Ain't Misbehaving (14 page)

Read Ain't Misbehaving Online

Authors: Shelley Munro

Tags: #contemporary romance, #New Zealand, #anthology

“Wait. I wanted to tell you about Jenny’s new job.”

“I didn’t realize she was interviewing for a new job.”

“She received a promotion at Marlborough Media.” Elizabeth’s voice was calm, even, but Charlotte heard the underpinning of glee.

Forewarning to steel herself against the verbal thrust about to strike. She stared at Elizabeth, waiting, knowing better than to hurry her stepmother. The silence lengthened to a point shy of uncomfortable.

After the long pause, Elizabeth finally spoke. “Jenny was offered a position in the design department.”

“But that’s—”

“The job she interviewed for last Tuesday.” Elizabeth’s smile held the warmth of a winter frost.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, Charlotte. For that I’d have to care.” Elizabeth stood and brushed past. Her heels
clip-clopped
as she ascended the stairs and disappeared from sight.

On tottering legs, Charlotte managed to walk to a seat and drop onto it, shock and fury combining to a thunderous roar in her ears.

Jenny had stolen her job.

* * * * *

After a patchy night of sleep, Ash parked down the road from the McDougal house. His plan—he’d wait until Elizabeth, Jenny and Rachel left for work and pray Charlotte would let him into the house. Hell, he’d use blackmail if he had to, tell her he’d come to see Ivy. There had to be a reason for her ignoring his calls.

Elizabeth left first, driving a late-model sedan. Rachel sped from the house ten minutes later in a red convertible and Jenny departed last in a blue SUV. Ash checked his watch again. It was just before nine. Deciding to give Charlotte a little breathing space first, he left to get coffee and a treat for Ivy. An excuse for visiting.

Half an hour later, he pulled up in the Remuera driveway. With three coffees—he’d made an educated guess as to type—plus a cyclamen plant with delicate red flowers and a bunch of glossy magazines, he pressed the doorbell.

The door opened and Charlotte stood in front of him, fiery red hair loose around her shoulders, distinct shadows under her eyes. Her mouth tightened on seeing him. They stared at each other for a long moment—a clash of resentment and confusion.

Ash blinked, unaccountably nervous. “Why didn’t you return my calls?”
Hell, not what he’d planned to say.

“What calls?”

“I rang you every night this week, and I called before I left for the emergency meeting in Sydney. One of your sisters promised they’d pass on my messages.”

Some of the stiffness eased out of Charlotte’s shoulders, and Ash relaxed a fraction too.

“Every night?”

“I can show you my cell phone records. I tried your cell phone first and kept getting a disconnected message.” The panic inhabiting his stomach lifted. “How is Ivy?”

“Not too good.”

“Is she awake now? Could I visit? I’ve brought coffee.”

Charlotte stood aside, silently indicating he should enter.

“You look tired.” Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing in the delicate floral scent of her hair. “I’ve missed you.”

“Let me take the coffees.”

She hadn’t returned the sentiment, but she’d let him inside. He’d take the victory and go from there. Small talk. Yeah. That should work, help her relax and repair the damage her sisters had done to their budding relationship. “I got plain lattes without sugar. I figured you’d have sugar if you needed it.”

She nodded. “Gran’s room is up the stairs, second on the right. You’d better knock before you go inside. I’ll get the sugar.”

He followed her instructions, rapping his knuckles on the open door. “Are you decent?” he called. “Can I come in?”

“Ash.” Ivy tugged the blankets up, appearing small in the queen-size bed. “How delightful. Come in.”

The bedroom was a large one, with sun streaming through two large garden-facing windows. The furniture was heavy and old-fashioned, reminding him of his grandmother’s room, right down to the crocheted doilies on the dresser and the faint scent of lavender in the air.

“I brought you a plant and some magazines. I wasn’t sure which ones you’d prefer so I bought a mix of craft and ladies’ magazines.” He removed the plant from the carry bag and set it on a side table.

“Thank you. The cyclamen is beautiful. My favorite nail polish is that exact shade of reddish pink. And magazines are always acceptable. Charlotte and I have read our latest ones from cover to cover.” She glanced at the door then back at him. “Are you playing Charlotte?”

A startled laugh escaped him, but she didn’t look as if she were joking.

“Charlotte hasn’t said anything to me, but I know she was expecting a call.”

“I like Charlotte. A lot,” Ash said, past experience making him censor his words. “I rang every night this week. Whoever answered promised to pass on my messages. They didn’t.”

Ivy’s mouth firmed with disapproval. “You have proof?”

“Yes,” Ash snapped. Damn it, he wasn’t a liar.

“Why didn’t you ring her cell phone?”

“I did. The number is out of use.”

“Are you up to drinking a coffee, Gran?” Charlotte appeared in the doorway. She’d taken the time to brush her hair and confine it to a high ponytail.

“That’s strange. Is your cell phone not working?” Ivy asked.

Charlotte stilled, her gaze shooting to her bare feet. “Elizabeth said I didn’t need one. She canceled my account.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ivy asked.

Color stung her cheeks, but she lifted her head. Ash could tell his presence embarrassed her. Too bad. He wasn’t leaving until he was good and ready.

“Charlotte?” Ivy might be ill, but her tongue still lashed with the strength of a whip.

“It wasn’t important in the scheme of things,” Charlotte said, and Ash knew she was picking her words with care. “I don’t need a phone.”

“You do need a phone,” Ivy said. “Ash, pass me my handbag please.”

Ash handed her the bag, and she rifled through the contents, pulling out a purse. She handed several notes to Charlotte. “Buy yourself a prepay phone.”

“I don’t need—”

“Ash, will you take her to buy a phone?”

“I will.”

“I can’t leave you alone, Gran.”

“I’m not going to pop my clogs today,” Ivy snapped. “Next week or the week after, but not today. I have things I want to take care of first. Besides, Esther is coming to visit and we can’t have a good gossip if you’re hanging around.”

“You want to talk about me,” Charlotte said.

“Of course I do, child.” She cast a sly glance at Ash.

“Oh, no,” he said. “You can leave me out of your conversation.”

“Pooh, you’re no fun,” Ivy said. “Where’s my coffee?”

“You turned down the job,” Ash said, once they were sipping their coffee.

“She said she wanted to spend the hours with me,” Ivy said gruffly. “I tried to talk sense into her.”

“Gran, it doesn’t matter,” Charlotte said. The glare she raked over him held a trace of temper.

“It’s not right,” Ivy said. “Elizabeth had no—”

“Gran,” Charlotte interrupted.

Ivy subsided, but her expression spoke of frustration.

“I might have a solution,” Ash said into the yawning silence.

“Do tell,” Ivy said.

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, worrying it until her mouth turned redder. Ash imagined doing the same thing and need gnawed at him. He stirred uneasily, his body taut with a rush of desire.

“I’m still here,” Ivy said, humor lacing her tone. “Although I have to say watching you two circle each other is better than a movie.”

“Gran.” Delicate color washed into Charlotte’s face again, and she refused to glance in his direction.

“You’re a troublemaker,” he said to Ivy.

Ivy chortled until an alarm clock went off.

Charlotte stood. “Time for your medication.” She walked over to a dressing table and took pills from various bottles. She left with an empty glass and came back a minute later with it full of water. “Here you go.”

“Start talking, young man. I want to hear your idea.” Although Ivy’s words were fighting, she slumped back against her pillows.

“I’ve taken charge of a new account, and I want Charlotte to help me. She can work from home, and I’ll drop in each day to offer advice and help with any problems. What do you say?”

“A real campaign?”

“She’d do it,” Gran said immediately.

“Do you have a laptop?” he asked.

“Yes, Gran bought me one for Christmas. Will I need any special programs?”

“Mostly you need to brainstorm ideas and design a motif and slogan for the customer,” Ash said. “So you’re interested?”

“She is,” Ivy said. “She’ll take the job. How much do you pay?”

“No, I can’t accept a wage,” Charlotte said. “Because I can’t work set hours.”

Damn. He’d hope she’d accept a wage. Never mind, he’d get around that somehow.

“But I’ll take a reference,” she said. “If you think I deserve one.”

“Deal,” Ash said.

“Knock. Knock.” The loud voice floated up the stairs.

“Good. Esther is here. You can go and buy that phone now. Keep her out until at least three,” Ivy said.

“That’s a lot of gossip,” Ash said.

“But you might need me,” Charlotte protested. “Last time I went out you ended up in hospital.”

“Which wasn’t your fault. You need to get out in the fresh air,” Ivy said.

“But—”

“I need a break too,” Ivy said. “We’re not going to do anything silly. Esther will help me write letters to my friends, and we’ll talk about scrapbooking.”

When Charlotte looked about to protest again, Ash stood. He plucked a business card from his wallet and set it on the bedside drawer. “Here’s my card. Get Esther to ring me if you need Charlotte. Charlotte, if it’s okay with you, we’ll go back to my place after we’ve bought you a phone. My laptop is there and we can get started on the campaign. We’ll grab a sandwich or something.” He congratulated himself on the casual tone.
Good job keeping the wicked wolf part of him buried.
While he would do some work, he also intended to kiss Charlotte stupid at the first opportunity. More, if he could get away with it. “Is that all right with you?”

“Okay.” She hugged Esther when she entered the bedroom and ran through the medication, setting the alarm for the next round of pills. “Ring me if you need anything.”

Ash waited patiently, stooping to kiss Ivy on her wrinkled cheek.

“You look after her,” Ivy whispered, her fingernails digging into his arm to punctuate her order. “Or I’ll tell your grandmother when I write to her today.”

“I promise.”
Aha! Proof of the great setup.
He fought to restrain his grin.

“I’ll be back at three,” Charlotte told Esther.

Esther settled her ample frame on the chair beside Gran’s bed and whisked off her sunhat to reveal a helmet of black hair. She waved a bejeweled hand at Charlotte in dismissal. “You take your time, dear. We’ll be fine.”

“Give me five minutes to change,” Charlotte said.

“You’re fine as you are,” he said, his swift glance taking in her faded blue jeans and her tight-fitting T-shirt. “Grab your laptop, and we’ll head off.”

“Maybe I’ll get shoes,” she said.

Ash grinned. “Good idea.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside a store specializing in phones, the purchase taking mere minutes since Charlotte knew what she wanted—a prepaid phone capable of doing the basics.

“No Facebook or Twitter?” he asked.

“I don’t have time,” she said. “Gran has a Facebook page to connect with her friends, and I helped her with that. Does your client have a website?”

“No, but they should get one. We can add that into our campaign ideas for them.”

Despite the desire pushing against his skin, he kept his hands to himself. Once they stepped inside his house all bets were off.

His house keys jingled as he pushed the right key into the lock. He ignored the betraying tell, merely pushing the door open and entering to turn off the security alarm.

“Come in,” he said, closing the door behind her. “We’ll work in the dining room.” He led the way, not willing to walk behind her in case his wavering control snapped.
Just a few steps farther.

She placed her laptop on the gleaming top of the wooden table and gave his house—the parts she could see—a curious glance. “Nice,” she said, blinking when she turned to find him a hairbreadth away.

“God, I missed you.” Before she could respond, he grasped her shoulders pulling the weight of her body against him. His lips covered hers and he was lost, drowning in her taste and scent. He was vaguely aware of hands fluttering against him and settling into something resembling acceptance. Her soft breasts flattened against his chest, and she sighed. It was like coming home, and he knew he’d been right to persist, to give her more chances than he’d given any other woman in his life. She was his. She just didn’t know it yet.

“I thought we came here to work,” she said when they parted to take in oxygen.

“We did. We will, but I needed to kiss you.” He rubbed her back, his hand sliding up and down. The contact comforted him when it was meant to soothe her. “Of course, if I thought I could seduce you, entice you into my bed, that might be my next move.”

Chapter Six

Charlotte fixed her gaze on her hands—the traitorous things. They wanted to crawl over Ash and test the texture of the skin on his muscular chest. This time she’d pay closer attention to his scars and kiss every one of them. Her hands opened and closed to tight knots of fingers. No, it wasn’t professional.

He must have sensed her inner debate because he smiled. “Let’s get to work.”

She blinked, thrown by his reasonable behavior. The couple of boyfriends she’d had at high school and the parade of men through her stepsisters’ lives—well, predictable was their middle name. “Why did you choose Zorro for your costume?” Her mouth snapped shut once the casual question popped out. This wasn’t a social engagement. When had they traded bodies? “You’re not some freaky alien, are you?”

“I’m not following your train of thought,” he said with a chuckle. “But I enjoy the woo-woo stuff. There’s a new sci-fi movie out next week. If we can get someone to stay with Ivy, would you like to go to a matinee with me? We can neck in the back row.” His blue eyes twinkled in a naughty-boy fashion, pulling an unwilling smile from her.

Other books

No True Way by Mercedes Lackey
Legacy of Secrets by Elizabeth Adler
Mourning Lincoln by Martha Hodes
As Berry and I Were Saying by Dornford Yates
Mission Road by Rick Riordan
Starfall by Michael Griffo
The Sugar Mother by Elizabeth Jolley
Body of Immorality by Brandon Berntson