by Karen Booth
“You are so beautiful,” he said, caressing her cheek. “I can’t wait to see the rest of you.”
“Me, too. I want to find out if that calendar was false advertising or if you really do look that good without a shirt.”
He laughed. “So you really did look?”
“Yes, Marcus. I did.”
* * *
Ashley popped up onto her tiptoes and raised her arms up onto his shoulders. She kissed him with surprising force. He loved that about her—it was like kissing a firecracker dressed up in dynamite. She was a bundle of pure excitement and enthusiasm. She reminded him that he was alive. He couldn’t have stopped drinking in her life force if he’d wanted to. He’d asked himself in the limo if this was a good idea, but he was tired of that question. She wanted him. He wanted her. They were two grown people, capable of making their own decisions. Thinking was for later.
Their lips mashed together eagerly, tongues wound around each other in an endless spiral. He held her flat against him, letting her feel exactly how hard he was, how much he wanted her. He reached for the zipper at the back of her dress and dragged it down. Her breath caught as his hand explored her silky back, his fingers drawing up and down her spine, dipping lower on each pass until he reached the lacy fabric of what felt like incredibly skimpy panties. He had to see for himself what that was all about.
“Can we go into your bedroom?” he asked, nearly breathless.
“Yes.” She grabbed his hand, holding up her dress with the other, and leading him down the hall she’d traipsed through in a towel at the beginning of their night. The towel. Could he convince her a shower was in order at some point? His mind churned with possibilities—all of the things he wanted to do to her, the things he wanted her to do to him.
They arrived at her room, and although it was difficult to see much in the dim light, there was a massive bed and that was enough.
She turned to him and let the dress fall to the floor. His eyes couldn’t take in the landscape of her beautiful body fast enough. Her slender legs. The generous curve of her hips. Her gorgeous, pert—and naked—breasts.
“No bra?” He cupped her velvety skin gently with his hands, watching her reaction as he dragged his thumbs across her nipples, the skin tightening beneath his touch. Everything below his waist responded in kind.
“Not in that dress, no. I don’t really need it.” She moaned quietly as he continued to roam with his hands, caressing her velvety skin. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”
He’d been so lost in the wonder of her naked body that he hadn’t even realized he was still mostly dressed. He yanked off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, watching as Ashley’s nimble fingers unlatched his belt and she dropped his pants to the floor. Now all there was between them was her panties, his boxers and the willingness to set aside disagreements for a much more enjoyable neighborly meeting.
He watched as she flattened her hands against his chest and began moving down his torso with delicate kisses, but the clock on the bedside table caught his eye. He’d promised he would be home before midnight, and the time had nearly arrived. Joanna had told him to stay out, but guilt began to eat at him.
Ashley climbed onto the bed and curled a finger with a sly grin on her face. “Get over here, Chambers.”
Her spark was enough to make him do hundreds of things he’d told himself he wouldn’t do. He stretched out next to her, and his hands roved over her smooth stomach. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her breast, then sucked her nipple softly. Ashley arched her back and practically purred. “That feels so good,” she muttered, as if that “so” had fifty o’s. He flicked his tongue while he inched his hand to the waistband of those tiny panties and began tugging them past her hips.
Ashley lifted her bottom off the bed. “Touch me, Marcus. Please. I’m dying.” She squirmed beneath his touch as he slipped his fingers between her legs and found her warm apex. “Yes. There.”
She rolled toward him and kissed him recklessly as he caressed that tight bundle of nerves. He sensed the tension in her body quickly, punctuated by short, raspy breaths. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a woman at his mercy, to be able to give her pleasure that made it feel as though he was invincible. “Is that what you like, Ash? Is that how you like it?”
“Yes,” she nearly growled. “And talk to me, Marcus. I like a man who talks to me in bed.”
It was not a request. It was a demand, and it made him that much more determined to make her come like she never had before. He lightened his touch—teasing, toying. “I’ll talk as long as you play along.”
“Is everything a negotiation with you?” She shifted, resting her upper thigh between his legs, creating sublime friction between them. “Because I’d be willing to concede a lot right now.”
Her quick wit only turned him on more. He had to focus on her pleasure or he’d go sailing off the cliff in no time. “No bargaining. Just tell me what you want.”
“Circles. With your hand. And don’t be gentle.”
Her words made everything in his body tighten, and he obliged her, upping the pressure, moving in steady rotations with his fingers.
She tilted her head back, pulling away from his kiss while pressing her pelvis hard into his hand. “Yes. Just like that,” she gasped. Every breath she took ended in a whimper, growing louder, stronger, more insistent. Then she arched her back and froze, calling out, grabbing his hand and insistently stilling it against her body.
As soon as she caught her breath, she sought his lips, kissing him deeply. She pushed him to his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. It was a good thing he still had his boxers on. This much touching was too much to take. “Tell me you have a condom,” she said.
“You don’t?”
“I don’t. I was taking a break from men, remember? I told you that on our first date.”
“I assumed that was a metaphorical break. Not a real one.”
She shook her head and kissed him again. “Oh, trust me. It was a real break. I haven’t been with another man in months. So please tell me you have a condom or else one of us is going to have to run to the drug store on the corner and buy some.”
“No. I have some...” His voice trailed off. He had indeed purchased a box after they arrived in New York, after Joanna had given him the speech about taking chances and opening his heart. “It’s just that they’re across the hall.” Across the hall. Just like his entire life was across the hall. His conscience told him that’s where he belonged at that moment, not having sex with a woman he knew wasn’t the one.
Stop it. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He had to collect his thoughts. He had a gorgeous woman in his arms, one he’d wanted for months. A deeply passionate woman who was making him feel like the man he used to be. Except the man he used to be had made a lot of mistakes. That man had gone through five years with blinders on, ignoring what was wrong in his failing marriage and forging ahead, pushing, trying to will what he wanted into being.
Was he doing that again? Convincing himself that making love to Ashley would be okay simply because he wanted to? That was such a selfish attitude, it nearly made him sick. He’d sworn he’d never be like that again.
“I can’t do this,” he said, disbelieving the words as they came from his mouth. He wanted her so badly he could taste it, taste her, as sweetness on his lips. An unforgettable sweetness. And then there was the tide that had engulfed the lower half of his body. How would he just ignore that? It didn’t matter. He had to.
Ashley looked down at him with those eyes—sincere and genuine. “I don’t understand.”
“We both know where this is going, and I can’t do that. I can’t have a casual affair. Not as a dad. Not with Lila in my life. This is about much more than me.”
“I wasn’t aware we were having an affair.” She rolled
off him and grabbed the covers, clutching them to her chest.
He shook his head. “I can’t just sleep with you one time. What kind of man would that make me?”
“Who said anything about just sleeping together one time? Why can’t we take it slow? Four hours ago I was pretty sure you still hated me. At least give me a chance to catch up. You aren’t the only one coming off a bad breakup.”
Everything she’d just said was precisely why this wouldn’t work. She didn’t get it. “I wouldn’t characterize my failed marriage as a bad breakup.” It had been far worse than that. His failed marriage had nearly destroyed him and it remained to be seen what lasting effects it would have on Lila. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and put them on in a hurry, trying to ignore his physical agony. “There is no slow for me, Ashley. There’s more at stake here than a tryst. You’re a smart, beautiful, successful woman, and somewhere out there is the perfect man for you. I’m just not him.” He pushed his arms through his sleeves, only bothering with a few of the buttons on his shirt.
“But we’re still getting to know each other. I like you, in spite of the way you act sometimes. And I think you like me, but you’re making a lot of assumptions about what’s a good idea and what you think I want.”
“I didn’t pull these ideas out of thin air. You told me during our first date that your last boyfriend left because you were unwilling to get married and become a mom. I realize that’s serious stuff to talk about in the early days, but that’s the reality of my situation. There’s no getting around it.”
“You didn’t even let me tell you the whole story that night. I would get married if it was the right situation, but let’s not forget that you’ve spent much of the last several months acting as though you don’t even like me.”
Marcus knew his behavior hadn’t been the best, but he’d never done anything that wasn’t completely justified. “And it’s clear that the situation between us isn’t right. We’re attracted to each other, but we’re otherwise opposites. I’m serious. You’re not.”
“Serious? My whole life has been about serious.”
“Really? A television show about matchmaking, intermingled with shopping for apartment furniture and dismissing the horrible behavior of your contractor? We have very different ideas of what serious means.” Even in the dim light of the room, it was clear how badly his words had hurt her. He didn’t like hurting a woman, but maybe it was for the best. It would make it easier to stay away from her.
Wrapping herself in the sheets, she hopped off the bed. “Fine. You know what? You’re right. We’re wrong for each other. Just go.”
“Good. Then we agree.”
“For once we agree.”
Seven
Ashley dropped her purse on her desk, confronted by the black-and-white evidence of Marcus’s apparent weak moment last night. The first of many weak moments.
Nearly a dozen daily tabloids had been laid out for her. The kiss graced every cover, with clever headlines like The Kiss Heard Round the World. If only the papers knew the real story. British Hunk Rejects Dateless Matchmaker. Her stomach soured. She should be remembering the kiss fondly, reminiscing about the surprise and newness of that moment—the instant when she’d dared to think Marcus didn’t think she was ridiculous.
She plopped down in her chair and began to read the papers. They not only recounted the kiss but also very unsubtly mentioned that she and Marcus had left the party early, right after things got hot and heavy on the dance floor. Great. Now the whole world is imagining what we didn’t actually do last night.
It was barely past nine a.m. and exhaustion threatened to overtake her, but she didn’t dare close her eyes. She’d learned her lesson last night after he’d left her in a state of shock, alone with the memory of what they’d done in her bed. Every sexy moment between them was so surreal now, the unlikeliest events imaginable considering their ill-fated first date and the countless complaints about her apartment that had preceded them.
Seeing a picture of the way it all started last night didn’t make it more real, not even when she dragged her finger along the photograph, admiring the way he towered over her, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. If anything, it made it feel even more like a dream, and one with a very sad ending. Had Marcus, the upper-crust Brit, really kissed the girl from a one-gas-station town in South Carolina? Or had he played along with the ruse of a romance with the Manhattan Matchmaker for the benefit of himself and his company? Only to put an end to it when he realized they’d gone much further than he’d ever intended?
She’d seen so many different sides of Marcus last night, it was hard to keep up. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that a fiery, passionate Marcus was beneath his rigid exterior, but he’d built a damn fortress around himself. Had it been a necessity after his divorce? It was the most logical guess, but she didn’t have much faith in rational thought, or at least not her own. Logic said that a man with an impressive erection who had an eager and naked woman in his arms didn’t hesitate to make love to her. Either she was truly distasteful or something much bigger was keeping him from her. She’d gotten too close to him last night, and as a result, he’d banished her to the other side of the moat, pulled up the drawbridge, and retreated to his own bed.
“Knock, knock.” Grace poked her head into Ashley’s office. “What a night, huh? Or should I say, what a kiss?” Her eyebrows bobbed up and down.
Ashley should’ve known she’d get teased about this. “Please don’t give me a hard time about it. You asked for romance. We gave it to you.” Romance. Ha. More like no-mance.
“I would never give you a hard time about this. Are you kidding me? The network brass love you today more than they’ve ever loved you, which is saying a lot. The ratings for the first episode tonight are going to be massive. Through the roof. They can’t wait to see the numbers on Monday so they can start raking in advertisers’ cash. There’s a whole pile of money to be made, you know.”
Money. That was the sole silver lining. Everything else about this made her queasy. Marcus abhorred the idea of her, at least when it came to romance, and the world thought quite the contrary. She was going to get questions about Marcus for days. Weeks, maybe. She knew the tabloids well enough by now. This morning’s papers would not be the last of the kiss that blew up in her face.
“I’m happy they’re happy. I hope it will help Marcus’s business and he’ll let me finish my renovations in peace.” Her voice trailed off as her eyes were again drawn to a photo of the kiss. Good God, he was sexy. Just looking at the picture made his sexiness resonate in her body, followed by a flood of rejection, sadness and even anger—feelings that did not play well together.
“Hold on a second. Was there not a major love connection last night? Because it sure as hell looked like it.”
“Let’s just say the connection fizzled.” Her voice wobbled, betraying her intention to not let anyone know how much this bothered her.
Grace sat forward. “Are you okay? Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Ashley shook her head. “I really don’t want to rehash it. I’m glad that last night was good for business, but it’s going to take me some serious time to heal from it. Being rejected by Marcus Chambers is not fun.”
“He rejected you?”
“Is that so hard to believe? You know how he feels about me. Last night was just the final nail in the coffin. At this point, all I want is to finish my apartment and avoid him until the day he moves back to England.”
“And when is that?”
She cleared her throat. “I think he has a five-year work visa.”
“Ashley, this is silly. I’m sure that whatever happened last night was a misunderstanding.”
“No way. This is a dead subject. Time to get whatever mileage we can out of last night and move on.”
“Uh, ye
ah, about that. The higher-ups were emphatic with me this morning. They want more of you and Marcus. They want more of this.” She leaned forward and tapped one of the newspapers.
Ashley knew she’d heard Grace correctly. She just wasn’t happy about it. She and Marcus had to stay away from each other. Better to leave grumpy dogs lie, especially ones who had no qualms about turning down a woman after she’d taken off her designer gown. “You’re just going to have to tell them no. Marcus hates me.”
“There’s no way we’ll get the network to buy that. That kiss was convincing.” Grace pointed at Ashley’s desk. “Look at you two. I’d do anything for a man to kiss me like that, especially if I knew he looked like he does under that suit.”
“What is it with you and his abs?” Ashley couldn’t stand to look at the photos anymore. It hurt too much. She collected the stack of papers, got up from her chair and plopped them down in Grace’s lap. “Marcus Chambers and I are done. Kaput. End of story.”
“I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but the network is not happy you left the party early. If the papers hadn’t come out this morning, you could’ve been in serious hot water.”
“Oh please. I just...” I just wanted to be alone with him. “I had a headache.”
“Liar. I saw the look on your face when you two walked off the dance floor.” Grace sat back in her chair. “What if I told you my job is hanging in the balance?”
“They can’t fire you over this. I won’t let them.”
“I’m talking about a promotion. They’re considering me for head of network publicity. Becky Jensen is leaving at the beginning of June.”
“Head of the department? For the whole network?”
Grace nodded. “The whole shebang.”
Grace had come from similarly humble beginnings, and they always had each other’s back. She lived in a postage stamp of an apartment with her sister and had student debt up to her eyeballs. A promotion like that would be a boon for Grace, and well-deserved. She worked as hard as Ashley, maybe even harder.
