The CEO Daddy Next Door (9 page)

“Let me guess. Your ex-wife.”

He should have seen that coming.

“Remember, I did my due diligence on you, even if you didn't do it on me.” She set her fork down on the table and took a sip of her wine. “So tell me. What happened?”

He looked around the restaurant, although for what he wasn't sure. Now he almost wished one of her rabid fans would turn up and interrupt them. “It's a long story. You don't want to hear it. Trust me.”

“I told you I was going to ask questions tonight. That's my first question.”

“Let's just say that we thought we were perfect for each other, but we weren't.”

“And? What else? That's not a long story. That's not even a short story.”

He could only imagine what it must be like to have Ashley as a therapist. She did seem as though she'd be good at dragging things out of people. “Elle and I met the summer after I graduated from university. One of the things that drew me to her was that she seemed to need me. I'd never really experienced that before and it felt good. She was eager to get married and she latched on to me tightly. It wasn't until we got married that I realized she'd really just hoped to get away from her family, especially her father.”

“Was there some sort of abuse going on?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, but her parents were very controlling. I never got to know them well because she always kept her distance. Honestly, they were never anything but polite to me, so I didn't really have a way of knowing. As soon as she was out of their house, being with me was no better, apparently. I realized very quickly that everything made her feel tied down. Every social obligation, everything she was expected to do. It really weighed on her.”

“And she took it out on you.”

For a moment, everything in the restaurant seemed to come to a standstill. Visions of Elle flashed in his mind—the two of them up all night fighting until she would eventually leave. That was always her inclination—to leave. “Yes.”

“When people break free from one thing, they often just find something else they want to break free from. It becomes a pattern, and a strong one. It can be difficult to break because they don't know how to function any other way.”

He already felt choked up at what came next—the most painful part, the thing that told him the marriage had to come to an end. “I thought a baby would help. I really wanted to start a family, and I figured that love is what makes people want to stay where they are. If she didn't love me, surely she would love the baby.”

“And it made it worse.”

“It did.” He finished off his drink, hoping to numb the pain. “She hated motherhood. I think she loves Lila on a basic level, I truly do, but she just wasn't cut out to be a mom. I'm sort of amazed that she was ever able to admit that. She didn't sugarcoat it when she left. She simply didn't want to be with either me or Lila.”

Ashley nodded, intently focused on him. She reached her hand across the table. “Marcus, I am so sorry. Truly. That must have been so hard.” Her fingers looked tiny wrapped around his hand. Her thumb rode across the ridge of his knuckles, bringing up his bounty of conflicted feelings. Attraction warred with sensibility. Something even more primal than that battled his need to remain on an even keel. This was more than he'd bargained on, but then again, everything with Ashley was far more than he expected. “You know, we can't always predict how things will go. It's so obvious to me that this was a very painful chapter in your life, but at least she brought you Lila.”

Marcus narrowed his stare. “And she completely ruined my life. She brought all kinds of embarrassment on my family and left Lila without a mother.”

“And she broke your heart.”

“That's the one concession I won't make. I won't give her the satisfaction.” The reality was that Elle had done more than break his heart. She'd stolen his faith in love. He'd thought love could save him, could save
them
, but it wasn't the unwavering, all-powerful force people deemed it to be. Love changed. Love faded away.

Ashley held up her finger. “You know, I think you're stoic and stern because you're hurt. Everything that your wife did to you, I'm not sure you've dealt with. You're holding on to so much hurt. I can see it in your eyes. You have to learn to let it go or it will eat you alive. I might even suggest you see a therapist. Finally start talking about your feelings.”

He pressed his lips together, stifling any verbal response. Between Ashley and Joanna, he was getting pushed from all sides—
deal with your feelings, find the right woman
. Why did life have to be so complicated?

“I don't want to diminish what you've been through, but Lila was meant to be your little girl and she had to get on the planet somehow. Don't discount the good parts in that.”

He took in a deep breath, staring into what was left of his gin and tonic, swirling the ice in the glass. Indeed, Lila had to get on the planet somehow. As much as Elle had taken from him, she'd given him Lila, his entire reason for living. Ashley did have a point. Even so, he didn't care to go on about it forever. “We should go. The nanny is watching her this evening, and I did promise I'd be home by eleven.”

Marcus held the door for Ashley as they left the restaurant. The photographers were waiting for them.

“How about it, you two? Can we get that kiss now? We've been out here for hours.”

Marcus was still in a haze over the things Ashley had said to him about Elle, about his marriage. Part of him thought she might be right. Part of him had a strong distaste for the ways she summed up what she presumed were his feelings. It wasn't as simple as she'd made it sound.

Ashley took his hand. “They're waiting,” she muttered, nodding in the direction of the photographers. “We should probably just get this over with.”

“Hey,” one of the photographers barked. “I'm from
Celebrity Chitchat
. Maryann Powell thinks you two are a fake.”

Before he had a chance to pop off at the photographer, Ashley's hands were on Marcus's neck, she was up on her toes and her lips were on his. Ambushed with a kiss, something in him snapped. He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped the side of her face with his other hand, tilting her head back and pulling her against him until her feet left the ground. He kissed her back with no mercy, attempting to rival her impetuousness, match her reckless nature. He was too wound up now. Too frustrated by everything in his world that demanded a fight.

He set her back on the ground when he'd made his point. Ashley was breathless. Her chest heaved. “So much for fake.”

Indeed, the photographers were all grinning and stowing their cameras. The valet zipped Marcus's Aston Martin up to the curb. He walked in the direction of his car, unsure he had the strength to make it back to their building. So much for fake, indeed.
I have got to stop kissing this woman.

Ten

W
ednesday nights always meant a family dinner with Joanna, at Marcus's apartment. Lila loved her aunt Joanna, and Marcus enjoyed the time with his sister away from the business of Chambers Gin. Sales had boomed exponentially after his second public appearance with Ashley mere days ago, when he'd taken out his frustration on her very kissable lips. Marcus wasn't sure which he was more stressed about—sorting his feelings for Ashley or preparing for media night at the distillery.

“This is the last work thing I'll bring up tonight, but we really need to go over the final details for media night on Saturday. It's days away.” Marcus was excited by the prospect, especially since they'd had even more media outlets ask for an invitation after the two tabloid appearances with Ashley.

“You worry about your interview with Oscar Pruitt,” Joanna replied. “I'll worry about everything else.”

“Dad has been waiting on a Chambers Gin feature in
International Spirits
for years. I don't think I could worry any more than I already am.”
If I don't dazzle Oscar Pruitt, we're sunk.

“Please. Marcus. Let's save work for tomorrow.” Joanna held Lila's hands and helped her motor across the kitchen floor. “I can't believe how big my niece is getting.”

His little girl wasn't far from being a walker. Before long, she'd be toddling all over the apartment, climbing furniture, saying far more than “hi” and “Da.” Things were going so fast—too fast. He had to get serious about dating, about finding a mother for Lila. He just needed a bit of time to get past Ashley mentally.

Marcus pulled a shepherd's pie from the oven that Martha, his housekeeper, had prepared according to their mother's exacting directions.

“Do I smell something burning?” Joanna's voice squeaked.

“You do realize that jokes about my cooking aren't going to work, right? I didn't make this.”

She scooped Lila up into her arms. “No. I'm serious. I smell smoke.”

Marcus set down the oven mitts and stepped away from the stove. That was when the smell hit him, too. Panic quickly followed. “Is it coming from the hall?” He rushed to the door and placed his hand against it. Still cool to the touch, and no signs of smoke coming out from under it. And yet the smell was there. “Get Lila's diaper bag. And your purse,” he barked.

He opened the door slowly. The vestibule was clear, but the smoke smell was stronger. One glance at Ashley's apartment door and he whipped around to where Joanna was standing. “Get Lila out of here now. Take the stairs. It's safer.” It was warm enough outside that they wouldn't need coats. He patted his pockets. No cell phone. It was in his room. “Call the fire department on your way down. Now go.” He kissed Lila on the cheek, hoping like hell this wouldn't be the last time he'd ever see her or his sister. “Everything's going to be okay, darling. Go with Auntie Jo.”

Joanna's eyes were wide with panic. “Marcus, you're coming with me.”

“Go. Now. I mean it. I have to make sure Ashley isn't home.”

Joanna disappeared into the stairwell with Lila.

He bounded over and began pounding on Ashley's door. “Please don't be home,” he muttered to himself. “Please don't be home.” Was she in there? He didn't have a phone. And why wasn't the fire alarm going off? He'd have to do it himself. He lunged for the red box and pulled the bar. Without a second wasted, he grabbed the fire extinguisher across from the elevator and returned to Ashley's door. No answer as he pounded the hell out of it.

The cycling squeal of the alarm was deafening, but he knew it would be a good half hour before the fire department could arrive. He'd read horror stories of Manhattan fires out of control. He and Ashley lived on the top floor, which would likely keep the fire contained, but the nagging question of whether Ashley was inside her apartment wouldn't leave him. He couldn't go. Not until he knew for certain she wasn't home.

He touched the doorknob with the tips of his fingers. It wasn't hot. Ideally the fire wouldn't be too bad. He stood back and kicked the door with every ounce of adrenaline he could. The force of the kick rippled up through his heel and into his leg. It hurt like hell. Still, the door refused to give. He kicked again. And again. And again. Finally it flew open. Smoke was everywhere inside Ashley's apartment, but it wasn't so heavy that he couldn't see. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over his mouth, then crouched down and went inside.

“Ashley!” he yelled from behind the cover over his mouth. Smoke billowed out of the kitchen. He stepped closer and saw the flames. He took aim with the fire extinguisher hose, surprised by the force with which the chemicals came. He sprayed back and forth across the base of the fire. Luckily it only took a moment before it was out. It had been contained to the kitchen, but it wouldn't have been long before it would've engulfed the rest of the apartment. What would have happened if Joanna hadn't smelled the smoke? He didn't even want to think about it. After a quick look in the other rooms, he ran into his apartment, grabbed his cell phone and headed downstairs.

He placed a call to Joanna while he raced down the eleven flights. “Are you and Lila out?”

“Yes. We're in a cab right now. What's happening?”

“The fire's out. It was a few minutes from being really, really bad.”

“Oh my God, Marcus. Get out of there. Get in a cab and stay with me for the night.”

“No. You keep Lila. It will make me feel a lot better if she's safe with you until the fire department can check out the building. I have to call Ashley and tell her what happened.” He could only imagine how devastated she'd be. “Do you need anything?”

“I have plenty of supplies from the last time Lila stayed with me. Her diaper bag has a change of clothes. We'll be fine.”

Joanna bid her goodbyes as Marcus filed out of the lobby with many of the other residents, who were all wondering what happened. Marcus found Mrs. White and filled her in.

“Good Lord, Mr. Chambers. Ashley will be so upset. It's a good thing she can just move into your apartment now that you two are an item.”

He painted a smile on his face. “I have to call her right now. Can you speak to the fire department if they arrive while I'm on the phone? Excuse me.” He separated himself from the crowd of people outside the building, placing the call to Ashley, jamming his finger in his ear. “Please answer, please answer...” he muttered as the phone rang.

“I hope you aren't calling to complain about my contractor. I've had the worst day.”

Her voice sent a surprising wave of relief coursing through him. She was okay. The fire was out. Lila and Joanna were safe. “I'm so sorry to tell you this, Ashley, but there's been a fire.”

* * *

A fire. No. No. No.

Ashley had never so frantically hailed a cab in all her life. She yanked a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and flattened it against the Plexiglas between her and the taxi driver. “This is your tip if you get me home, now.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The driver looked over his shoulder, punched the accelerator, dodged another taxi and ran a red light.

She eased back in her seat and wrapped her arms around her waist, rocking back and forth. Deep breaths seemed impossible. Every drag she took of oxygen only teased her lungs before being quickly expelled. “It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay.”

She stared out the cab window, but she didn't see the city. Instead, visions of the fire that took her family home when she was ten years old overtook her mind. She couldn't push them out no matter how hard she tried. She saw it all, she
felt
it all—standing in the ditch next to Rural Route 4, the dusty road that ran past her family's farm. Faded, splintered clapboards that her great-grandfather had hammered into place by hand went up like scrap wood in a bonfire. Licks of fire swallowed the living room curtains her mother had sewn from bedsheets. It was as if they'd been nothing, made of tissue. Every last one of their belongings—furniture, their clothes, her most treasured books, the diary she'd been keeping for only a few weeks, the teddy bear she'd had since she was a baby—all of it had been taken that night. For good.

The loss had been enormous and in many ways, her family hadn't truly begun to heal from it until Ashley landed the matchmaker show and started making real money. Then she'd been able to lift her family out of debt, buy her parents a house, give her brothers a little something extra. The fire had led to more than a decade of struggle that the entire family was ill-prepared for, especially Ashley. She'd had to grow up overnight. The thing was—before the fire, she hadn't given much thought to being poor.

The farm had been such a happy place—thriving crops in the fields, a garden chock-full of yellow wax beans and tomatoes, chickens chattering in the yard next to the henhouse, barn cats sleeping in the sun on the front porch. The house was paid for. Her great-grandfather had built it himself. Before the fire, it had always felt as though they had plenty, or at least enough. After the fire, the henhouse was the only thing left standing, and there was no insurance, no money for a motel. They'd depended on the kindness of neighbors to help them through it.

And once again, things were tumbling down. By the time Ashley got up to her apartment, the scene was strange—both quiet and busy. Three or four firefighters milled in and out of the door. The heavy smell of smoke became stronger with her every step forward, until it began to sting her nose and stopped her dead in her tracks. If she stayed out here in the hall, it didn't have to be real. She didn't have to face what was waiting for her on the other side of her door.

Marcus came out of his apartment. “You're here.” His voice was serious, sounding as if it was any other day.

Ashley shook her head, turning and looking up into the complexity of his eyes. “So you smelled smoke? That's how you found it?” With every passing word, her voice grew weaker.

Marcus pulled her into a hug, and she had to work to keep from collapsing in his arms. He made her feel protected, and it was so tempting to give into that, to take it willingly. How had he ended up as her support system? How had this man who could be so insufferable ended up being her saving grace? Even when he'd tried everything he could to push her away.

She didn't have a single safety net in her life. She spent her days walking a tightrope, trying to keep everything going, trying to keep everyone else secure. It was nice to know that someone, somewhere, could make her feel that way. She'd never expected it would be Marcus, nor did she have any idea how he felt about the role.

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.