wondering what this means.”

“Maybe you should date someone else and throw them off the track.”

Aha! “So you think there might be a scent to our game?”

“I said I liked you.”

Like was such a wishy-washy word. He wanted love, and his subtle herding of her toward acceptance of the idea was driving him to impatience. “The men I want to chat with are at the bar.”

Ash guided her in that direction, using the excuse to place a hand at the small of her back. She looked beautiful tonight in her simple apricot gown and her red hair worn in some sort of an updo. The style suited her, but he preferred her braid or when she left her hair loose to swirl around her shoulders. Long golden earrings swung from her ears, catching the light while subtle makeup highlighted her features. He witnessed the interest in his business friends as he and Charlotte approached and scowled inwardly at their subtle measuring of her assets.

“Ash,” a man from a rival advertising company said. “Introduce us to your charming companion.”

Charlotte took Ash’s arm and pride built in him at the understated way she made it clear they were together. Ash made the introductions and soon the men were chatting about various functions they had attended and the upcoming design awards.

“You must be finding this very boring,” one of the men said, his cheeks red from excess alcohol.

“Not at all,” Charlotte said. “I’m doing freelance design work for Ash and find the advertising business fascinating. I hope to learn as much as I can and increase my experience in the field.”

“What campaigns have you worked on?” The man cocked his head, losing some of his indulgent air.

“I don’t have much experience,” she said. “Only one campaign behind me for a local bakery, but Ash is mentoring me.”

“Lucky Ash,” the man drawled.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Charlotte said. “What ad campaigns have you worked on?”

The expression on the man’s face made Ash want to roar with laughter. His business rival thought everyone knew him, knew of the work he’d done over the years, but with a few artless words Charlotte punctured his ego. Ash could literally hear the air escaping through the holes in his rival’s self-esteem.

But the man didn’t take offence, and Ash felt free to pursue his business enquiries once he heard his acquaintance answering Charlotte’s questions about some of the more technical aspects of one of his famous ad campaigns for a running shoe.

Three hours later, they left the party, and Ash knew he was the envy of his friends and business acquaintances. Charlotte had made an impact with her stunning simplicity of dress and her intelligent conversation, and he was certain his male friends were wondering if the fire in her hair equaled a passionate nature. He was a lucky man and clever enough to realize he and Charlotte belonged together. He’d keep trying to convince her.




* * * * *

Charlotte squeezed into a corner of the dressing room, trying to keep out of the frantic chaos of dressers and other models. Feminine voices cajoled, bossed and one sharp voice on her left edged sharply toward a tantrum. She felt like a sparrow again, thrust into a nest full of skinny cuckoos. Why had Maria picked her for a replacement? Her heart hammered with apprehension, her mind spinning circles. She scanned the crowded room. Although she’d never considered herself fat, she wasn’t model skinny.

This was for charity. Too late to change her mind now. Biting her bottom lip, she changed into her first outfit, lifting the gown over her head and taking care not to get any makeup on the scarlet fabric. The dress should have clashed wildly with her hair, but it was the perfect foil and made her hair appear darker.

“Want me to zip you up?” the brunette woman beside her asked.

“Please.”

Cool hands worked the zipper up and flicked the fabric of the dress in place. “You’re Ash’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Charlotte blinked at her instant reply. She hadn’t hesitated and that worried her. She was becoming too comfortable in Ash’s world.

“I went out with Ash twice,” the woman said. “He’s a lovely guy, but he doesn’t date the same woman for long.”

Charlotte weighed the woman’s expression and relaxed. She wasn’t being bitchy, although her words could be construed as a warning. “So I hear. How did you cope with the press popping out of the bushes?”

The woman laughed and turned to present her back. “Are all the buttons fastened? I tried to do up most of them before I wriggled into the dress. I think there’s more interest in you because you’ve lasted so long. And then there’s the fact that you’re living with Ash. That hasn’t happened before.”

Charlotte ignored the silent question. “No, you’re good. How many outfits are you modeling?”

“Three. You?”

“Four. Maria suckered me into wearing the wedding gown. I couldn’t say no by the time she’d finished with me.” Her appearance in the white lacy confection was going to cause a kafuffle. She just knew it. Her life was out of control. She was dating a man who attracted public scrutiny. He resided in her thoughts way too often, and the barricades protecting her heart were in danger of crumbling. On the positive side, her freelance work was going well and her social life had amped up several levels since meeting Ash.

Her thoughts slid to Gran and Elizabeth, and she almost smiled. Elizabeth would hate every moment of her success.

“Girls!” Maria clapped her hands and the changing room fell silent. “I want to thank you for donating your time to this event. You know what to do since we ironed out the problems at rehearsal. I want you to go out there and have fun. Do me proud.” She paused, cocking her head as a blast of music came from the other side of the curtain. “That’s my cue. Line up while I’m doing the introductions. Remember to smile. Flirt with the audience and sell these outfits.”

Once Maria walked onto the stage, the hum of anticipation behind stage ratcheted sharply upward. Nerves swirled inside Charlotte’s belly, making her glad she’d declined an early dinner. She took her place in the line—second to last—and waited, recalling Ash’s words of encouragement. If you get nervous, pretend I’m the only one in the room and show off the gowns to me.

Maria finished her words of welcome. The music started and it was show time. One by one the models strode through the curtains and along the catwalk before returning to make a rapid garment change.

Charlotte sucked in large breaths, her hands curled to fists. Then it was her turn. She inhaled, exhaled, then pinned on a toothy smile and strode onto the catwalk. There were so many people, rows and rows of faces. They’re here to see the gowns. She searched for familiar profiles and found Elizabeth. Her stepmother wore surprise, and this swiftly converted to a disapproving mask. Ms. Feisty took over at that point and Charlotte surrendered to her. She slowed to a saunter and waved at Elizabeth. Next, she flashed a smile at one of the men she’d met earlier in the week and winked at Ash when she located him. The last of her lingering nerves faded as he returned her wink.

You’re a goner, Ms. Feisty said with an inner cheer.

Charlotte feared she was right. Somehow Ash had wriggled past the boundaries she’d set around her heart. This can’t last, she reminded herself. Don’t get too attached.

“Hey, Red,” someone shouted.

She automatically turned toward the voice, flashing a smile. A camera light exploded, she pivoted and resumed her saunter along the catwalk, making sure she did the gown justice. When she passed Ash again, she waved. Several people in the front row snapped photos.

With a final cocked hip and a twirl, she was through the curtain and backstage. A volunteer helped her with a rapid-fire change into a denim mini skirt and a skimpy pale blue T-shirt with strategic gashes.

“Just as well nerves are keeping me warm,” Charlotte said.

“You look great,” the volunteer said. “You have a beautiful figure.”

Flaunt it, Ms. Feisty instructed when Charlotte stepped onto the stage for her second turn. Charlotte strutted to the flirty music, grinning at Ash. He laughed and shook his head. She pouted and pretended she was angry at him while her stupid heart fluttered. She really liked him. The realization knocked hard at her equilibrium. What do you expect? He’s male chocolate, and you know how we love chocolate, Ms. Feisty purred.

Charlotte modeled the last of her street outfits and then it was time for the wedding gown, a strapless confection with billowing white skirts and a lacy veil.

“Beautiful.” Maria twitched the veil into place. “Simply stunning. The audience will love you.”

The other models stood around in their final outfits, waiting for the end parade.

“Ash is gonna swallow his tongue when he sees you,” someone said.

Everyone else murmured agreement.

“I’m as jealous as hell,” a pretty blonde said. “You look gorgeous.”

“Virginal yet sexy,” a skinny brunette agreed.

“Are you ready?” Maria asked.

Charlotte took one final calming breath and nodded. The music changed to the traditional wedding march, and she stepped onto the catwalk. A collective sign went through the audience as she walked serenely down the catwalk, merely smiling and letting the gown take center stage.

As she reached Ash, his sexy smile faded a fraction. They stared at each other, and in that moment she knew. Her feelings were returned. Her heart swelled, and she swallowed at the sudden lump in her throat. With a misty smile, she blew him a kiss.

And that was when the cameras and the crowd went crazy. They startled her from her dreamlike state. She forced herself to walk the length of the catwalk when she craved the safety of his arms.

When Charlotte reached the curtain, Maria made a go back motion with her hands. So she did, this time her smile tremulous while uncertainty and a trace of panic wriggled around inside her.

“When are you getting married?” a young woman shouted.

Everyone who heard laughed, but the suggestion propelled Charlotte’s stomach into the beginnings of queasiness. She noticed Ash speaking to the woman sitting beside him, their heads close together in intimacy. Punch her in the nose! Ms. Feisty ordered.

Of course, Charlotte didn’t do anything of the sort, and merely continued her walk down the catwalk, working to keep her smile tacked in place. Ash wasn’t doing anything wrong. But seeing him chatting with another woman made her mind rush with apprehension. What if Ash did change his mind about her? Maybe she should make a move for independence soon.

Just in case.