Delectable Desire

by Farrah Rochon

  “How did you get this number, Carter?”

  “From your order form. You didn’t leave your last name, but you did leave a contact number.”

  She leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window in her loft, staring out at the people going about their day. With a deep breath, Lorraine asked, “Is my name still a mystery to you?”

  “No,” he answered. “I saw the paper.”

  “And?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat in anticipation of his response.

  “And I’m happy you’re not part of the witness protection program or a secret agent in the CIA.”

  Lorraine let out a relieved laugh. Her anxiety melted, and the relaxed contentment she’d experienced the two times she’d been in Carter’s presence eased into place.

  “I’m sorry for being so secretive, but after last night I’m sure you can see why,” she said.

  “Is that what life is usually like for you? People constantly snapping pictures of you?”

  “I’m not subjected to the Kardashian treatment on a daily basis, but the Hawthorne-Hayes name carries a fair amount of newsworthiness. It’s something I’ve lived with my entire life, but I will never, ever get used to it.”

  “I guess when you own half of Chicago, it’s tough to keep a low profile.”

  “I do not own half of Chicago,” she said. Maybe one-third. “And it’s my family, not me.”

  “But you stand to inherit a part of your family’s jewelry empire, don’t you?”

  Disappointment caused her heart to squeeze within her chest. She had hoped Carter wouldn’t be like the others, but apparently, he couldn’t see past the wealth connected to the Hawthorne-Hayes name, either.

  “Does the pressure get to you, too?” he asked.

  Lorraine’s back stiffened. “What was that?”

  “You know, the pressure that comes with trying to live up to the family’s expectations. I know what it’s like, remember?”

  He did. And her heart melted.

  This was what made Carter different. He could identify with her in a way very few men ever could. In the past, whenever she tried to convey the problems she faced being a member of her family, she was met with derision. Men thought she was being a whiny brat, that she should thank her lucky stars that she’d been born into privilege. Carter understood that being born into privilege carried its own burdens.

  “What pressures are you under?” she asked softly, her fingers clutching the phone.

  He was quiet for several moments; then Lorraine heard him sigh.

  “We’re in the midst of a transition period at Lillian’s. All indications point to my grandparents handing the reins of the business to one of us grandkids in the very near future, and everyone is trying to stand out. I’m starting to question whether it’s even worth it, you know? A part of me is ready to say to hell with it and just branch out on my own. Make a name for myself that has nothing to do with the Drayson family dynasty.”

  “Oh, goodness, I do know, Carter. I know exactly what you are speaking of. The pressure can be overwhelming.”

  “It was nice to get away from it all last night.”

  “Yes, it was,” she agreed, an unbidden smile tilting up the corners of her mouth.

  “If it was so nice, why did you run away like that?” he asked, accusation layering his softly spoken question. “I wasn’t ready for our date to end.”

  “Neither was I,” she said. “The photographer just...I don’t know... He caught me off guard. I didn’t know what you would think of me after that happened.”

  “I think that I never got the kiss I was hoping for,” Carter answered. “I’d like the chance to try again.”

  Lorraine pulled in a deep breath. Was this man real, or was he just a pro at talking a really sweet game? A really, really sweet game. Ever since Broderick nearly destroyed her, she had gone to such extreme caution when it came to the men she dated. But she had to take that next step again someday, didn’t she?

  Why not today? Why not with Carter?

  “If I asked you out again, would you say yes, Rainey?”

  Even his silly nickname made her body warm from the inside out, especially when he said it in that low, sexy tone.

  “Why don’t you ask?” she encouraged.

  His low chuckle traveled seductively up and down her spine. “Lorraine, would you like to go out with me again?”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes,” she answered. “I’d like that very much.”

  “Can I pick you up from your home like a gentleman this time?”

  She hesitated for a second, but now that he knew who she really was, it seemed silly to hide from him. She gave him her address.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “Make sure you wear comfortable shoes.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Tonight’s plans require a lot more walking than last night’s. I just want you to be prepared. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Before she could ask just what those plans were, he disconnected the call.

  She had known the man for two days, and was already going on her second date with him.

  “Hussy,” she said, and burst out laughing.

  Lorraine looked around the studio, unable to staunch the grin that broke out across her face. Nothing had really changed. She still felt as if she was drifting, unsure of what she should do with the rest of her life. But after months—no, years—of discontent, she had finally found one bright spot: Carter Drayson.

  Chapter 5

  Carter pulled into the parking garage of the high-rise in Chicago’s elite Gold Coast neighborhood. He had not been surprised when Lorraine had told him where she lived, but did she have to live in the biggest, ritziest building on the block?

  It was ridiculous to feel intimidated; he had enough money in his own right. But when faced with this type of wealth, Carter couldn’t help feeling a bit awed.

  He approached the doorman and gave him his name. The uniformed man made a call, then moments later asked Carter to follow him to the elevator. The doorman slipped an electronic card into a slot and pressed fifty-seven. Carter watched the numbers climb as the elevator smoothly rose to the top of the building.

  “It’s the penthouse. Make a left when you exit,” the doorman instructed.

  Carter walked down the hallway to the only door on this floor. He smoothed his hands down the front of his lightweight cashmere sweater, then knocked. He waited a few moments before the door opened.

  “Good evening. You must be Mr. Drayson,” said the middle-aged woman who answered the door. She, too, was dressed in a uniform. A live-in housekeeper? Was Lorraine really rolling like that? Man, and he thought he was something special because he’d bought himself a Porsche.

  “I am,” Carter answered. “How are you?”

  “Frannie, is someone at the door?” Lorraine came into the room and her face lit up. “Hi,” she said, a bit shyly.

  “Hi,” Carter answered, feeling a smile growing on his face. She tended to do that to him.

  The housekeeper stood between them, looking pointedly at Lorraine. She cleared her throat.

  “Oh. Gosh. Sorry. Carter, this is Francine, our housekeeper. Frannie, this is Carter Drayson. His family owns Lillian’s, the bakery.”

  “I know it well,” the woman answered. “Lorraine doesn’t know this, but she’s been eating your grandmother’s pies since she was a little girl. Of course, I passed them off as my own.”

  “Frannie!” Lorraine gasped, but then she laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “It shouldn’t,” the housekeeper said. “Have a good time tonight. And because your mother isn’t here to say it, I will. Don’t stay out too late.” Then she left them.

  “Do your parents live here?” Carter asked.

  “Yes,” Lorraine answered. “But don’t worry, they’re never around. It’s usually just me, Trina and Frannie.” She pointed to a gold-plated clock sitting on a marble table in the foye
r. “You’re early. I haven’t finished getting ready.”

  Carter’s gaze drifted over her tailored cream slacks and shimmering gold sleeveless sweater. The belt, made out of gold hoops, matched the necklace and earrings she wore. The entire ensemble looked as if it came straight from the pages of a high-end magazine...for the forty-and-over crowd.

  Yet on Lorraine it looked just right. How she managed to make an outfit his aunt Daisy would wear look so damn sexy was beyond comprehension.

  “What else is there to do?” Carter asked her. “You look fabulous. It’s perfect for where we’re going.”

  “Thank you,” she said, that demure smile pulling at her lips. “But I’m still not done. Let’s go into the living area. I’ll fix you a drink.”

  “I could use a bottle of water,” Carter said, following her farther into the penthouse apartment.

  Living area was definitely the correct word to describe where Carter found himself standing moments later. The space was too vast to be called a simple “room.” There were several seating areas with love seats, chairs and low tables set up throughout the space. Marble columns separated the room into quadrants.

  The fact that Lorraine lived with her parents had caught him off guard. The lack of privacy would drive him insane. But in a place this size, maybe privacy wasn’t an issue. He could get lost just in the living room. Living area, he reminded himself.

  Yet it was still a bit unnerving that she still lived at home.

  “What about your brother?” Carter asked. “Does he live here, too?”

  “No, Stuart moved out after he finished college. I’ve been telling myself that I will move out eventually. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

  Why not? he wanted to ask. His skin crawled at just the thought of still living with his mom or dad. Instead, Carter said in a teasing tone, “Well, when you have a live-in housekeeper to cook for you, why would you?”

  “Now that I know Lillian’s has been baking my family’s desserts, I’m starting to suspect that most of the meals must come from local restaurants.” She gestured to one of the sofas. “Have a seat.”

  The smooth, comfortable leather enveloped him as soon as he sat. Carter’s gaze roamed around the room, taking in the sheer opulence of this place. Everything was done in various shades of white, cream and taupe. From the furniture, to the drapery framing the fourteen-foot windows, to the marble-topped pedestal tables.

  His eyes fell on a painting illuminated by the warm glow of a recessed light high above. Carter hopped from the sofa and went over to the wall.

  “Your drink,” Lorraine said, coming up behind him and handing him a long cylindrical water bottle.

  Carter pointed to the painting. “This is a Duchamp.”

  She blinked several times, as if she was surprised he could spot a painting by the French artist. “Yes,” she said. “He’s one of my favorites.”

  “You have an original Marcel Duchamp hanging on the wall.” He shook his head. “I knew this place would be something else, Lorraine, but damn.”

  “Please, do not make a big deal of it, Carter. I know how this must seem over the top to some people, but to me, this is home. It has always been just my home.”

  “I get it,” he said.

  “I know you do. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

  His brows peaked. “Hmm...one of the things you like about me? That sounds promising. What are some of the others?”

  “I’m not telling you.” She laughed. “I think your ego is healthy enough without extra stroking from me.”

  “Oh, come on. Just one more. Please?” Carter asked with a pleading look that usually led to him getting his way.

  “Those puppy dog eyes won’t work on me,” Lorraine said.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, moving a bit closer to her.

  She looked up at him. Her big brown eyes sparkled with more than just laughter. There was something else there: heat.

  “Fine,” she said. She motioned for him to lean over. “I like the way you wear an apron,” she whispered in his ear.

  Desire shot down Carter’s spine at the feel of her warm breath on his skin and the seductive lilt to her voice. When he looked at her, a teasing smile spread across her face.

  “Are you ready?” Lorraine asked him.

  “For what exactly?” was Carter’s reply.

  That grin turned coy as she said, “Give me a few minutes more, and then we can leave.”

  Carter spent the next five minutes observing the other pieces of art in the room. It looked more like a museum than a home, but that was to be expected. He certainly wouldn’t find crocheted afghans draped across the sofas in a place like this.

  A moment later, he spotted Lorraine walking up the hallway where she’d disappeared earlier. Carter followed her out of the penthouse and into the garage where his car was parked.

  “Well, you certainly lived up to my expectations,” Lorraine said as he opened the passenger door for her. “I figured you to be the flashy-car type.”

  “Uh-oh. Do you think less of me now?”

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s just an observation,” she said, slipping into the car.

  Carter rounded the back and got behind the wheel. He started the engine, its gentle purr rumbling softly.

  “I’ve always been a car junkie,” Carter explained as he pulled onto North Lake Shore Drive. “I used to have pictures of classic Porsches tacked to my bedroom wall at my mom’s house. I crossed an item off my bucket list when I bought this car for my birthday.”

  “I like it,” she said in her prim and proper voice. “It fits you.”

  “How so?” The fact that he knew so little about her made Carter hyperaware of anything she could read into his personality.

  “For one thing, it’s a car with personality, and I’m sure it’s fast. I can picture you burning rubber along a country road, testing the horsepower.”

  They were at a stoplight. He revved the engine, just because.

  Lorraine laughed. “It’s also a very fine-looking automobile.”

  “Fine-looking, huh? If I’m not mistaken, I’d say that you’re flirting with me.”

  Carter glanced over and caught the reddish hue blossoming on her cheeks. Making her blush was terribly easy, and way more enjoyable than Carter could possibly have imagined.

  He also noticed that she’d checked the rearview mirror three times already.

  “You think we’re being followed?” he asked her.

  “Excuse me?” She turned to him, then laughed softly. “I’m still a bit on edge about what happened last night. I’d rather not deal with any paparazzi again this week.”

  “I have to warn you,” he hedged. “There will be media where we’re going tonight, but hopefully there will be too much other stuff grabbing their attention than who my date is.”

  “Where are we going?” Lorraine asked. Carter turned onto North Cannon Drive and pointed straight ahead. “Lincoln Park Zoo? Is the zoo open this time of evening?”

  “There’s an event to benefit Comer Children’s Hospital being held here tonight,” he answered. “Lillian’s donated the desserts, including four specialty cakes. I deployed a team of six to man the event, but I want to make sure everything is going according to plan. Are you okay with this?” he asked her.

  She turned to him. “Of course.”

  “Are you sure?” Carter asked, finding her swift acquiescence unconvincing. “You understand that this means we’re having hot dogs from the concession stand for dinner, don’t you?”

  Her blithe laughter resonated around the car. “Carter, this is perfect. I mean it,” she stressed. “As long as we don’t have a repeat of what happened last night cutting our date short, it is perfect.”

  Perfect. That was what Carter was beginning to think about her.

  * * *

  As they meandered among the crowd, Lorraine couldn’t help being charmed by the sights and sounds around her. Even though she lived only
a couple of miles away, she had not visited this zoo since she was a little girl, back before she and Trina had been carted off to boarding school in upstate New York. She marveled at the improvements that had been made to the landmark zoo, one of the country’s oldest.

  “Do you know what that structure is over there?” she asked Carter, pointing to an arched building in the distance.

  “Amazing, isn’t it? That’s the South Pond Pavilion. We’ll wind up there eventually. It’s where they’ve set up the cakes.”

  They forayed farther into the zoo, stopping at various booths that had been set up along the numerous walkways. Carter was continually waylaid by event-goers who had already seen the cakes donated by Lillian’s and wanted to remark on their magnificence. He introduced Lorraine to everyone who greeted them, but she’d met a number of the patrons before. Many were members of various boards her father sat on, or politicians who had been on the Chicago social scene for years.

  Carter spoke to them all with admirable aplomb and grace, from the highest dignitaries to the average joes. He had a way about him that seemed to put people at ease. But it was the way Carter interacted with the children that had been brought in from the hospital that had a lump forming in Lorraine’s throat.

  “I know hospital food isn’t always the best,” he announced to the small crowd gathered around him. “So I brought something extra special just for you guys and girls. Because all of you are extra special.”

  Carter signaled to one of the workers wearing a pink-and-brown Lillian’s T-shirt. The girl brought over a covered tray, and the children gathered even closer around him. Carter lifted the lid to reveal elaborate cupcakes, decorated with zebra stripes, leopard spots and other animal prints. There were even some made to look like sea turtles. The children squealed in delight as Carter handed out the cupcakes.

  He dropped to his haunches and wiggled the long braid of a little girl in a wheelchair, who had a trachea tube extending from her neck. The little girl’s green eyes lit up as Carter presented her with a cupcake covered with bright pink icing and a plastic flamingo standing proudly in the center.

  Lorraine did her best to hold in her emotions, but when she lifted her eyes and spotted a woman she assumed to be the child’s mother looking on with tears flowing down her cheeks, Lorraine’s own waterworks started their cascade.