by Karen Booth
Marcus offered his hand. “Marcus Chambers. Pleased to meet you. You are?”
“Maryann Powell. Celebrity Chitchat. We’re the premier gossip website on the East Coast.”
Marcus nodded in his distinguished English manner. “Ah. I haven’t yet had the opportunity to see your website, but I’m sure it’s of the highest caliber.”
Ashley snickered and took another gulp of her drink.
“I keep close tabs on you, Ashley.” Maryann pointed right at her. “It’s my job to know if you have a boyfriend. There’s no way this got past me.”
Ashley fought the urge to roll her eyes. People like Maryann were exactly the reason she sometimes hated the business of being a so-called celebrity. “We’re neighbors, Maryann. That’s how we met, and that’s how we kept it quiet.”
“Right across the hall from each other, as fate would have it,” Marcus added.
Marcus had spoken so quickly that it was as if he was finishing her sentence. It came across as perfectly natural and seamless, nothing at all like the true nature of their relationship.
“And?” Maryann asked. “I want juicy details. This is your chance, you know. I could plaster you two all over our home page tomorrow morning. Our site is insanely good for business.”
Just then, a photographer popped up behind Maryann and snapped some pictures. The network had granted several news outlets unlimited access to the party. Including Maryann’s trashy website, apparently.
“It’s quite simple.” Marcus put his arm around Ashley. “We went on a date and sparks flew.”
Ashley would’ve beamed at the fact that he’d remembered he was supposed to mention sparks if she wasn’t so dumbstruck by having his solid arm draped across her shoulder. He tugged her closer, the way a real boyfriend would. He was even rubbing her upper arm with his fingertips in gentle, swirling circles. She had to make a conscious decision to remain standing. Either the gin was getting to her or that soft brush of his skin on hers was making her light-headed.
“I just think it’s weird that I haven’t seen you two out anywhere together. This isn’t some sort of publicity stunt, is it? We got a zillion comments on those pictures of you buying ice cream, and that wasn’t that long ago. The timing seems a little convenient. I know Grace. She’s a brilliant publicist. There’s no way she was going to let those pictures go unanswered.”
If Ashley could’ve chosen a superpower at that moment, it would’ve been the ability to make Maryann invisible. As in gone. They needed to get away from her, if only for her own sanity. She put her arm around Marcus’s waist and rested her head against his shoulder. She also kicked the side of his shoe as slyly as possible. “Sorry. No big conspiracy.” Just a little one.
Marcus cleared his throat and cast his sights at Ashley. Judging by the look in his eyes, he’d caught Ashley’s drift. “Shall we mingle a bit, love? I’m sure you have an awful lot of people you need to speak with tonight.” Marcus turned away, but Maryann grabbed Ashley’s arm.
“And a British gin magnate who’s a calendar model?” Maryann asked. “A little heavy-handed, don’t you think?”
Marcus spun around and confronted Maryann head-on. “I’m sorry, but that calendar is for charity, and there’s nearly twenty years of tradition behind it. And my occupation is what it is. My family has been making gin for well over a century. As for the rest of the things you’re insinuating, this is Ashley’s big night, and I believe it’s time for us to, uh...” He scanned the room. “It’s time for us to have our first dance.”
He grabbed Ashley’s hand and barreled through the crowd with her in his wake. They arrived on the dance floor in little time. He settled one hand in hers, placed the other on her waist and steered them toward the center, away from Maryann. “I’m sorry, but we had to get away from that dreadful woman. You do know how to dance, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” As a little girl, Ashley had spent many sweltering summer evenings out on the wraparound porch, listening to music with her parents, learning to dance like a lady. The music tonight wasn’t quite the same, taking a decidedly slower—and, to Ashley’s chagrin, a much more romantic—turn.
“I don’t want to be old-fashioned,” Marcus said, “but it is generally considered the man’s job to lead.”
Ashley wasn’t good at this part. Even at the age of seven, she’d been accused of trying to lead. “After all of that with Maryann, you’re going to give me a hard time about leading?”
He yanked her tightly against him, sending a surprising shock through her entire body. “Just relax.”
“Hey. That’s my line.” She took a deep breath, far too aware that she was pressed against his rock-hard, heavenly torso. A few layers of clothing gone and this dance would take on a whole new meaning. He wound them through the other couples dancing. He did it so well that they were garnering attention. People were starting to watch them. Once again, under the microscope.
“I’m sorry if what I said was embarrassing for you,” he started. “I couldn’t stand another word out of that horrible woman’s mouth.”
Ashley looked up at him, his expression as stern as any other day. Still, for the first time ever, it felt almost as if they were on the same side. “I’m sure she’ll make me pay for it eventually, but I’m glad you did it. She had it coming.”
“I should probably explain that bit about the calendar. It’s silly, really.”
“I already know about it. I saw it online.”
He smirked. “So you went looking for dirt on me.”
“A girl has to be careful. There are a lot of creeps in this city. I had to make sure you hadn’t left England to escape a murder charge.”
A smile crossed his lips and he shook his head. “Escaping that calendar was a good enough reason on its own to leave England. My sister talked me into it, but I think her motives went beyond charity. I’d only been divorced a few months, and she had this crazy idea it would help me find a woman.”
She really wanted to ask him about his ex-wife, but she didn’t dare risk upsetting him. She didn’t want to leave the security of his arms. “Sounds like your sister could be gunning for my job.”
He laughed, which she loved. She’d made him angry so many times. This was a nice change.
“You don’t really enjoy all of this, do you?” he asked. “Being the center of attention.”
Her normal inclination would be to deny the suggestion, especially coming from him. “You know, I get that this is just part of the job, but I get overwhelmed. My first inclination when I walk into any party is to turn around and run.”
“So you do better one-on-one.”
Was that flirtation she heard in this voice? No matter his intention, his words made her knees wobble. “I definitely prefer being the center of one person’s attention.”
“Like now.”
“Exactly like now.”
The song changed, but Marcus kept her close as if he had no intention of letting go. “People are staring at us, you know.”
What was it about his voice that made her so weak in the knees? “I noticed.”
“I wonder what they’re all thinking.”
She swallowed hard but couldn’t stop the words coming next. “They’re all wondering if we’re in love.”
“Ah, right. Love.” He shook his head. “Your public will become that much more fascinated by you if they think the matchmaker is in love.”
“So I’m told.”
“And you believe all of that business about there being a true love for everyone? Or is it just for the show?”
Funny, but no one else had ever asked her that question. “I do believe it.”
Marcus took a look around the dance floor. All eyes were indeed trained on them. “I’m tempted to give them a show, you know. If nothing else, we could shut up that horrib
le Maryann woman.”
Again, his rich, buttery accent was working its way into her. He could have read her the side of a cereal box and she would’ve been mesmerized. “What did you have in mind?”
“If we do it, I think we start slowly, give them a taste of what’s to come.”
Her mind raced at the mention of “do it,” especially since she was reasonably certain he didn’t mean “it.” She had to stay focused if she was going to remain composed. “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.
Her head was swimming, but a compulsion rose up in her, a need to use this as an excuse to push boundaries just as he had. She reached up and dug her hand into the thick hair at his nape, grazed his ear with her thumb. That one brush of skin on skin was enough to send her into blissful oblivion especially when his mouth parted ever so slightly. “Beautiful, huh? You told me I looked fine.”
His eyes were intense, darkening as he focused on her in the soft light of the ballroom. All sound receded. Movement around them slowed. “I lied. You look spectacular.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “And you might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Damn you.”
He cupped the side of her face, looking at her as if he’d been planning this all along. There was no hesitation in his eyes, just sheer will and determination. Her heart thumped wildly. His gaze stripped away every defense she had. It felt as if she was stark naked on that dance floor. His face drew closer. His eyes drifted shut. She followed suit. Before she could take a breath, he claimed his kiss.
A frantic flutter started in her chest. The sensation of his giving lips on hers, the wonder of his warmth, spread to her stomach, blanketed her shoulders and legs, heated her cheeks. She rose to her tiptoes and arched into him. 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. Then came his tongue, soft and sensual. Gentle. Dizzying.
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. She’d never been kissed like that. No other man had been in the same league of Marcus’s intensity—not even James, who’d been a damn good kisser.
“I hope we gave them what they wanted,” he whispered, his eyelids heavy.
She nodded, not knowing what to say, hypnotized by the vision of his lips, wondering what her mouth had to do to invite his to be all over her—her neck, her chest, her everything. If she felt naked and he had the nerve to kiss her, he might as well do it for real. She turned, squinting. Photographers. Cameras. A barrage of flashing lights.
“Because I know I got what I wanted,” he muttered.
Six
“We should go.” Ashley gazed up at Marcus, his physical presence making it damn near impossible to think. So instead, she relied on what her body told her to do. Her only honest desire at that moment was to be alone with him. Either he’d act as if the kiss had been a mistake, in which case she definitely didn’t want anyone within earshot. Or he’d want more. In that case, she wanted a clear, horizontal landing spot. She might never catch him in this mood again.
“You don’t have to stay?” he asked.
She shook her head. She knew she’d catch flack for leaving early, but she didn’t care—he’d rendered her unable to think through the ramifications of anything. “No. I don’t want to answer questions about the kiss. It’s my party and I’ve had enough.” Her arm hooked in his, punctuating her declaration.
“Right, then.”
They made their exit, Ashley feeling as antsy as she’d felt in a long time, but also loving the feeling of stealing away with Marcus. As guest of honor, Ashley had earned the right to have her limo waiting outside the hotel. They were whisked away into the New York City night, where true dark did not exist—too many lights, too much commotion.
Sitting this close to him, the tingle of his lips still on hers, it was all she could do to remain a lady and wait for a sign, some indication of what he was thinking. Her breaths were shallow as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen no matter how much of it she sucked in. She glanced over at him, and he acknowledged her with half a smile.
“Some night, huh?” he asked.
She scoured her brain for something impossibly sexy to say but couldn’t come up with much. “It ended better than I thought it would.”
He laughed quietly, but she wasn’t in the mood for him taking her answer as comedy. Silently but deliberately, she planted her left hand on the seat between them, palm up, asking for his touch without a single word. She wanted him to look at her, but his sights were set on her hand. Was this the right thing to do? It felt as if it was, but maybe that was the influence of his kiss. Her heart, having no clue as to how he’d respond, chose to canter with all the grace of a newborn filly.
After several agonizing moments, he reached for her hand, but he didn’t actually take it. Instead, his fingers caressed the cup of her palm, back and forth.
“This is the life line,” he said, tracing the one that started near her thumb and curved down to the heel of her hand.
Her normally restless self was as enthralled as could be by his touch, which sent excitement bubbling up inside her. She turned to him. Wherever any of this led, she wanted it, but they had blocks to go until they’d be back to their building. The thought of waiting was an excruciating one, but she also knew better than to start things in the limousine. Keep your clothes on, Ash.
“If I remember correctly, yours says that you’re someone people count on in difficult times,” he said.
She liked that. She wanted people to be able to rely on her, especially her parents, even when she felt as though she couldn’t keep her own life together. But were these words really coming out of Marcus’s mouth? “You know palm reading?”
“It’s called palmistry, and it’s been popular in the UK for ages. My great-great-grandmother was a member of the Chirological Society of Great Britain.” His brow furrowed with feigned seriousness. “They were very concerned with preserving the art of palmistry and keeping charlatans from abusing it.”
“This is literally the last thing I ever expected from you, Marcus Chambers.”
He smiled, his eyes connecting with hers, exposing her vulnerabilities. “Maybe you aren’t as perceptive as you think you are.”
“I’m incredibly perceptive, and I perceive that you’re just very good at keeping things to yourself.”
He looked down again and softly traced another line on her hand. “This is the head line. Yours says that you pick up on other people’s feelings. You sympathize with them.”
“See? Perceptive. I told you so.”
“It also means that you change your mind a lot. I’m not sure that’s the best quality. It can make things difficult for the people in your life.”
“It depends on how you see it. Some people might say that means I’m flexible.”
“Your heart line is split in two.” He shifted to the deep crease closest to her fingers.
“So you can tell that my heart has been broken before?” Her breaths came quicker. Could he see that she was hurting? That she was lonely? That she needed love?
“Actually, that means you have a habit of putting other people’s feelings first. You should concentrate on what you want, Ash.”
That was the first time he’d called her by her nickname, and God, she loved the familiarity of it. He deviated from the lines and swirled gentle circles in her palm. She sucked in a breath. He’s killing me. How a man could comm
and anything he wanted with the simple brush of his fingers was beyond her. She knew only that Marcus could.
“Your skin is so soft,” he muttered with a sexy undertone of gravel in his voice. “I could touch it forever.”
“I could let you forever.” That was the truth. It felt so perfect.
He shifted in his seat and his jacket fell open—just enough for her to see that he was as turned on by this situation as she was. For the first moment of the entire night, she felt as though she could relax. No man changed his mind in that particular state. Or at least, not that she’d ever experienced.
Mercifully, the car turned in to the parking garage of their building. It was if she’d been wrenched from a fabulous dream, only to wake up and realize that real life was even better. She cleared her throat, smoothed her hair, thanked the driver. She hadn’t scrambled out of a car so fast in her entire life. They hurried inside. She was so relieved the elevator was empty.
Now that things were going the way she’d hoped, she wanted it to be perfect. “Did you, um, want to come over to my place?” she asked.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, taking her hand, looking at her with a smile that said he wanted to consume her. She was more than ready to be breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“Do you need to check in with the babysitter or something?”
“My sister is watching Lila. She’s fine.”
The elevator dinged and she took his hand, rushing to her door. Once inside, she dropped her handbag on the foyer table, and he very quickly removed his jacket and left it there, as well.
She took his hand and placed it on her shoulder, using his thumb to push off the strap, eager for more than his suit coat to end up on the table.
“Well, then,” he said, smirking, wrapping his arm around her waist and coaxing the second strap off with his other hand.
“You told me in the limo to concentrate on what I want. I’m following orders.” The light of the city filtered in through the windows behind him, outlining his broad frame, casting shadows on his strong jaw and down the contours of his neck.
