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I follow the crowd through the terminal until we are milling around the baggage carousel, waiting for our luggage to spit out onto the rotating conveyor belt. I brought two relatively large suitcases, since when I was handed my itinerary for this trip, it had no end date. Honestly, I think JJ, my roommate back in Chicago is hoping that it takesforever. She joked about living alone in a two-bedroom walkup in Chicago, but only having to pay for half the bills.
I’m happy to still pay for my share of the utilities, even though I’m not there. I have been assured that my time here will be all expenses paid. I even get a daily allowance for food and travel! It’s a pretty amazing deal, but it’s not the whole reason that I took this assignment.
The main reason is that this is a massive step forward in my career. I’ve been drafted in to overhaul the entire design of Haven Property. From the logo to the marketing and even the color scheme of the offices. It’s a huge coup-de-grace for my portfolio. And it might open more doors in the future. Plus, an open-ended, all expenses paid stay in New York City? Yeah, I was never turning this opportunity down.
At long last, my second suitcase spits out and I sling my purse over my shoulder, carefully positioning my portfolio bag as I seize the handle of each suitcase and roll them out toward the arrival hall.
I pass through the doors, and crane my neck immediately, searching for my name on a sign. I haven’t been given the address of my hotel, so they must have organized a driver to take me there. Thank goodness. I’m a little overwhelmed at the idea of trying to get a cab in New York. If what I’ve seen on TV is anything to go by, people here areviciousabout getting cabs.I don’t think I’m designed for that kind of cutthroat intensity. Hopefully, my hotel will be close to a subway, or even walking distance from Haven Property’s offices.
I finally spot KASAN on a sign, and it’s being brandished by a familiar, smiling face. I blink in surprise as Cathy Milleneau, Bill Westerhaven’s new PA, waves brightly to me, beaming. Cathy used to float around the secretary pool, but when Mr. Westerhaven’s old PA, Angie Shepherd up and married Mr. Westerhaven’s completely gorgeous eldest nephew, he poached Cathy.
Crossing to her, I hug her in surprise.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see a familiar face,” I admit as Cathy steps back, taking hold of one of my suitcases.
“I thought it might be overwhelming. I know it was my first time here. I talked Mr. Westerhaven into letting me come back for another New York trip.”
She winks at me, and I bite back a smile. You know, Cathy and Mr. Westerhaven would make a cute couple. He’s older than her, she’s only in her early forties and he’s in his sixties, but I ship them. And, you know, Westerhaven’s are marrying PAs now.
“Let’s get you to your lodgings. You’ll want to get settled in.”
I follow her out of the terminal to a fancy-looking town car. The driver is wearing a sharp suit and everything. He puts my luggage in the trunk and holds open the back door for Cathy and me to slide into. Okay, this is so much easier than trying to line up for a cab. Thank God for Cathy.
Still beaming across at me, Cathy chatters away, asking about my flight (comfortable and I got plenty of reading done). How Chicago’s weather was when I left (thankfully warming up), and whether I was excited to be in New York.
“Very.” I grin over at her. As she keeps chatting about New York, I turn and press my cheek to the window to peer up at the huge skyscrapers we are now passing through.
“This is Manhattan,” Cathy gestures, looking out her own window as we cross over a bridge. Okay, maybe my hotelwillbe close to the Haven Property offices, because I know that they are in Manhattan.
The tall glass and steel building we pull up in front of doesn’t look like any hotel that I’ve ever stayed in before. But then again, I’ve never been to New York, so maybe this is the norm here. We don’t wait for my bags, and Cathy ushers me inside. Which is when I falter. Apart from a doorman nodding to us, there is no one else around. This isn’t a hotel. This is a fancy condo building. I wonder why we’re here.
In the elevator, Cathy presses the button for the very top floor, and I fidget with my comfortable, over-sized sweater and my slightly messy long hair, which is a little tangled after my flight. I wonder if we are going to see Mr. Westerhaven. Maybe when Cathy insisted on coming back to New York, he came too. I was really hoping to freshen up before I had to see anyone. EspeciallyMr. Westerhaven. I’ve never met him before. I’ve never even seen him in the Haven Enterprises building in Chicago. He didn’t come down to our floor.
As we exit the elevator, I stare at the small landing. There are onlytwodoors. Off the whole landing. This is fancy stuff. Sureenough, Cathy taps on one of them, and opens it, leading me into the most gorgeous condo that I have ever seen. I didn’t even know they made condos this big. Seriously, this is the stuff of dreams.Mydreams.
It’s incredibly light and airy, with pale hardwood floors, white walls and high, white ceilings. We’ve walked through the front door into the open plan living area. To our right is a comfortable-looking lounge area with a franklyenormousTV mounted on the wall. To the left is the kitchen, complete with breakfast bar with some bar stools and a small dining area.
But I’m not really paying attention to the elegant furnishings. My eyes are glued to the opposite wall. Which comprises three massive feature windows. Massive feature windows that look out over the treetops of Central Park.Holy shit. This is what heaven must be like.
Once I manage to shake myself out of my stupor, it becomes painfully obvious that Cathy and I haven’t walked into anemptycondo. There is one other person here. Tearing my eyes away from the leafy green view, I turn to the living area where, standing in the middle of the comfortable-looking couch and glass topped coffee table is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.
Swallowing, I take in his smoldering gray eyes, which match his tailored gray suit. His artfully tousled hair is too dark to be considered blond, but too light to be a proper brown. His features are classically good looking and as my eyes linger over his bow lips, his strong jaw line and his chin, I blink because it’s rude to stare.
“This is David Brooks Westerhaven,” Cathy announces cheerily. Heat creeps over my cheeks, and I flex my fingers to fight the urge to fidget with my sweater and hair again. Oh no.
I’m meeting one of Mr. Westerhaven’s famously good-looking nephews, and the CEO of Haven Property, and I look like I’ve stumbled off a cross continental flight. Which Ihave. How mortifying. He’s staring at me. His eyes drop to peruse my outfit and my cheeks might match my sweater now.
Chapter Two
David
So, this is the young woman who will be sharing my home for the foreseeable future. My lips thin as I let my eyes move over her face and form, perusing her slowly.
“This is David Brooks Westerhaven. Mr. Brooks Westerhaven, this is Anica Kasan,” Cathy introduces us. Anica Kasan blinks at me like a rabbit in headlights. She’s the opposite to every woman I’ve ever bedded. Thank God. At least I won’t have to worry about being attracted to my unwanted houseguest. That would have been a nightmare scenario to navigate.
Not to be rude or anything, but it’s immensely obvious that Anica Kasan recently disembarked from an economy flight. I’ve never been on one, but I’ve seen people who have. They all have the same sort of look. Rumpled.
Anica Kasan clearly dressed for comfort on her flight, over style. She’s wearing jeans, flat heeled brown boots that come to mid-calf, and an oversized, bright red sweater. It’s shapeless and ugly and I have no idea what would possess a woman to look at her closet and pickthatto wear.
