suppose you’d like me to hold the lift.” Marcus’s rich British accent and unflinching delivery made the statement far more annoying. He knew she was headed downstairs. Unless she was going to descend eleven flights of their Manhattan apartment building in under five minutes while wearing a pencil skirt and four-inch heels, she’d need the elevator.
She sucked in a deep breath and breezed past him as she stepped onboard. Her long blond locks were given a swish for good measure.
“First floor?” he asked.
She dug her fingernails into her palms. Two seconds in the same space and he was already on her last nerve. “We both know we’re going to the same meeting. Being cute about it won’t help.”
He straightened the jacket of his charcoal-gray suit, folded his hands before him and looked straight ahead at the doors. “A gentleman is never cute.”
Cute was definitely an undersell in Marcus Chambers’s case. Ridiculously handsome, yes. Which was too bad, because he was also a grump of epic proportions. Whatever made him that way had to be genetics or a product of his past. Otherwise, he seemed to have everything—money, a primo apartment at a prestigious address on the Upper West Side, enough good looks for a lifetime and—although Ashley had seen Lila only in passing—a beautiful baby girl.
“I wouldn’t be in this elevator at all if you’d stop complaining to the building board,” Ashley replied.
He cleared his throat. “And I wouldn’t have to complain if you’d hire a competent contractor to finish your renovations. I’m tired of living in chaos.” He glanced over his shoulder and dismissed her with a flash of his piercing green eyes. “Chaos seems to follow you wherever you go.”
Ashley pursed her lips. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Considering the things he’d witnessed, her life probably looked like a tornado with nine lives. She was always in a rush, often juggling her phone while many of the million things going through her head managed to leak out of her mouth. Sure, there had been problems with the renovations to her apartment. Sometimes things didn’t go smoothly. She did her best to keep things on track and really, he hadn’t even tried to be more understanding.
She sighed and leaned against the elevator wall, stealing another eyeful of him. If he underwent a personality transplant or at least learned to take a deep breath, he might be perfect—strong jaw with a devilishly square chin, close-cut scruff along his jaw, thick head of mahogany brown hair. Her vision dipped lower and she shuddered as images of his glorious chest and astounding abs flashed in her head. She hadn’t been lucky enough to see his torso live and in person, but she’d unearthed photos of him on the internet. He was one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors, as billed in a charity calendar full of hunky guys. A bachelor raising a baby—divorce was a terrible thing.
Somewhere in the world was a true match for this stunning-on-the-outside, stodgy-on-the-inside man. Ashley believed that about everyone. It wasn’t a made-for-TV act she put on for her reality show, her namesake, Manhattan Matchmaker. True love and soul mates were real, just as real as the things in life everyone feared—broken hearts, family illnesses, life-or-death obligations.
Ashley still believed she’d find her own match someday, but after getting dumped before Thanksgiving by the guy she’d thought was “the one,” she’d decided to take a year off from dating. Focus on herself in the context of “me,” not “we.” She hadn’t lasted long. Marcus had moved in during the first few days of January, he asked her out a week after they’d met, and she’d stupidly said yes. That night three months ago had done nothing but prove her thesis: she had no business being with a man right now. She didn’t trust her instincts when it came to love, at least not where her own heart was concerned. Not after the heartbreak of James. And her life was indeed chaos.
Marcus moved his head to the side as if working out a kink in his neck. A waft of his aftershave settled on her, its effect on her as unavoidable as the heat of a South Carolina summer. Damn. He even smelled good—warm and masculine, just like the finest bourbon, peculiar since Marcus was CEO of his family-owned gin distillery.
The elevator dinged. “After you.” His velvety accent echoed in her head. If only he’d used it for something along the lines of, “Don’t you look smashing? I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass the last three months.”
Ashley strode down the hall. Her skirt was too tight to take the extralong strides she hoped could convey her determination to come out of this confab unscathed, but she still marched into the meeting room, stilted gait and all. The five members of the building’s board sat at a long table, conferring. Ashley’s stomach lurched when she saw the board president, Tabitha Townsend. Tabitha regarded Ashley as if she were a red wine spill on white carpet. Ashley wasn’t exactly about to invite her over for cosmos and girl talk. And now it was time to charm Tabitha and the board, when Ashley had just had an exhausting day of publicity for the new season of Manhattan Matchmaker.
“Hello, everyone.” Ashley shook hands with her only ally, Mrs. White, a longtime building resident. She was not only upper-crust through and through but also a reality TV addict. Ashley’s show was one of her favorites.
“Will you say it for me? Just once?” Mrs. White asked, looking hopeful.
Ashley didn’t have a choice. She had to make somebody in this room happy. “I’m Ashley George, and I find true love in the city that never sleeps.”
Mrs. White clapped her hands together in glee. “I love it when you do that. I brag to all my friends about it.”
“Anytime for you,” Ashley replied.
The corners of Mrs. White’s mouth turned down. “I only wish tonight’s meeting was under better circumstances. We should be talking about the new season of your show, not neighborly squabbles.”
“I assure you, they’re more than squabbles,” Marcus interjected with all the warmth of an iceberg.
Mrs. White shook her head, eyes darting back and forth between them. “It’s a shame, you know. You two would make a lovely couple. Have you ever thought about that? Going out to dinner to work out your differences?”
Marcus huffed. Oh, they’d been out to dinner, and it had gone horribly. Nervous to a fault, Ashley had one too many glasses of wine before the appetizers arrived. Apparently she hadn’t fully processed her breakup with James because she rambled on and on about it, about how he’d dumped her because she cared too much about her career, because she wasn’t ready to commit, wasn’t ready to have kids. The list of reasons she’d been rejected was long. Marcus had reacted to it so badly that the night ended with a handshake. That had been a major disappointment... It wasn’t like she’d been foolish enough to think she and Marcus Chambers would fall in love, but he was such a hottie. She’d been looking forward to a kiss.
Her renovation project started the next day. Thus the battle of Chambers vs. George, a fight she wished would die, was born.
“Careful, or people will start to think you’re the matchmaker.” Ashley held on to Mrs. White’s hand, wanting to stay with the one person in the room who was on her side.
She eventually moved along, arriving at Tabitha, who didn’t offer her hand but rather a stabbing glare. Luckily she turned, and her eyes landed on Marcus. “Mr. Chambers. It’s nice to see you this evening.” She ran her manicured fingers along the neckline of her blouse. Despite her attempt at being alluring, Tabitha was definitely not Marcus’s perfect match. Anyone could see that. He belonged with a woman carved from marble, not one made of fire and brimstone.
