Authors: Shelley Munro
Tags: #contemporary romance, #New Zealand, #anthology
When her sobs slowed to hiccups, he pulled back and led her into the lounge. He guided her to the leather couch and pulled her on his knee.
“Tell me why you gave me back my ring,” he said.
Charlotte hesitated.
“You can tell me anything,” he said. “God knows, I’ve suffered plenty of insecurities due to my scars. I have no intention of judging.”
Surprised, she pulled back, staring into his pretty blue eyes. He regarded her steadily, not a hint of anger in him. Puzzlement, yes, but he didn’t seem annoyed.
Tell him,
Ms. Feisty said impatiently.
Procrastinating will make it harder.
“Everything I thought I knew about my past is a lie,” she blurted. “I can’t…Elizabeth and Jenny with their story. I thought…I’ve brought you trouble, here and at work.” She sucked in a quick breath. “I can’t…” She trailed off, struggling to put her thoughts into words.
“Elizabeth did it because she’s jealous of you. When Richard died his last words and thoughts were of your mother and you rather than Elizabeth. Jenny acted out of jealousy too. She thinks you get everything by clicking your fingers.”
An incredulous laugh squeezed past her tight lips. “They’re jealous of me?”
“Yes,” Ash said. “Charlotte?”
The stern note in his voice forced her to lift her head. “Yes.”
“I don’t care about your past.”
She sighed tiredly, recognizing the serious flaw in his words. “The press will make it a big deal. This is only the start of this mess.”
“All I care about is now and my future with you,” he said.
“My real father was a criminal. He murdered someone. I feel as if I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“You’re Charlotte Dixon, the woman I love,” Ash said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re the first woman I’ve met who sees the real me rather than my bank account. My scars don’t throw you. You’re the woman I want to marry. You challenge me with your clever brain, you make me laugh, and you excite me with your sexy body. Sweetheart, I can’t promise the publicity will die down soon. Life’s not like that, but I can promise I will treasure and love you with every part of me. Hell, I fell halfway in love with you at the ball, before I even knew your name. Nothing else matters apart from our feelings for each other.”
Charlotte listened to the timbre of his voice, the passion in him and tendrils of belief unfurled deep inside her. He really didn’t care about the publicity or what people would say about her murderous father. “What happens if I’m not sure?”
“We don’t need to hurry. I’ll woo you to my way of thinking, maybe tie you to my bed. I have enough money to buy a new bed especially for the purpose.”
A faint smile curled her lips before she sobered again. “I need to prove to myself and everyone else that I can do things on my own. I don’t want you to smooth my way for me. I need this, Ash. After living with Elizabeth, I need to feel I’m the one driving my life.”
Ash frowned before finally nodding. “I understand the need for independence, but could you meet me halfway? Keep up with the design work you’re doing or go to university. Whatever you like,” he said. “But, Charlotte, we’re good together. What do you say? Will you marry me? Please, put your ring back on and stay with me.”
“I’m scared.” And it was true. Fear bubbled in the depths of her soul. Not rational but real all the same. The fear of losing herself again, her very identity.
“It’s okay to feel afraid.” Ash tipped her head up so he could see her face. “It’s not all right to run away or stick your head down a burrow. Cowardice isn’t an option, not for the Charlotte I know.”
“Maybe you don’t know the real me.”
“Oh, I know the real you. You’re feisty, sometimes impulsive. You have a huge heart, and you’re capable of giving so much love.” He tugged on a tendril of red hair. “We can stay engaged for as long as you want. I know our relationship has happened quickly. We can move at our own pace.”
“The stories in the papers won’t go away.”
Ash sighed. “No, they won’t. The best thing is to issue a formal statement and ride out the attention until another story takes its place. I have an idea. Would you like to hear it?”
Charlotte nodded.
“You’ve almost finished the campaigns I’ve given you. I’ve cleared space in my schedule. Why don’t we go away for a week or ten days? Somewhere quiet where it’s just the two of us. Do you have a passport?”
“Yes, Gran took us to the Gold Coast in Australia for a holiday a few years ago.”
“How does a private bungalow in Tahiti sound? At one of the resorts where they’re used to dealing with guests who require privacy.”
“We could do that?” What she meant was, would he do that for her?
* * * * *
Seven days later
The waves lapped at the shore, and with each step Ash caught a whiff of the floral scent from the flower Charlotte wore tucked behind her ear. When he glanced at her, she smiled, the sexy grin sending a frantic message darting below his belt. He kept walking, the warmth from her hand wrapped in his a comfortable one.
Away from media scrutiny, she’d relaxed. They’d talked about their pasts and what they hoped for the future. They’d talked about her need for independence within their relationship, and after everything she’d told him of life with Elizabeth, he understood her desire for freedom. They’d discussed Elizabeth and the theft of Charlotte’s inheritance, deciding to tell Elizabeth they’d ignore her theft if she refrained from giving further interviews. Charlotte excited him, fulfilled him. Most people would think it sappy, but she completed him in the best of ways.
“This is nice,” she said, directing their steps into the water.
He reached over to lightly tap her nose. “Someone got a bit much sun today.”
“It will probably peel,” she said in a cheerful tone. “At least that’s the only part of me to catch the sun.” She scanned his naked upper body, browned by days of swimming and snorkeling. “You’re lucky you don’t burn.”
Ash laughed, putting on a leer and directing his gaze to her chest. “It’s no hardship rubbing lotion on you. How far do you want to walk?”
“Maybe a bit farther. What’s the time?”
“About three thirty.”
“Okay.” She huffed out a breath. It was hard enough to stir the collar of the long gauzy shirt she wore over her bikini. “I want to ask you something.”
The serious note in her voice shoved the indulgent smile off his face. He noted her nervousness, the way she’d averted his gaze. The stirrings of foreboding caught him unawares. He’d thought things were going well between them. If she told him she wanted out of their engagement…
“Sure, go ahead.”
Settle
, he told himself. Wait. Listen and panic then if necessary.
She took a breath, more of a gulp really and lifted her gaze. A second breath made her breasts rise and fall, but he didn’t allow the distraction. She fumbled with the small bag she carried slung over her shoulder and pulled out something. For another instant, she hesitated, her brown eyes full of anxiety.
A third breath whispered in and out of her before she held out her hand and opened it. In the middle of her palm sat a gold band. “Ash, will you marry me?”
He stared at her, shock pummeling him. His attention drifted to the ring in her hand, and his vision blurred.
“Um, you don’t have to. I mean… Damn, I’m making a mess of this,” she said in frustration. “I’ll start again. I love you, Ash Marlborough, and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
The explosion of emotions inside Ash threatened to send him to his knees. She was amazing. His woman. And she loved him. Aware she was starting to look uncomfortable, he smiled so wide it hurt his mouth. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” He yanked her into his arms and kissed her, a possessive kiss. One with little finesse, but it contained every emotion that rioted around inside him.
Charlotte curled her hand around the ring and kissed him back.
You’re only half done,
Ms. Feisty reminded her.
She pulled back. “I talked to the lady at reception. If you agree, we can get married tomorrow. We can take care of formalities today and get married on the beach.”
“Would you like that?” His smile told her he wasn’t averse to the idea.
“I want our wedding to be special without publicity or turmoil. Do you think your father would mind?”
“We can ring him and let him know,” Ash said. “I don’t think he’ll mind at all.”
The next morning, Charlotte wore her apricot dress while Ash wore a cream shirt and black trousers. The sun shone against a blue sky, and the palm trees rustled in the tropical breeze.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the male celebrant said.
Ash’s kiss tasted of love with just a hint of lust, and she luxuriated in the feelings, the love she felt for this special man.
Ten minutes later, they wandered hand in hand to their bungalow where a waiter served Champagne and the festive lunch Charlotte had ordered. After telling them to dial reception if they required anything else, the smiling waiter departed.
“I love you, Mrs. Marlborough.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Let’s leave lunch until later.”
He scooped her off her feet before she could blink, and carried her through to their bedroom. Outside the faint whoosh of the waves sounded, ebbing and advancing again. Without haste, they disrobed, coming together when they were both naked.
Each kiss seemed deeper, communicated more. Each touch of his hands thrilled her. She smiled into his eyes and pressed her lips to the scars on his face.
One night of misbehavior would never be enough. She knew that now, accepted it. Their bodies moved in a sensuous ballet of love, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding Ash tight.
Spending all of her nights with Ash worked much better.
The End
One Night of Misbehavior
Copyright © 2013 Shelley Munro
ISBN: 978-0-473-24208-4
Edited by Mary Moran
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
BLINDSIDE
Shelley Munro
Isabel Deans has a secret—she’s always lusted after Tyler Jameson. Call it an unfortunate infatuation with her brothers’ best friend. A surprise meeting at rugby training brings a provocative proposition. One month of hot sex then they’ll both walk away with no tears, no drama.
Issy isn’t a fool. She says yes. Let the month begin. Each touch between them sizzles with pure magic. Passionate. Intense and even better than she imagined. Issy is riding high on Tyler and her hot prospects as a representative rugby player until reality steps in with a forward pass…
“Oh man, have you seen the replacement coach?” Angela, the Auckland Jets’ star winger, bounded into the changing rooms, dressed in sweats with her rugby boots dangling over her shoulder by their laces. She shook her umbrella, scattering raindrops over everyone in the vicinity, and kissed her fingertips with loud moans of sexual appreciation. “An ass to die for and the rest of the package isn’t too shabby.”
The players who had already arrived for training started firing questions. Who was he? Was he single? Did he have a girlfriend?
Isabel “Issy” Deans grinned and moved her gear farther down the drafty changing room, out of range of the dripping umbrellas and equally wet teammates arriving for training. Rain rattled the tin roof, drowning out anything but a shout while the winter wind whistled through the open door. She shivered, whipped her good work jumper over her head and traded it for a faded training jersey.
“His name is Tyler Jameson and he’s coaching us until the end of the season since Allen is sick. He’s just returned from playing rugby in Japan because he wants to coach now that his contract with the Japanese club has expired, he’s single and you’re right. The man’s a babe.” Patricia Coates, another new arrival, fluttered her lashes in a sultry wink. “With a mighty fine ass.”
Everyone shrieked with laughter apart from Issy. She froze in the middle of peeling panty hose down her legs.
Tyler Jameson
. Why of all the coaches in the world did it have to be her neighbor and teenage crush Tyler Jameson? She hadn’t even known he’d returned home, but then maybe he wasn’t staying with his parents.
Issy rummaged for her socks and attempted to breathe through the nerves that tromped in spiked boots through the pit of her stomach. She’d thought her crush on Tyler had faded. After all, she hadn’t thought about him for months. Heck, she’d even dated a few times this year between rugby training and work. She hadn’t thought about Tyler during her engagement. Well, not much, she amended with a sliver of guilt.
Her heart dived into uneven palpitations and she had to wipe her moist palms on her jersey. A simple fact. Tyler Jameson made her nervous. Clumsy. Her fingers turned to thumbs and her feet inexplicably grew when she was around him. During the throes of her crush her lack of coordination had left her mortified, but these days she usually managed to regain her equilibrium after an hour or so of embarrassment. Maybe by the time she reached old age, she’d get the nerves down to a minute of crazy.