front of me and there is nothing but a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows providing a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan and the skyscrapers surrounding them.
I continue forward, utterly entranced. “William,” I gasp, my eyes not believing what I am seeing, “this . . . this . . . this is . . .”
“Rather quaint?” he quips behind me.
I turn around and find a smile playing at his full lips.
“‘Quaint’ isn’t the word I was looking for,” I say, moving across the hardwood floor to the amazing windows. “This is breathtaking. This view. I can’t get over this view!”
I finish taking off my scarf and gloves and put them down on his black leather couch. I go to take off my coat and within a second, William is behind me, helping me. This time he’s so close, I smell rich Italian leather and pine needles and, good God, he smells glorious.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
“You’re welcome,” he says, taking my coat and heading over to the hall closet.
I watch as he hangs up the coat. Holy shit, he hangs up his clothes. I have never been with a man who hangs up coats!
Wait, I’m not with William, I remind myself.
“Here, let me give you a tour,” William says, interrupting my thoughts. “Right now, I want to focus on the living room and study. Everything else can wait.”
I nod and take my cell out of my purse. We walk through his penthouse, and I snap pictures of the rooms from all angles, my creative brain kicking into gear as I visualize how this place could look.
Even the kitchen has fantastic views of the city. It’s just beyond words. And he has every appliance known to man, all stainless steel, all practically restaurant-quality. I’m drooling just looking at them.
“Let’s go back to the living room,” William says.
I follow behind him and I can’t help it. I check out the view in front of me and, damn it, his butt looks freaking hot in his jeans.
“I’m most interested in replacing the furniture in here,” he says, turning toward me and gesturing with his hand. “It came with the place and I loathe it.”
“Hmmmm,” I say. “I thought you only loathed the word ‘but,’” I say, smiling at him as I remind him of our conversation in the studio the day he hired me.
William stares at me for a second, and I see a lightness shining in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“I’m very flattered you remember that,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
Oh dear God. I feel the match flickering between us as we banter. I am hot again, but this time, I have no layers to blame.
We walk down the hall then he gestures for me to enter his bedroom. Oh dear God, I have to act normal as I look at William’s bedroom ? Can I be tested anymore right now? Jeans? Leather jacket? His bed ?
But it would be really awkward and weird if I said no. What would be the reason? Gee, William, I am fighting this intense attraction to you and my mind gets all sexual at the idea of your bed, so can we just skip this part of the tour for my mental health please?
I clear my throat and follow him into the room. I avoid looking at his bed and I focus on the view, which is of the skyscrapers surrounding his building. At night, it must be beautiful in here . I can just picture the light streaming in from the buildings in the dark and how sensual that sight must be . . .
“Okay, let’s move on,” I say suddenly, turning back around. I need to get out before I pass out on the floor with a thud.
But one thing I noticed in my quick scan of his room, besides the view, is that he has no personal pictures in here. None were in the living room, either. No family pictures or pictures of friends . . . there are no personal pictures of . . . anything.
We are moving on to the study, thank God, and I decide to ask him about it.
“William,” I say, snapping a picture of his study, “do you have any personal pictures? Anything I can frame and display?”
To be honest, I am motivated by curiosity as much as décor when
I continue forward, utterly entranced. “William,” I gasp, my eyes not believing what I am seeing, “this . . . this . . . this is . . .”
“Rather quaint?” he quips behind me.
I turn around and find a smile playing at his full lips.
“‘Quaint’ isn’t the word I was looking for,” I say, moving across the hardwood floor to the amazing windows. “This is breathtaking. This view. I can’t get over this view!”
I finish taking off my scarf and gloves and put them down on his black leather couch. I go to take off my coat and within a second, William is behind me, helping me. This time he’s so close, I smell rich Italian leather and pine needles and, good God, he smells glorious.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
“You’re welcome,” he says, taking my coat and heading over to the hall closet.
I watch as he hangs up the coat. Holy shit, he hangs up his clothes. I have never been with a man who hangs up coats!
Wait, I’m not with William, I remind myself.
“Here, let me give you a tour,” William says, interrupting my thoughts. “Right now, I want to focus on the living room and study. Everything else can wait.”
I nod and take my cell out of my purse. We walk through his penthouse, and I snap pictures of the rooms from all angles, my creative brain kicking into gear as I visualize how this place could look.
Even the kitchen has fantastic views of the city. It’s just beyond words. And he has every appliance known to man, all stainless steel, all practically restaurant-quality. I’m drooling just looking at them.
“Let’s go back to the living room,” William says.
I follow behind him and I can’t help it. I check out the view in front of me and, damn it, his butt looks freaking hot in his jeans.
“I’m most interested in replacing the furniture in here,” he says, turning toward me and gesturing with his hand. “It came with the place and I loathe it.”
“Hmmmm,” I say. “I thought you only loathed the word ‘but,’” I say, smiling at him as I remind him of our conversation in the studio the day he hired me.
William stares at me for a second, and I see a lightness shining in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“I’m very flattered you remember that,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
Oh dear God. I feel the match flickering between us as we banter. I am hot again, but this time, I have no layers to blame.
We walk down the hall then he gestures for me to enter his bedroom. Oh dear God, I have to act normal as I look at William’s bedroom ? Can I be tested anymore right now? Jeans? Leather jacket? His bed ?
But it would be really awkward and weird if I said no. What would be the reason? Gee, William, I am fighting this intense attraction to you and my mind gets all sexual at the idea of your bed, so can we just skip this part of the tour for my mental health please?
I clear my throat and follow him into the room. I avoid looking at his bed and I focus on the view, which is of the skyscrapers surrounding his building. At night, it must be beautiful in here . I can just picture the light streaming in from the buildings in the dark and how sensual that sight must be . . .
“Okay, let’s move on,” I say suddenly, turning back around. I need to get out before I pass out on the floor with a thud.
But one thing I noticed in my quick scan of his room, besides the view, is that he has no personal pictures in here. None were in the living room, either. No family pictures or pictures of friends . . . there are no personal pictures of . . . anything.
We are moving on to the study, thank God, and I decide to ask him about it.
“William,” I say, snapping a picture of his study, “do you have any personal pictures? Anything I can frame and display?”
To be honest, I am motivated by curiosity as much as décor when
Similar Books
