by Karen Booth
“A little bit, but it’s also my job to give fate a nudge. I’d be a hypocrite if I said I believe fate is entirely in control.”
“It just seems to me that the fire was exactly what you and I needed.”
She thought of everything her mother had said about good coming from bad. If the most recent fire hadn’t happened, she’d be across the hall, alone, living in the proverbial ticking time bomb. It was the best possible thing to happen to her, to them. “It gave us a chance to be together.”
“Under circumstances that made us both comfortable. If we were to make a go of things, we would need time together. Alone. Like a normal couple. The fire has given us that chance.”
Normal couple. Could they be that? He seemed to be hinting at that, but she still suspected Marcus would risk his own heart far before he’d risk Lila’s. She couldn’t blame him in the least. “I’d like to make a go of things.” Because I’m falling in love with you. She couldn’t bring herself to utter those words, even though they were precisely what sprang to mind. She couldn’t say it when things were so new. Not when she was certain he wasn’t anywhere close to returning the sentiment. The words tumbled around in her head, her heart beating so oddly she trembled. Perhaps it was because her heart knew exactly how much there was on the line with Marcus. She had, after all, vowed to protect her heart after James, and here she was, so eager to leave her heart without a safety net.
And even if their alone time went well, she still had her biggest obstacle to face. Was she ready to take on motherhood? Could she manage the one part of this that was absolutely nonnegotiable? Could the scattered woman with the insane job and crazy life be what Marcus needed? If she took it on, she couldn’t walk away. He’d suffered the pain of that once. She’d have to be one hundred percent sure she was the right woman, and how would she know that unless Marcus let her in completely? Until he let her spend time with Lila?
“Good. I’d like to make a go of things, too.” He smiled so wide it made her heart sing. Now was not the moment for dwelling on everything that could go wrong.
“It takes two sides to build a bridge.”
He wrapped her up in his arms and planted the softest, steamiest kiss on her. “I hope you don’t care if our tea gets cold. I’d like to spend some time working on our bridge before I have to go to work.”
Fourteen
The time had come for Ashley to shut Maryann the hell up.
That meant the time had also come for her to get ready to go on her real date with Marcus, to the media night for the new distillery.
They hadn’t seen much outside the four walls of his bedroom since he’d come from work Friday night, although they had run out hours ago to buy her a dress. Getting lost in each other was too sublime a temptation to otherwise worry about the outside world or even basic necessities like eating, although Marcus had encouraged the consumption of coconut cake when possible.
Things between them were wonderful and effortless for the moment, albeit very up in the air. Lila would be returning Monday morning, and the plan all along had been for Ashley to move back into her apartment that day. Her new builder would be coming in then to get her project back on track. As for what the future held, Ashley wasn’t about to venture a single guess.
Ashley stepped into the shower in Marcus’s bathroom.
“Can I watch?” He peeked around the corner while stepping into his suit pants.
“Not if you want to be on time to the biggest night ever for your business.” She stuck her head beneath the spray and lathered her hair with shampoo.
“Now who’s the grump?”
“I’m just being real with you, Marcus,” she called before he disappeared.
She put on her makeup and headed into Marcus’s closet. The dress she and Marcus had shopped for that afternoon was hanging there. She unzipped the silver garment bag, removing the black satin gown. She still wasn’t sure she had the nerve to wear it. Marcus had come just shy of drooling when she’d stepped out of the fitting room.
“We’ll take it,” he’d said to the saleswoman while handing over his credit card.
Ashley had called him over with a curl of her finger. “You didn’t even ask me if I liked it.”
“I love it. And I’m paying.”
“I have my own money and plenty of it.”
He’d glanced over at the counter where the saleswoman was ringing up the sale. “Too late. She already ran my card.”
She’d kissed him then—a slow brush of lips as silky as the dress. She’d slinked back into the dressing room, changed and handed the dress over to be wrapped up. Marcus had won that round. She was fine with that.
And now she was slipping into the dress for the second time. Goose bumps dotted her arms and chest as the silky fabric skimmed over her skin. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and the mere thought of Marcus seeing her made her blush. This dress left little to the imagination, even though it was impeccably tasteful. The bias-cut satin moved with her every curve—her hips, her butt, her breasts. She wasn’t sure what she would do if Marcus hugged her while she was wearing this dress. She already felt as if she was naked. His hands on any part of her were absolutely going to send her over the top.
She slipped into a pair of heels and pulled her hair up into a twist. He’d said that he liked it when she’d worn her hair up at the Manhattan Matchmaker party. Had he really paid that much attention? Had he really noticed? It felt good to know that he had—even though that night had ended so badly.
She started down the hall quietly, anticipating the moment when they would lay eyes on each other. Marcus was standing in the kitchen, his back to her. His shoulders were the first thing she noticed—so strong and broad and tempting, especially since she’d committed every naked contour beneath that suit to memory. She inched closer, nervous anticipation making her breaths come out erratically.
He turned, and she was no longer nervous about him appraising her. She was too busy drinking in the vision of him—the long lines of that black suit, his strong jaw, those dark and slightly unruly brows of his. He was mesmerizing. If she was really, truly expected to be a gracious and composed guest this evening, she couldn’t be counted on for a solid performance. At some point, she’d surely be caught staring and biting her bottom lip.
He unleashed the most clever smile she’d ever seen, as if he was the sly fox and he’d laid eyes on a sweet, fluffy bunny waiting just for him. She’d be his bunny if he wanted her to be. She’d relinquish all control to him, in the bedroom at least. The rest of their dynamic was not up for grabs, but he had to know that by now.
“You are absolutely stunning,” he said in his disarming voice.
Ashley dropped her clutch. Lipstick rolled across the floor. She bent over to pick it up, but Marcus reached for it at the same time. Both of them crouching over her purse, their eyes locked. Well, they locked for an instant. Then his eyes very unsubtly dropped to her cleavage and she just let him look, didn’t shy away. She was too busy wishing they didn’t have to go anywhere tonight. Look. Look all you want. Then kiss me, dammit. Kiss me and take off my dress and treat it in a way that makes me feel bad that you spent so much money on it.
She couldn’t say the words on her lips—the poor man had work to do. Later.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I have to say that you in that suit isn’t really fair. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Well, now I feel like I can conquer the entire world of gin making.”
“Good. That’s precisely how you should be feeling.”
He smirked and straightened, putting an end to their close-to-horizontal meeting of the minds. Ever the gentleman, he held out his hand, helping her back up to standing.
“We should get going. Don’t want you to be late.” Ashley led the way to his door.
“That dress should probably be illegal,” he quipped as he trailed behind her.
She stopped and turned. “Technically, it’s yours, Chambers. I’m completely innocent.”
“It would be worth every minute in jail.”
They took the elevator downstairs to the parking garage and the waiting limo. It was a half-hour ride to get out to the distillery in New Jersey. The time flew, mostly because she was perfectly content to hold hands and just be with him. They went for stretches without talking, the quiet almost comforting to her. Marcus, however, seemed to become more anxious with every passing mile. He tapped his knuckle against the window, staring out as the world whizzed by them.
“Nervous?” she asked.
He nodded. “I am. I’m excited for the company. I just want to make my dad proud. I need to nail the interview. He’s waited a lifetime for Chambers Gin to be featured in the magazine. It’s a big break. Well, I mean, aside from the Manhattan Matchmaker premiere. That was a big break, too.”
“No, I get it. The interview is a big deal. You’ll do great.”
“We’ll see. I tend to clam up a bit in these situations. I don’t enjoy having to sell myself. I’d prefer the gin do the talking for me.”
They pulled up outside the distillery, a large industrial building, not quite the locale for her killer dress. But tonight was about Marcus, which meant making him happy, and apparently the dress did exactly that. They climbed out of the limo and were greeted by a handful of paparazzi. Grace had, once again, done her job—the photographer from Maryann’s website was there.
“Hello, everyone,” Marcus said, taking Ashley’s hand as the photographers snapped away. “Don’t stay out here too long. All of the excitement’s inside. Feel free to join us for a nip of Chambers No. 9.”
He then slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, his warm lips remaining for a moment and leaving behind a lasting tingle. Part of Ashley’s coming tonight was to show up Maryann, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that there was more behind that kiss, something that went beyond sex or putting on a show for the cameras. There was something very protective about it, as if he was holding on to her, tightly.
Ashley knew Marcus’s sister, Joanna, the second they stepped inside. She had Marcus’s presence—tall and ridiculously eye-catching, just a much more feminine version.
“Jo, this is Ashley,” Marcus said.
His sister swatted his arm. “Of course it is.” She swallowed Ashley up in a hug. “It’s so wonderful to meet you. Marcus has told me so much about you.” Amusement crossed her face and she glanced at her brother. “You’re right. She’s even more gorgeous in person.”
Ashley didn’t know what to say. She merely side-eyed Marcus.
“I’m nothing if not honest,” he said.
Joanna took Ashley’s hand. “Come on, Ash. I’ll take you into the central tasting room so we can mingle with the press. Marcus has Oscar Pruitt waiting for him.”
“He’s waiting?” Marcus asked, an urgent edge of annoyance in his voice. “Bloody hell, Jo. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Don’t be such a tosser. You were already on your way when he arrived. I got him settled in the tasting room a few minutes ago. He made it clear he expects a private tour of the facility, just the two of you, but don’t worry. I’ll keep everyone out until you’re done.” Joanna patted him on the shoulder.
Marcus blew out a breath through his nose. He squeezed Ashley’s hand and pecked her on the forehead, but his stress level was evident. “Enjoy yourself, darling. I’ll see you in a bit.”
She gripped his arm to stop him before he could walk away. His expression was as worried as could be. “Oscar Pruitt isn’t going to know what hit him. You have the best gin in the country, and you know everything there is to know about it. Now go make your dad proud.”
He grinned at her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where exactly did you come from, Ashley George?”
“Across the hall, remember?”
He smirked. “Oh, right.”
The central tasting room was buzzing with people and activity, a dozen or so round, high-topped tables with upholstered leather stools around them. There was a dark wood bar at the far end, manned by two bartenders. The wall behind them was lined with shelves, fully stocked with bottles of Chambers No. 9 and the original Chambers gin. The space overlooked the actual distillery, separated by a massive glass wall. Joanna pointed out the enormous metal tanks on the other side and a pair of large, unusual copper stills Marcus had reportedly sought out at an auction and paid a pretty penny for. Fifty-pound bags of the nine botanicals needed to make No. 9 were everywhere—dried orange peel, coriander and, of course, juniper berries, the essential ingredient in gin.
“Thank you so much for doing this for us,” Joanna said. “Marcus and I really appreciate it. I’m glad he’s stopped being so daft about you.”
“I’m sorry?”
She shook her head. “He’s had a thing for you from the day he moved into that building. I’m just glad he got his head screwed on straight.”
Marcus had had a thing for her from the beginning? Was that really true? There had been so many unbelievably rough patches since then. “Part of our problem was our first date. I told him this stupid story about how my ex-boyfriend broke up with me because I wasn’t ready to have kids. He stopped liking me for a stretch in there. I figured it had to be about Lila. And I understand. I just wasn’t ready to discuss that on our first date.”
“He can take it a bit far. You should have seen the hoops he made the nanny jump through. I’m sure it would’ve been easier for her to get a job with the Secret Service. His protectiveness of Lila is certainly an obstacle, but you seem like a smart woman. Certainly you can figure it out. I mean, if you want to figure it out.”
Ashley nodded, computing everything Joanna had said.
“So, do you?” Joanna asked. “Want to figure it out?”
Despite her doubts about herself, about whether she could live up to such a monumental and important role, there was only one answer. “I’d like to try.”
“Good, then.” She put her arm around Ashley and squeezed her close. “Now let’s get to work.”
Ashley accompanied Joanna as she made her way from table to table. They chatted with writers, laughed with liquor distributors and enjoyed a cocktail along the way. Servers circulated through the room with hors d’oeuvres. Joanna had two employees start small-group tours after Marcus and Mr. Pruitt had reportedly finished theirs. It all seemed to be going perfectly, but Joanna wouldn’t stop checking her watch.
“Marcus should be done by now. It’s been nearly an hour since they finished the tour. It’ll be a shambles if this doesn’t go well. Maybe I should go check on him.”
One of Joanna’s tour leaders grabbed her arm and whispered something in her ear. “Bloody hell. I’ll be there in a minute.” She turned back to Ashley. “Do you mind running back to the tasting room and poking your head in to see if Marcus and Mr. Pruitt are getting on alright? See if they need anything?”
“Oh, sure. Of course.”
“Now that I think about it, that’ll be brilliant. Mr. Pruitt asked me some questions about you earlier. Maybe you can chat him up a bit.”
Ashley wasn’t sure exactly what they could chat about, but she knew very well how to fake her way through a conversation. She looked over her shoulder. “Back here? Down this hall?”
“Yes. That’s the way.”
* * *
Marcus had heard many stories of just how intimidating Oscar Pruitt could be—stodgy, snooty to a fault, a man of the most discriminating tastes who didn’t turn down a chance to tell someone just how above it all he was. Marcus had assumed it was merely his reputation and that the real man would be at least a bit more pleasant. He’d been wrong.
Oscar ha
d asked hundreds of probing questions during the tour, nitpicked about every last thing, tried everything he could to rattle Marcus. It’d been trial by fire, and he hoped to hell he’d come across as unflappable. He’d certainly tried everything he could to appear so.
“Why don’t we do the tasting?” Marcus asked, stepping behind the bar back in the private tasting room. Please. I need a blooming drink. He set out four snifters, two each. The narrow opening at the top of the glass allowed the fragrance of the botanicals to gather, while the stem would keep the warmth of the taster’s hand from affecting the temperature and taste of the gin.
“I think you’ll be very impressed with the taste,” Marcus said. He didn’t enjoy having to sell it, but he had to. His father had been hesitant about Chambers No. 9 and the very notion of an American gin. Mr. Pruitt, being as old-school as they came, had the very same ideas.
“Your father calls it a modern interpretation of an old favorite. He seems to think its bloody brilliant.”
A wide smile crossed Marcus’s face. His father’s approval meant too much to feel anything but happiness. Marcus had made a leap of faith by leaving behind his lucrative career and sinking his own money into the company, but his dad had done even more. He’d allowed his son to tinker with a brand that hadn’t changed since 1902.
“Of course, I told your father that I would determine that for myself. But I suppose I appreciate his bias. I always want to support what my children do.” Oscar removed a pair of reading glasses from the breast pocket of his suit coat and slid them onto his face, peering down his nose as Marcus opened the first bottle.
A side-by-side tasting was the best way to prove to Oscar that Chambers No. 9 represented a step into the modern age while keeping a firm grasp on the company’s history. He filled two glasses with one ounce of the original Chambers, then did the same with the No. 9. He added an ounce of water to each, diluting the alcohol and releasing the aromas. “As I told you during the tour, for No. 9, we’ve expanded the mix of botanicals from seven to nine. The new additions are caraway and elderflower.”
