MKG
I take a sip of the black coffee- blah —and in a moment William responds.
Meet me at my place at 1 p.m. WC.
And just like that, I have taken another match out of my book and struck it.
Chapter 9
I head over to William’s apartment building with a feeling of excitement bubbling inside of me. Being on the edge of Millennium Park, and near Lake Michigan, his place of residence is considered one of the hottest addresses in all of Chicago.
I get out of the cab and gaze up at the high rise. Of course William’s address is PH 57, as in penthouse on the 57 th floor. My heart flutters a bit as I stare up at the modern building. I seriously cannot wait to see where he lives. I have only seen pictures of places like this in magazines and in features on the Beautiful Homes Network. Never in a million years did I ever expect to be invited into a penthouse.
A multi-million-dollar penthouse .
But the more I get to know William, I find myself in positions I never thought I’d be in. Like this one.
I enter the posh building. I check in with the concierge, who calls William, and then I am allowed access to the penthouse level. I feel the butterflies shift in my stomach as the elevator ascends. I still can’t believe I’m going to his home . That he wants me to pick out furniture with him. That I am going to spend the day with my boss on a Saturday and no business is involved.
The butterflies shift again. But he doesn’t feel like my boss , my heart whispers. William is William to me .
The doors open to the 57 th floor. I get off and nervously go to his door. I take a moment, draw a deep breath to fight the anxiousness, and ring the doorbell.
A few seconds later William answers and greets me with a fabulous smile. “Thank you for being agreeable to the in house-decorating call.” He gestures for me to step inside. “Please, come in.”
I can’t speak for a moment. Nor can I move.
Because, oh mother of God, he’s wearing a gorgeous black leather jacket and jeans. Jeans . He is wearing fucking jeans and I have never seen him in jeans. William Cumberland is known for his exquisite Prada suits. For the rich sweaters, the sophisticated cashmere trench coat.
But, William—William, who invited me over to his home this Saturday afternoon—is in jeans .
Oh my God, he’s beyond smoking hot in this outfit. I’m distracted by the charcoal gray sweater, the white T-shirt peeking out underneath, the gorgeous black leather jacket . . . My eyes flick over him and I swallow hard. I feel my cheeks burning and now I’m beyond mortified because I checked him out head to toe, and I more than like what I see standing in front of me.
“Mary-Kate?” William asks, a crease forming in his brow.
“Um . . .” I instinctively jerk at the scarf wound around my neck as I move past him. “Uh, I’m hot. I’m hot in these layers.”
So now I’m trying to undo my scarf and not stare at him, which is really hard because he’s so totally gorgeous. I am tugging and unwinding the scarf and still staring at him in his damn leather jacket when Bam!, I crash right into his hall entry table and bang the shit out of my hip. I hear the glass table rattle loudly, and a very expensive-looking vase with flowers wobbles violently. Oh God, not his vase!
“Fuck!” I yell, throwing myself forward, grabbing the vase before it topples over and shatters into a million pieces.
Whew! I saved it. Thank God . I exhale loudly.
“Mary-Kate?” William quickly asks. “Are you all right?”
Oh God. I want to die. Can I be a bigger idiot in front of him?
Never mind. I don’t want to tempt fate by asking for the answer to that one.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, forgetting the scarf for a moment and rubbing my hip, which is stinging like hell right now. “I didn’t mean to run over your table. I—”
But then I look up and stop dead in my tracks.
Oh. My. God.
I actually gasp as I take in his penthouse. I cross to the center of the living room in
I take a sip of the black coffee- blah —and in a moment William responds.
Meet me at my place at 1 p.m. WC.
And just like that, I have taken another match out of my book and struck it.
Chapter 9
I head over to William’s apartment building with a feeling of excitement bubbling inside of me. Being on the edge of Millennium Park, and near Lake Michigan, his place of residence is considered one of the hottest addresses in all of Chicago.
I get out of the cab and gaze up at the high rise. Of course William’s address is PH 57, as in penthouse on the 57 th floor. My heart flutters a bit as I stare up at the modern building. I seriously cannot wait to see where he lives. I have only seen pictures of places like this in magazines and in features on the Beautiful Homes Network. Never in a million years did I ever expect to be invited into a penthouse.
A multi-million-dollar penthouse .
But the more I get to know William, I find myself in positions I never thought I’d be in. Like this one.
I enter the posh building. I check in with the concierge, who calls William, and then I am allowed access to the penthouse level. I feel the butterflies shift in my stomach as the elevator ascends. I still can’t believe I’m going to his home . That he wants me to pick out furniture with him. That I am going to spend the day with my boss on a Saturday and no business is involved.
The butterflies shift again. But he doesn’t feel like my boss , my heart whispers. William is William to me .
The doors open to the 57 th floor. I get off and nervously go to his door. I take a moment, draw a deep breath to fight the anxiousness, and ring the doorbell.
A few seconds later William answers and greets me with a fabulous smile. “Thank you for being agreeable to the in house-decorating call.” He gestures for me to step inside. “Please, come in.”
I can’t speak for a moment. Nor can I move.
Because, oh mother of God, he’s wearing a gorgeous black leather jacket and jeans. Jeans . He is wearing fucking jeans and I have never seen him in jeans. William Cumberland is known for his exquisite Prada suits. For the rich sweaters, the sophisticated cashmere trench coat.
But, William—William, who invited me over to his home this Saturday afternoon—is in jeans .
Oh my God, he’s beyond smoking hot in this outfit. I’m distracted by the charcoal gray sweater, the white T-shirt peeking out underneath, the gorgeous black leather jacket . . . My eyes flick over him and I swallow hard. I feel my cheeks burning and now I’m beyond mortified because I checked him out head to toe, and I more than like what I see standing in front of me.
“Mary-Kate?” William asks, a crease forming in his brow.
“Um . . .” I instinctively jerk at the scarf wound around my neck as I move past him. “Uh, I’m hot. I’m hot in these layers.”
So now I’m trying to undo my scarf and not stare at him, which is really hard because he’s so totally gorgeous. I am tugging and unwinding the scarf and still staring at him in his damn leather jacket when Bam!, I crash right into his hall entry table and bang the shit out of my hip. I hear the glass table rattle loudly, and a very expensive-looking vase with flowers wobbles violently. Oh God, not his vase!
“Fuck!” I yell, throwing myself forward, grabbing the vase before it topples over and shatters into a million pieces.
Whew! I saved it. Thank God . I exhale loudly.
“Mary-Kate?” William quickly asks. “Are you all right?”
Oh God. I want to die. Can I be a bigger idiot in front of him?
Never mind. I don’t want to tempt fate by asking for the answer to that one.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, forgetting the scarf for a moment and rubbing my hip, which is stinging like hell right now. “I didn’t mean to run over your table. I—”
But then I look up and stop dead in my tracks.
Oh. My. God.
I actually gasp as I take in his penthouse. I cross to the center of the living room in
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