Chapter 48

Camryn used her spare key to open the door to Maxwell's place. Knowing he'd be home from the office any second, she poured herself a glass of water and sat on the sofa to wait.

His two-bedroom condo was on the eighteenth floor near the north side of Chicago, and cost more than five years of her salary. He'd hired a decorator when he'd first bought it. A few weeks ago, she'd thought it modern, but now it just felt cold. Gray walls, black and white abstract art. Not like Troy's house. His was masculine, but showed individuality. Style. Taste.

Maxwell only had one bookshelf. That was a crime in itself. Worse yet, the shelves were lined with non-fiction money-making accounts. Not a single fiction title. She'd bet she'd find a plethora of fiction at Troy's. She grinned. Including romance.