put them on in a hurry, trying to ignore his physical agony. âThere is no slow for me, Ashley. Thereâs more at stake here than a tryst. Youâre a smart, beautiful, successful woman, and somewhere out there is the perfect man for you. Iâm just not him.â He pushed his arms through his sleeves, only bothering with a few of the buttons on his shirt.
âBut weâre still getting to know each other. I like you, in spite of the way you act sometimes. And I think you like me, but youâre making a lot of assumptions about whatâs a good idea and what you think I want.â
âI didnât 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 thatâs serious stuff to talk about in the early days, but thatâs the reality of my situation. Thereâs no getting around it.â
âYou didnât even let me tell you the whole story that night. I would get married if it was the right situation, but letâs not forget that youâve spent much of the last several months acting as though you donât even like me.â
Marcus knew his behavior hadnât been the best, but heâd never done anything that wasnât completely justified. âAnd itâs clear that the situation between us isnât right. Weâre attracted to each other, but weâre otherwise opposites. Iâm serious. Youâre not.â
âSerious? My whole life has been about serious.â
âReally? 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.â Even in the dim light of the room, it was clear how badly his words had hurt her. He didnât 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. âFine. You know what? Youâre right. Weâre wrong for each other. Just go.â
âGood. Then we agree.â
âFor once we agree.â
Seven
A shley dropped her purse on her desk, confronted by the black-and-white evidence of Marcusâs 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 momentâthe instant when sheâd dared to think Marcus didnât 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 didnât actually do last night.
It was barely past nine a.m. and exhaustion threatened to overtake her, but she didnât dare close her eyes. Sheâd learned her lesson last night after heâd left her in a state of shock, alone with the memory of what theyâd 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 didnât 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
1802-1870 Alexandre Dumas