by Aven Ellis
“Michelle, I have been in London. My boss is in Australia and I have a lot of work to do for him here. I have articles that need to be submitted for the Beautiful Homes Network.”
“And you don’t have two seconds to respond to a message?”
Breathe. Don’t rip her head off. Don’t do it.
“Michelle—”
“I mean, it’s not like you have a boyfriend that would take up your spare time, MK!”
Okay rip her head off. Now.
“That,” I snap, “is the dumbest thing you have ever said. Like I can only be busy if I have a boyfriend? And that my not responding to an email is only acceptable if I have one? That is so insulting I don’t even know what to say.”
Michelle snorts. “Like you would ever have one. You are too busy with your so-called career to have anything else!”
Ooooooh! I am so beyond pissed at Bridezilla right now I can barely breathe.
But then William flashes through my head. Act like William doing business. Go cold and icy and to the point.
“Michelle,” I say, my voice low, “I have a career. You are calling me during business hours. I will respond to your pressing emails this evening when I have time to think about them. Now I am terminating this call until you can talk respectfully to me.”
And then I hang up the call, access my inbox from my iPhone, and find five emails from Michelle, all sent this morning.
CUSTOM “BRIDE” DRESS HANGER
ETSY BRIDE HANGER-WHICH ONE
ROBE THAT SAYS BRIDE
ARE YOU THERE??????
URGENT ROBE AND HANGERS
Oh my God. She went off on me because I didn’t respond to her emails regarding a hanger and a robe for a wedding that is almost nine months away?
My phone rings and I am jolted out of my fury. Because I made “London Calling” by The Clash William’s ringtone, and right now the song is playing from my iPhone.
Which means William is on the phone!
I grab it and answer, shocked to see he is calling.
“William?” I ask.
“Mary-Kate,” his familiar baritone says, making my heart leap with joy, “I decided it would be most appropriate to leave Sydney sooner rather than later. I am in Dallas right now, waiting to connect to get back to Chicago.”
Which means he is going to be home in hours!
“William!” I cry happily, getting up and going into his office, shutting the door behind me so I can talk privately. “You have no idea how happy this makes me!”
“Me, too,” he says. “I’ll be landing at O’Hare at 6:20 tonight. Would you care to pick me up?”
“I think it would be most appropriate for me to pick you up. However, do not expect me to carry your luggage,” I say, teasing him.
William bursts out laughing. “Well, as I do not care for the contents of my luggage to be accidentally dropped all over the concourse, I will comply with that arrangement.”
I laugh with him. Then I get serious. “I cannot wait for your flight to get in, William. I have missed you so much.”
“Not more than I have missed you, Mary-Kate,” William declares.
We chat for a few more minutes and then say goodbye, with William texting me the flight details and me agreeing to meet him at baggage claim.
Just like that, everything in my world is about to be right again.
My man is on his way back to me.
And I can hardly wait to see him tonight.
Chapter 23
I pace around the baggage claim area at O’Hare International Airport for what seems like the thousandth time. I am so anxious to see William that I dashed back to his penthouse, changed clothes, re-did my makeup and got to the airport extra early in anticipation of his arrival.
I sit back down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and restlessly tap my foot against the tiled floor. I check his flight info on my phone—again—to make sure his flight is on time. It is. The baggage claim? Still the same.
I draw an eager breath. In fifteen minutes, his flight should be on the ground.
And I have never been so excited to see anyone in all my life.
I rifle through my purse and pull out my compact again. My hair is perfect—a new jade headband is in play. Actually, a whole new outfit is in play for tonight. I am wearing a jade-colored, three-quarter-sleeved turtleneck sweater, and I paired it with a black and jade tweed mini skirt. My tall, black, heeled boots and a simple gold cuff complete my look.
I get up and begin pacing again. Then check my phone for the hundredth time. I swear time is freaking standing still! I want William home, and I want him home now.
Suddenly I see his flight flash up on the baggage claim monitor. People begin streaming in, and I witness joyful reunions taking place in front of me.
I crane my neck down the hallway, looking for William’s familiar frame, his dark wavy hair, his leather jacket that he likes to travel in at this time of year.
Nothing.
I am seriously frustrated. He sits in first class. He is always one of the first people off the airplane!
Beep!
I glance down at my phone. It’s a text with a picture. From William.
I am here. WC
I glance at the photo. It is of a vacant baggage claim area about 10 down from where I am standing. What? Why is he there?
Before I can even type back, William sends me another text.
I would find it most appropriate if you would meet me here, Mary-Kate. WC
Confused, I type back.
Why are you at the wrong baggage claim? MKG
After a few moments, he responds.
Because I find a public display of affection in a crowded place most inappropriate considering our situation. However, I do not think I will be able to keep my hands off you the second I see you. PLEASE HURRY. I’m getting IMPATIENT. WC
Excitement rips through me as I read his sexy text. I drop my phone into my purse and hurry through the throng of reunions, of drivers holding up signs looking for people, screaming children, and people pushing luggage on metal carts.
I keep going, practically running, as I get closer. He is waiting at Baggage Claim #3. I see the signs as I go past, knowing I am getting closer with each step. I reach a corridor and see a sign noting Baggage Claim #3 is around the corner. I hurry my pace and turn the corner.
And there he is.
Standing in front of a vacant baggage conveyer belt, just him and a few other random passengers walking from one point to another in the area.
I stop dead in my tracks, my heart pounding at the mere sight of him. William is wearing his black leather jacket with a black T-shirt and jeans, his leather bag slung over his shoulder.
And this gorgeous, sexy, brilliant man—my man—is waiting for me.
I feel this huge smile come over my face, and I run to him. I can’t help it. I’m so in love with this man, and have missed him so much, that I can’t take a second longer to get to him than I can.
William’s face lights up as I quickly approach. A huge grin spreads across his face, and his eyes are shining at me as he strides toward me, too.
We meet in the middle of the vacant claim area, and William immediately reaches for my hand. I feel as though everything is right in my world once again the second his fingers entwine around mine.
“This way,” he says firmly, and leads me toward to a concrete pillar in a corner of the concourse. We slip behind it and the second we are there, his hands cup my face, caressing my cheeks, his magnetic blue eyes riveted to mine.
“My God, I have missed you, Mary-Kate,” William whispers urgently, his eyes intense with desire as I wind my hands around the back of his neck. “It has driven me mad not to be with you.”
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“William,” I whisper back, “I—”
But before I can say another word, William’s lips find mine. He is kissing me passionately, his hands sliding down to my back and bringing me closer into him.
I eagerly respond to his kiss, my heart racing, my pulse burning. I stroke his hair, feeling the familiar silky dark curls slide through my fingertips.
“Two weeks,” William whispers against my lips, “is too long to be without you.”
He kisses me again, his mouth urgently claiming mine.
I am melting into him, just melting, in this little corner of O’Hare that is like our own world right now. I move my hands from his hair to underneath his leather jacket and, oh my God, he is wearing a cashmere T-shirt! I feel the fine fabric underneath my fingertips, the firmness of his waist, toned by swimming, and inhale the scent of his cologne wrapping around me.
Then he breaks the kiss. I rest my head against his chest, and I can hear his heart racing underneath the expensive fabric of his T-shirt.
“I missed you so much,” I murmur into his chest. “It felt like you were gone forever, William. I just hated it.”
William kisses the top of my head and runs his hand over my hair. “I know. I despised being away from you for that long. I will never do that again.”
I turn and look up at him, my heart stopping. I know he is talking about the now, but could he be talking about the future, too? That he won’t leave for London without me in June?
“Never?” I ask, my eyes desperately searching his.
William stares back at me, his hand now running over my hair in a comforting manner. “I am supposed to go back to London for two weeks in April. I think that will be dropped to one. I can muddle through one week without you. But two weeks is bloody unbearable.”
I smile at him and tug on the lapels of his rich leather jacket. “I think that sounds like a most appropriate plan, William. Since I do require you to be a badass international mogul, travel is sometimes required.”
William grins at me. “Anything to turn my Bossy American on.”
I blush furiously and William roars with laughter. “Come on, Mary-Kate. Let’s go see if the airline has retrieved my luggage. But first, do tell. Are you wearing a new outfit?”
“Yes,” I say, stepping back while holding his hands so he can see my jade sweater and tweed mini skirt. “Do you find it agreeable?” I say flirtatiously.
“I find it more than agreeable,” he says in a low voice, pulling me back to him and holding my hands over his heart. “I find it rather sexy on you. You know I like you in skirts.”
“And headbands,” I add, flashing him a smile.
“Indeed,” William says, gently pressing his lips against mine. “Now let’s go retrieve my luggage. I want to go home and see my new penthouse.”
“I hope you like it,” I say as we start to walk.
“I’ll love it,” William says simply. “If you did the décor, I know it will be brilliant.”
He lets go of my hand and we walk through the terminal side-by-side, without touching, just in case anyone from Collective Media Enterprises is in the airport. Not that I would be recognized by most people, but William definitely would.
As we near his baggage claim, I stare up at his profile. My God, he is so handsome. I drink in the sight of him, the sculpted cheekbones, the delicious wavy hair, the full lips. I watch as he scrolls through his iPhone, no doubt mentally sorting through the hundreds of urgent texts and emails he has waiting for him.
You are so sexy brainy, I think, still staring at him. I can see in his eyes he is making rapid-fire decisions: delete, irrelevant, deal with, intrigued. I can see everything in those laser blue eyes of his—
Wham!
Suddenly I feel a horrific pain in my hip as I clip the edge of a metal luggage cart rack. I go flying forward and end up in a heap on the tiled floor of O’Hare, my purse tumbling forward and all its contents scattering around passengers dodging out of the way as I yell out in pain.
“Mary-Kate!” William is instantly by my side, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”
I am so embarrassed. Why can’t I be normal in front of him? Why?
“I’m fine,” I lie, scrambling to an ‘all fours’ position and quickly trying to pick up everything that has spilled out.
William begins to help me, and pauses as he hands me my wallet.
“This feels rather familiar,” he quips.
“You shut up!” I cry, laughing, thinking of that horrible day when I smashed his tea set to pieces.
“I bet you wanted to tell me that when I suggested you needed a tea trolley,” he says, handing me my iPhone.
“Oh, I wanted to tell you more than to shut up,” I say, smiling at him.
I look at him and his eyes are dancing at me, and he laughs. “Yes, I bet you did.” William gazes over my shoulder at the luggage rack behind me. “And how ironic. You clipped a trolley rack while you were busy staring at me.”
I blush furiously, and he laughs loudly.
“I can’t help it that I find your handsome profile incredibly distracting,” I say, being one hundred percent honest.
“Yes, I am rather dashing for a mogul,” William teases.
I laugh so hard I snort, which makes him laugh, too.
“Come on, Peppa, off the floor now,” he says, helping me up.
We get to the baggage claim and his bags are already there. William grabs them, and then I lead him to where I have parked.
The air is crisp on this late March evening, but not unbearable. I watch as William draws a breath of air, and I cannot help but notice how tired he looks. I know this trip was exhausting, and I want nothing more than to take care of him tonight.
I lead him over to my car, a red Fiat, and I hit the fob to turn on the lights.
William stops dead in his tracks and stares at the car, then back at me.
“How am I supposed to fit in that?” William asks.
“William! Don’t be ridiculous. It is a perfectly comfortable car!” I declare.
William lifts an eyebrow at me. “Are you forgetting I am six foot three?”
I think about this for a moment. “Well, this is the only car I have, William Cumberland, so you are going to have to slide the seat back and just deal with it.”
William grins. And I want to laugh, as I am sure nobody has ever driven William Cumberland around in a Fiat before and told him to suck it up.
“Let me open the trunk,” I say specifically.
“Odd American term,” William says, lifting his bags inside. Then he slams the hatch shut.
“You are with a Bossy American in America. It’s a trunk.”
“Oh, yes, then it is a trunk,” William quips, opening the passenger door.
We get inside the car and exit the airport. Eventually, the city of Chicago, sprawling and majestic, appears in front of us, the skyscraper lights illuminating the sky as the sun begins to fade on this spring evening.
I valet the car at his building, and we head inside. Now we are both greeted by name and the doorman gets the elevator for us. William declines help with his bags and we step inside. William drops the bags and immediately pulls me into his arms, playing with my hair, not saying a word but saying everything with his need to hold me.
I happily snuggle against him and my cheek brushes against his shirt. As I am reminded it is a cashmere T-shirt, I step back and look up at him.
“You really own cashmere T-shirts?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
William grins wickedly at me. “Would you rather I be wearing a white T-shirt that comes in a three pack?”
I burst out laughing and snort, and that makes William roar with laughter. “God, I’ve missed you,” William says, drop
ping a sweet, gentle kiss on my lips.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I say, brushing my fingertips over his amazing cheekbones.
We begin kissing again, this time slow and sensually, and before I know it the elevator ride is over way too soon.
But on the other hand, I am really excited to show him his new living room.
“Reveal time!” I say excitedly, stepping out of the elevator.
William gathers his bags and follows me.
I take the key I have been given out of my purse and anxiously open the door. God, I hope he loves it. And I really hope he loves the surprise I have in there for him, too.
“Okay, here we go,” I say, drawing a breath as I open the door.
William puts the bags down and goes to follow me, but I turn and stop him by putting my hand on his chest.
“No!” I cry, laughing. “I need for you to shut your eyes. I will lead you inside, and I will tell you when to open your eyes for the big reveal!”
William’s lips curve up in a smile. “You sound like one of those bloody redecorating show hosts.”
“You do remember you own a show like that, right?”
William grins at me. “Oh, right.”
“Okay, enough! Shut your eyes!”
William closes his eyes. And I notice his eyelashes look so long and beautiful when he does. Oooooooh, I bet he looks so gorgeous when he’s sleeping. With his pale skin and the Chicago lights streaming into his bedroom window illuminating that lovely face—
“Mary-Kate, please take me inside my home,” William says, interrupting my thoughts. “And do not lead me into my entry table.”
I blush—luckily he can’t see it for once—and wrap my hand around his. I usher him inside and lead him to the center of his living room. I draw another nervous, excited breath and then exhale.
“Open your eyes,” I say.