The Ceo Daddy Next Door

“You believe all of that business about there being a true love for everyone? Or is it just for your show?”

Funny, but no one else had ever asked Ashley that question. “I do believe it.”

Marcus took a look around the dance floor. All eyes on them. “I’m tempted to give them a show.”

His rich, buttery accent was working its way into her. “What did you have in mind?”

“If we do it, I think we start slowly, give them a taste of what’s to come.”

“Of course. We wouldn’t want to go too fast.” Except that she was thinking about nothing but going very fast, away from this party, away with him.

“I could start by kissing your cheek, whispering in your ear that you look beautiful tonight.” He did exactly that as he said it, his warm lips on her face, his hot breath against her ear, skimming the slope of her neck.

Finally. A kiss. His approach was commanding and entirely self-assured, his grasp on her so firm—she wasn’t sure she’d ever been kissed so masterfully.

When they came up for air, her head was in the clouds. Flashes of light surrounded them. So this was what it was like to see fireworks.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN BOOTH is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on eighties music, Judy Blume and the films of John Hughes. She loves to write big-city love stories. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s teaching her kids about good music, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her astoundingly supportive husband into mixing up a cocktail. You can find out more about Karen or contact her at www.karenbooth.net.

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For my amazing friend and long-lost sister, Piper Trace. You helped me get through this book and I’m forever grateful.

May we have years of giggly brainstorming sessions ahead of us.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

One

Pure exasperation rushed from Ashley George’s lips when she closed her apartment door and spotted Marcus Chambers waiting for the elevator.

“I suppose you’d like me to hold the lift.” Marcus’s rich British accent and unflinching delivery made the statement far more annoying. He knew she was headed downstairs. Unless she was going to descend eleven flights of their Manhattan apartment building in under five minutes while wearing a pencil skirt and four-inch heels, she’d need the elevator.

She sucked in a deep breath and breezed past him as she stepped onboard. Her long blond locks were given a swish for good measure.

“First floor?” he asked.

She dug her fingernails into her palms. Two seconds in the same space and he was already on her last nerve. “We both know we’re going to the same meeting. Being cute about it won’t help.”

He straightened the jacket of his charcoal-gray suit, folded his hands before him and looked straight ahead at the doors. “A gentleman is never cute.”

Cute was definitely an undersell in Marcus Chambers’s case. Ridiculously handsome, yes. Which was too bad, because he was also a grump of epic proportions. Whatever made him that way had to be genetics or a product of his past. Otherwise, he seemed to have everything—money, a primo apartment at a prestigious address on the Upper West Side, enough good looks for a lifetime and—although Ashley had seen Lila only in passing—a beautiful baby girl.

“I wouldn’t be in this elevator at all if you’d stop complaining to the building board,” Ashley replied.

He cleared his throat. “And I wouldn’t have to complain if you’d hire a competent contractor to finish your renovations. I’m tired of living in chaos.” He glanced over his shoulder and dismissed her with a flash of his piercing green eyes. “Chaos seems to follow you wherever you go.”

Ashley pursed her lips. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Considering the things he’d witnessed, her life probably looked like a tornado with nine lives. She was always in a rush, often juggling her phone while many of the million things going through her head managed to leak out of her mouth. Sure, there had been problems with the renovations to her apartment. Sometimes things didn’t go smoothly. She did her best to keep things on track and really, he hadn’t even tried to be more understanding.

She sighed and leaned against the elevator wall, stealing another eyeful of him. If he underwent a personality transplant or at least learned to take a deep breath, he might be perfect—strong jaw with a devilishly square chin, close-cut scruff along his jaw, thick head of mahogany brown hair. Her vision dipped lower and she shuddered as images of his glorious chest and astounding abs flashed in her head. She hadn’t been lucky enough to see his torso live and in person, but she’d unearthed photos of him on the internet. He was one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors, as billed in a charity calendar full of hunky guys. A bachelor raising a baby—divorce was a terrible thing.

Somewhere in the world was a true match for this stunning-on-the-outside, stodgy-on-the-inside man. Ashley believed that about everyone. It wasn’t a made-for-TV act she put on for her reality show, her namesake, Manhattan Matchmaker. True love and soul mates were real, just as real as the things in life everyone feared—broken hearts, family illnesses, life-or-death obligations.

Ashley still believed she’d find her own match someday, but after getting dumped before Thanksgiving by the guy she’d thought was “the one,” she’d decided to take a year off from dating. Focus on herself in the context of “me,” not “we.” She hadn’t lasted long. Marcus had moved in during the first few days of January, he asked her out a week after they’d met, and she’d stupidly said yes. That night three months ago had done nothing but prove her thesis: she had no business being with a man right now. She didn’t trust her instincts when it came to love, at least not where her own heart was concerned. Not after the heartbreak of James. And her life was indeed chaos.

Marcus moved his head to the side as if working out a kink in his neck. A waft of his aftershave settled on her, its effect on her as unavoidable as the heat of a South Carolina summer. Damn. He even smelled good—warm and masculine, just like the finest bourbon, peculiar since Marcus was CEO of his family-owned gin distillery.

The elevator dinged. “After you.” His velvety accent echoed in her head. If only he’d used it for something along the lines of, “Don’t you look smashing? I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass the last three months.”

Ashley strode down the hall. Her skirt was too tight to take the extralong strides she hoped could convey her determination to come out of this confab unscathed, but she still marched into the meeting room, stilted gait and all. The five members of the building’s board sat at a long table, conferring. Ashley’s stomach lurched when she saw the board president, Tabitha Townsend. Tabitha regarded Ashley as if she were a red wine spill on white carpet. Ashley wasn’t exactly about to invite her over for cosmos and girl talk. And now it was time to charm Tabitha and the board, when Ashley had just had an exhausting day of publicity for the new season of Manhattan Matchmaker.

“Hello, everyone.” Ashley shook hands with her only ally, Mrs. White, a longtime building resident. She was not only upper-crust through and through but also a reality TV addict. Ashley’s show was one of her favorites.

“Will you say it for me? Just once?” Mrs. White asked, looking hopeful.

Ashley didn’t have a choice. She had to make somebody in this room happy. “I’m Ashley George, and I find true love in the city that never sleeps.”

Mrs. White clapped her hands together in glee. “I love it when you do that. I brag to all my friends about it.”

“Anytime for you,” Ashley replied.

The corners of Mrs. White’s mouth turned down. “I only wish tonight’s meeting was under better circumstances. We should be talking about the new season of your show, not neighborly squabbles.”

“I assure you, they’re more than squabbles,” Marcus interjected with all the warmth of an iceberg.

Mrs. White shook her head, eyes darting back and forth between them. “It’s a shame, you know. You two would make a lovely couple. Have you ever thought about that? Going out to dinner to work out your differences?”

Marcus huffed. Oh, they’d been out to dinner, and it had gone horribly. Nervous to a fault, Ashley had one too many glasses of wine before the appetizers arrived. Apparently she hadn’t fully processed her breakup with James because she rambled on and on about it, about how he’d dumped her because she cared too much about her career, because she wasn’t ready to commit, wasn’t ready to have kids. The list of reasons she’d been rejected was long. Marcus had reacted to it so badly that the night ended with a handshake. That had been a major disappointment... It wasn’t like she’d been foolish enough to think she and Marcus Chambers would fall in love, but he was such a hottie. She’d been looking forward to a kiss.

Her renovation project started the next day. Thus the battle of Chambers vs. George, a fight she wished would die, was born.

“Careful, or people will start to think you’re the matchmaker.” Ashley held on to Mrs. White’s hand, wanting to stay with the one person in the room who was on her side.

She eventually moved along, arriving at Tabitha, who didn’t offer her hand but rather a stabbing glare. Luckily she turned, and her eyes landed on Marcus. “Mr. Chambers. It’s nice to see you this evening.” She ran her manicured fingers along the neckline of her blouse. Despite her attempt at being alluring, Tabitha was definitely not Marcus’s perfect match. Anyone could see that. He belonged with a woman carved from marble, not one made of fire and brimstone. “Take a seat, Ms. George,” Tabitha snapped.

Ashley twisted her lips but followed orders, perching in one of two chairs facing the table. This wasn’t quite the setup for an HOA meeting. It was more a firing squad, especially given Tabitha’s presence. Ashley crossed her legs, setting her handbag on the floor. Marcus took the seat next to hers.

“Ms. George,” Tabitha began. “It’s apparent to the board that your apartment renovation is out of control.”

Off to a great start. Ashley squirmed in her seat.

Tabitha opened a thick folder overflowing with papers. Marcus had been thorough with his complaints. “Your workers, and in particular the foreman, have little regard for the only other tenant of your floor, Mr. Chambers. There have been circular saws at seven in the morning...”

“I was out of town,” Ashley interjected. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“Ms. George. Please raise your hand before speaking.” Tabitha flipped to the next page. “There has been loud music of some sort...”

Ashley thrust her hand into the air. “It’s just pop music, and the carpenters love it. If you’d just let me explain...”

“I’m not finished, Ms. George. Quiet. Please.”

Ashley slumped back in her chair. “Sorry.”

Tabitha cleared her throat. “As I was saying, the workers have repeatedly made a mess in the hall you share with Mr. Chambers, tracking drywall dust and dirt. They don’t clean up after themselves, and worst of all, they have been seen smoking in the building, which is a fire hazard and strictly prohibited.”

Ashley’s stomach turned. The most tragic event of her entire life had been a fire. “They know they’re not supposed to do that. I’ve told them. I’ll tell them again.”

“Frankly, I’m tempted to tell you right now that you must halt the project and hire another contractor.”

Ashley’s queasiness became nearly unbearable. She’d been on this contractor’s waiting list for a year, and they were her second choice. The wait for her first choice was closer to eighteen months, and that time frame was given to her after she’d pulled celebrity strings. The contractor she’d hired did solid work affordably, an absolute necessity with her sizable obligations to her family back in South Carolina.

She couldn’t put the project on hold. She’d lose every penny she’d paid the contractor up front. It would take months to recover from that financially, and she’d be stuck living in a construction zone when her entire aim this year was to make her life more stable. With her work schedule and her father’s worsening health after several strokes, visions of Ashley’s dream apartment were the only thing that kept her going some days. She’d come from nothing and she’d worked damn hard for this apartment. She wasn’t about to let that slip between her fingers.

“I’m very sorry if this has been an inconvenience to Mr. Chambers. I’ll speak to the builder and let him know how serious this is. We’ll get it straightened out this time.”

Tabitha shook her head. “After reviewing the file, the board has determined that this time is the last time, Ms. George. If your project can’t be completed in a manner Mr. Chambers finds acceptable, we’re pulling the plug. One more complaint from him and you’re done.”

Ashley’s eyes darted to Marcus. The corners of his mouth were twitching. Was he actually going to smile? “One more complaint? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She tossed her hand in his direction. “There’s no pleasing him. He probably has a complaint about the way I’m sitting in this chair. This is completely unfair.”

* * *

Completely unfair. Apt words considering Ms. George’s willingness to ignore the disruptions of her apartment renovations. Marcus and his eleven-month-old daughter, Lila, were trying to carve out a new life for themselves in New York. It was only fair that he deliver the final blow if the mayhem continued.

“Mr. Chambers,” Mrs. White interjected from her end of the table. “Please understand the seriousness of this situation. We don’t want to be forced to shut down Ms. George’s project for something minor.”

“Thank you,” Ashley blurted, with a strain of desperation. “The scales can’t be tipped entirely in his favor. If you put him in control, my project will be shut down before we get back upstairs.”

Marcus reared back his head. Why was she acting as though he was the unreasonable one? This mess was of her making, and she’d dismissed it at every turn. “You act as if I’m making a big deal out of this.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Tabitha rubbed her forehead. “The board will not reverse the decision. One more complaint from Mr. Chambers and Ms. George must hire a new contractor.”

“But...” Ashley slipped.

“Not another word, Ms. George.” Tabitha delivered a look so stern even Marcus was rubbed the wrong way by it.

A moment of heavy, uncomfortable quiet played out. Ashley shifted in her seat, and his eyes drifted to her leg. More specifically, the stretch of her shapely calf and delicate ankle, punctuated by a gleaming black patent leather stiletto pump. He didn’t have many weaknesses, but he did have a soft spot a mile wide for a woman in sexy shoes. The fact that Ashley was wearing those shoes... If anything was unfair at that particular moment, that might have been it. He forced himself to look away. Ashley’s beauty, her pull on him, made her a woman to be kept at arm’s length. It was the only way to keep his head straight.

Mrs. White cleared her throat. “I’d like to add one stipulation. Mr. Chambers should have to take any complaint to Ms. George first. Please try to work it out.”

Marcus blinked several times. Deal directly with Ms. George? Oh no. That wasn’t going to work for him at all. “You can’t be serious. She’s clearly demonstrated tonight that she’ll argue any complaint forever. How am I supposed to work anything out with her?”

“I can be reasonable.”

“Because you have such a great track record with that sort of behavior?” Marcus asked, his pulse choosing an offbeat rhythm.

Tabitha dismissed them with a flutter of her hands. “Mrs. White is right. Work it out.”

Marcus and Ashley filed out of the room as if they were two children who’d been sent to their rooms without a proper supper. Neither could claim a true victory, but at least Marcus had the upper hand. He was thankful for that. When the lift doors opened, he held them for Ashley.

“I need to make sure I have all of your phone numbers,” she said curtly. “Your office. The home number. In case there’s a problem.”

He fished his cell phone from his pocket, choking back the words he wanted to say. There already was a problem. After their one date, he’d promised himself that he would stay as far away from her as possible. Ashley represented his most selfish tendencies, the part of him that craved a woman who was untamed and brimming with life, gorgeous and sexy and just a little bit crazy. His priority was finding a mother for Lila, and that meant a woman who was sensible and calm, and who acted in an entirely predictable way. He could learn to live with that, for Lila.

Ashley rested her enormous handbag on her knee and bent over it, rummaging through the contents. Marcus tried to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t. They were drawn to her cleavage the way a man roaming a desert is drawn to cool water. His breath caught in his throat. Her skin was a delicate wash of peach and pink, curving, dipping and swelling. A lock of her golden-blond hair fell from her shoulders, draping across her gorgeous display. His eyes clamped shut. He couldn’t take another minute. Ashley was the thorn in his side, however much she might resemble the rose that grew alongside it.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and they came face-to-face with the only person to improve his mood reliably—Lila.

Lila’s nanny, Catherine, was pushing her in the stroller. “Mr. Chambers. I was about to take Lila out for a short walk before bed.” Catherine’s wide eyes were glued to Ashley. “Ms. George. I loved last night’s Manhattan Matchmaker.”

“Please, call me Ashley. And it was just a rerun, wasn’t it?” Ashley stepped out into the hall.

Catherine seemed as if she might burst from excitement. She was so taken with Ashley and her show. It was all she and his housekeeper, Martha, seemed to talk about, which drove Marcus crazy. He could see why people might be beguiled by her, but the show itself was silly. A ruse. True love. Soul mates. Fiction.

“But I love that episode,” Catherine said. “It was the one with the doctor and the woman who owns the bakery. Only you could’ve put those two people together. They totally fell in love.”

Ashley smiled. “That’s very sweet of you to say. Thank you.”

Marcus held the elevator while Catherine pushed the stroller onboard and turned it around. Marcus leaned down to press a kiss to Lila’s forehead, inhaling the sweet scent that came from her wispy blond hair. He rubbed his thumb across her rosy cheek. The smile and gurgle she gave him were salve for his soul. Without question, she was the most precious thing in his life, and she deserved so much more than he could give her on his own. Precisely the reason to avoid Ashley and find Lila a mum. “You have fun, my darling. Daddy will read you a bedtime story when you come home.” He released the doors as Catherine waved goodbye.

“Your daughter is adorable. And very sweet. You know, that’s only the second time I’ve seen her. I didn’t even see her the night...” Ashley looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “You know. The night we went out. You’ve done a good job of keeping her from me.”

I do a good job of keeping Lila from everyone. Protecting Lila was more than his charge. It was his strongest instinct. She’d been dealt a rotten hand in life, and it was his fault. He’d chosen the wrong woman for a wife and when things got bad, he’d convinced her that having a baby would make everything better. He was the reason Lila’s mother wasn’t there for her.

“I believe you were about to give me your other phone numbers,” he said, changing the subject.

“I’ll send you a text right now.” Ashley punched away at the keyboard. “Then you’ll have my info.”

Marcus’s phone lit up with the other numbers. And a message. I’m not evil. Just so you know.

“I never said you were evil, Ms. George.”

“Please don’t call me Ms. George. We’ve been on a date. It will make life much easier if we can drop the formalities.”

“Very little in life is easy, but if that will placate you, I will call you Ashley.”

Ashley narrowed her stare. For a moment, it was as if she was peering down into his soul, and he didn’t like that feeling at all. “You’re grumpy before your time, Chambers. And I don’t get it, because you weren’t like that when I first met you. What exactly has made you such a curmudgeon?”

“I appreciate your deft use of the English language, but I hardly think this is an appropriate topic of conversation.”

He turned for his door, but Ashley’s hand on his arm stopped him. It was as if he was wearing no jacket at all. The warmth of her touch cut right through the wool. He looked down at her slender fingers curved around his biceps.

“You can’t hide from things. You definitely can’t hide from me. I’m a very perceptive person. That’s why I have the job I do. I see things in people they don’t see in themselves.”

He turned his sights to her face, fighting the sensations coursing through his body. Warmth. Attraction. A deep, desperate desire to weave his fingers through her hair, cup the back of her head and claim the kiss he’d deprived himself of the night they went on their date. The look in her wide brown eyes was one of the most sincere he’d ever seen. It would’ve been so easy to give in to the way she made him feel at that instant. But he owed Lila too much. “Good night, Ms. George.”

She shook her head and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s Ashley, Chambers. You’ll get it eventually.”

Two

Ashley had given Marcus a slew of top-secret nicknames—Tower of London for his stature, the Earl of Handsome for obvious reasons and the British Pain-in-the-Butt, reserved for moments like last night. She had very few problems figuring out most people. Marcus was another case. Why did he dislike her so much? After her scolding at the HOA meeting, she’d spent much of the night trying to sort it out. She’d devoted most of the ride to her office that morning to thinking about it, too. The man had it all. So why be so unhappy? Why be so closed off?

A knock came at Ashley’s office door. Grace from network publicity poked her head inside, her wavy auburn hair in a messy bun that only someone truly self-assured could pull off.

“You ready for me?” She didn’t wait for an answer, breezing into Ashley’s office in a tailored gray suit and heels. The benefit of having accepted the office space the network had offered was that meetings were a simple matter of strolling down the hall. The downside was being under their thumb.