her cotton bra. She froze. Maybe if she didn’t move, the forbidden sensations would disperse in a harmless fashion.
“Are you going to introduce me to your young man?” Gran focused on his scarred face. She stared for an instant. “He has pretty eyes.”
Charlotte gave a silent groan while resisting the urge to hide her hot cheeks with her spread fingers. “This is my new boss, Ash Marlborough. Ash, this is my grandmother, Ivy McDougal.”
“Ah, I recognize the name.” Laughter rippled through his tone. “You browbeat me into giving Charlotte an interview.” As he spoke he moved closer and brushed an errant lock of hair off Charlotte’s face. “Did Charlotte tell you we met at the charity ball on Friday night? Neither of us realized it until the interview.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to protest and shut it again when she noticed the spark in Gran. She would weather the embarrassment if it helped Gran rally.
“No, she never mentioned that.” Gran squinted at him, mischief playing on her lips. “Are you the man responsible for the hickeys on her neck?”
“Gran.” Her protest did nothing to halt their shared laughter at her expense. “He’s not.”
“I am,” he countered, the twinkle in his blue eyes daring her to reinforce her fib. His gaze zoomed in on her neck, and the heat in her face intensified to excruciating levels. “We had a great time at the ball.”
She wondered if she could get away with murder and shot him a glare—lethal of course—to get herself in a killing frame of mind. She met his impish grin and wavered. It was difficult to stay mad at this man when he smothered her with charm and perked up Gran with his easy manner.
“She made a pretty princess.” He winked at Gran.
“I can’t work for you,” Charlotte blurted.
His laughter dropped away. “You can. Don’t let my teasing put you off. You have talent and a good feel for color and textures. It will be a crime if you don’t pursue a job in some form of design.”
“I agree with Ash.” Gran was rubbing her temple again, the furrow between her eyes telling Charlotte the pain had worsened.
“You won’t be working with me,” Ash said, refuting one of her mental arguments. “Not on a day-to-day basis if that’s worrying you. No one will know we’re dating.”
Charlotte gasped and tugged at the end of her braid. “You think the press members from the social pages who follow you around won’t notice this hair?”
“Ah, so you do intend to go out to dinner with me tonight then,” he said with bald-faced satisfaction.
“No, that wasn’t what I meant. Look, thank you for the job offer, but—”
“Charlotte, no,” Gran ordered. “I promise I’ll talk to Elizabeth as soon as I see her.”
“Talk to Elizabeth about what?” Elizabeth appeared at the entrance of Gran’s room. “Charlotte, what are you doing here?” Her face froze in an impassive mask, tripping foreboding in Charlotte. She knew what would come next and steeled herself.
“I came to see Gran,” Charlotte blurted after seconds of unbearable, taut silence. “I wanted to tell her about my new job.” Cripes. That wasn’t what she’d intended to say. She’d done it now. Ms. Feisty had overruled her commonsense. She darted a glance at her stepmother and saw her expression hadn’t shifted. Her stomach hollowed, waiting for the fallout because it would come.
“It was nice to meet you, Ivy. I’ll leave you with your family. Charlotte, I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner. I have your address.” And with a wave and an audacious wink, he left.
“What was Ashley Marlborough doing here?” Elizabeth demanded. “And why is he taking you to dinner?”
Charlotte swallowed, her bravery seeping through the soles of her cheap runners. She had little money and nowhere to go. She couldn’t afford to alienate Elizabeth. “I met him last week, before I went to the job interview.” She watched Elizabeth and could pinpoint the exact moment
“Are you going to introduce me to your young man?” Gran focused on his scarred face. She stared for an instant. “He has pretty eyes.”
Charlotte gave a silent groan while resisting the urge to hide her hot cheeks with her spread fingers. “This is my new boss, Ash Marlborough. Ash, this is my grandmother, Ivy McDougal.”
“Ah, I recognize the name.” Laughter rippled through his tone. “You browbeat me into giving Charlotte an interview.” As he spoke he moved closer and brushed an errant lock of hair off Charlotte’s face. “Did Charlotte tell you we met at the charity ball on Friday night? Neither of us realized it until the interview.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to protest and shut it again when she noticed the spark in Gran. She would weather the embarrassment if it helped Gran rally.
“No, she never mentioned that.” Gran squinted at him, mischief playing on her lips. “Are you the man responsible for the hickeys on her neck?”
“Gran.” Her protest did nothing to halt their shared laughter at her expense. “He’s not.”
“I am,” he countered, the twinkle in his blue eyes daring her to reinforce her fib. His gaze zoomed in on her neck, and the heat in her face intensified to excruciating levels. “We had a great time at the ball.”
She wondered if she could get away with murder and shot him a glare—lethal of course—to get herself in a killing frame of mind. She met his impish grin and wavered. It was difficult to stay mad at this man when he smothered her with charm and perked up Gran with his easy manner.
“She made a pretty princess.” He winked at Gran.
“I can’t work for you,” Charlotte blurted.
His laughter dropped away. “You can. Don’t let my teasing put you off. You have talent and a good feel for color and textures. It will be a crime if you don’t pursue a job in some form of design.”
“I agree with Ash.” Gran was rubbing her temple again, the furrow between her eyes telling Charlotte the pain had worsened.
“You won’t be working with me,” Ash said, refuting one of her mental arguments. “Not on a day-to-day basis if that’s worrying you. No one will know we’re dating.”
Charlotte gasped and tugged at the end of her braid. “You think the press members from the social pages who follow you around won’t notice this hair?”
“Ah, so you do intend to go out to dinner with me tonight then,” he said with bald-faced satisfaction.
“No, that wasn’t what I meant. Look, thank you for the job offer, but—”
“Charlotte, no,” Gran ordered. “I promise I’ll talk to Elizabeth as soon as I see her.”
“Talk to Elizabeth about what?” Elizabeth appeared at the entrance of Gran’s room. “Charlotte, what are you doing here?” Her face froze in an impassive mask, tripping foreboding in Charlotte. She knew what would come next and steeled herself.
“I came to see Gran,” Charlotte blurted after seconds of unbearable, taut silence. “I wanted to tell her about my new job.” Cripes. That wasn’t what she’d intended to say. She’d done it now. Ms. Feisty had overruled her commonsense. She darted a glance at her stepmother and saw her expression hadn’t shifted. Her stomach hollowed, waiting for the fallout because it would come.
“It was nice to meet you, Ivy. I’ll leave you with your family. Charlotte, I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner. I have your address.” And with a wave and an audacious wink, he left.
“What was Ashley Marlborough doing here?” Elizabeth demanded. “And why is he taking you to dinner?”
Charlotte swallowed, her bravery seeping through the soles of her cheap runners. She had little money and nowhere to go. She couldn’t afford to alienate Elizabeth. “I met him last week, before I went to the job interview.” She watched Elizabeth and could pinpoint the exact moment
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