Surprise Package Read Online Free PDF Page A

cum laude, kiddo. You're smart and good; and, frankly, I'd kill you for your body—if they could do full body transplants. Look, it's no crime to come from a poor family; and it's sure as hell no crime to work for a romance publisher either—unless this guy's a real snob; and if he is, who wants him?”
           “I do!” Gilly's face reddened as Charis chuckled gleefully. “Oh, I didn't mean to imply that he's a snob. We don't go on fancy dates, and he wears old jeans and sneakers. He's never tried to impress me. In fact, I practically had to pry every bit of information about his family out of him.”
           “So, you're got the hots for the guy, but you're still not sure about him.”
           “That makes me sound awful.”
           “That makes you sound human, Gilly. And still insecure as ever. You've got to get over your past and enjoy the present.” Charis' big brown eyes were filled with sympathy. “Look, sweetie, there is absolutely no reason this Jeff shouldn't love the real you. You have to believe in yourself.”
           Gilly sighed. “I'm trying, Char, honest.”
           Charis pressed a card key into Gilly's hand. “We're leaving Friday morning and won't be back for three weeks. The penthouse is yours. Live it up, sweetie!”
           “You're a living doll, you know that?” Gilly replied, hugging her friend.
           “Yeah, but by the time I eat all that wonderful French food, I won't be Barbie-sized, that's for sure! Ciao ,” she said, tossing the remains of the celery stick in the trash as she headed for the door. Maybe this guy will ground you in reality. Then again, it's hard to keep your feet on the ground when you're walking on cloud nine.
     
    * * * *
     
           Gilly straightened the magazines on the Ligne Roset coffee table, then fanned them out again. Her nerves were utterly frayed, she thought, gazing around the Lawrences' lush Park Avenue apartment. Some digs. The picture window directly facing her had a smashing view of the Manhattan skyline, glittering like jewels in the night. The living room was thirty feet long, an unheard of expanse for most New Yorkers. On one wall, a huge stone fireplace soared all the way to the ten-foot ceiling, gas logs giving off cheery warmth. A long sofa of butter-soft terracotta-colored suede stretched sinuously against the opposite wall, flanked by two club chairs in deep moss green. A painting that was either an original Picasso or a darn good copy hung over the sofa.
           Gilly's feet sank into the thick pale gold carpet as she made her way soundlessly to the kitchen off one end of the living room. The terra-cotta-tile floor was polished to a rich luster. Her heels clicked over it as she checked the tray of canapés and crystal bowl filled with crushed ice and boiled shrimp. A bottle of Stags Leap Chardonnay was nestled in its sterling ice bucket. There was another bottle chilling in the Sub-Zero...for afterward.
           If only there's a before. Gilly hadn't been this nervous since her scholarship interview with the committee at Oberlin. She walked down the hall to the big bedroom where a king-sized water bed sat enthroned on a raised platform, its fluffy moss-green comforter inviting the viewer to sink into the softness. How would it feel to make love on a water bed? She hoped she'd find out soon.
           The floor-to-ceiling mirrors in Charis' dressing room reflected Gilly's slender figure. She appraised herself critically, smoothing an errant curl that kept slipping out of the French twist. Her sole extravagance on her modest salary had always been clothes. Although she shopped the sales at Bloomie's, the prices on Oscar and Anne, not to mention Gucci, were still steep. But worth it. She was glad she'd splurged on the Versace caftan. It looked casual and chic—and had the added benefit of being very simple to slip out of.
           The security intercom buzzed,