Delectable Desire

by Farrah Rochon

  Carter dropped his hands and took a step back.

  “It isn’t hard to see, Carter. You’ve been walking around here for the past couple of weeks looking as if you’ve won the lottery.”

  “Maybe I did and just didn’t tell anyone.”

  “You didn’t win the lottery. You’re in love.”

  Carter instantly recoiled at his cousin’s assessment. “Now you’re starting to sound like Malik. After what you went through with Andre’s dad, I thought you’d know better.”

  A dark shadow clouded over Shari’s face, and Carter felt like the biggest jerk in all of Chicago. “I’m sorry for bringing up Thomas,” he said.

  Shari pulled in a shaky breath. “It’s okay. Just promise me one thing, Carter. Be careful with her heart. Don’t lead Lorraine on. If you’re not serious about her, you should end it before she ends up getting hurt.”

  Carter was disturbed by the haunted look in his cousin’s eyes. After all these years, he wouldn’t have thought Shari was still so affected by Thomas Abernathy’s betrayal, but apparently she was.

  “I won’t hurt her,” he promised Shari.

  She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for caring enough to check on me. Now, why don’t we go back and figure out how we’re going to win this competition? Because Drake is right—I want to kick Dina’s butt.”

  * * *

  “Hand me a few of those hydrangeas,” Francine called.

  Lorraine picked up a handful of colorful hydrangeas from the array of flowers scattered about the large table, and brought them over to Francine. Nearly every week since she was eight years old, Lorraine had spent her Saturday afternoons helping Frannie put together the fresh flower arrangements that adorned the tables and mantelpieces around the penthouse throughout the week.

  Her mother had balked at the idea of Lorraine doing such a menial task, but Lorraine had ignored her. The bright colors and artistry of the flower arranging called to her creative side.

  “That’s beautiful,” she told Frannie, gesturing to the enormous spray of eucalypti, hydrangeas and lilies.

  “Not as beautiful as those.” Frannie looked pointedly at the vase filled with lovely irises that had been delivered a few hours ago, followed almost immediately by a box of decadent cupcakes in the signature pink-and-brown-striped box from Lillian’s.

  She couldn’t deny the thrill she’d experienced when the flowers and cupcakes had arrived, but her joy was diminished by the fact that they had not been accompanied by a phone call. Lorraine was still hurt that Carter had allowed her to leave last night. He hadn’t just allowed her to leave. He’d looked...relieved.

  She’d spent the morning vacillating between shock and fury. Until those flowers had arrived, she’d had the sinking feeling that she had been misled again, deluded into thinking that a man had actually cared for her, when all he’d wanted was something from her.

  The gifts had momentarily appeased her, but Lorraine was still hurt. Could he not call? Send a text?

  Perhaps he was in the middle of creating some gargantuan cake?

  But surely he could step away for a moment to send her a simple “how are you doing?” text message.

  Goodness, was she really pining away while waiting for a phone call? What was she? Twelve?

  “He’ll call,” Frannie said.

  Lorraine blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve never been good at hiding what you’re thinking. I said that he will call.” Frannie sent her a sly smile. “He makes you happy, doesn’t he? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile as much as you have these past couple of weeks. It looks good on you.”

  “I didn’t realize I was such an open book,” Lorraine said.

  “Remember that I’ve known you since you were born. It’s hard to keep things hidden from me.”

  Frannie probably knew her better than her own mother did. She’d certainly spent more time caring for Lorraine and Trina than Abigail ever had.

  “Here’s my question,” Frannie said. She gave Lorraine a pointed look. “What’s stopping you from calling him?”

  “You think I should call him?”

  “Your hand isn’t broken, is it?”

  “No.” Lorraine laughed. She dropped the shears and removed her gloves. Then she leaned over and kissed Frannie’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” her housekeeper answered.

  Lorraine went into the solarium—her favorite quiet place in the penthouse—and sat on the bench next to a potted banana tree. She pulled out her phone and, before she lost her nerve, punched in Carter’s number. She would not read anything into it if he didn’t pick up. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was—

  “Hello?” He picked up on the third ring. “Lorraine?”

  She expelled a relieved breath. “Hello, Carter. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No, no. I’m just at the bakery, as usual.”

  “In the middle of decorating another masterpiece?” she asked, almost hopeful.

  “No, no big decorating jobs on tap for today.”

  Anger and disappointment inundated her at his admission. If he hadn’t been elbow deep in buttercream frosting and fancy sugared flowers, why hadn’t he called her?

  “The family just finished a meeting about You Take the Cake,” he further explained. For a moment, Lorraine wondered if she’d ranted aloud.

  “The competition is getting close,” she said, his explanation abating her anger. At least to a degree.

  “Yeah, next month.” The tension that stretched across the phone lines was palpable. Lorraine could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  When Carter spoke again, his voice was drenched in apology.

  “Lorraine, I’m sorry about last night. Not for what we did,” he quickly interjected. “But I’m sorry for the way I acted after. I was...confused.”

  “Confused?” she asked. “We had sex and you sent me home. There is nothing confusing about that, Carter,” Lorraine softly accused. She’d dropped her voice to nearly a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she’d done it so that Frannie wouldn’t overhear her, or simply because it hurt too much to hear the words.

  “God, Lorraine. I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I,” she said.

  “I knew I was being an asshole. I just didn’t know... I’m not used to...”

  Lorraine could practically feel the frustration coming through his voice.

  “Look, this is really hard to explain over the phone. Do you maybe want to come over to my place?”

  She was quiet for such a long stretch of time that Carter asked, “Lorraine, are you still there?”

  For a moment she thought about hanging up the phone, but then she thought about how miserable she’d been since leaving his apartment last night. Only a portion of that misery had been caused by his callousness in letting her go; much of it had to do with how much she’d missed talking to him today.

  “I can be there in an hour,” she finally answered.

  Carter’s relieved sigh should have made her feel better. Instead, Lorraine recalled the look on his face as she’d closed the door to his apartment last night. He’d looked relieved then, too.

  Carter wasn’t the only one confused here. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore, but she knew what she’d felt over these past couple of weeks. She’d felt alive. For the first time in a very long while, she’d felt pure, sweet joy, all thanks to Carter. She owed it to herself to hear him out.

  Chapter 9

  Carter had been pacing back and forth in the space between his kitchen island and the sink trying to figure out just what to say to Lorraine when she arrived. Thank God he’d convinced her to come over. Those several long moments when she hadn’t responded to his request had been some of the most agonizing he’d ever endured.

  “This is crazy,” Carter said to the empty room.

  When had he ever been this messed up in the head over a woman? He’d hooked up, and then broken up, with dozens of women in the past. Wh
y was this one so different? And why did it feel as if his world had ended when he thought he’d ruined things with her?

  A soft knock halted his pacing. Carter rushed to the door and yanked it open, a sweet ache settling in his chest when he found Lorraine standing in the hallway. God, she looked lovely. And vulnerable. And kissable.

  But he didn’t have the right to pull her in and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. He owed her a real apology first, and an explanation.

  If only he could figure out why he’d acted like the jackass of the century.

  “Thanks for coming over,” Carter said, stepping aside so that she could enter the apartment.

  She remained silent as she stepped inside, walking to the other end of the kitchen. She didn’t even take off the purse hanging on her shoulder. She looked as if she was ready to flee at any moment.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “A glass of wine? Soda?”

  “No, thank you,” she finally said, her sweet, gentle voice flowing over him like honey.

  Carter couldn’t keep up the nonchalant act another minute. “God, Lorraine, I’m so damn sorry for the way I treated you last night,” he said, making it to her in three strides. He captured her hands between his. “Last night was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.” His face contorted in a grimace. “Damn, I sound like Malik.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “Lorraine, I’ve been with my share of women.” Another grimace. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

  “I had no illusions that you were pure and innocent, Carter. I could tell from the second I met you what kind of guy you were.”

  Her words caused something ugly to churn in his gut. He’d always worn his player status like a badge of honor, but he didn’t like the thought of Lorraine seeing him that way. He wanted to be better than that for her.

  “Perhaps we should slow this down a bit,” she said. “Maybe it’s all moving too fast.”

  “It is moving fast, but it feels...it feels right, Lorraine.” He brought a hand up to cradle her jaw. Her skin was so soft, so damn lovely. Carter looked her in the eye, willing her to understand. “I haven’t been a choirboy—not by a long shot. But I have never, ever felt the way I felt last night. When I was with you, it was... I can’t even describe it. It scared me, Lorraine. I’ve never felt that way with a woman before.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s scared, Carter. This is new for me, too. I’ve spent such a long time guarding my heart, and every time I’m with you, you chip away at my armor.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. In a hushed voice, she said, “I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “I won’t hurt you.” Carter shook his head. “I promise you.”

  Unable to stop himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It felt like coming home. He could count on his fingers just how many times he’d kissed this woman, yet, just this quickly, she was home to him.

  Carter brought both hands up, cupping her jaw in one, her soft, warm cheek in the other. He slid his fingers into her silky hair, holding her head in place as he licked along the seam of her lips and gently worked his tongue inside.

  She tasted like pure heaven. His body was screaming for him to pick her up and carry her to his bed, but he didn’t deserve it, not after the way he’d treated her last night. Settling for just her kisses would be his penance. It was the kind of penance any sinner would give his soul for.

  An hour later, they were nestled together on his sofa, watching a rerun of last year’s season of You Take the Cake.

  “I am amazed at what people can do with cake,” Lorraine said.

  “You just have to have a plan and a steady hand,” Carter said. “I sketch everything out first so I know exactly what I’m going to do before I put the first cake in the oven.”

  “How many cakes would it take to make something like that?” she asked, motioning to the cake that was made to look like Tara from Gone with the Wind.

  “Probably eight to ten. It all starts out as one huge block, with all of the cakes stacked one on top of the other, and then you just carve away at it, like a sculptor with a block of clay.”

  She looked up at him. “You really are an artist.”

  Carter shrugged. “In a way.”

  “So, when Lillian’s wins the competition, how will all of you split the prize money?”

  “It’ll go back into the business. It isn’t about the prize money. It’s all about exposure. We’ve got some huge expansion ideas for the bakery, and just having the opportunity to be on a nationally televised show will bring recognition to the brand.”

  She looked up at him again over her shoulder and, with a sly smile, said, “But you want to win, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Carter admitted. “I want to win so bad, especially because of who we’re competing against.”

  “Who’s the competition?”

  “There are three additional bakeries in the competition, including Brown Sugar Bakery,” he said, unable to keep the loathing from his voice.

  “I get the sense that there’s a story there.”

  “More like a nightmare,” Carter said with a huff. He brought Lorraine’s back closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Brown Sugar Bakery is owned by onetime Lillian’s employee Dina English. She and my cousin Shari used to be best friends.”

  “Used to be?”

  He nodded. “Dina spent as much time in the bakery as the rest of us grandkids, so it was no surprise when she started working there. It was a surprise when she up and quit and started her own bakery, with some recipes that were very similar to Grandma Lillian’s.”

  “She stole your grandmother’s recipes?”

  “She says she didn’t. And she was smart enough to tweak them just enough so that they are not exactly the same, but that doesn’t mean all that much to me or the rest of the family. Dina stabbed us all in the back, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Your cousin must feel awful.”

  He sighed, thinking of his conversation with Shari after their last family meeting. “That’s the hardest part. Shari feels responsible. She shouldn’t. I mean, how could she have known that Dina would do what she did?”

  “I can understand how she must feel. It’s not easy to get over the fact that you’ve caused your family harm, even when it was completely by accident.”

  Carter noted the change in her tone of voice. “Are you speaking from experience?”

  She looked up at him, and he could tell that she was. “I don’t want to get into that right now.” She snuggled closer to him. “I just want to hang out like a regular person. This is wonderful, Carter. And very rare for me.”

  “Why is that?”

  She shrugged. “I always have to watch what I say and do. One misstep and it can mean disaster for the Hawthorne-Hayeses’ standing in society.”

  “How do you stay sane with everyone always in your business?” he asked. He got some noteworthiness as a Drayson, but just in these short couple of weeks he’d been with Lorraine, he could tell that she had to work hard to maintain her privacy.

  “I’ve lived with it my entire life, so in some ways I’m used to it.”

  “I don’t know if I could ever get used to having to constantly watch what I say, or wondering if I’m going to be on the front page of the newspaper.”

  “It keeps me on my toes. It’s why I never leave the house without makeup,” she said with a light laugh, but Carter heard the note of exasperation behind it.

  “It seems exhausting, always having to be on.”

  “That’s why tonight is such a treat. I can’t remember the last time I lounged on a sofa and watched television.”

  “I’m happy you’re enjoying it,” he said. “I think you need to do more things that are just for you.”

  After a pause, she said, “Actually, I do.” She twisted around in his arms, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him. �
�I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  She levered herself up from the sofa and held her hand out to him. “Don’t ask, just follow.”

  If any other woman had issued that command, Carter would have balked. With Lorraine, he didn’t even hesitate.

  * * *

  Lorraine spent the entire drive from Glenville Heights to Wicker Park trying to decide if she should take a detour and go somewhere else. Was she ready to share this part of herself with Carter?

  Other than her sister, and a few of her friends in the arts community, no one else knew of the loft she owned in this area of Chicago.

  “What are we doing out here?” Carter asked when she parked along the street, a block away from her building.

  “As I told you earlier, I have something to show you,” she said. They entered the building and she motioned for him to follow her up to the third floor. The entire time, Lorraine’s heart pounded against her rib cage. What if he took one look at her paintings and laughed?

  Carter wouldn’t do such a thing. Also, it shouldn’t matter whether he fawned all over her paintings, either. She had enough confidence in her work that it didn’t matter what his reaction was.

  If that’s the case, why are you bringing him here?

  Their arrival to her third-story loft put an abrupt end to her mental debate. Taking a deep breath, Lorraine opened the door and stepped aside so he could enter ahead of her. Ever the gentleman, Carter refused to take one step. She shook her head at his gallantry.

  “Such manners,” Lorraine teased.

  “I’m Lillian Drayson’s grandson. I wouldn’t dream of letting it get out that I walked into a room ahead of a woman. That’s just asking for a slap upside the head.”

  She chuckled at that mental picture. Before turning the light on, Lorraine turned to him and said, “It is costing me a lot to share this with you, Carter. This is a part of myself that I rarely show people, but I feel as if I can trust you with it.” She flipped the switch next to the door, and the vast room was illuminated in bright lights.

  Carter stepped farther into the space and moved in a slow circle, taking in everything before him. “Is this an art studio?” he asked, motioning to the canvases leaning against the wall.