The CEO Daddy Next Door

by Karen Booth

  It wasn’t that she couldn’t see a way out of this. She’d get back on schedule with her apartment somehow. It would be everything she’d hoped for. But she’d have to retrace parts of her gut-wrenching past to get through it. No wonder she felt as if someone was turning a knife in her stomach.

  “Joanna smelled the smoke. She was over for dinner. I had her take Lila. Obviously I wanted her out of harm’s way.”

  Tears stung Ashley’s eyes. Harm’s way. Her apartment was the source of that harm. “You could’ve been hurt. Little Lila could’ve been hurt. Marcus, I’m so sorry. Thank God you were here and acted so quickly. Thank you for doing what you did. I’m never going to be able to thank you.”

  He patted her back and pulled her in for another hug, reminding her she was safe. “The fire marshal should be out any moment now. I don’t think you’re allowed inside yet. They’ve cut the electricity, anyway. They seem certain the fire was electrical.”

  A man wearing a firefighter’s uniform adorned with a very important-looking patch came through her apartment door. “I’d know you anywhere, Ms. George. I’m Lieutenant Williams. Very nice to meet you. My wife is a huge fan.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.” It wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined she would first say to this man. She had dozens of questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask even one. She stood as still as a statue, bracing for whatever came next.

  “I’ll have to get an autograph from you at some point, but in the meantime, let’s talk about your fire.”

  Or not. We could not talk about it and just pretend it didn’t happen.

  “The point of origin was one of the kitchen outlets. My guess is faulty wiring.” Lieutenant Williams stepped closer and showed her a photo on his phone. Marcus stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, appraising things with his watchful eye.

  One glimpse of the scene and she clamped her eyes shut—her gourmet retreat with the eight-burner stove and custom cabinets now resembled the remnants of a campfire. The gorgeous glass backsplash was marked with a gaping black hole. “The electrician was just working on the kitchen the other day,” she mumbled, her stomach sinking.

  “Yes, well, we’re going to need to speak to your contractor about that. That’s why we cut the electricity to the apartment. We don’t want to risk another fire. I’ll be back in the morning to begin the inspection of your unit. Shouldn’t take more than a few days. Then you can get a team in here to clean up. In the meantime, I can’t allow you to occupy the space. You can gather some of your items as long as a fire department member is here. Do you have a friend you can stay with?”

  Grace was her closest friend, but she lived with her sister and a handful of cats in a tiny apartment. It would never work. They’d all be on top of each other. “I’ll find a hotel room.”

  Marcus cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t shocked he hadn’t offered, but she wished he had. At least it would’ve made it easier to deal with the fire department. Maybe it was for the best that they stay away from each other. She didn’t need more confused feelings heaped on top of the ones she had right now.

  “Also, Ms. George,” Lieutenant Williams said, “you should know that your sprinkler system failed, and we suspect it was compromised. If your contractor’s workers bypassed the system, I have no choice but to file a report with the city. There will be an investigation. They could lose their license. It’s a very serious safety violation.”

  “I don’t understand, though. They had a waiting list. Their other work is beautiful.”

  Lieutenant Williams shrugged. “We see this every now and then, even with some of the best contractors. One worker takes a few shortcuts and everyone suffers.”

  “There’s nobody else who could’ve done it. They’re the only people who have been working in my apartment.” Marcus had been right all along. However “in-demand” her contractor had been, she’d ended up with a team of idiots working on her project. She’d given in to tunnel vision, just moving forward with the renovations because all she wanted was her apartment to be done. She’d wanted that one thing for herself, at any cost. “I guess I need to start looking for a new contractor.” She disbelieved the words as they left her mouth. She’d been so sure Marcus would be the reason her renovations came grinding to a halt. In the end, it was because the company she’d hired—and defended all along—had done a terrible job.

  He nodded. “You should be able to return in a week or so. We won’t hold your apartment hostage forever. You’re very lucky that Mr. Chambers acted so quickly. It could’ve been far worse for your apartment and for the entire building. I’d say that all things considered, this is a good thing. You would’ve been living with a ticking time bomb. That bad electrical could’ve short-circuited at any time—while you were asleep, while your neighbors were asleep.”

  The weight of everything threatened to knock Ashley to the ground. It could’ve been far worse. She knew worse. She’d lived worse. She was so relieved that no one had been hurt, but her guilt over the possibility was crushing. She took in a deep breath as tears bloomed at the corners of her eyes. She had to stay strong...at least until she could collapse in a heap on a hotel bed.

  Ashley and Marcus stepped away. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me now that I messed up. I know I did.” She waited for the lecture or at least that smug look on his face, the one that would say without words that he was, once again, right. And she had been wrong. Tragically wrong.

  “I don’t have to say it. It’s all quite clear.”

  She waited for the part about how it was okay that she’d made a mistake, but he didn’t say it. And she couldn’t blame him. He and his family had been put at risk.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “You can say that you’ll stay with me,” he said. “If you’d like to.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Really?”

  “Yes. You can stay with me. You can be nearby while they do the inspection, you can be on hand if your contractor shows up, and all of your things are here. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”

  Because you’d invite me to stay only if it was sensible. “I thought you didn’t like to have women around Lila.”

  “Lila’s perfectly safe at my sister’s. She can stay there for a few days. I wouldn’t dare bring her back into the building until the inspection is complete, anyway. I can visit her before or after work. She’ll be safe from all of this.”

  He nodded in the direction of her apartment, but the invisible line between Marcus and her door went right through her. Her choices had created the danger. They’d prompted Marcus’s need to keep the most precious thing in his life far away from her.

  “So? Are you accepting my invitation? I’m too tired to persuade you, so you’ll have to make the call.”

  Could she do this? Retreat to the home of the man she’d cursed on a regular basis just a few weeks ago? Should she do this? Would they just end up arguing over breakfast? Or would she spend the night staring at the ceiling, wondering what he’d worn to bed that night? “Yes. Thank you. I appreciate it.” She turned back to her apartment door. “I really don’t think I want to go in there.” Her voice was shaky again. She dreaded the thought of seeing the damage firsthand.

  “Why don’t you get settled in my guest room? I’m sure I can find something for you to sleep in.”

  “Old potato sack lying around somewhere?”

  “Something like that.”

  They made their way to his apartment. This was the first time Marcus had allowed her to step over his threshold, and she didn’t take the invitation lightly. He’d been clear—women who weren’t the nanny or housekeeper didn’t come over. Of course, Lila, the person he was protecting, wasn’t here to protect. She’d been whisked away to safety.

  Marcus’s furnishings were trim and mascu
line—a charcoal-gray sofa, chocolate-brown leather armchairs and a low wood coffee table, set against the backdrop of marine-blue walls with crisp white trim, with vintage black-and-white framed photographs and old maps as art. A massive basket in the corner overflowed with colorful toys, a happy oasis in an otherwise sophisticated and serious room. She followed him down the hall, where he flipped on the light in his extra bedroom. “I trust this will work.”

  This room was serene refinement in soft white and shades of cream, camel and café au lait. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” She took in a deep breath. There was so much to do—deal with insurance and the fire department, get everything cleaned. And then there was her contractor. Clearly the crew had to be fired tomorrow. As to whom she’d hire to finish things up, it was back to the drawing board. She had another year of celebrity under her belt since she’d last contacted her first-choice builders. Perhaps they could be persuaded to move her up in the queue.

  “I need to find you something to sleep in,” he said, sounding a bit uncomfortable with the task he’d given himself. “I’ll be right back.”

  “That would be great.” Ashley sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted and struggling to get a handle on her feelings. The fire was a living nightmare, but it had landed her in Marcus’s inner sanctum, a place she’d been fairly sure he’d keep her out of forever. It was hard not to be fascinated by this glimpse into his life, to see a glimmer of hope. She and Marcus Chambers might have horrible odds romantically, but there was still something about him that left her wanting more.

  He reappeared in her doorway, presenting her with a pair of pale blue, perfectly pressed men’s pajamas. “I, uh, I don’t know what you normally wear to bed, but I hope this will do.”

  She had to smile at his sewn-up approach, knowing that when the lights were turned down and clothes were coming off, he was uninhibited and commanding. Regret over their almost-night together still ate at her. If only they’d actually made love, if only she’d been able to witness the moment when he unraveled, she would have had another piece of the sexy, complicated puzzle standing before her. “Is this what you normally sleep in?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the pajamas.

  “Just the pants. I can’t stand to wear a shirt to bed.”

  A flood of heat and frustration threatened to consume her. He’d just plopped a sequence of half-dressed images in her head that would be hard to shake, especially knowing it was all going to play out in the next room in a few minutes. All night long. “You wouldn’t want to smother yourself with pajamas.”

  He knocked a knuckle against the door frame. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you want to phone your family.”

  Her family. Good God, she hadn’t dared to entertain the notion. It would crush her mother. Her dad might not handle it much better, and he needed to avoid stress at all costs. Why did reality have to encroach on her daydreamy thoughts of Marcus and his chest? “I’ll call them tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t know what I would’ve done without my family after Elle left. They got me through everything. I really think you’ll feel better if you talk to them now.”

  And there it was—another piece of the puzzle, willingly given. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he’d needed help and support during his divorce. So he was human after all. “Yes. You’re right. I promise to call them first thing in the morning. I’ll let them get their rest tonight.”

  Eleven

  Marcus might have wished Ashley a good night’s rest, but he’d had nothing of the sort. If he was torn over how he felt about her before, he was even more conflicted now. The adrenaline rush of the fire, coupled with missing Lila, all while perseverating on the image of Ashley in his pajamas, had left him restless all night.

  Yes, Ashley had created the situation that put Lila, his sister and the entire building in danger last night. He’d told her dozens of times that her contractor was reckless and irresponsible and she’d refused to listen. But then again...he couldn’t fathom her leaving them on the project if she’d had any idea what would happen.

  He’d seen it the night they went out to dinner. She wasn’t self-centered, nor was she dumb. Carefree and audacious? Yes. Brazenly negligent? No. Did that leave her as the victim? Probably. Which was precisely why he couldn’t let her go to a hotel last night, even when it meant subjecting himself to the physically arduous proximity of being around a woman he knew he was falling in love with, even when he’d sworn he wouldn’t.

  Realizing he’d claimed as much rest as he could possibly get, he climbed out of bed and took a shower. Getting into the office early was the best way to deal with the way she made him feel. When he’d given her his pajamas last night, he’d been fighting every urge imaginable—to take her in his arms, kiss her, admit to panicking the night of the premiere and ask for a second chance. To make love to her, if only to be able to stop the talking, the endless back and forth, and physically express how he felt. He might not be able to put his feelings into words or coherent thought, but he was fairly certain he could put them into action.

  Last night, she was stuck in this unthinkable situation and had been so vulnerable, but still remained strong. How she’d kept from truly breaking down was beyond him. There had been shaky moments, there had been tears, but that was it. Had she been putting on a good face for him? Or had he actually managed to comfort her?

  The rattle of dishes and closing of cabinet doors came from the kitchen. Better to get used to running into his new roommate now, rather than avoiding the situation. He sauntered down the hall but wasn’t ready for the vision that greeted him—Ashley on her tiptoes in nothing more than the shirt from his pajamas, searching through the kitchen cabinets.

  He coughed, partly to get her attention, partly to keep himself from walking up behind her and snaking his arms around her waist. He did have a good ninety minutes until his sister expected him in the office. They could accomplish a lot in that much time. “Good morning.”

  She dropped back down to bare feet and turned. Her hair was a sexy mess. She didn’t have on a lick of makeup—still beautiful, but in an entirely different way than he was used to. “You’re up. Is there coffee?”

  “Sorry. Just tea.”

  She frowned, making her chin wrinkly, which was surprisingly cute. “You have got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to function?”

  Reaching past her, he opened the cabinet where he kept the tea bags. He set one of the boxes on the counter then filled the kettle with water. “There’s plenty of caffeine in English breakfast tea.”

  “Wait a minute.” She pointed at him, shaking her finger while he turned on the stove burner. “I know you drink coffee. I’ve seen you come up to the apartment with a to-go cup.”

  “I do drink it, but I don’t make it. Never learned how.” He got out a mug for her as she leaned against the kitchen counter, resting one of her bare feet on top of the other. Her legs were almost more tempting now than they’d been the night of the premiere. He knew everything her legs led to. “So, what’s on the schedule today?” he asked, consulting his watch, distracting himself.

  She folded her arms across her chest, causing the nightshirt to hitch up and the side vent to split open, revealing an edge of some sort of pale purple temptation. “I have a million things to do. I already talked to the insurance company. They’re sending an adjuster over this afternoon. I heard from the fire marshal, and he already has one of his men working over there. I can fetch my stuff anytime I want. Suffice it to say, I won’t be going into the office today. Which is fine. I need a break.”

  “Do you want me to go with you across the hall to get a few of your things? I know you weren’t up to it last night, but you can’t live in my pajamas all day long.” If you did, I might be forced to take the day off, too.

  “No. It’s fine. Lieutenant Williams is going to be here in an hour. I’ll wait and go in with him.�
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  Great. I’ll leave her with a handsome, strapping fireman. “Ah, well, then. I guess I’ll just get off to the office. Martha, the housekeeper, will be by later this morning to clean and prepare dinner.”

  * * *

  Dread nagged Ashley as she looked at her phone. She didn’t like the idea of burdening her mother with anything, especially bad news. In fact, she took it as her personal charge to bring only good news. They renewed my show for another season. I’m sending more money. She hadn’t even shared the news about James dumping her until she’d flown home for Thanksgiving last year, and cracked the instant she saw her mom. Considering the fact that a story about Ashley’s fire was in the newspaper and making the rounds online that morning, she didn’t have a choice. It was time to be the bearer of bad tidings.

  Her mom answered on the third ring. “Hey, baby girl.”

  “Hi, Mama.”

  “It’s nearly nine thirty. It’s not like you to call me from work.”

  Ashley’s eyes drifted shut. Her mother’s warm, syrupy drawl brought her to tears, but she had to choke them back. She had to be strong, just like she’d been with Marcus last night. She wasn’t about to burden her mom unnecessarily. “I’m not at work. I’m taking the day off.”

  “What happened? You never miss work.”

  And to think she’d worried that crying would rat her out. Her mother knew something was amiss just because her workaholic daughter wasn’t in the office. “Something happened with my apartment, but I really, really don’t want you to worry.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She couldn’t force herself to say fire.

  “Not something with that neighbor of yours, is it? I thought you two were dating.”