by Sorcha Grace
Sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting its starkness, while outside I had a view of downtown Chicago. The sun was just rising, the city lights still twinkled weakly, and the frozen lake sparkled in the distance .The whole wall was floor to ceiling windows, and the view was breathtaking.
I heard what sounded like a door open and close, so I headed back to bed. Just as I sat down, William walked in, carrying two smoothies. He wore shorts and a T-shirt and looked as though he’d been working out. I would have thought we’d had enough of a workout last night. He smiled when he saw me and held out one of the drinks. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I loved it when he smiled. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it made me catch my breath. He was the beautiful one. And he was bringing me breakfast. I didn’t see how it could get any better.
William sat on the edge of the bed and gave me a slow, lingering kiss—the kind of kiss that made my toes curl. Before it could go farther, he pulled back and caressed my cheek softly, reverently. “The best way to start my day is with you in my bed.” He looked directly into my eyes, and his gaze penetrated. I knew he meant every word.
“Last night was amazing,” I breathed.
“I agree. I’d like to start every morning like this.” He set his smoothie on the nightstand. “I want to see you as much as possible, Catherine. In and out of bed.” He grinned.
His grin was infectious, and I laughed, but my laugh hid my uneasiness. I wasn’t ready for how fast this was moving. Where was the legendary commitment-phobe?
“We just met.” I said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I would have climbed out of bed and ended the conversation there, but he touched my cheek again.
“I’ve been thinking about a million ways to make you come since you dropped your camera bag in front of Willowgrass last week, Catherine.”
“I think you made a good start last night,” I said playfully, hoping to lighten the conversation.
A lump had caught in my throat. Had he really been thinking about me as much as I’d thought about him this past week? His eyes, a molten grey this morning, burned into me, and I could feel myself panic. This was moving so quickly.
“I’m serious. I want to see more of you, Catherine. Only you. I’m not interested in any other woman, and you said you weren’t seeing anyone else. We can be exclusive. Starting right now, we are exclusive.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” I’d never been ordered to be exclusive, and I wasn’t certain I liked it. And then a part of me liked it more than I wanted to admit.
“Is there someone else?” His eyes had turned stormy again.
“No. I’m not seeing anyone else, but I told you at Willowgrass, I’m not relationship material. The sex last night was great.” It had been way more than great. I definitely wanted more time in William Lambourne’s bed, and I knew I’d told myself I wasn’t a casual kind of person, but that didn’t mean I wanted to define everything so quickly. Why couldn’t we just see where things went? “A relationship is a lot more than sex.”
“You can’t fight what’s between us,” he said calmly. “I know you feel it, Catherine. It’s electric. I don’t want it to end. I want more of you. And you should know I always get what I want.”
My body flushed with warmth at his words. I’d always been an independent woman, but something about the way he took charge was a major turn-on. He knew what he wanted and didn’t waver. Amazingly, what he wanted was me. I could see what that would entail. He’d had me driven here last night, brought me breakfast, and before we’d had that awful date, he’d sent me that dress and the lingerie and the bracelet…
This was a man who knew how to take care of a woman, and I could get used to being taken care of like this. One of the hardest things about losing Jace was having to do everything on my own, make all the decisions, take care of all the problems that arose from broken air conditioners to flat tires. William would make those stresses go away.
But for how long? I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a pattern. After all, he did have that commitment-phobe reputation. “What about the Lara Kendalls of the world, William?” I said, thinking about the women who’d glared with envy when we’d been at the Art Institute. “I’m sure there are legions of tall, leggy blonds scattered all over the city who sat where I’m sitting now. I don’t know what I’m up against.” I thought of Jace. “And neither do you.”
“I’m not innocent, Catherine,” William said, his gaze unwavering. Nothing I said made a dent in his confidence. “I can’t change my past, but you are the only woman who has ever been in this bed. That’s what you’re up against.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He’d never brought another woman to his bed? My belly did a slow roll, and I trembled.
“It’s different with you.” He caressed my cheek, calming me. “You’re different. I want to keep feeling the way I feel when we’re together. It’s addictive. I don’t want it to stop.” The way he looked at me with those hard blue eyes told me this was non-negotiable. It would not stop. Then his gaze softened, and I saw, for an instant, another side of him. A side I could love.
“This is unchartered territory. I’ve never done this before.” His vulnerability made me come undone. Behind his eyes was much more to this man. At that moment, I wanted to wrap him in my arms and never let go.“I’ll never get enough of you, Catherine.”
My head was spinning. It was all too much. “You don’t even know me. And nothing has changed since Friday.”
“Everything has changed. I’ve tasted enough to know I want you. Only you. They’ll be no one else—for either of us. No other men, Catherine. That’s an absolute for me.”
And that commanding tone was back. It both irked me and made me hot. I could see I wasn’t going to win this battle—but did I really want to? “Well, I absolutely can’t see you tonight. I already have plans.”
He smiled, that cocky smile that made my heart trip. “I’ll give you tonight, but I won’t be able to stay away for long.” His hand trailed over my bare shoulder. “And you’ll be hungry for me sooner than you think.”
His touch, the velvet in his voice—I wanted him again. Which was ridiculous. I was still sore from the night before. But I could feel myself giving in to him. I was exasperated with myself for being so weak and exasperated with him for…well, for being William M. Lambourne. “This is crazy, William. I haven’t agreed to anything. Like I said, we hardly know each other. I don’t even know your middle name.”
He stood and pulled his T-shirt over his head. My mouth went dry as I saw his hard, defined abs in the sunlight. He slid his shorts off and started for the bathroom. I stared unashamedly at his toned ass. When he looked over his shoulder, he said, “It’s Maddox.”
I made myself take a deep breath. I couldn’t believe a man like William Maddox Lambourne wanted me. He was so gorgeous, and I’d had him all to myself last night. He was right. I wanted more. I wasn’t certain what I’d agreed to this morning, but I absolutely felt the charge between us. It was undeniable and addictive.
And it scared the hell out of me.
William emerged from the shower, looking and smelling fantastic. I watched from the bed as he finished dressing in a black custom-cut suit. I loved a man in a suit. That was one thing Jace had never worn, except to our wedding. William looked right in a suit. He looked as though he belonged in that world. And as I watched him slide his jacket on, I wanted nothing more than to take it off him again. He grinned, as though reading my thoughts. “I hate to leave, but I have a meeting I can’t reschedule.”
“I’ll get dressed and out of your way.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Stay as long as you want. Cook will make you whatever you like for breakfast.”
I blinked. There was staff here? Had they been here all night or just arrived this morning?
“And George will take you home or wherever you want to go. If you change your mind about tonight, just stay.” He crossed to the bed and
gave me a long kiss. “I’d love to come home to this… to you.” And he was gone.
The offer was tempting, but I had meetings I couldn’t reschedule as well. I’d lazed around enough and made myself get up. I felt odd knowing there was staff here, but they obviously had orders to leave me in peace. I decided to shower and snoop a little. William was such an enigma. I was hungry for any little bit of information about him. I padded to the bathroom, which was huge, similar to the bedroom, decorated in whites and greys. Large fluffy, white towels hung on chrome towel racks. A double vanity in the same natural wood as his bedroom had been placed along one wall. It had white, square basin sinks and stark, rectangular mirrors above. Between them, where in my bathroom a pile of toiletries would have cluttered the space, was a white figure of a shell. There was no evidence William had just been here. No towels on the floor. No water on the vanity. No toothbrush lying about. I turned and studied the huge sunken tub and the walk-in shower behind glass doors. It had a shower with half a dozen heads and a bench where two people could sit. It was empty of shampoos, body washes, and washcloths.
Did William really live here? I opened one of the medicine cabinets, and there was the evidence I’d sought. His toiletries were in perfect order, but at least I had proof that he actually had a toothbrush, toothpaste, and razor. There was a bottle of cologne, sans label. I sprayed a bit on my wrists and closed my eyes when the scent wafted to my nose. This was definitely William’s. The scent made me think of sex.
I took a quick shower, playing with the controls, so I sampled all the showerheads and their settings. And then, wrapped in a towel, I left a wet trail across the heated bathroom floor to William’s closet.
If I’d envied the bedroom and the bathroom, it was nothing compared to what I felt when I walked into the closet. It was enormous—the size of a small studio apartment. Everything was wood and built-ins and soft lighting and flattering mirrors. Racks and racks of shoes lined up perfectly. Glass doors showcased suits and shirts and trousers hanging in perfect order and arranged by color. There was storage above, hidden by drapes, and a rolling ladder so that it was easily accessible. In the center was an island filled with drawers. It made a comfortable space to toss change or a watch, but it was clear of clutter. I could not imagine how one man—one person—could have so many clothes. I opened one of the drawers. I had to tap it, and it slid open slowly and soundlessly. Cashmere sweaters were folded perfectly inside. I ran my hand over them, feeling their softness. I lifted one and put it to my nose. It smelled clean, but there was a hint of William there.
I walked around the island and saw the first piece of clutter—the diamond cuff I’d returned the night of our date at the Art Institute. It sat in a decorative marble bowl on the island, glittering softly in the warm light. Here, too, were several sleek picture frames. I peered at the photos—a man who looked like an older version of William, a beautiful woman who clearly adored the man, and two boys. One was William. I would have recognized those eyes anywhere. And the other must have been his older brother. There was definitely a family resemblance. William looked about ten or eleven, and the other boy was closer to thirteen or fourteen.
The family was beautiful. They could have been models posing for a frame ad. Another picture was of an older William with another man, woman, and three girls. There was still a family resemblance, but I did not think these were William’s parents. And William must have been about fourteen. He looked different in this picture. There was no smile, and his eyes were haunted. He looked lost, and for a moment, I thought of the brief glimpse of vulnerability I’d seen this morning in the man.
I heard a sound and decided I to get dressed and head home. I couldn’t snoop with the staff lurking, and poor Laird probably needed to go out.
I dressed in my clothes from the night before and headed out. After declining an offer of coffee and breakfast from the cook, I had George drive me home.
I wished Anthony had been on duty this morning. George stood rigidly and never smiled. As soon as I was in the back of the SUV, he said, “Where to, Miss Kelly?”
“Home, please. I guess you know where that is. “ I repeated my address anyway.
“Very good.” The words were innocuous, but I got the feeling he thought I should have gone home hours ago, or perhaps, never left my condo in the first place. The car was silent, and then George said, “Are you working today, Miss Kelly?”
“Yes. I have a meeting this afternoon.”
“And what is it you do again?”
“I’m a photographer.”
“Freelance?” His tone was clipped and polite, but somehow, I suspected he didn’t think this was a profession. I made good money, at least by my standards—not that my income was any of George’s business.
Then it struck me. Did he think I was after William’s money? Did he have some objection to photographers? Maybe he thought I was a secret paparazzo. And did I even care what George thought?
“You haven’t been in Chicago long, have you, Miss Kelly?”
I didn’t know George well, but I understood his type. He knew exactly how long I’d been in Chicago—probably to the hour and minute. He was protective of William, I got that, but I felt as though he saw me as a threat.
“How exactly did you and Mr. Lambourne meet, Miss Kelly?”
“You know what, George? I think that would be a good question to ask Mr. Lambourne,” I said.
That shut him up. He wasn’t going to ask William anything. That wasn’t his place. And I didn’t want to put up with the third degree. I should have called a cab.
I finally arrived home and was happy to jump out of William’s SUV. The remainder of the drive had been made in strained silence, until I said, “thank you” and got out. I jogged up the stairs and unlocked my door.
After being in William’s world, my own condo looked so normal, so average, but I was glad to be home. I took Laird for a brisk walk then sat down to work. I had a meeting with the Fresh Market people downtown today. They’d loved my photos of the kebabs and wanted more. Since meeting William, I could see the appeal of food as sex. There had been a trend toward food porn in commercial photography these past few years, and since no one was better at staging food sexually than Beckett, I’d brought him in to work with me on the Fresh Market campaign. Besides, I owed him big time for all the work he’d gotten me.
Beckett!
I grabbed my phone and read his text then quickly replied that I’d be happy to meet him for a pre-lunch meeting at a casual bistro we both liked. I hurried to change and get ready. All the while my thoughts were on William and the talk we’d had this morning. The more I mulled everything over, the angrier I became. Not at William—he was just being himself—but at myself. I’d promised myself on Sunday that I would end it with him. And now, I was in deeper than ever.
As soon as I walked into the restaurant, Beckett could see something was wrong. He gave me a hug, and said, “You look great.” It was meant to cheer me up, and it did. I was wearing a slim black skirt, black tights, black boots, and a black-and-white print blouse with a vintage green Chanel jacket. It was my best “business” outfit and I wanted to look good for the Fresh Market people. Of course, I also had my coat, scarf, and hat. I’d forgotten my gloves as usual.
We ordered at the counter. This bistro had great sandwiches, all local, organic ingredients, but I wasn’t hungry. We sat by the window, and before I could take a sip of my water, Beckett said, “Alright Cat, what’s up?”
I launched into a detailed description of the date with William, my thought process, the decisions I’d made on Sunday, and coming home to find William in my kitchen making bucatini. Beckett was always a good listener, and as I talked, I felt lighter. It was good to open up to someone.
When I was done, I sat back, and Beckett whistled. “This would make a great movie,” he said. “It’s got the whole Cinderella/Pretty Woman thing going for it.”
I laughed. “Beckett, be serious. I’m more confused than ever.
Commitment-phobe William thinks we’re in a relationship now, and I don’t know what I think.” I sipped my water again and pushed my sandwich around on the plate.
“Why are you thinking so much?”
I rolled my eyes. “I can get that kind of advice from William.”
Beckett shrugged. “Then maybe you should listen. Really, Cat, step back and look at this objectively. It’s romantic. A fairy tale!”
“I thought you said to look at it objectively.”
“Okay, objectively, you had great sex with a hot man.”
“It was better than great.”
“Amazing, mind-blowing sex with a drop-dead gorgeous billionaire—I hate your guts, by the way. So what’s the harm in that? You don’t have to marry him. Just fuck his brains out.”
I laughed again. It felt so good to talk things over with Beckett. “But I’m not the kind of person who does casual. And this doesn’t feel romantic. It feels confusing.”
“Because you’re thinking too much. You married Jace, but that was a different time in your life. Maybe the new Cat should live in the moment and see what happens.”
I shook my head, and Beckett reached across the table and took my hand.
“Cat, Jace would want you to be happy. You’ve been closed off for so long. I think William is good for you. You’re finally opening up. You’re stepping out of the little cocoon you’ve built.”
“I just don’t know if this is what I want.”
“You don’t want the fairy tale? Girl, everyone wants the fairy tale. But seriously, you can’t deny yourself forever. You’re twenty-five, not eighty. Act twenty-five. Have fun.”
“Eventually, the fun has to end, and where is this going? William is so serious about everything.”
“That’s his deal. You don’t have to marry him. You don’t even have to love him. Honey, enjoy the perks!”
