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“You believe all of that business about there being a true love for everyone? Or is it just for your show?”
Funny, but no one else had ever asked Ashley that question. “I do believe it.”
Marcus took a look around the dance floor. All eyes on them. “I’m tempted to give them a show.”
His rich, buttery accent was working its way into her. “What did you have in mind?”
“If we do it, I think we start slowly, give them a taste of what’s to come.”
“Of course. We wouldn’t want to go too fast.” Except that she was thinking about nothing but going very fast, away from this party, away with him.
“I could start by kissing your cheek, whispering in your ear that you look beautiful tonight.” He did exactly that as he said it, his warm lips on her face, his hot breath against her ear, skimming the slope of her neck.
Finally. A kiss. His approach was commanding and entirely self-assured, his grasp on her so firm—she wasn’t sure she’d ever been kissed so masterfully.
When they came up for air, her head was in the clouds. Flashes of light surrounded them. So this was what it was like to see fireworks.
The CEO Daddy Next Door
Karen Booth
KAREN BOOTH is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on eighties music, Judy Blume and the films of John Hughes. She loves to write big-city love stories. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s teaching her kids about good music, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her astoundingly supportive husband into mixing up a cocktail. You can find out more about Karen or contact her at www.karenbooth.net.
MILLS & BOON
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For my amazing friend and long-lost sister, Piper Trace. You helped me get through this book and I’m forever grateful.
May we have years of giggly brainstorming sessions ahead of us.
Contents
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Pure exasperation rushed from Ashley George’s lips when she closed her apartment door and spotted Marcus Chambers waiting for the elevator.
“I 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
