memory of him from the bedding.
Atop a gorgeous wood chest next to the bed sat a white-shaded reading lamp, an alarm clock and a silver-framed photograph of him and Lila. She was probably only a few months old in the picture, the two of them nose to nose, her tiny, dimpled hands touching his face, the two of them grinning. Their mutual adoration was so evident it made Ashley’s heart ache. They’d been through so much. Together. There had to be days when Marcus felt as though it was just he and Lila against the world. After these many months, would he even be able to make room for a woman in their lives? Would he trust another woman with not only his heart but also the heart of his sweet little girl? Marcus’s protective tactics made one thing clear—he’d risk his own heart far before he’d risk Lila’s.
She ventured into his closet, a shrine to meticulous organization. The man would probably pass out if he ever saw the condition of her closet, bursting at the seams with dresses and shoes—good God, the shoes. She thumbed through his shirts, admiring a few, finding a French-blue one that didn’t look like it was too horribly expensive. Except that it was probably incredibly expensive. She slipped into it, buttoned it and rolled up the sleeves. With some creative tucking to make it look less like she was swimming in a shirt, she headed back down the hall.
Noises came from the kitchen—the housekeeper.
Ashley marched over and held out her hand. “Hi there. I’m Ashley. You must be Martha.”
The woman’s bright blue eyes were wide with surprise. “You’re the matchmaker. I watch your show all the time.” She dropped the towel she was using to wipe the counters, her hand flying to her face. “You had a fire. I saw the firemen in the hall just now. I’m so sorry.”
Ashley nodded. “Yes. Thank goodness it wasn’t a total loss. I’m headed over there right now. I need to get a few of my things and try to see about getting everything fixed up.”
“You aren’t going to have the same builder come back, are you? They were horrible.”
Ashley sighed. Why had she been so stupid? “I know that now. I’m so sorry if they were an inconvenience for you.”
Martha picked up her towel and ran some water in the sink. “I just don’t like to see Mr. Chambers get so upset. He works very hard and he’s a great boss. He gave me two weeks off with full pay when my husband had back surgery. He even had meals sent to our apartment.”
Now that she knew Marcus, she shouldn’t have been even the slightest bit surprised that he would do something like that. “That was very generous of him.”
“He’s a good man. A very good man. And his daughter is an angel. Of course, he protects her like he’s a bear, but that’s what a father does. Especially when she doesn’t have a mother.”
Ashley wasn’t sure whether she should feel better that Martha’s information confirmed that her feelings for Marcus were warranted, or if she should feel like she might never match up to his epic goodness. He clearly had a generous heart. He just hid it from a lot of people.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about preparing dinner for tonight,” Ashley said. “I’m taking care of that. I want to thank Marcus for all he has done for me.”
Martha’s face lit up. “How nice. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
Ashley retrieved clothes, toiletries and several pairs of shoes from her apartment, rushing through the whole thing as quickly as possible. She had to escape the smoke smell—it was everywhere. She didn’t even go into the kitchen. The pictures had been enough. She had her talks with Lieutenant Williams and the insurance adjuster out in the hall, then returned to Marcus’s apartment and threw everything in the wash. She left a message for the new contractor she hoped she’d be able to hire this time around, then embarked on her shopping trip, managing to remain under the radar for most of it, having to stop only once to take a quick photo and give an autograph.
When she returned to Marcus’s apartment, she changed into jeans and a tank top, getting right to work by first putting the cake layers in the oven. Memories hit her the minute the sweet fragrance of that golden sponge cake began to fill the kitchen. Every breath took her closer to home...the sticky South Carolina summer, magnolias and honeysuckle, and crisp air in the fall. It seemed so far off. Too far off. Part of her longed to be back there, to be plain old Ashley George, no cameras or billboards or publicity photos. It was nice no longer to struggle the way she had back at home, but those struggles had been replaced by new ones, the most profound of which was the nagging sense that she had money and a beautiful, charred apartment, but her life had become empty. She had no one to share this life she had built. And she had to wonder if she was sabotaging herself by still holding on to romantic thoughts of Marcus when so much pointed to the idea that they didn’t quite fit together—different personalities, divergent situations. If she were giving herself love advice, if she’d been the woman crying in a restaurant about a broken heart, she’d say that it might be the smart thing to move on. The problem was, she’d tried, and the only thing she’d learned in the process was that she had no talent for giving up on Marcus.
After carefully slicing the cake layers, she assembled the cake and gave it the finishing touches, pressing coconut to fluffy white cream cheese frosting—her mother’s twist on her grandmother’s traditional seven-minute icing. She stood back and admired her handiwork. The grits were cooking away on the stove, the shrimp and other ingredients prepped and waiting for Marcus to arrive home so she could throw it all together at the last minute.
He walked through the door and for a moment, she felt as self-conscious as could be. Was he going to think all of this was silly? Unnecessary? And why did he have to look so incredible after being at work all day? She usually looked as if she’d been run over by a train.
“What’s all this?” he asked, surveying the kitchen and loosening his tie.
She gave the grits a stir and turned back to him. “I gave Martha the night off. I’m making you dinner.”
“And there’s cake?” He swiped icing from the base of the plate.
“Hey. That’s for later.”
He flashed his green eyes at her. Every time he did that she suffered a bout of amnesia. It was impossible to remember a single bad thing that had ever happened between them. “Do I have a minute to change clothes?” He pointed at her. “From the look of things, I’d say I’m overdressed. Plus, I can’t wait to get out of this suit.”
Out of this suit. That mental image was going to stick with her for a while. “Of course.”
* * *
She’s making me dinner. And how lovely the sight of her in his kitchen was after a hectic day at the office. He knew better than to think that this would be a normal occurrence if he and Ashley were a couple. She’d be busy with work. He’d be similarly occupied. But it was a nice fantasy.
He quickly changed into jeans and a Cambridge Rowing Club T-shirt. Much better. Wearing a suit to the office was one of the worst parts of his day. “It really smells incredible.” He approached Ashley from behind as she worked at the cooktop.
“Almost ready to eat. I just need to finish up the shrimp.”
“Is it okay if I open a bottle of wine? I trust a white will work with the meal?”
She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Yes. Perfect.”
He
