Delectable Desire

by Farrah Rochon

  Lorraine chuckled and grabbed two bottles of water. She walked over to where he stood in front of some of her less risqué portraits. He looked like pure sin standing there with his chest and feet both bare, his jeans riding low on his hips. The jeans were unbuckled and partially unzipped, for the same reason she was going sans panties and bra.

  She handed him the bottle of water. “Diet soda does not kill.”

  “It kills taste buds.” He took the water from her and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, then motioned to the paintings. “The only L. Elise paintings I’ve seen are the naked—” She gave him a stern look. “The more erotic ones,” he corrected. “But these are spectacular. Have you had showings of your...what should I call them...normal paintings?”

  “I’ve only offered a few to galleries. The L. Elise name has become synonymous with sensual art. I’m unsure if people will accept, to quote you, ‘normal’ paintings from L. Elise.”

  “Maybe you should put them out under your real name,” he suggested.

  Lorraine huffed out a humorless laugh. “I can only imagine my parents’ reaction.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice, though she didn’t really try to.

  “Why do you even care what they think? You have an amazing talent, and you’re keeping it hidden because you don’t want to upset your parents? That’s crazy.”

  “It is so much more complicated than you can possibly comprehend,” she said.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. These paintings are more for my enjoyment. I’m not ready to share them yet.”

  But that was a lie. She was more than ready for the world to know that Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes was good for more than just attending society functions. She was ready for the world to see the talent she possessed. It was the reason she’d applied for that fellowship, the reason she’d begun painting less provocative subjects that would be more acceptable in galleries around the city.

  Carter stared at her for several long moments, looking as if he wanted to say more, but blessedly, he let the subject drop. He continued his stroll, observing the numerous paintings taking up nearly every inch of space along the walls of the loft. He came upon the one painting she usually avoided. It was a self-portrait of her looking out of a window, with streams of rains rolling down the glass.

  He set his water bottle on the floor and picked up the canvas. “What’s this one called?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath before answering. “Just Lorraine.”

  He flashed her a surprised look. “The real name, huh? So, I’m guessing it’s not going into anyone’s gallery.”

  “No,” she said. “This one is just for me. I painted it about five years ago.”

  He pointed to the canvas. “Are these raindrops or tears?”

  She cocked her head to the side and stared at the painting along with him. “It’s up to the observer to decide.”

  Carter studied the painting for a few moments longer, then carefully set it against the wall with the others. He turned to her, and said, “I think they’re tears.”

  Lorraine hunched her shoulders, her throat clogged with too much emotion to speak.

  Carter took a step closer. He trailed a single finger down her cheek. “What could have brought you so much sadness?”

  Lorraine leaned into his touch. “Please, don’t ask me that,” she said. “It still hurts too much to talk about.”

  “Tell me.” His softly whispered plea tore at her heart. He hooked that lone finger underneath her chin and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “Tell me, Rainey. What happened to you? What broke your spirit?”

  Lorraine shut her eyes against the tears that instantly formed, but two still managed to escape. Her skin tingled at the feel of Carter’s thumbs wiping the moisture from her cheeks. She opened her eyes, studying his face through the blur of tears.

  “I made a stupid mistake,” she said.

  “Who hasn’t?” he asked softly.

  A sad smile pulled at her lips. “Most people’s mistakes don’t cost them a million dollars.”

  Carter pulled in a swift breath as his head snapped back. “What happened?”

  Lorraine took a couple of steps back and wrapped her arms around her upper body. She couldn’t look at him while sharing her most embarrassing secret.

  “It was my junior year of college. I had been dating my boyfriend for about four months, almost five. Of course, I thought I was in love.” She swiped at her cheeks again. “When he asked me to pose for some pictures, I was all too happy to oblige. He was going to Europe to study international finance for a semester, and told me he needed something to keep him warm on those cold, lonely nights.”

  Lorraine heard Carter’s curse.

  “I’m sure you’ve guessed what happened next.”

  “He blackmailed you,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Not me. The first time I actually saw the pictures with my own eyes was when my father showed them to me.” Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, “It’s not the father/daughter moment most people dream about.”

  “Oh, God.” Carter came up to her and wrapped his arms around her.

  Lorraine glommed onto the comfort his embrace provided. “My father paid him one million dollars to destroy the pictures.”

  “And you think he actually did? You don’t think he has copies stored on a computer somewhere? What’s to stop the bastard from coming after more money?”

  “That’s the one thing I’m afraid of.”

  “Why didn’t your dad just go to the police?”

  “Because the story would have gotten out,” Lorraine said. “It would have been just as detrimental as if the actual pictures had been released.”

  Carter wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No one else in my family other than me and my parents know about this. Not even Trina or Stuart. I can’t imagine the humiliation I would have faced had my father not paid him. It would have tarnished the entire Hawthorne-Hayes Jewelry name. Who would want to buy their engagement ring or Mother’s Day pendant from a jeweler attached to a sex scandal?”

  “You were a young college kid who’d been duped by an unscrupulous asshole. You can’t keep beating yourself up over it.”

  “How can I not? It would have been detrimental, Carter. I take full blame for this. I’m the one who let him take those pictures of me.” She shook her head. “I came so close to causing irreparable damage to everything my father worked so hard to build. I owe both him and my mother so much. Without their help, my ex-boyfriend would have ruined me.”

  She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “That is why I vowed to be the dutiful daughter and live up to my grandmother’s name. That is why L. Elise must remain a secret.”

  “Why can’t there be room for both?” Carter asked. “What’s stopping you from sharing your paintings and being the epitome of what an upstanding Hawthorne-Hayes is supposed to be?” He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “Your art is who you are, Lorraine. You can’t continue to hide it.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just have to figure out how to meld the two halves of myself. I fear if I don’t do something more with my art, I’m going to slowly die inside.”

  “I won’t allow that to happen,” Carter said. “Do you know that this has been the most excited I’ve ever seen you, when you were showing me your paintings? You’re happier when you’re surrounded by your art. Don’t you want to feel this way all the time, Rainey?”

  She nodded as another tear escaped.

  “Then go for it. This is your true self. You have to stop hiding it from the world.”

  Lorraine slipped her hand up to his jaw and cradled it in her palm.

  “You are very good for me, Carter Drayson.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  His heated look seared her. “I think I’ve already fallen.”
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  “This is crazy,” she said. “Love doesn’t happen this quickly, Carter.”

  “It has never happened at all for me,” he said. “I wasn’t running some kind of game on you when I said I’ve never felt this way, Lorraine. But I don’t know what other word I could use to describe it. This has to be love.”

  Then he leaned in close and captured her lips in a slow, easy kiss that was unlike anything she could ever make up in her vivid imagination.

  * * *

  The next morning, Carter drove Lorraine home and parked her car in her designated parking space. He was preparing to walk her up to her door, but he was already running late, and Lorraine assured him it was unnecessary. He walked the few blocks from her Gold Coast high-rise to Lillian’s, grateful for the change of clothes he kept tucked in a backpack in one of the consultation offices.

  This wasn’t his first time having to go straight to the bakery after being out all night, although it was usually after a night of hard partying and no sleep. He hadn’t had much sleep last night, but those few hours that he’d spooned against Lorraine, his arms wrapped around her soft, petite frame, were some of the best hours of sleep he’d ever had.

  He’d told her he loved her last night.

  Instant panic seized his chest. Carter tried to tamp it down. It was ridiculous that just the thought of falling in love could evoke such terror, but it was there, clawing at his throat, making it hard to breathe.

  He didn’t do love, especially this intense, all-consuming kind he was starting to feel for Lorraine. That kind of love existed for his grandmother’s generation, and maybe a few others here and there, but it just wasn’t in the cards for him.

  Look at his own parents. There sure as hell wasn’t any love lost there.

  What if in the middle of all of this he pulled a Devon Drayson and decided that the love and marriage thing just wasn’t for him?

  Wait. Marriage? Who was talking marriage?

  “Stop thinking so damn much.” Carter cursed underneath his breath. They had only been dating for a few weeks. He needed to chill the hell out and stop creating problems where none existed. He and Lorraine enjoyed each other’s company. He was having more fun with her than with any woman he’d ever been with before. Why couldn’t he just enjoy it and stop thinking so damn much?

  Carter entered through the back door at Lillian’s and immediately noticed a marked uptick in the usual noise level. Drake came out of one of the offices and pointed at Carter.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” his cousin asked.

  “Wearing for what?”

  “Didn’t you get Shari’s text message? There’s a local news crew in the bakery. They’re doing a feature on Lillian’s participation in You Take the Cake.”

  Carter had left his phone charger at home when he and Lorraine had left for her loft, not realizing that he wouldn’t be returning to his apartment. His phone had died sometime during the night, so any text messages were waiting in limbo land.

  “Come on, man,” Drake said. “You know they’re going to want to interview you after all the press the animal cakes got after the Lincoln Park Zoo event.”

  Carter looked down at his rumpled T-shirt and jeans. He thought the only thing he would be doing today was meeting with Drake and Malik about the upcoming book. He’d had no plans to even go into the retail portion of the bakery.

  “Keep them occupied for a few minutes while I change,” Carter told his cousin. He quickly made it to the consultation office and pulled out the backpack he kept in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. The polo shirt he pulled out was almost as wrinkled as his T-shirt, but at least it had a collar. Carter slipped into the bathroom with his toiletry bag and a couple of minutes later, made his way into the storefront where the TV crew was interviewing Shari in front of a display of Lillian’s prepackaged brownie mixes.

  “And here is the man behind those fabulous cakes that were on display at the Comer Children’s Hospital ‘View the Zoo’ event at Lincoln Park Zoo,” the reporter said, stepping over to Carter.

  Carter dialed up his most charming smile and answered her questions regarding what went into making such elaborate cakes.

  “Lillian’s has always been a favorite here in Chicago, but your cakes in particular are becoming just as renowned, Carter. How does it feel?”

  “It feels wonderful to know that people are enjoying my creations,” he answered. “I work hard at my craft, and it’s great to hear that customers appreciate my hard work.”

  “All of Chicago is looking forward to cheering you on in the You Take the Cake competition next month.” The reporter turned to the camera. “The great thing about this story is that the desserts taste just as fabulous as they look.” She took a bite out of a chocolate petit four. “Back to you, John.”

  Carter turned, and found Drake standing less than a foot away. “My creations? Way to be a team player, Carter. Maybe you should just go out there to California by yourself. You don’t need the rest of us.”

  “Don’t be an asshole,” Carter spat. “You know that’s not how I meant it.”

  “Really? It sounded that way.”

  “Just because you’re insecure about your place in the business, don’t take it out on me,” Carter said, instantly recognizing the irony in that statement. If anyone was insecure about his worth to Lillian’s, it was him.

  Drake pointed toward the camera crew, who were wrapping up their equipment. “You know who got them to come here? I did. They followed a link I tweeted to Lillian’s Facebook page and contacted me there. So I know exactly what I do for this bakery.”

  Carter wasn’t up for this discussion today—or ever. “Look, are we discussing the Brothers Who Bake cookbook this morning, or what? If not, I’ve got other things I can be doing on my day off.”

  “You do realize that Grandma Lillian and Grandpa Henry’s decision of who will run the bakery will depend on more than just who bakes the best, right?”

  “Are we talking about Brothers Who Bake?” Carter repeated.

  Drake’s lips thinned into a sharp line, but he didn’t press any more. “Malik is in the kitchen.”

  “Then let’s get this over with.” The quicker he finished here at Lillian’s, the quicker he could take time to think about just what was happening between him and Lorraine. He’d never told a woman that he loved her before and actually meant it. He needed to figure out if he meant it this time.

  Although Carter had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question.

  Chapter 11

  Lorraine turned off the shower and stepped onto the plush bathroom rug. It had felt almost as if she’d traveled ten years back in time when she’d slipped into the penthouse an hour ago, like a risky fifteen-year-old crossing her fingers that no one would hear her sneaking in. Thankfully, her parents either were still lingering in their wing of the apartment or, hopefully, had left altogether. They were due for a quick trip to France or Morocco any day now.

  She wrapped her hair in a towel and pulled her silk robe from the hook behind her bathroom door. She slipped into it, her mind set on draping herself across the bed and sleeping for a few hours before she actually did something productive today. That is, if she could find something productive to do today. Something more than answering correspondence from one of the society groups her mother had forced her to join.

  Lorraine stepped out of her bathroom and stopped short.

  Her mother stood in the middle of her bedroom, holding a brown manila folder.

  “What are you doing in my room?” Lorraine asked, tightening the belt on her robe.

  “Did you have a good time with your baker friend last night?” her mother asked.

  “His name is Carter,” Lorraine bit out between clenched teeth.

  “Yes, I know.” Her mother opened the folder and peered at the pages inside. “Carter Drayson. Son of Devon Drayson, the youngest, bachelor son of Lillian and Henry Drayson,” her mother continued. “Carter’s mother and father
were never married.”

  “I know that,” Lorraine said. “What is your point, Mother?”

  “Carter never finished college. He dropped out after his freshman year.”

  “He went to culinary school. In fact, he attended one of the best culinary schools in the country. Again, what is your point, Mother?”

  “My point is that I do not approve of my daughter dating a college dropout with a reputation that is equivalent to that of a male whore.”

  Lorraine flinched at her harsh words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her mother held up the folder. “It’s right here in black and white. The private investigator I hired uncovered several interesting things about your baker.”

  “You had Carter investigated?” Lorraine asked with disbelief.

  “Yes, I did,” her mother hissed.

  “You had no right.”

  “I had every right!” her mother said with an uncharacteristic shout. “Or have you forgotten just what it cost this family the last time you fell head over heels for some smooth talker, Lorraine?”

  “Carter and Broderick are nothing alike,” Lorraine defended. “Don’t you dare put them in the same category.”

  “Carter Drayson and Broderick Collins are more alike than you know. Do you remember when you discovered that Broderick was seeing at least a half dozen other women?”

  Lorraine’s stomach felt as if it were filled with lead. “Carter isn’t seeing anyone else,” she said.

  “I couldn’t find proof that he’s seeing someone else now, but do you have any idea how many women he has been linked to in the past?”

  “Probably as many as your own son,” Lorraine countered. “Do you think Stuart is some eunuch that spends all of his time in the jewelry store? Please, Mother.”

  “I have no illusions about what Stuart does, but your brother is discreet. He knows how to conduct himself, and every single girl he has ever dated comes from good breeding.”

  “Carter is a Drayson!” Lorraine practically screeched.

  “He is also a playboy who collects women the way I collect shoes. You don’t know anything about this man, but it’s all here.” Her mother tossed the folder onto her bed. “Why don’t you read it? Then see if you feel the same way about your little baker once you consider just how many women came before you.”