“I could do with a piece of toast and a coffee.”
“I’ll do it. I need to move,” she said, forestalling his argument. “Gran, Esther and I worked on the cupcake campaign off and on all week. It’s finished.”
“Can you email everything to me?” He checked his watch and sighed. “I have client appointments this morning. I can’t cancel them.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Her shock at the idea was evident in her wide eyes and parted lips.
“You never expect anything for yourself,” he said. “Did it occur to you I want to be here for you, to help you get through the next days? I might have been young when my mother died, but I remember the anguish and grief.” Even though they’d kept him sedated in the burns unit, even though he’d been young he remembered the pain, the loss of knowing he’d never see his mother again.
She stared at him, a crease on her forehead. “But we don’t know each other well.”
“Which is the reason I’m taking things slow. I don’t want to scare you off.”
“Me? You want…”
He froze, afraid to blink. She sounded so surprised at his statement of intent. “You must have noticed the way I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“But that’s sex.”
Not for him it wasn’t. It might have started that way, but things were different now.
“What are you doing here?” a tart voice demanded from behind him.
Ash turned, taking in Elizabeth with her tear-ravaged face and Jenny standing behind her. “I stopped by to see Ivy.”
“You didn’t know her,” Elizabeth said.
“Not well, no, but she went to school with my father’s mother. We’ve talked on the phone.” He glanced at Charlotte. His grandmother had told him to look for the princess in an apricot dress. Between his grandmother and Ivy they’d been set up on the sly. A favor had turned to his advantage, thanks to them. He didn’t think Charlotte had worked it out yet. “I’m sorry to hear about her passing. She was an amazing woman. My grandmother will miss their correspondence. Why don’t you take a seat, have a coffee and something to eat?” He’d managed to wrangle that much out of his grandmother—that she and Ivy corresponded by mail and sometimes phone several times a month.
Elizabeth’s frown smoothed out, and she silently took a seat. Jenny sat next to her while Charlotte poured coffee and set toast in front of them.
Rachel joined them, cast him a curious look. “What are you doing here?”
Ash went through the explanation again. “My grandmother and Ivy were friends.”
“Is that how you met Charlotte?” Jenny demanded.
“Yes, she introduced us, although she was subtle about it.” He hoped the news that she’d been set up at the ball didn’t upset Charlotte.
Rachel’s brows rose as she turned to Charlotte. “She did? Neither of you even hinted at it.”
Charlotte’s expression blanked. She remained silent and Ash continued.
“I told you she was a determined woman.” He turned to Elizabeth, his gaze sobering. “When will the funeral take place? My grandmother will want to attend.”
“I’m not sure yet.” Elizabeth pulled out the snobby matron. “If you leave your number I’ll make sure you’re contacted with the details.”
“Charlotte will let me know.” He needed to make allowances for Elizabeth under the circumstances. Ash walked over to Charlotte and kissed her cheek. “Will you be all right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll give you a call later tonight. Make sure you eat something,” he whispered, confining himself to running his fingers over her cheek before walking away.
The instant he stepped outside two photographers straightened and pointed their cameras in his direction. He ignored the shouted questions and demands to look their way, climbing into his car and backing out of the driveway.
His morning was a busy one, but each spare moment, he thought of Charlotte. He picked up his phone and rang his grandmother, letting her know the news, and all the while he willed Charlotte to ring him again. The urge to say to hell with work and go to her, warred inside him.
“Ash?”
Ash jerked from his thoughts to find his assistant staring at him.
“Something wrong?”
“Just a bit distracted,” he said. “Is my next appointment here?” While he spoke, he checked his email, his heart leaping when he noticed one from Charlotte. She noted that she’d designed some artist trading cards and large poster-size drawings as well as the files she’d attached. He clicked on the attachment and his breath caught. He let it out in a low whistle. “Laura, come and look at this.”
“This is for the new bakery account? Who did this? It’s perfect,” she said. “Fresh and new.”
“I’ve been working with Charlotte Dixon. I started her off, but she’s done the design work. Which one do you prefer?” He clicked on another attachment, the simple yet elegant idea very different from the first more modern design.
“They’re both perfect as they are. I’d let the client do the hard work of choosing. You didn’t do any of this?”
“No.” Satisfaction throbbed through him. “I showed her how we set up our files, and we discussed the sort of thing the customer wanted. I left her to her own devices and gave her a deadline. She’s finished early.”
“We need to hire her. She does good work,” Laura said.
“How are the two new hires?”
“Good,” Laura said. “But not as gifted as Charlotte.”
The phone rang in the outer office, and Laura went to answer it. She was back in minutes. “Your appointment is here.”
“Thanks.” Ash closed Charlotte’s work and stood to greet his client. Marlborough Media didn’t need another trainee. Their more senior people were stretched with training and their existing work as it was, yet if he didn’t offer her work of some description, he sensed he’d lose her. Not just as a potential employee but maybe as a lover too.
Shoving aside his unease, he grinned at his long-time client. “How is your wife? And the kids?”
“Suzie, my youngest girl, still wants to marry you when she grows up,” Brent Wendell said with a chuckle. “She drew you a picture of your wedding day.”
Ash accepted the crayon drawing and studied it. She’d even drawn in his scars. “I don’t know about marriage, but she might have a future in design.”
“My wife will be pleased to hear it. She says you’re too much of a player for one of our daughters.”
Not anymore, Ash thought, and he didn’t feel so much as a pang at the loss of his freedom.
* * * * *
Gran’s funeral was held four days later. Charlotte walked into the church behind Elizabeth, Jenny and Rachel, together yet apart as always. Gran’s death was a hollow void in her world, and she’d attempted to fill the emptiness with cooking and cleaning. The kitchen bulged with an abundance of food for the visitors who’d descend on the house after the funeral. She slipped into a pew behind her stepsisters and stepmother, as instructed earlier by Elizabeth. She was to leave space for Gran’s other children.
Charlotte waited for everyone to settle, keeping her gaze off the casket sitting at the front of the church, and trying not to cry as Gran’s favorite songs played from concealed speakers. A cold, hard knot sat in the pit of her stomach. It expanded to clog her throat so she couldn’t choke out the grief, the rage and the sense of loss that pervaded every thought and action. It clouded her mind, not allowing her to focus on the thing she should concentrate on—her future. Now that Gran was gone she needed to find a job. Elizabeth had already mentioned she’d need to pull her weight and get a job to contribute to the upkeep of the house.
Someone sat beside her, touching her knee. She jumped, biting back a gasp, only relaxing when she recognized Ash.
“Thanks for coming.” Her voice emerged as a hoarse croak.
He took possession of her hand and squeezed it. “My grandmother asked me to attend in her stead
. I would have come anyway,” he said in an undertone, his breath warm on her ear. His silent strength, his comfort given without reserve cracked the lump of ice inside her. Warmth crept into her, and when he would have released her hand, she clung. With a gentle smile, he maintained the contact, and she listened to the words of the minister, the tearful memories of family and friends. She stood and sang Gran’s favorite hymn with everyone else, clutching Ash’s hand while saying goodbye to the woman who’d been more than a friend.
The formalities at the cemetery passed rapidly. The sun blazed overhead and a tui gurgled non-stop from the branches of a nearby tree, competing with the minister. A quiver went through her when she spied a pair of fantails flitting nearby, the tiny birds often associated with death in Maori legends. Ash stood beside her, holding her hand, his solid presence helping her through the ordeal.
Soon it was time to return to the house and prepare for the influx of guests.
“Charlotte, I’m sorry, but I need to go back to work. There’s a client from Wellington and this is the only opportunity we have to meet. Can I drop you back at the house?”
“Please.” Elizabeth wouldn’t think to make sure she had transportation back to Remuera. Too many things on her mind.
Ash left her at the house, giving her a brief kiss on the cheek before driving away.
Charlotte was the first back and started tea and coffee then set food in the dining room. When she heard the first people arrive, she removed the covers from the plates.
Elizabeth stalked into the dining room while she was carrying in the first pot of tea. She surveyed the spread and gave a stiff nod. “Thank you, Charlotte.”
The rest of the afternoon raced away. Charlotte made more tea and coffee and ferried plates of sandwiches and cakes back and forth. Who knew funerals stimulated the appetite so much? Maybe it was something to do with affirming life, Charlotte thought.
She smiled at one of Gran’s brothers, offering him a refill of his tea cup and received a polite nod. She sighed, feeling more than ever like a sparrow amongst a nest of cuckoos.
Gradually, the guests started to leave, and Charlotte busied herself with the constant stream of dirty dishes.
Elizabeth walked into the kitchen, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks pale beneath the rounds of blusher she’d applied earlier in the day. “Charlotte, a light dinner tonight please,” she said in a crisp voice. “There will be six of us since my sister and her husband and my brother are staying the night.”
Six? What about her? Charlotte bit down on her inner lip. Not the time for a smart-ass comment, but obviously, she’d been relegated to hired help status. She was meant to make dinner from the goodness of her heart.
Charlotte made pasta served with pesto, a large salad and baked a focaccia bread to have on the side. She also whipped up an apple crumble in case any of them wanted dessert. Deciding to eat later, she cleaned up in the kitchen while the others ate in the formal dining room.
“Mum said you can clear the table and bring in the dessert now. We’ll have coffee later,” Rachel said. She disappeared before Charlotte could answer.
Charlotte gripped the edge of the counter until the color bled from her knuckles. Deep breaths. “I’m not a servant, damn it,” she muttered while getting dessert bowls from the cupboard—the good china as Elizabeth had requested. Taking another fortifying breath, she set them on a tray along with the apple crumble and a jug of fresh cream. After counting silently to ten, she carried the tray into the dining room. Tonight was not the time to assert her rights and independence, not the day of Gran’s funeral.
Silently Charlotte cleared dinner plates, distributed bowls and placed the crumble near Elizabeth to serve. Wordlessly, she carried the empty dinner plates along with the salad bowl, which contained a lone slice of cucumber.
Resentment built in her, layer by layer, empty dish by empty dish, but pride and decency wouldn’t let her unleash her ire—not today.
The cleanup took another hour. Charlotte made herself a sandwich and escaped to her bedroom. She fell asleep listening to an audio book about a world populated with vampires where nothing was as it seemed and humans unknowingly walked amongst danger.
“Charlotte.” Elizabeth stalked into the kitchen the next morning, five minutes short of nine. “Jenny, Rachel and I are driving to Taupo with my brother. We’re going to sort out Mum’s house ready for sale. I want you to clear Mum’s room here.”
“Don’t you want to keep anything?” Charlotte asked, surprised by the request. Don’t you mean order, Ms. Feisty snapped.
“No, send everything useful to charity and trash the rest. Don’t bother making breakfast. We’re going to stop at Tirau.”
Five minutes later, they were gone.
Chapter Eight
Ash scowled at the photo in the paper. A photographer had managed to get a shot of him and Charlotte at the grave site, their hands clasped with Charlotte gazing up at him. A reporter had contacted him, asking about the funeral, and he’d told her it was for a family friend. He’d thought they’d show a little respect, but no. The headline shouted, The Beast and the Mystery Redhead.
Laura walked into his office and glanced at the newspaper. Her nose wrinkled. “They don’t respect privacy. Rather you than me, boss.”
“They’ve manipulated a shot from the funeral and blanked out the people who were standing around us.” Disgust filled him, and he hoped Charlotte didn’t see the photo.
“Matheson rang again this morning. He said you’d put him off about his weekend party. He wants to know if you’re attending and if you have a plus one.”
“Damn, I don’t want to leave Auckland right now. Okay, leave it with me. I’ll ring him this afternoon. Do we have any new jobs?”
Laura rattled off several. “Okay, put me down for the Hudson and the Shrewsbury accounts and email the relevant details to me. I’m going out for an hour.”
“Righto, Ash.”
Ash sneaked out the back door, walked three blocks and caught a passing cab to Remuera. He rapped on the door, and a few minutes later, Charlotte stood in front of him.
“Ash.”
Charlotte stood aside to let him enter. She’d been crying, her eyes red and swollen. Tear tracks streaked her cheeks, but to him she was beautiful.
“Where is everyone?”
“They’ve gone to Taupo for a couple of weeks.” Charlotte’s voice was dead without nuance.
“They left you alone?” Anger burst through him. Damn Elizabeth and her callous behavior. All she needed was a pointy black hat and a broom and she’d be set.
“With instructions to clear Gran’s room and sort out her possessions,” Charlotte said.
This time her expression read pissed and he cheered inwardly. “I have to travel to Napier on business this weekend. Would you come with me?”
“For the weekend?”
“We’d share a room,” Ash said, wanting her to have no doubt as to his intentions. “And a bed.”
Her gaze zapped to meet his, searching, weighing. “I’ve never been to Napier.”
Not the reply he’d expected. “Well, here’s your chance. What do you say?”
“What sort of clothes will I need?”
“Mainly casual, but they’re having an art deco theme party on Saturday night. I was intending to grab something to wear while I’m down there. We could go earlier and do our shopping together. What do you say?”
She nodded, not with the enthusiasm he’d prefer, but at least it wasn’t a straight rejection. “I need to finish emptying Gran’s room, but I’d like to escape the memories for a few days.”
“How does Thursday sound?”
“Yes, Thursday is perfect.”
Ash worked to hold back his cheer. “Pack a swimsuit and comfortable shoes for walking. Oh, and bring your laptop. I have two more accounts for you to work on. We can discuss those too.”
She bounced her weight from foot to foot, and her brown eyes sparkled. “Really?”
> “Really,” he said. “We were impressed by your work on the bakery account, and Laura has contacted the client to make an appointment to see your designs.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight.
Ash hugged her back, wishing her affection was more than excitement about the accounts. Still, she hadn’t argued about sharing a bed, and he had a long weekend to work his masculine magic. A heady sensation, one he recognized as the thrill of the chase, blossomed inside him. An unusual feeling, since women stalked him, but one that filled him with anticipation. Charlotte wouldn’t know what hit her.
* * * * *
Ash wanted her to work on more accounts. The knowledge buoyed her spirits and put pep in her steps—a temporary job to fill her empty hours plus a weekend away. Probably a good thing since she didn’t have to be a brain box to realize getting away from this house with the layers of memories and sadness wouldn’t hurt. She attacked Gran’s room with new vigor, sorting possessions into three piles—those to donate to charity, a pile for the rubbish and a pile of things she wanted for keepsakes. She focused on the good memories, the times of laughter and fun she’d had with Gran and Esther.
But a few times Ms. Feisty shooed her thoughts over to Ash and sharing a bed with him. A tickle of heat slid along her veins. A little hot, no-strings sex with Ash would celebrate the start of her new life.
Hell, yeah! Ms. Feisty pumped her fist in the air. Charlotte grinned, inhaled a couple of deep breaths and continued her task.
When she came to Gran’s jewelry box, she paused before deciding to leave it in Elizabeth’s room. Gran had owned some lovely pieces, and she was sure Elizabeth would want to keep them. She tucked the box under a pile of sweaters in one of Elizabeth’s drawers.
It took her the rest of the day to clear the bedroom, working late into the night. The distant shrill of her cell phone broke the silence, making her start.
Charlotte went down to the kitchen to answer it, deciding to stop for something to eat since her stomach let out an ominous rumble.
“Hello,” she said.
Ain't Misbehaving Page 13
