Ain't Misbehaving

by Shelley Munro

  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.

  Somehow it seemed wrong to flirt and have fun when she knew Gran’s days were limited. “Maybe we should get to work. I don’t want to leave Gran for too long.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll grab my laptop, and we’ll transfer the info files.”

  When he disappeared, she glanced around his house. While it was apparent a designer had taken charge of the furnishings, he or she knew Ash well. Warm colors in reds and oranges contrasted with the cream walls and good quality wood and leather furniture. A lacy green fern sat in a brass pot on a side table. The end result was comfortable rather than stiff and formal, and Charlotte could picture him here, sprawled out on the black leather couch watching the big-screen television.

  Music poured through concealed speakers without warning, making her start. She relaxed a little when she recognized Bruno Mars singing about beautiful nights and dancing shoes. The words about marriage, she ignored. Not in her vocabulary. Gran had asked her what she intended to do afterward. Charlotte smiled, the action uncomfortable on her lips as she rehashed Gran’s stern lecture when she’d told Gran she couldn’t talk about her death. She’d promised Gran she’d embrace her freedom, strike out on her own and not let Elizabeth rule her life. Independence with a capital I.

  “All ready?” Ash asked.

  She nodded, indicating the screen of her laptop.

  “Can I look at your programs?”

  In answer, she slid the laptop to him, watching him as his fingers raced across the keys. The particular scar she studied was ugly, a pale splotch of skin that covered half his face from cheekbone to jaw, but she didn’t see it anymore. His personality shone through, lighting his features with laughter and intelligence. Despite the scars, the package was fit, muscular and sexy. Add in the money and his own business and it was no wonder women chased him.

  “I used to love watching Zorro when I was a kid. My father got the movie for me when I had measles. He was my hero.” His eyes glowed with hidden laughter when he met her gaze. “The costume hid most of my scars and made me feel normal. He had a sword, a cool brand and he got the girl.”

  Her mouth rounded into an O, but no sound emerged.

  “Every time there was a dress up, I became Zorro. Why did you choose a princess costume?”

  “I wasn’t meant to attend. Gran and Esther surprised me with the costume, gave me an invitation they’d wrested from someone and forced me to go.”

  “I enjoyed the ball,” Ash said, his expression saying way more than mere words.

  Her tummy did a loop-de-loop, his intent gaze making her want to shift her weight from foot to foot. They were alone, Ms. Feisty whispered seductively. Jump him! He won’t resist. Give his dick a little attention, and he’ll follow you around like a lost puppy. A croak emerged.

  He tilted his head, one dark brow rising. “You said something?”

  “What happens if I can’t do this?”

  He muttered something under his breath, following it up with a glare. “Well, that’s a shitty attitude. Say that again, and I’ll paddle your ass.”

  Woohoo! Progress. He wants to get kinky and spank you. Ms. Feisty supplied the commentary before Charlotte could take her next breath. She plunged into recovery mode. “I meant what happens if I run out of time because of looking after Gran. I can do anything I want.” Or so Gran had told her yesterday. All she had to do was believe, but the job vacancy website hadn’t encouraged her. Qualifications were the exclusive, shiny invitations employees needed to enter the workforce.

  “Every project we take on starts with a job sheet.” Ash went through the details with her, answering questions when she asked them, explaining everything with so much patience her wavering confidence bloomed into excitement.

  Three hours passed in a blink, and soon it was time to get back to Gran. As they pulled out of Ash’s driveway, a man loped alongside the car, snapping a photo of them. Ash cursed under his breath.

  “Does that happen a lot?” she asked.

  “Often enough to piss me off,” Ash said, glancing in his rear-view mirror. “He’s not following. At least that’s something.”

  “Thanks for setting up the phone for me.”

  “I had an ulterior motive. I snagged your number for my address book and programmed my number on speed dial.” His tone was smug and very male.

  “Aren’t you the clever one,” she teased, part of her amazed he could draw this response from her when her emotions weighed heavy like blocks of ice. She attempted a cheerful façade for Gran, or tried to. One ass-kicking a week from a sick woman was enough, and she’d learned her lesson. Gran didn’t intend to put up with any maudlin crap. Her exact words.

  “Clever enough to ask you to dance at the ball.”

  “Oh? I thought you felt sorry for the robot I was dancing with before you. He’s probably still got heel marks in the middle of his foot.” She giggled at the memory. “You should have seen his expression when I stood after accepting his invitation to dance. I was six inches taller than him.”

  “That’s what grabbed my attention first,” Ash said, pulling into the driveway of her house. “The height difference. You have no idea how sore a man’s neck gets if his date is short and petite.”

  “And I thought my breasts might have something to do with it. Every other man looked at them first.”

  “I noticed those too, and I made myself a promise I’d touch if you were agreeable.”

  “I…you…don’t say things like that.”

  “Nothing but the truth, and the more I get to know you, the more I want to touch.” With the car sitting idle in the driveway, he reached over to tug on her ponytail.

  “Can I share the campaign stuff with Gran? She’ll get a kick out of helping me to brainstorm.”

  “No problem.” Ash curled his hand around her neck and tugged her close enough to kiss. His kiss was soft, lingering. The type of kiss that worked under a woman’s skin and made her imagine what might come next. When he pulled back, she scanned his face, trying to understand him. What made him tick? This thing—whatever it was between them—couldn’t last. Even Gran had mentioned the numerous photos in the gossip pages of the newspaper and the magazine stories about The Beast.

  “I’d better go,” he said. “I’m going to be in meetings for the rest of the day and most of tomorrow. If you run into any problems, flip me an email. Remember we need to have something solid for the client in a fortnight.”

  “How did it go?” Gran asked when Charlotte walked into her room.

  “Good. I’ll tell you all about it once you’ve had your sleep. Hi, Esther. Did Gran misbehave?”

  “Yes,” Esther said, planting her hands on her ample hips. “And I encouraged her. Life is too short to be good.”

  “Exactly,” said Gran. “That’s what I keep telling Charlotte. Maybe it will sink into her thick head if we both reinforce the idea.”

  “Cup of tea, Esther?”

  “That would be nice, dear. In truth, I’m curious to hear about the campaign.” Her deep-set hazel eyes blazed with interest.

  “But—”

  “I’m not tired,” Gran said. “I’ll have plenty of rest once this stupid lupus gets me.”
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  Esther chuckled—a deep, throaty sound of amusement. Charlotte laughed because Gran expected her to, but the humor emerged from her throat kicking and screaming, while she silently railed at the injustice. She didn’t want Gran to die.

  The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon brainstorming ideas for the campaign, Charlotte taking frantic notes and making quick sketches on her artist pad.

  The next morning, Elizabeth entered the kitchen while Charlotte was making a tea tray and a light breakfast for Gran.

  “Where’s the paper?” she asked.

  “I haven’t had time to collect it from the mailbox,” Charlotte said, biting back the snappish remark at the tip of her tongue. “The coffee is almost ready.” She picked up the tray and left the kitchen.

  “When was this photo taken?” Elizabeth demanded, stomping into Gran’s bedroom about five minutes later.

  “What photo?” Charlotte asked, busy straightening Gran’s bed while Gran sat at a small table drinking a cup of tea.

  “What photo?” Gran asked, holding out her hand for the paper. “Show me. Oh, that’s a nice photo of you and Ash. You didn’t tell me they took photos of you yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” Elizabeth’s tight voice made Charlotte take half a step back. A powder keg about to explode. “You left Mum by herself?”

  “Of course she didn’t, Elizabeth. I forced Charlotte to go out for a few hours. She’s been cooped up inside this house for days. We both needed a rest from each other.”

  “But what if something had happened?”

  “Esther was here the entire time, and the district nurse visited to check on me. She was happy with my condition.”

  “It won’t last,” Elizabeth snapped. “That man has more women than good sense.”

  “There’s nothing between us,” Charlotte said. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

  “The boy dropped around to see how I was,” Gran said. “I practically forced him to take Charlotte out for coffee.”

  Elizabeth huffed, snatched up the paper and stalked out.

  Gran stared after her daughter, a scowl on her face. “I taught that girl manners. I blame her father. He spoiled her rotten and gave her everything she wanted. She didn’t get her nasty attitude and streak of mean from me.”

  “Everyone has their moments,” Charlotte said. “She’s worried about you.”

  “I’ve had some more ideas about slogans for the campaign. Get your laptop so you can make a note of them.”

  “As soon as everyone has left for work. Do you feel up to designing some trading cards? I thought we’d do some to show the client. Maybe with a cupcake or baking theme.”

  Gran beamed, a bright, sunny smile that reminded Charlotte of her grandmother of several years ago. It lit up her entire face and brought a dignified beauty to her tired features. “Yes please, Charlotte. My headache is manageable today, and I feel almost normal.”

  “Won’t be long, Gran.” Charlotte turned away before Gran witnessed the glint of tears in her eyes. She’d miss her so much. Gran was her best friend.

  “The deal was you’d look after Mum,” Elizabeth said when Charlotte stepped into the kitchen.

  “I was out for a few hours. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You look very cozy with Ash,” Jenny said.

  “It was totally innocent. You must know how the tabloid press twists things and manipulate photos,” Charlotte said. “Digital manipulation is easy these days.”

  “Call me stupid, but that is you with Ash outside his house,” Jenny said.

  “Yes. He had to stop to pick up his laptop before he went to the office. We had coffee and that’s all. Nothing happened.” She ignored the kisses, the sensual tension that still invigorated her and made her dream of the impossible every time they were together. “Gran seems chipper today. She had a good night.”

  “I won’t have photographers hanging around our house and upsetting Mum,” Elizabeth said.

  A shudder went through Charlotte. “Of course not.” She couldn’t think of anything worse. “Gran and I are working on scrapbooking this morning.”

  “Don’t tire her out,” Jenny said. “Whenever I look in to see her she’s asleep.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes before she could halt the move. “She’s wide awake now.”

  “I don’t want to be late for work.”

  Charlotte rose to get more coffee for herself, a booster to help her keep awake after her sleepless night. Even though she hadn’t needed to get up for Gran, listening for her kept Charlotte from a refreshing sleep. “Congratulations on your new job.”

  Jenny shot her a look layered with guilt. “It’s an excellent opportunity.”

  “Yes, it is. You’d better go or you’ll be late.”

  Jenny’s mouth tightened, and she shot her an ugly glower. Charlotte wanted to tell Jenny the animosity was a waste of energy. Instead, she shrugged and focused on caffeine-loading. Gran needed her and that was that.

  Chapter Seven

  Ten days later

  Charlotte bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding with fear. Panic clutched her chest and she had to gasp to fill her lungs with oxygen. Once she could breathe through her dread and realized she was sitting safe in her bed, she cocked her head, listening.

  She slipped from the bed and was in Gran’s room in seconds. “Gran?”

  Gran didn’t respond, not even when she flicked on the light. Charlotte froze for a moment, scarcely breathing. Gran’s expression was peaceful, and somehow she knew.

  Just knew.

  Biting back her cry of anguish, she reached for Gran’s wrist. When she didn’t find a pulse, she reached for the phone and rang the doctor.

  The next hour passed in a blur. The doctor came and confirmed Charlotte’s fears. Gran was gone. Elizabeth took control, as was her way. Charlotte went back to her bedroom, pulling the door shut. A heavy weight sat squarely on her shoulders, making each pacing step around her tiny bedroom hard and physical. Finally, she sank onto her single bed and placed her head in her hands.

  Gran was gone.

  She’d known this would happen, thought she’d prepared for the fact, but the reality of death stripped her bare. She couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, not when numbness seeped to her bones. She’d promised Gran she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t mourn for a life well lived. Her throat worked in a hard swallow. The promise had been easy, but keeping it…keeping it might be the hardest thing she ever had to do.

  Hours passed and her alarm went off. Charlotte pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She spotted her cell phone, hesitated and pushed speed dial for Ash before she could rethink her actions.

  “Charlotte.” Even hearing his deep voice sent some of her inner terror skittering away. Her breath puffed out and some of the pressure bearing down on her chest lifted.

  “Ash.” Her voice croaked and she swallowed, starting again. “Ash, Gran died last night.”

  “Aw, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He paused, and she clutched the empathy in his words to her. The comfort meant a lot, and she hadn’t realized how much she needed the ease, the soothing words from another human being. “Can I drop by to see you?”

  “Yes.” Too bad if Elizabeth objected. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “I’ll be there before nine,” Ash said.

  In the kitchen, Charlotte went through the motions, making coffee and toast. A knock on the door pulled her from breakfast preparations.

  “Ash, that was quick.”

  “I wanted to see how you were.” A car screeching to a halt drew a succinct curse from him. “Fuck. Inside,” he ordered, pushing her back inside the house and closing the door behind them.

  Charlotte feared she knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Who is that?”

  Ash let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “Ever since they caught the photo of us outside my house, they’ve been following me around. That’s why I’ve communicated via phone rather than visiting you. They’re trying to discover your ide
ntity and won’t stop until they have the info.” Not for the first time he cursed his success and his playboy image.

  “They want to know about me?”

  He laughed and heard the hard edge in it, the anger. “Evidently I’m newsworthy. My private life makes for interesting reading. My face.” He gestured at his scars before looking at her. Dark shadows underlined her brown eyes while her red hair hung around her shoulders in tangles. During the weeks since he’d met her she’d lost weight, and it showed in her face. “Enough about me. How are you? Can I hold you?”

  Her shoulders slumped, and it was easy to see how hard her grandmother’s death had hit her. “In the kitchen,” she said. “I’ve made fresh coffee.”

  Ash slipped his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the hall. The scent of coffee drifted to him when they entered the kitchen.

  “Would you like a cup?”

  “Soon,” he whispered, tugging her against his chest. He bent his head, savoring the flowery scent of her hair and just being with her.

  “I’m going to miss her so much. She was my best friend.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

  “Of course you’ll miss her,” Ash whispered. “She was an amazing woman.”

  “What am I going to do without her? She made living here bearable.” A shudder went through her, and Ash’s heart ached. He wanted to say he’d take her away with him. All she had to do was ask. But he held the words back, knowing it was too soon, and she would want to exert her independence. He brushed a kiss across the crown of her head, stifling his protective instincts. No, it was best for him to play the long game and woo her to his way of thinking.

  Ash wanted her trust. Hell, he wanted it all. He wanted her love.

  When her trembling eased, he pushed her away in order to see her face. “Have you eaten?”

  “I’m not hungry.”