Ain't Misbehaving

by Shelley Munro

  When Charlotte reached the curtain, Maria made a go back motion with her hands. So she did, this time her smile tremulous while uncertainty and a trace of panic wriggled around inside her.

  “When are you getting married?” a young woman shouted.

  Everyone who heard laughed, but the suggestion propelled Charlotte’s stomach into the beginnings of queasiness. She noticed Ash speaking to the woman sitting beside him, their heads close together in intimacy. Punch her in the nose! Ms. Feisty ordered.

  Of course, Charlotte didn’t do anything of the sort, and merely continued her walk down the catwalk, working to keep her smile tacked in place. Ash wasn’t doing anything wrong. But seeing him chatting with another woman made her mind rush with apprehension. What if Ash did change his mind about her? Maybe she should make a move for independence soon.

  Just in case.

  Chapter Twelve

  The click of the cameras continued, and Charlotte smiled until her jaw ached. It was half an hour before the models left the catwalk.

  Maria was delirious with excitement. “A success,” she kept saying. “The best show ever.”

  Charlotte traipsed back into the changing rooms, glad to don normal clothes again. Maria had asked the models to mingle after the show and stay for refreshments. On exiting, the first person Charlotte glimpsed was Ash. He grinned widely and held out his arms. Forcing her doubts aside, she hurried into his embrace.

  See, Ms. Feisty said with a trace of smugness. I know what is best for us. Charlotte wasn’t so sure. She stiffened, and Ash’s brows rose.

  “A bit overwhelmed,” she whispered.

  “You’re a star,” Ash said, kissing her cheek.

  A female reporter tapped her on the shoulder. “Can we do an interview?”

  “No, sorry,” Charlotte said. “If you want an interview, you’ll need to speak with Maria.”

  “No, I want to talk to you about your relationship with Mr. Marlborough.”

  “I don’t do interviews,” Charlotte said, smiling to mute her blunt words. “My private life is confidential.”

  “Would you like a drink?” Ash asked.

  “A glass of Champagne sounds lovely,” she said, and they sauntered away, leaving the reporter frowning after them.

  “How did I do? Hit me with the truth,” she said.

  “I wanted to jump onto the catwalk and carry you away so the other men couldn’t ogle you or take photos with their camera phones. I didn’t realize my jealous streak was so wide,” he said with a wry smile.

  “It’s the same way I feel when women eat you up with their eyes.” Yep, that brings on the self-doubt, Ms. Feisty muttered.

  “My bank balance, you mean.” Ash grabbed two glasses of Champagne from a passing waiter. “Some women can’t see past my scars. It frightens them, but when they hear I have buckets of money, they develop tunnel vision.”

  “Someone hurt you,” she said.

  “We all have scars. Mine are more visible than most.” He shrugged aside his past with his usual good humor, but Charlotte imagined he’d suffered during his childhood and teenage years. She admired him so much and would like to meet his father, the man responsible for his positive attitude.

  Charlotte glanced at two elderly women who were listening to their conversation. “Walk with me through the hotel. I could do with a breath of air.”

  When they reached the reception area, they sat on one of the squishy settees.

  She reached for one of his hands. “Tell me about the woman who was horrid to you.”

  “It was nothing,” he said. “I’d made my first million and asked my girlfriend to marry me. She said yes, but I soon discovered my money was the attraction. We argued, and she sold a story to the magazines a few weeks later saying she couldn’t live with someone who resembled a beast. That’s where the nickname originated.”

  Charlotte leaned over to kiss his scarred cheek. He gasped, his hand tightening on hers. “When I look at you, I see a swashbuckling Zorro with his swirling cape. I see a sexy man.”

  Ash stood abruptly. “We’re going home. We’ll find Maria, say our goodbyes.”

  “Why, Mr. Marlborough. I like the way you think.” Even though she was setting herself up for a huge fall, she couldn’t refuse him. Maybe this time would end differently.

  The taxi ride home didn’t take long. Home. She thought of Ash’s house, of Ash as home. Cripes, dangerous thoughts, yet when Ash held her, she couldn’t summon the energy to run.

  Inside, he took her hand and led her through the darkness to the bedroom. Unerringly, he switched on a bedside lamp, flooding the room with subtle lighting.

  “Let me undress you,” he said, removing the simple shift dress Maria had insisted she keep. The zipper whispered as he slid it over her hips, the cool air sending a tremor through her body. She used him for balance while she stepped out of her dress and shoes. The rest of their clothes seemed to disappear, and they fell to the bed. Their naked bodies slid together with exquisite friction. She breathed in his familiar scent and clutched his shoulders. This was right. He was right.

  She ran her hands over his hair, holding him to her when he nuzzled her neck. His muscles flexed and rippled while his cock prodded her hip. She thought he’d hurry their lovemaking. They usually ended up frantic for each other, coming in explosive climaxes and gasping for breath. Somehow, they couldn’t help themselves—they set each other off. But tonight was different. Ash made love to her with each touch of his hands, each brush of his lips. One by one her nerve endings flared to life, ignited by his caresses. The gentle suction of his mouth at her nipple amplified the empty ache in her sex.

  “Ash,” she whispered.

  She wriggled, moisture pooling between her legs, each breath emerging on a ragged gasp. When he settled between her thighs, she was more than ready for him. Once again, he surprised her, settling his mouth on her needy flesh, slipping along her folds and taking her to the edge of control. He licked from her wet center, spearing his tongue into her. Clawing tension had her digging her heels into the mattress, forcing her hips upward, but he kept up his soft, tormenting strokes, dragging out every last sensation to torture her. A whimper escaped her, hips bucking against his mouth in frantic need.

  “Ash.” This time his name was a protest, a plea to haste.

  He added his fingers, probing her damp heat with a steady thrust.

  “I love touching you,” he whispered. “You make me happy.”

  For an instant, her breathing stalled. She’d thought he was going to say he loved her and a sense of disappointment zapped her. Weird. She didn’t want a man in her life, not yet, when she was still working out her future. What about time to enjoy her newfound independence?

  Yeah, yeah. Ms. Feisty waved a hand in dismissal.

  “Are you still with me?” Her juices shone around his mouth.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “We’re doing the beast with two backs.”

  He let out a snort of laughter. “You make me laugh. Sex should be about fun as well as pleasure.” That said, he raked his tongue across her clit, and she gasped at the tightening sensation deep in her womb.

  “You make me feel special.”

  He paused to grin up at her, sultry passion burning in his blue gaze. The earthy scent of sex swirled around them. “Time to get serious.” And he used his tongue to do some precision work on her clit. Sensual energy coiled tight. She moaned, long and loud as the taut sensation blew apart in a white-hot conflagration of pleasure. Sobs, whimpers she couldn’t contain filled the room, the walls of her sex pulsating for long seconds.

  Ash lifted his head, grabbed a condom and was inside her in seconds flat. He moved in hot, easy glides, his mouth closing over hers. Their kiss was laid-back, a meeting of mouths and sharing of breath, her heat flowing into him and boomeranging back. Each lazy kiss was in time with one of his thrusts. She went liquid deep inside, entranced with this change between them—to their lovemaking.

  He consumed he
r, dominated her with his body while his sinful mouth twisted her into sensual knots. So, so good. The sweet burn between her thighs blossomed again, and she tightened her inner muscles, trying to ease the build of desire.

  “Ah, Charlotte,” he murmured after tearing his mouth from hers. Increasing his pace, he powered into her, a man who knew what he wanted.

  Her. She couldn’t help but bask with pleasure at the knowledge.

  After a series of erratic digs of his cock, Ash sank deep again and stilled, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed together as shudders tore through him. Soon his breathing slowed, and he pulled out of her to dispose of the condom.

  “Wow.” His voice sounded husky and sated.

  Yeah, Ms. Feisty sighed. Charlotte kissed his chin and stretched, her entire body relaxed and heavy. A yawn broke free before she could contain it.

  “Tired?”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night. I was nervous about the fashion parade.”

  “It didn’t show when you prowled along the catwalk.” He tucked her against him and sighed in contentment. “This is nice.”

  It was comfortable, and she’d quickly become used to sharing a bed with him. “I should get up to clean off my makeup.”

  “In a minute,” he said. “Let me cuddle for a bit longer.”

  “Guys aren’t meant to enjoy cuddling.”

  “So shoot me,” he murmured. “Who wants to be a sheep?”

  * * * * *

  Charlotte kissed Ash goodbye the next morning, chuckling when he took advantage of the opportunity to cop a feel.

  “What are you going to do this morning?” he asked.

  “I’m going to work on the motorcycle campaign. Maria asked me to have a cup of coffee with her this afternoon at her boutique.”

  “I shouldn’t be home late. Do you want to go out for dinner?”

  “No, I’d prefer a quiet night with you and a movie.”

  He snuck another kiss, his eyes gleaming when he pulled back and looked down at her. “I love you, Charlotte.”

  A distinct jolt went through her. “But—”

  Still smiling, he placed a hand across her mouth. “No, don’t say anything. We can talk tonight.” And after another quick kiss on the tip of her nose he left.

  He loved her. Charlotte tested the words, spinning them through her mind, searching for flaws, for insincerity. No, he’d meant the sentiment. A spark of warmth burst to life inside her. The sensation spread, heating her through, and she realized she was smiling—the type of joyous smile that lit a person from within.

  Way to go! Ms. Feisty pumped a fist and did a victory dance with much whooping and hollering.

  Ash was an experienced man, and he didn’t go through life telling women he loved them. His words meant something. She could count on one hand the people who’d loved her. Her mother who’d died when she was young. Her father who’d died in a car accident, and Gran. Her throat tightened when she thought of Gran, of the promises she’d made to strike out on her own. Independence. Some of her joy started to disperse. As much as she attempted to ignore the gossip in the magazines and local papers, public opinion stated Ash never stayed with one woman for long.

  Ash won’t do that! Ms. Feisty stomped her foot in clear frustration.

  Charlotte sighed. It wasn’t as if she had much to bring to their relationship.

  Sober now, Charlotte walked through to the kitchen and started the dishes. When the kitchen was spotless, she opened her laptop and went through the notes she and Ash had made as they brainstormed.

  A pretty girl on a bike or even a man was so trite and had featured in countless ad campaigns. She chewed on the end of a pen and stared at her sketchpad. She drew it closer, doodling on the corner while she thought motorcycles. A bike formed on the page, simplistic but recognizable. She drew a figure astride it, cape streaming in the wind as he rode. A sudden grin bloomed, and she added the final touches—a black mask and a motorcycle helmet emblazoned with a large Z.

  Inspired, she swapped her pen for a pencil and designed a comic strip. A female figure joined Zorro. She was dressed in a frothy gown and clutched Zorro’s waist. Her motorcycle helmet bore a small crown. Once she was finished, a strip of Zorro and Princess’ adventures, she titled it, One Night With Zorro.

  Exultant, she stared at the rough doodles. This was it—the perfect idea for the motorcycle shop. She’d redo her Zorro, turning him into a super hero specific to the motorcycle shop. Yes! She could hardly wait to share her proposal with Ash, to see if he saw the same spinoff possibilities for additional ad campaigns.

  After checking her watch, she decided she had enough time to bake and decorate some cupcakes. She went with theme, decorating them with tiny piped motorcycles, princess crowns and several with slashing Zs. They’d be perfect to take for afternoon tea with Maria.

  Maria’s boutique was on Nuffield Street in Newmarket. Charlotte studied the window as she walked into the shop. It was plain and similar to the displays in the neighboring and competing shops. The inside of the boutique was elegant without being too formal. With the scent of lavender and a hint of rose perfuming the air, the vase of pink orchids and the sensual vibe, most women would feel comfortable the minute they stepped inside.

  “Charlotte, you’re here,” Maria said, moving away from the woman who was frowning at her form in the mirror. Maria hugged Charlotte and pulled away to kiss her on the cheek. “Have you seen the papers? They’re full of photos from the fashion parade. I’ve been flat out today.”

  A group of three giggly women entered the store, all in their early twenties.

  “Will you help Jocelyn for me?” Maria lowered her voice. “I doubt she’ll buy anything. She’s lonely and wants someone to talk to.”

  She walked away before Charlotte could protest.

  Charlotte set her container of cupcakes behind the counter and walked over, putting on a friendly smile. “Hi, I’m Charlotte. Maria asked me to help you while she’s busy with other customers.” She studied the outfit Jocelyn wore. “Can I be frank?”

  “Of course,” Jocelyn said, but a miniscule furrow appeared on her brow.

  “The style is good on you, but the color is washing you out a little. You need a pastel to go with your coloring.” Charlotte searched the racks and pulled out several garments. “Do you have time to try on these?”

  “You’re the woman in the papers. Red.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Charlotte said, “although I haven’t seen the papers today.”

  “I’ve met Ash at several functions,” Jocelyn said. “He’s a business acquaintance of my husband. You’re a lucky woman.”

  Charlotte nodded, unwilling to confide private things when she didn’t know the woman.

  “I was at the fashion parade last night, which is why I’m here. I need a new dress for a business function next month. I don’t suppose you’re going? It would be nice to see a friendly face.”

  “I’m not sure. Ash hasn’t mentioned it. How formal is the event?”

  “It’s not formal dress, but most of the wives will go all out with their outfits.”

  “Try this one first,” Charlotte said. “Call me if you need me.” Charlotte loitered between the changing rooms and the interior of the shop.

  “Look! It’s Red,” one of the new arrivals shrieked.

  “I want the first dress she wore,” another of the women said. “The red one.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath. “It’s not right for your figure type,” she said. “You need something to emphasize your breasts.” She scanned the racks quickly, judging the woman’s size. “This red dress,” she said firmly. “I couldn’t wear this style, but it will look stunning on you.”

  “What about me?” the first woman asked.

  Charlotte skimmed the racks and handed two black dresses to the woman.

  Soon all the women were in the dressing rooms, trying on dresses and other garments.

  A smile tugged on Maria’s lips when Charlotte turned
to her. The grin reeked of victory. “Ash told me you were looking for a part-time job and had an eye for color. The job is yours. When can you start? How many days can I have you?”

  “This was a setup?”

  “Not really. I wanted to have coffee with you and thank you for the show. The phone has run hot all morning and the money we raised beat our record.”

  “You really want me to work for you?”

  “I do.” Maria named an hourly wage plus the employee discount she’d receive.

  “Deal,” Charlotte said. “Would four half days be all right? I might be able to work more, but I’d like to see how things go.”

  “Works for me,” Maria said.

  A shout went up in the changing rooms, and they both went to help. Three out of the four women purchased garments.

  Jocelyn paid with her credit card. “It was nice to meet you, Charlotte. I’ll look for you at the next business function.”

  When all the women left, Maria said, “We’ll need to have coffee here.”

  “That’s fine,” Charlotte said. “I made cupcakes this morning.”

  Charlotte flicked through a tabloid, coming to a stop on the society page. She should set the paper down, but a huge photo of her, dressed in the wedding gown dominated the page. The headline screamed, Red Takes Center Stage. A smaller headline read, Will the Beast Take Red as His Bride?

  “Good grief,” Charlotte muttered. The story mentioned the details of fashion parade, gave a rundown of the gowns and the highlights, but the thrust of the article was speculation regarding marriage plans for her and Ash. A photo of Ash farther down the page snared her attention—his image looked as if it might step off the page, so great was his presence. She brushed her fingers across his face, her heart twisting with a familiar emotion. It was the same blend of feelings she experienced while thinking of her mother, her father and recently of Gran.

  Love.

  Sudden tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly.

  “The coffee is ready,” Maria said. “We can sit out in the kitchen area. It’s small, but we’ll hear if anyone enters the boutique.”