One Night of Misbehavior

CHAPTER Three



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?”

“John will have you helping his team of designers. You’ll do a lot of grunt-type work at first while he assesses your talents and decides what you’re capable of. As junior you’ll have to make coffee and collect lunches, run errands.”

“Pretty much what I do now,” she said drily.

“You said at the interview you look after your grandmother.” Ash pulled into a parking building in Newmarket.

“Yes.” She was caregiver, cook and chief cleaner too. A real drudge, but not something she intended to share with Ash.

“Who will look after her while you’re working?”

The sticky question. “I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed alternatives yet.”

“Do you mind walking? There’s never any parking in this area, and I find it’s easier to park here.”

“No problem. It’s a nice night.”

Spring was giving way to summer, the blossoms on the trees starting to fall to the ground in carpets of pink, vibrant green leaves unfurling in their place.

Ash took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers in silent challenge. At first touch, tension slithered through her, but he behaved as if holding hands was natural and gradually she relaxed. It was a treat being away from the house, away from her responsibilities with someone who sought her company. The last thing she wanted was to argue and spoil the outing.

“What made you decide to start your own design company?”

“I didn’t have any experience and no one would employ me.” He gestured at his scars without discomfiture. “I knew I could do the work and do it well. I decided to back myself and did my first few jobs for free, setting up shop at my Dad’s house and targeting Mom and Pop businesses that had never advertised before. After a couple of lucky breaks, I started attracting paying clients and went from there.”

He made it sound easy when nothing in life came without effort. She wished she had the guts to move from under Elizabeth’s thumb and strike out on her own. With her it came down to lack of support and money, and the fact she didn’t feel as if she could leave Gran. Elizabeth would put Gran in a home, and Charlotte knew Gran would loathe a rigid routine and the loss of her freedom.

Their table was ready when they entered the flower-bedecked restaurant. Charlotte savored the fragrance drifting from the pots of roses at the entrance and saw the owners had placed single pink blooms in vases on every table. A man playing a guitar sat in one corner, a glass of beer at his elbow to soothe his throat between songs. He sang about summer and the beach, the rough tones of his smoky voice grabbing the attention of more than one female customer.

The waiter guided them to a private table in an alcove, and after handing them menus, he bustled away to get the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc Ash ordered.

Ash reached for her hand and ran his thumb over the back with a seductive and distracting stroke. “I know you’re worried, but you won’t see much of me at work.”

“But the other employees will know you’ve taken me to dinner. Jenny is sure to mention it to her girlfriends. They’ll talk.”

“You don’t get on well with your stepsiblings?”

“We’re quite different,” Charlotte said, going for tact while removing her hand from his grasp. Jenny couldn’t keep a secret if she tried.

Ash opened his menu, glanced at it and set it aside. “Did you enjoy the ball?” His eyes twinkled while his lips quirked upward at the corners.

Charlotte’s pulse did a bump and grind as memories rushed over her. “Are you asking about the dancing or the sex?”

He chuckled. “Both. Personally, the sex was a highlight for me. I’ve dreamed about you ever since. I especially enjoyed the tiny hitch of sound you made when I thrust inside you.”

“Are you ready to order, sir?” The waiter flicked a rapid glance at Ash before concentrating on his order pad.

Charlotte bit her lip. Had he overheard their conversation or was he responding to Ash’s scars? She peeked at the waiter and saw he wasn’t paying attention to her. It was Ash’s appearance that was throwing him.

“Charlotte, would you like me to order for you?” Ash didn’t react to the waiter’s discomfort.

“Please.” She closed her menu and caught the waiter’s expression when he glanced at her. “Everything sounds good.” Oh drat. He had heard everything and was wondering why she was with Ash. Charlotte glared at the man, and he focused on his order pad again.

“We’ll take the mixed meze, a Greek salad, the marinated leg of lamb and the lemon chicken please.” As he spoke, he trapped her hand in his again.

“Thank you, sir.” The waiter smiled but couldn’t make himself meet Ash’s gaze.

Anger flashed through Charlotte at his rudeness, but Ash didn’t seem to notice. He’d probably dealt with much worse. Heck, the newspapers called him The Beast. As much as she wanted, Charlotte didn’t comment on the slight. Instead she grinned at him. “Gran is right. You have very pretty eyes.”

His hand tightened around hers. “Not bedroom eyes?”

“Huh! I don’t need to stroke your ego. The way I hear it you have women lining up to jump into your bed.” They’d ogled him in his Zorro costume at the ball. She frowned a little, thinking about the gossip columns and the countless women in their designer gowns. Why was he paying attention to her?

His teasing air faded as he skewered her with his sharp gaze. “I’m not a player. I used to take advantage of women throwing themselves at me when I was younger, until I realized they were after my money and five minutes of fame in a women’s magazine.”

Another thought occurred and it rankled. “Did you pick this restaurant because of me?”

“Yes.” He seemed to read her thoughts because he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, Charlotte. I’m not ashamed of being seen with you. I chose this restaurant because the food is excellent and the trendy people haven’t discovered it yet. I wanted you to myself.”

Her stomach bucked under his intense scrutiny. “I can’t go out with you again.” She shouldn’t have come out with him in the first place, but Gran… She’d do anything to make Gran happy. She averted her gaze, unable to say what she needed to say while looking at him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix business and pleasure. I don’t want your other employees to resent me or accuse me of receiving favoritism.”





Ash studied her for a long moment and couldn’t fault her words. He didn’t like the idea of gossip spreading through Marlborough Media either, except now that he’d found her he couldn’t ignore his fascination. Something elusive about her called him, made him think of a future, and that had never happened before. “Let’s just enjoy the meal and let the future take care of itself. Do you like cooking?” She relaxed at the change of topic, just as he’d intended.

“I do, although my stepmother and stepsisters aren’t very adventurous. We eat a lot of salad.”

“You’re not on a diet?” He didn’t try to hide his horror.

She laughed, unwinding even more. “Thankfully neither of my stepsisters has decided to diet for summer yet, but I’m sure conversation and meals will center on bikinis soon.”

“I’ll sneak you some chocolate,” he said. “You do like chocolate?”

“What woman doesn’t?”

He leaned back in his chair, soaking in the pleasure of her grin. “It’s a pity you’ve decided we’re not going out together again. I have a jar of chocolate body paint and a selection of brushes in my pantry. The idea of licking it off your breasts is very appealing.”

Silent censure emanated from her as her fingers toyed with her wineglass. “That’s not the sort of chocolate I had in mind.”

“Oh?” Ash steepled his hands in front of his face and attempted to conceal his grin. Her unconscious body language contradicted her words.

Prim looked cute on her—a contrast to her previous moods. She hadn’t acted shy the night of the ball, catching his eye and boldly returning his gaze across the dance floor.

“You wouldn’t enjoy the sensation of a brush swirling chocolate over your naked breasts? Or me removing the chocolate with my lips and tongue?” She shifted on her chair, and a trace of satisfaction shot through him. She was gorgeous with a delicate blush of arousal highlighting her cheeks and echoing the sun in her glorious red hair. He wanted to whisk her onto his knee and hold her. Hell, just thinking about Charlotte and chocolate in the same sentence made him want to imitate her squirm. His cock hardened into prominence, and he almost chuckled out loud. His seduction technique had ricocheted—just a tad.

Their waiter arrived, his attention on their plates. He aimed his farewell smile at the empty air above Ash’s head. Ash forgave him since the arrival of food offered a chance to up the flirtation stakes. While he no longer played the field, he’d acquired knowledge of women and seduction along the way. No point in letting his hard-won experience go to waste.

He indicated the different foods on the meze tray. “Do you like prawns?” At her nod, he speared one with his fork and held it out to her. She hesitated a second before closing her lips around the morsel. He watched her avidly as she chewed and swallowed, enjoying her intense focus on the flavors and the way she closed her eyes for an instant. He selected a stuffed mushroom cap and offered it to her.

“What about you?” she protested.

“I need you to test everything to make sure it’s fine for me to eat.” He felt the tug on his scarred cheek when he widened his grin. His father had been right with his homespun wisdom. Good things came to patient people. He passed the fork under her nose.

“I’m not going to argue anymore. That smells wonderful.” Her mouth closed around the mushroom and a tiny hum of pleasure escaped her.

The sound zapped through him, tightening his chest until an ache reminded him to breathe. God, she was beautiful. He stretched his legs, subtly invading her space, and reached for a piece of bread and some hummus dip. She watched him, her lips parting as if she anticipated him feeding her again. Instead he popped it in his mouth, his heart drumming when he witnessed her interest.

She reached for an olive and held up out to him, her eyes twinkling in challenge. Their gazes met and held as he bit down on the tart fruit stuffed with sundried tomato. And just like that his blood roared south, leaving him lightheaded and aroused. He swallowed the olive, without taking his eyes off her. No way in hell did he intend to back off and let her go, to hell with the gossip. Somehow together, they’d weather any storm of public interest.

When the main courses arrived, he eased off on the flirtation, and she relaxed, her brown eyes sparkling with humor as he told her about one of his first customers, a sixty-year-old gentleman with set views on the roles of men and women.

“So he wanted a traditional ad?”

“He did. I conspired with his wife and what he ended up with was something quite different. The locals who knew him loved the humor of the ad, and it did wonders for their farm apparel store.”

Charlotte eyed his plate. “Is the lamb good?”

“Try some.” He cut a piece, speared it with his fork and held it to her lips. He almost groaned out loud when she opened her mouth and took the food. In his mind, he was thinking of her in the hotel room and how her lips had felt encircling the head of his cock. If he had his way, he’d experience that slice of heaven again. Soon.

Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, moistening the curves of her mouth before vanishing. His interested gaze followed the sexy move. His shaft lengthened again, and all he could think about was hustling her into a private spot and lifting aside clothes so he could slide into her snug heat.

“This chicken is delicious. The lemon in the dish is the perfect complement.”

“Try more lamb.” Another excuse to stare at her mouth. “Your hair is beautiful. When the light catches the strands, it’s like watching fire.”

She swallowed the meat. “The kids used to tease me at school.”

“Carrot top?” he guessed. At her nod, he said, “I got teased because of my scars. At least until they became used to them.”

She studied his face for a long moment, scrutinizing him. He knew what she saw—the faint pinkness of his ruined cheek, the contrasting tan of his untouched one. His black hair was cut short and did nothing to hide his scars. He’d never be pretty, didn’t come close to handsome. Over the years he’d become used to people’s reactions and ignored the stares and rude comments. But he wanted Charlotte to see him, both the good and bad. He wanted her to like the man.

“That must have been hard. Kids can be cruel. Some adults too.”

He shrugged. “People are wary of different. I hated school at first, but my father—” He broke off with a rueful sigh. “He wouldn’t let me hide out. He told me I needed to put myself forward and to make friends with the girls. His theory was if the girls paid attention, the boys would come around. He urged me to play sport and attend social occasions. I always had friends around home. Dad’s a builder, and he had the coolest ideas for playgrounds and making wooden carts. All sorts of things. When I was older, he encouraged me to travel in Europe for a year. A positive attitude wasn’t always easy, but looking back, I can see Dad’s advice was spot on. I grew in confidence.”

“Your father sounds wonderful.” A faint smile played around her lips as if she were imagining the scene at his childhood home and the resulting mayhem.

“Dad is amazing. He always told me I couldn’t let my scars define me. I was more than a kid with scars. I’m talking too much. Another glass of wine?”

“No thank you,” she said promptly. “I blame the Champagne for getting me in trouble the other night.”

“Good to know,” he said, taking a mental note to make sure he had a bottle or two of Champagne on hand at his house. “Do you want anything else to eat? Some dessert? Coffee?”

“No thanks. That was delicious. It’s such a treat to eat something I didn’t cook.”

“Thank, God,” he said hoarsely. “Watching you eat is torturous. I want to drag you over here and kiss you in the worst way.”

She let out a sound, close to a whimper and diverted her gaze to her lap. Her breasts rose and fell, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. All at once he was reminded of her taste, her scent when aroused.

Ash caught the waiter’s eye—a difficult task that took frustratingly long minutes. Finally, the waiter trotted over to their table. “Can we have the bill please?”

The staff completed this part of the evening with haste, and soon they were outside. Night had fallen while they were dining and now streetlights shone on the road and footpaths. Ash glanced up and down the street, checking for people, for reporters or cameras. Nothing. His breath eased out, and he seized Charlotte’s hand. Pulling her close, he pressed a quick and entirely unsatisfactory kiss on her upturned lips. Not enough. He started walking, tugging her after him. An alley. Perfect.

Ash dragged Charlotte into the dark shadows, his heart thumping, desire a heady beat through his veins. Before she could speak, could voice the questions he knew she’d have, he covered her mouth with his, taking her like a famished man.