Marcus held the elevator while Catherine pushed the stroller onboard and turned it around. Marcus leaned down to press a kiss to Lila’s forehead, inhaling the sweet scent that came from her wispy blond hair. He rubbed his thumb across her rosy cheek. The smile and gurgle she gave him were salve for his soul. Without question, she was the most precious thing in his life, and she deserved so much more than he could give her on his own. Precisely the reason to avoid Ashley and find Lila a mum. “You have fun, my darling. Daddy will read you a bedtime story when you come home.” He released the doors as Catherine waved goodbye.
“Your daughter is adorable. And very sweet. You know, that’s only the second time I’ve seen her. I didn’t even see her the night...” Ashley looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “You know. The night we went out. You’ve done a good job of keeping her from me.”
I do a good job of keeping Lila from everyone. Protecting Lila was more than his charge. It was his strongest instinct. She’d been dealt a rotten hand in life, and it was his fault. He’d chosen the wrong woman for a wife and when things got bad, he’d convinced her that having a baby would make everything better. He was the reason Lila’s mother wasn’t there for her.
“I believe you were about to give me your other phone numbers,” he said, changing the subject.
“I’ll send you a text right now.” Ashley punched away at the keyboard. “Then you’ll have my info.”
Marcus’s phone lit up with the other numbers. And a message. I’m not evil. Just so you know.
“I never said you were evil, Ms. George.”
“Please don’t call me Ms. George. We’ve been on a date. It will make life much easier if we can drop the formalities.”
“Very little in life is easy, but if that will placate you, I will call you Ashley.”
Ashley narrowed her stare. For a moment, it was as if she was peering down into his soul, and he didn’t like that feeling at all. “You’re grumpy before your time, Chambers. And I don’t get it, because you weren’t like that when I first met you. What exactly has made you such a curmudgeon?”
“I appreciate your deft use of the English language, but I hardly think this is an appropriate topic of conversation.”
He turned for his door, but Ashley’s hand on his arm stopped him. It was as if he was wearing no jacket at all. The warmth of her touch cut right through the wool. He looked down at her slender fingers curved around his biceps.
“You can’t hide from things. You definitely can’t hide from me. I’m a very perceptive person. That’s why I have the job I do. I see things in people they don’t see in themselves.”
He turned his sights to her face, fighting the sensations coursing through his body. Warmth. Attraction. A deep, desperate desire to weave his fingers through her hair, cup the back of her head and claim the kiss he’d deprived himself of the night they went on their date. The look in her wide brown eyes was one of the most sincere he’d ever seen. It would’ve been so easy to give in to the way she made him feel at that instant. But he owed Lila too much. “Good night, Ms. George.”
She shook her head and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s Ashley, Chambers. You’ll get it eventually.”
Ashley had given Marcus a slew of top-secret nicknames—Tower of London for his stature, the Earl of Handsome for obvious reasons and the British Pain-in-the-Butt, reserved for moments like last night. She had very few problems figuring out most people. Marcus was another case. Why did he dislike her so much? After her scolding at the HOA meeting, she’d spent much of the night trying to sort it out. She’d devoted most of the ride to her office that morning to thinking about it, too. The man had it all. So why be so unhappy? Why be so closed off?
A knock came at Ashley’s office door. Grace from network publicity poked her head inside, her wavy auburn hair in a messy bun that only someone truly self-assured could pull off.
“You ready for me?” She didn’t wait for an answer, breezing into Ashley’s office in a tailored gray suit and heels. The benefit of having accepted the office space the network had offered was that meetings were a simple matter of strolling down the hall. The downside was being under their thumb.
Ashley nodded, untangling herself from confusing thoughts about Marcus. “Yes. Of course.” She collected a stack of papers on her desk, turned to a clean page on a legal pad and picked up a pen. It was time to get to work. There were several final details to discuss for the Manhattan Matchmaker premiere party.
“So? Do I dare ask what happened with your building board meeting last night?” Grace took a chair opposite Ashley’s desk, resting her laptop on her knees. Grace had been a champion of Ashley’s show from the very beginning, and they’d become good friends over the three years they’d worked together.
“They decided that one more complaint from the Tower of London and I have to hire a new contractor.”
Grace winced. “Ouch. Harsh.”
“Tell me about it.” The uneasy feeling in her stomach returned. Marcus had too much control over the one thing in her life that was strictly hers. “Bottom line? He hates me. That’s pretty clear by now, and I can’t get past the idea that it’s about more than the mess in the hall.”
“I can’t fathom anyone hating you, Ash. It sounds to me like he’s just an uptight guy. He shook your hand after a date. Who does that?”
“Don’t remind me.” Yet another piece of evidence supporting her supposition. Marcus simply disliked her. “Let’s just get to work. I have a million things to do before the party Thursday night. The people over at Peter Richie are going to strangle me if I don’t show up for my final dress fitting this afternoon.”
Grace shook her head in dismay. “Ash. Peter Richie is one of the hottest designers on the planet, he’s giving you a dress for your party and you still haven’t shown up for your final fitting? It’s two days away.”
“I know. I’m terrible.” The truth was that she’d been avoiding it. Peter had been gracious and generous, but she was keenly aware that the Manhattan Matchmaker had been afforded the luxury, not the real Ashley George. A designer making a couture gown for her? Ludicrous. The real Ashley had grown up with dresses her mother had made.
Grace opened up her laptop. “If you haven’t dealt with your dress, I don’t even want to guess the status of you finding a date.”
Ashley’s lips twisted into a tight bunch. She’d been hoping the network would forget they’d made the request for her to find a date for the premiere party. “They’re still insisting on this?”
“Yes. The premiere is a network function to publicize your show. And don’t forget they still haven’t given you an answer on the new show you pitched to them. You do not want to be anything less than a woman who says yes.”
“They’re just fixated on this because of those stupid gossip website photos.”
“The image of you buying ice cream and a candy bar on a Saturday night did not help your image. And that affects the ratings.”
“That
