on her time. And that didn’t assuage even an ounce of guilt. “I need to come home. And I will. Or maybe you and Daddy could come up to see me. I can book you first-class tickets, and you can stay in my guest room. It’ll be so beautiful when the apartment is done. I really want you both to see it.”
“I know you do. I really do. We’ll have to see how your dad is doing. Travel would take an awful lot out of him.”
“I could pay a nurse to travel with you. You wouldn’t have to do anything. I swear it wouldn’t be much trouble.”
“And that’s so generous of you, really. But I don’t want to make any promises, Ash. He doesn’t even like it when we go to the grocery store. New York would be a big undertaking. We’ll talk about it.”
Ashley saw through the cab window that they were close to arriving at her building. “I just really want you to see it. That’s all.” She knew deep down that her parents understood her success. Still, she wanted them to see the physical manifestation of it, outside the things she paid for that they saw every day. She wanted to show them that she had done well for herself, and done well for the family.
The antique rocker in Lila’s nursery was the perfect place for a daddy-daughter summit. “So, Lila, Daddy’s going on a date tonight, but it’s very important that you know that you will always be the most important woman in my life.”
Lila looked up at him quizzically. “Hi.” She palmed the side of his face and smiled, rubbing her tiny fingers over the stubble along his jaw.
He chuckled quietly. Hi was her new word, and she was eager to use it. “Hi, yourself.”
“Hi,” Lila replied.
Joanna, over that night as babysitter, was listening in, leaning against the doorway. She stretched out her arms. “Want me to take her? You really don’t want to be holding a baby while wearing a tux, do you? You’re begging for a disaster. She’ll drool all over you.”
Begging for a disaster. Fitting description of what he was all dressed up for. “I’m getting my last few kisses before I have to go to this wretched party.”
Sure enough, a droplet of drool fell from the corner of Lila’s mouth, dropping down onto his black suit jacket.
“See?” Joanna grabbed a clean washcloth from the top of the nursery bureau. “She’s going to ruin your suit.” She crouched down next to them, wiping away the moisture that had collected on Lila’s lips. “Daddy just needs those teeth to come in so he can get a little more sleep and we can all stop doing so much laundry.”
Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me at all. It means she’s still a baby. I’m in no hurry for her to grow up.” Indeed, he wasn’t. He’d take millions more moments exactly like this one. Freeze time and let him stop the clock on the impossible search for the one woman on the planet to take on the role of his wife and Lila’s mother.
“I’m glad you’re going tonight, Marcus. Really, I am. I hope you are, too.”
“Happy for our business. This is nothing but a business arrangement. You know that. Ideally it’ll be a productive one. You wanted something out of the ordinary. This is certainly that.”
“Actually, I believe I said I wanted something sexy and exciting. It could be that, too.”
He’d been bracing for sexy and exciting. He was ill-equipped to deal with either, especially the former.
Joanna stood and took Lila from him. “Now go, before I shoo you out the door. Stay out as late as you want. I certainly don’t want you coming home before midnight.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you do, it means you haven’t had any fun, and Lord knows you could use some fun, Marcus. Loosen that tie at some point. Live a little.”
He got up out of the chair, stopping to give Lila one more kiss on her cheek. “Good night, darling. Tell barmy Auntie Jo that I’ll be home by midnight.”
He strolled out of the apartment and across the hall. He knocked at Ashley’s door, not surprised she didn’t answer immediately. Muffled strains of popular dance music came from her apartment—another way in which they were polar opposites. He preferred ’60s soul.
He tugged at his shirtsleeves and straightened his collar, which felt a bit as if it was choking him. He had to wonder what a woman with a career in reality television would wear to a party thrown in her honor. An ostentatious monstrosity—pink, he guessed—most likely with sequins. Lord help him. He was going to need several drinks tonight. Luckily there’d be plenty of Chambers No. 9 on hand.
He knocked again. The music stopped.
The door flung open. “Don’t even say it,” Ashley blurted. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes flashed in their usual near-manic state. “I’m late. I know it.”
Marcus didn’t speak. Or blink. Ashley’s hair and makeup were done up. The rest of her was...wrapped in a fluffy white bath towel.
“I need two minutes to get dressed. The hair and makeup people just left, and my phone has been ringing like crazy.” With a wave, she invited him inside.
Marcus closed the door behind him, his eyes as dry as parchment. He still hadn’t blinked. Not once, and it wasn’t from shock that Ashley might be late for her own party. It was the damn towel. He hadn’t been so close to a beautiful woman in that state of undress in a while, and this wasn’t just any woman. This was the woman he’d been trying like hell to stay away from. Every inch of his body felt a prodigious tug as Ashley rushed down the hall, showing slender legs, bare feet and naked shoulders. She left a damning smell of summer rain and vanilla in her wake. The sweet fragrance begged him to follow her. He cleared his throat, feeling as though he needed an oxygen mask. “No worries,” he muttered, but she was already gone.
Eager to set his mind straight, he turned away and surveyed the apartment. The layout mirrored Marcus’s, but it was otherwise in disarray—tarps draped over furniture, building supplies in every corner of the open space. A patchwork of construction paper blanketed the floor, and an enormous chandelier, cocooned in plastic, hung over the dining room table. How could she live in such bedlam? He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. It would have had him at sixes and sevens—completely crazy—in no time. The room smelled of fresh paint, with the faintest trace of Ashley’s perfume not just shadowing him but needling him. Taunting him. Reminding him that the woman he wanted and the woman he needed were two entirely separate people.
“I told you it would only take me a minute,” Ashley said from behind him.
He turned, ill-prepared for her wardrobe change. No pink monstrosity. Oh no. That would’ve made things too easy on him. Instead, she wore a silvery gray gown of impeccable taste. Delicate, silky straps skimmed her shoulders. The neckline was sublime, dipping just low enough to please him greatly...and make him wish his pants were a bit roomier. Her golden-blond hair was in an elegant twist to the side. She closed in on him as if she floated on air, quite possibly the breath that had been knocked from his lungs by surprise.
She was grace in motion, not at all what he’d expected. Just like a few nights ago in the hall, when she’d grabbed his arm, he struggled to understand why his libido
