Six Hot Single Dads. Lynne Marshall

eyes narrowed. “Really?”

      “Yes. You can stay with me. You can be nearby while they do the inspection, you can be on hand if your contractor shows up, and all of your things are here. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”

      Because you’d invite me to stay only if it was sensible. “I thought you didn’t like to have women around Lila.”

      “Lila’s perfectly safe at my sister’s. She can stay there for a few days. I wouldn’t dare bring her back into the building until the inspection is complete, anyway. I can visit her before or after work. She’ll be safe from all of this.”

      He nodded in the direction of her apartment, but the invisible line between Marcus and her door went right through her. Her choices had created the danger. They’d prompted Marcus’s need to keep the most precious thing in his life far away from her.

      “So? Are you accepting my invitation? I’m too tired to persuade you, so you’ll have to make the call.”

      Could she do this? Retreat to the home of the man she’d cursed on a regular basis just a few weeks ago? Should she do this? Would they just end up arguing over breakfast? Or would she spend the night staring at the ceiling, wondering what he’d worn to bed that night? “Yes. Thank you. I appreciate it.” She turned back to her apartment door. “I really don’t think I want to go in there.” Her voice was shaky again. She dreaded the thought of seeing the damage firsthand.

      “Why don’t you get settled in my guest room? I’m sure I can find something for you to sleep in.”

      “Old potato sack lying around somewhere?”

      “Something like that.”

      They made their way to his apartment. This was the first time Marcus had allowed her to step over his threshold, and she didn’t take the invitation lightly. He’d been clear—women who weren’t the nanny or housekeeper didn’t come over. Of course, Lila, the person he was protecting, wasn’t here to protect. She’d been whisked away to safety.

      Marcus’s furnishings were trim and masculine—a charcoal-gray sofa, chocolate-brown leather armchairs and a low wood coffee table, set against the backdrop of marine-blue walls with crisp white trim, with vintage black-and-white framed photographs and old maps as art. A massive basket in the corner overflowed with colorful toys, a happy oasis in an otherwise sophisticated and serious room. She followed him down the hall, where he flipped on the light in his extra bedroom. “I trust this will work.”

      This room was serene refinement in soft white and shades of cream, camel and café au lait. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” She took in a deep breath. There was so much to do—deal with insurance and the fire department, get everything cleaned. And then there was her contractor. Clearly the crew had to be fired tomorrow. As to whom she’d hire to finish things up, it was back to the drawing board. She had another year of celebrity under her belt since she’d last contacted her first-choice builders. Perhaps they could be persuaded to move her up in the queue.

      “I need to find you something to sleep in,” he said, sounding a bit uncomfortable with the task he’d given himself. “I’ll be right back.”

      “That would be great.” Ashley sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted and struggling to get a handle on her feelings. The fire was a living nightmare, but it had landed her in Marcus’s inner sanctum, a place she’d been fairly sure he’d keep her out of forever. It was hard not to be fascinated by this glimpse into his life, to see a glimmer of hope. She and Marcus Chambers might have horrible odds romantically, but there was still something about him that left her wanting more.

      He reappeared in her doorway, presenting her with a pair of pale blue, perfectly pressed men’s pajamas. “I, uh, I don’t know what you normally wear to bed, but I hope this will do.”

      She had to smile at his sewn-up approach, knowing that when the lights were turned down and clothes were coming off, he was uninhibited and commanding. Regret over their almost-night together still ate at her. If only they’d actually made love, if only she’d been able to witness the moment when he unraveled, she would have had another piece of the sexy, complicated puzzle standing before her. “Is this what you normally sleep in?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the pajamas.

      “Just the pants. I can’t stand to wear a shirt to bed.”

      A flood of heat and frustration threatened to consume her. He’d just plopped a sequence of half-dressed images in her head that would be hard to shake, especially knowing it was all going to play out in the next room in a few minutes. All night long. “You wouldn’t want to smother yourself with pajamas.”

      He knocked a knuckle against the door frame. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you want to phone your family.”

      Her family. Good God, she hadn’t dared to entertain the notion. It would crush her mother. Her dad might not handle it much better, and he needed to avoid stress at all costs. Why did reality have to encroach on her daydreamy thoughts of Marcus and his chest? “I’ll call them tomorrow.”

      “Are you sure? I don’t know what I would’ve done without my family after Elle left. They got me through everything. I really think you’ll feel better if you talk to them now.”

      And there it was—another piece of the puzzle, willingly given. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he’d needed help and support during his divorce. So he was human after all. “Yes. You’re right. I promise to call them first thing in the morning. I’ll let them get their rest tonight.”

       Eleven

      Marcus might have wished Ashley a good night’s rest, but he’d had nothing of the sort. If he was torn over how he felt about her before, he was even more conflicted now. The adrenaline rush of the fire, coupled with missing Lila, all while perseverating on the image of Ashley in his pajamas, had left him restless all night.

      Yes, Ashley had created the situation that put Lila, his sister and the entire building in danger last night. He’d told her dozens of times that her contractor was reckless and irresponsible and she’d refused to listen. But then again...he couldn’t fathom her leaving them on the project if she’d had any idea what would happen.

      He’d seen it the night they went out to dinner. She wasn’t self-centered, nor was she dumb. Carefree and audacious? Yes. Brazenly negligent? No. Did that leave her as the victim? Probably. Which was precisely why he couldn’t let her go to a hotel last night, even when it meant subjecting himself to the physically arduous proximity of being around a woman he knew he was falling in love with, even when he’d sworn he wouldn’t.

      Realizing he’d claimed as much rest as he could possibly get, he climbed out of bed and took a shower. Getting into the office early was the best way to deal with the way she made him feel. When he’d given her his pajamas last night, he’d been fighting every urge imaginable—to take her in his arms, kiss her, admit to panicking the night of the premiere and ask for a second chance. To make love to her, if only to be able to stop the talking, the endless back and forth, and physically express how he felt. He might not be able to put his feelings into words or coherent thought, but he was fairly certain he could put them into action.

      Last night, she was stuck in this unthinkable situation and had been so vulnerable, but still remained strong. How she’d kept from truly breaking down was beyond him. There had been shaky moments, there had been tears, but that was it. Had she been putting on a good face for him? Or had he actually managed to comfort her?

      The rattle of dishes and closing of cabinet doors came from the kitchen. Better to get used to running into his new roommate now, rather than avoiding the situation. He sauntered down the hall but wasn’t ready for the vision that greeted him—Ashley on her tiptoes in nothing more than the shirt from his pajamas, searching through the kitchen cabinets.

      He coughed, partly to get her attention, partly to keep himself from walking up behind her