The CEO Daddy Next Door (4 page)

Five

A
shley had promised herself she'd sweep into this opulent ballroom relaxed, with an easy, confident smile on her face. She'd walk in like she owned the place—crystal chandeliers, expensive champagne and all. Heck, this
was
her party. Tonight was all about her.

Precisely the problem. Confronted with the throng of people in the jam-packed ballroom, she knew how empty the promise had been. She always managed to say the wrong thing or get flustered when someone asked her too many personal questions. She wasn't built for fancy parties and dealing with hundreds of people at one time. Dinner for two, no press or media, was much more her speed.

The masses closed in when they spotted Marcus and her—a sea of eagerly advancing faces wanting a picture, voices offering greetings and questions, hands reaching out and touching her. Some touching Marcus. The inquisition about him started at a fever pitch.

“Tell us about your date.”

“Where'd you find the handsome Brit?”

“How did you keep him a secret?”

“You two look so perfect together. Has the matchmaker made her own match?”

Her pulse picked up. If she was already feeling panicked, wanting to escape, this would be a long night. She scanned the crowd for Grace but saw her nowhere. Ashley had no choice but to smile politely and nod in agreement when someone congratulated her. She laughed nervously at bad jokes. Music thumped loudly. The din of voices became almost paralyzing as people talked over each other.

She and Marcus were pressed tightly against each other under the crush of the crowd. Marcus had handled it all beautifully, being specific enough and deflecting when appropriate, but once the verbal onslaught became truly overwhelming, he cast his magical green eyes down at her. In that moment, she saw comfort in them, not the man who disliked her so greatly.

She popped up onto her tiptoes and spoke into his ear, gripping his strong shoulders, loving the scratch of his five o'clock shadow against her cheek. “I'm a little thirsty. Can we get a drink?”

“Brilliant. I think we both could use one.”

She squeezed his hand in response, landing back on her heels. He didn't flinch, as if he could take the pressure however long she chose to strangle his fingers. And she liked that feeling. A lot. It felt as if she could test him and he would never, ever fail. He was precisely what she needed at that moment. A handsome British rock.

Marcus began winding them through the crowd. She walked by every person she didn't really want to talk to and waved, shrugged her shoulders, pointed to Marcus and mouthed, “He wants a drink.” So far, he'd been a dream date. Of course, he was her fake date. Not a man who wished to take her anywhere by choice other than an unpleasant apartment board meeting. Not a man who wished to end an evening together with anything more than a cold, detached handshake.

For now, she'd pretend that he really did want to be with her and that she hadn't been so stupid as to say the things she'd said the night they went on their date—the endless ramblings about how her last boyfriend had dumped her because her job was too insane and she wasn't cut out for having kids. She'd never even had the chance to explain to Marcus that James was eleven years older than her and, at the age of forty, on a completely different timetable. Plus, he'd been a jerk of inordinate magnitude when she'd dared to express the tiniest doubt about their future.

So, in the interest of pretending that she and Marcus were a real match, it was time to play the role of Manhattan Matchmaker, the woman Marcus and everyone else in this room wanted a piece of.

“Gin and tonic?” Marcus asked when they finally reached the bar.

She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

A man tapped Marcus on the shoulder and introduced himself as Alan, one of the network accountants. “I'm on my second drink made with this Chambers No. 9, and I have to say, I'm very impressed.”

The bartender slid their drinks across the bar, and Ashley took a gulp.

“Isn't it the most delicious thing you've ever tasted?” she replied, even though this was her first taste. If she and Marcus were going to convince anyone that they were a real pair, she'd be well acquainted with Chambers No. 9 by now. She took a second drink, a sip this time. It truly was lovely—in taste and in the way it took the edge off. By the bottom of the glass, she'd be much better equipped to carry on countless conversations.

“Thank you both,” Marcus said, partaking of his drink, continuing his conversation with Alan.

A nonstop parade of people approached Ashley, most asking for tidbits on the upcoming slate of new episodes. “What's the most unlikely pairing you put together this season?” one entertainment reporter asked.

“Probably a pair of lawyers from rival law firms. I've never seen two people argue as much as they did. The production team was sure I'd missed the mark, but I could see the attraction between them. Once they set aside their egos and their issues, they fell hard. It's one of my favorite episodes this year.”

Marcus listened and nodded. “She knows when two people should be together.”

“And what about you, Mr. Chambers? Tell me about your gin.”

Ashley listened as he spoke about his father and grandfather, his impressive lineage, the history behind Chambers Gin. Ashley had nothing like that to brag about, not that it bothered her. She just didn't like the looks of pity she got if anyone asked about her family and she told them the truth—she'd grown up with two brothers, and their parents loved all of them very much. Other than that, there hadn't been two dimes to rub together, and she wasn't even sure how they'd ever survived.

Marcus was quite the opposite, born with an aristocratic silver spoon in his mouth. He worked hard, though. She'd give him that. He didn't seem content to rest on laurels—those that belonged to him or his family. “Gin is my family's passion, and it really is an art. I started my professional life as a securities trader, but I'm so glad to be running the family business and leading the charge with our new brand in the US.”

Grace showed up right on the heels of that conversation. Marcus got them another round of drinks from the bar after Ashley made the introductions.

“He's insanely hot,” Grace whispered in Ashley's ear.

“Yeah, I got the memo.”

“Has it been okay so far tonight?”

Ashley leaned closer so no one could overhear. “It has. It'll be interesting to see what the ride back to our building is like. He won't have to be nice to me anymore at that point.” Several network people and more reporters had inched closer to them. “But I'll catch you up about that tomorrow.”

Grace fished her phone from her purse and consulted it. “I have to go. Problem with the guest list. I'll catch up with you later.” She patted Ashley on the shoulder. “You're doing great. Just keep smiling.”

Grace disappeared into the crowd as Marcus brought their drinks.

“Ashley George, I want to know when exactly you got a boyfriend,” a woman said from behind them.

Ashley turned, only to come face-to-face with Maryann, editor for the online gossip site that had published the embarrassing pictures of Ashley buying ice cream on a Saturday night. Maryann was a near-perfect human specimen, long legs and a button nose, but her personality was of the rodent variety.

Ashley cupped her hand around Marcus's ear. “Careful with this one. She's mean.”

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.”