Six Hot Single Dads. Lynne Marshall

after Joanna had given him the speech about taking chances and opening his heart. “It’s just that they’re across the hall.” Across the hall. Just like his entire life was across the hall. His conscience told him that’s where he belonged at that moment, not having sex with a woman he knew wasn’t the one.

      Stop it. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He had to collect his thoughts. He had a gorgeous woman in his arms, one he’d wanted for months. A deeply passionate woman who was making him feel like the man he used to be. Except the man he used to be had made a lot of mistakes. That man had gone through five years with blinders on, ignoring what was wrong in his failing marriage and forging ahead, pushing, trying to will what he wanted into being.

      Was he doing that again? Convincing himself that making love to Ashley would be okay simply because he wanted to? That was such a selfish attitude, it nearly made him sick. He’d sworn he’d never be like that again.

      “I can’t do this,” he said, disbelieving the words as they came from his mouth. He wanted her so badly he could taste it, taste her, as sweetness on his lips. An unforgettable sweetness. And then there was the tide that had engulfed the lower half of his body. How would he just ignore that? It didn’t matter. He had to.

      Ashley looked down at him with those eyes—sincere and genuine. “I don’t understand.”

      “We both know where this is going, and I can’t do that. I can’t have a casual affair. Not as a dad. Not with Lila in my life. This is about much more than me.”

      “I wasn’t aware we were having an affair.” She rolled off him and grabbed the covers, clutching them to her chest.

      He shook his head. “I can’t just sleep with you one time. What kind of man would that make me?”

      “Who said anything about just sleeping together one time? Why can’t we take it slow? Four hours ago I was pretty sure you still hated me. At least give me a chance to catch up. You aren’t the only one coming off a bad breakup.”

      Everything she’d just said was precisely why this wouldn’t work. She didn’t get it. “I wouldn’t characterize my failed marriage as a bad breakup.” It had been far worse than that. His failed marriage had nearly destroyed him and it remained to be seen what lasting effects it would have on Lila. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and put them on in a hurry, trying to ignore his physical agony. “There is no slow for me, Ashley. There’s more at stake here than a tryst. You’re a smart, beautiful, successful woman, and somewhere out there is the perfect man for you. I’m just not him.” He pushed his arms through his sleeves, only bothering with a few of the buttons on his shirt.

      “But we’re still getting to know each other. I like you, in spite of the way you act sometimes. And I think you like me, but you’re making a lot of assumptions about what’s a good idea and what you think I want.”

      “I didn’t pull these ideas out of thin air. You told me during our first date that your last boyfriend left because you were unwilling to get married and become a mom. I realize that’s serious stuff to talk about in the early days, but that’s the reality of my situation. There’s no getting around it.”

      “You didn’t even let me tell you the whole story that night. I would get married if it was the right situation, but let’s not forget that you’ve spent much of the last several months acting as though you don’t even like me.”

      Marcus knew his behavior hadn’t been the best, but he’d never done anything that wasn’t completely justified. “And it’s clear that the situation between us isn’t right. We’re attracted to each other, but we’re otherwise opposites. I’m serious. You’re not.”

      “Serious? My whole life has been about serious.”

      “Really? A television show about matchmaking, intermingled with shopping for apartment furniture and dismissing the horrible behavior of your contractor? We have very different ideas of what serious means.” Even in the dim light of the room, it was clear how badly his words had hurt her. He didn’t like hurting a woman, but maybe it was for the best. It would make it easier to stay away from her.

      Wrapping herself in the sheets, she hopped off the bed. “Fine. You know what? You’re right. We’re wrong for each other. Just go.”

      “Good. Then we agree.”

      “For once we agree.”

       Seven

      Ashley dropped her purse on her desk, confronted by the black-and-white evidence of Marcus’s apparent weak moment last night. The first of many weak moments.

      Nearly a dozen daily tabloids had been laid out for her. The kiss graced every cover, with clever headlines like The Kiss Heard Round the World. If only the papers knew the real story. British Hunk Rejects Dateless Matchmaker. Her stomach soured. She should be remembering the kiss fondly, reminiscing about the surprise and newness of that moment—the instant when she’d dared to think Marcus didn’t think she was ridiculous.

      She plopped down in her chair and began to read the papers. They not only recounted the kiss but also very unsubtly mentioned that she and Marcus had left the party early, right after things got hot and heavy on the dance floor. Great. Now the whole world is imagining what we didn’t actually do last night.

      It was barely past nine a.m. and exhaustion threatened to overtake her, but she didn’t dare close her eyes. She’d learned her lesson last night after he’d left her in a state of shock, alone with the memory of what they’d done in her bed. Every sexy moment between them was so surreal now, the unlikeliest events imaginable considering their ill-fated first date and the countless complaints about her apartment that had preceded them.

      Seeing a picture of the way it all started last night didn’t make it more real, not even when she dragged her finger along the photograph, admiring the way he towered over her, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. If anything, it made it feel even more like a dream, and one with a very sad ending. Had Marcus, the upper-crust Brit, really kissed the girl from a one-gas-station town in South Carolina? Or had he played along with the ruse of a romance with the Manhattan Matchmaker for the benefit of himself and his company? Only to put an end to it when he realized they’d gone much further than he’d ever intended?

      She’d seen so many different sides of Marcus last night, it was hard to keep up. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that a fiery, passionate Marcus was beneath his rigid exterior, but he’d built a damn fortress around himself. Had it been a necessity after his divorce? It was the most logical guess, but she didn’t have much faith in rational thought, or at least not her own. Logic said that a man with an impressive erection who had an eager and naked woman in his arms didn’t hesitate to make love to her. Either she was truly distasteful or something much bigger was keeping him from her. She’d gotten too close to him last night, and as a result, he’d banished her to the other side of the moat, pulled up the drawbridge, and retreated to his own bed.

      “Knock, knock.” Grace poked her head into Ashley’s office. “What a night, huh? Or should I say, what a kiss?” Her eyebrows bobbed up and down.

      Ashley should’ve known she’d get teased about this. “Please don’t give me a hard time about it. You asked for romance. We gave it to you.” Romance. Ha. More like no-mance.

      “I would never give you a hard time about this. Are you kidding me? The network brass love you today more than they’ve ever loved you, which is saying a lot. The ratings for the first episode tonight are going to be massive. Through the roof. They can’t wait to see the numbers on Monday so they can start raking in advertisers’ cash. There’s a whole pile of money to be made, you know.”

      Money. That was the sole silver lining. Everything else about this made her queasy. Marcus abhorred the idea of her, at least when it came to romance, and the world thought quite the contrary. She was going to get questions about Marcus for days. Weeks, maybe. She knew the tabloids well enough