Ashley didn’t live on that kind of attention. She existed on it. She made money because of it. After she’d watched her parents struggle for years, working tirelessly and never getting ahead, it was nice to know she’d broken that particular family tradition.
Ashley sucked in a deep breath. “You’re going to have to set me up with someone or call a male escort service. I have no prospects.”
“No way. Word will get out if I try to arrange something. I can just see it in the papers.” With a dramatic sweep of both hands, Grace made a nightmare materialize. “The Manhattan Matchmaker Can’t Find Her Own Match.”
“Hey. That’s not fair. You know I’m intentionally taking a break from men.”
“And my grandmother would say that you fall off the horse, you need to get right back on it.”
“Yeah, well, my saddle is out of commission. I haven’t even been on a real date since James broke up with me.”
Grace’s eyes flickered in a way that made Ashley squirm. “That’s not true. The Tower of London? You’ve been on a date with him.”
It felt as though Ashley’s heart had seized up in her chest. “No. That was not a date. It was a disaster.”
“He asked you out. That counts as a date.” Grace scooted forward in her seat, her eyes brimming with entirely too much excitement. “Just think. If you get him to come to the party, it’ll be that much harder for him to complain about your apartment.”
“What about ‘familiarity breeds contempt’?”
“Now you’re just making excuses. What’s his real name again? Marcus...” She glanced down at her computer and began typing.
“Chambers,” Ashley grumbled. How exactly was this going to work? Oh, wait. It wouldn’t. Marcus would say no, and that would make every hallway encounter excruciatingly miserable.
“Here he is.” Grace nodded as she looked at her laptop screen, her eyes scanning back and forth. “Chambers Gin...famous British family...divorce.” She looked up. “Divorce?”
“Yes. I told you that. Remember? He has a baby. Lila. I don’t really know much other than his wife came from a prestigious family, too, and whatever happened between the two of them, she took off six weeks after the baby was born.” Ashley rubbed her forehead. “It’s all online if you read enough.”
“I take it you’ve read it all.”
“Pretty much. What can I say? I was curious. A ridiculously hot guy moves in across the hall, a girl Googles him.”
“His wife leaves him and the baby six weeks after she’s born? Whatever broke them up had to have been bad.”
“Or it’d been brewing for a long time. The reason for the divorce was listed as ‘irretrievable breakdown.’ I guess that’s what they call irreconcilable differences in the UK.”
“Yeah, but a mother leaving her child?”
“I know. It’s awful.”
Grace returned her vision to the screen. “Financial markets... Cambridge University...”
“Will you just give this up? He’s never going to agree to go with me to that party, anyway.”
“Shush. I’m reading. Rowing team...yada yada yada. Oh. My. God.” She clamped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were as big as hubcaps when she looked up at Ashley.
She found it.
“He’s in a calendar. Britain’s most eligible bachelors.”
“Oh yeah. That. Sorta funny, isn’t it? I mean, Mr. November? I’d give him crap about it if I wasn’t trying to keep him calm.”
“So you’ve seen the pictures?”
She shrugged it off, pretending to busy herself with her pen and pad. “It’s not like I bought one of the calendars.” Of course she hadn’t. It was sold out.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this. We just hit the mother lode. This is perfect. You invite the hot British gin maker and I get to write the world’s most amazing press release. This might end up being the pinnacle of my career.”
“Oh please. It’s a calendar to raise money for a children’s hospital. They do it every year. I doubt it’s a big deal.”
“Uh, the picture of him with no shirt? I can guarantee people will care about that. A lot of people.”
Grace got up from her chair, set her computer on Ashley’s desk and flipped it around. They were both confronted with one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors and his splendid physique. “You told me he was handsome, but you really undersold it. Look at his abs. And those shoulders.”
Ashley shook her head, wishing she could erase the image of Marcus’s incredible torso, the one lovingly embossed on her brain. Is it stuffy in here? “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. That photo is probably airbrushed like crazy.” With the computer on her desk, it was impossible to avoid shirtless, sweaty Marcus, standing on shore next to the River Thames after a rowing race, smiling no less. “And I mean, he might look hot, but ignore that. He can be insufferable if he wants to be.”
“I could put up with a whole lot of insufferable for a guy with abs like that.” Grace returned to her seat, thankfully removing the influence of the pictures. “The network is going to be over the moon when I tell them you’re bringing one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors to the premiere party.”
“Hold on a second. I haven’t even asked him. Were you not listening earlier? He hates me. Hates. Me.”
Grace didn’t react to Ashley’s words, instead looking at her laptop screen. “It says here that he’s responsible for the US launch of a whole new brand of gin for his family’s distillery. That’s not an inexpensive proposition. We can help him with that. Every entrepreneur loves free publicity.”
And at what cost? Ashley’s pride, that’s what. The matchmaker truly couldn’t find her own match. After her heart and her pride were destroyed by James, her avoidance of men was intentional, but temporary. At no point had it meant that she wasn’t still hoping Mr. Right would turn up. Now she had to resort to bribing Mr. Not-Right-At-All, just to appease the network and save face.
“So, what are you waiting for? Call him. I’ll wait until you’re done before I start writing the press release.”
It’d been high school since Ashley had asked out a guy, and that hadn’t gone well. Suddenly her hands were clammy. She certainly wasn’t afraid of Marcus. But she was afraid he’d say no.
* * *
“I don’t need to tell you the gravity of the situation.” Marcus’s father’s voice was unusually cold. It was the tinny overseas connection on speakerphone, Marcus hoped. He couldn’t stand the thought of his normally cheerful dad being so gravely unhappy. “If we can’t get this endeavor of yours off the ground, the ramifications will be great. It’s not just the loss of expected growth. It’s the money we’ve put into it, as well.
