Delectable Desire

by Farrah Rochon

  Lorraine crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need to read a report on Carter. If I have any questions, I can go straight to the source.”

  “Do you think he would tell you the truth?”

  “What would that report tell me?”

  “It would tell you that in all of his thirty years, Carter Drayson has dated dozens of women, but has never been seriously linked to a single one of them. Not one, Lorraine. Yet, all of a sudden, he only has eyes for you?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “When you’ve only been dating for a few weeks? Yes, that is hard for me to believe. Do you really think this man has fallen head over heels for you, Lorraine? Do you think that’s what his eyes are really focused on? He may be a Drayson, but that is nothing compared to being a Hawthorne-Hayes. And there are quite a few Drayson grandchildren. That money pot would have to be split among a fair amount of people.”

  “Oh, my God, Mother. Not everyone thinks the way you do. Carter does not want me for my money.”

  “I’m sure you thought the same of Broderick Collins.”

  Lorraine flinched at her mother’s well-placed barb. The woman knew exactly what to say to draw the most blood.

  “You are not a good judge of character, Lorraine. Do not get caught up in all the flowers and romance. You need to take a good look at exactly who this Carter Drayson is, and think about what he really is after.”

  For several minutes after her mother had exited the room, Lorraine remained where she stood. She stared at the offending file folder lying on her sage-green satin comforter. She told herself to march to the bed, grab it and throw it in the trash—preferably in front of her mother’s face.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  And she hated herself for it.

  She hated herself even more with every step she took toward the bed. By the time she sank onto the plush mattress and pulled the folder onto her lap, her self-loathing was enough to smother her.

  But she still opened the file.

  * * *

  Lorraine snuggled closer against Carter as the Ferris wheel took another huge loop. The air was brisk against her face, with just the slightest chill.

  “The city looks so peaceful from here. It is breathtaking.”

  “Don’t you have an even better view from over there?” he asked, pointing to her high-rise building in Gold Coast, which they could see from the Ferris wheel.

  “It’s not the same,” Lorraine said. “I feel so free up here. As if I don’t have a care in the world. It feels heavenly.”

  “And you weren’t sure when I told you I was taking you to Navy Pier,” Carter said as he placed a kiss against her temple.

  “I told you that I had a horrible experience the last time I came here. As long as I stay away from the swings, I should be okay.”

  “That’s where I had planned to take you next,” he teased.

  Lorraine pinched his arm and then held on tighter to it. She rested her head against his shoulder, trying to block out the things she’d read in the private investigator’s report. It didn’t matter how many women Carter had dated, or that none of his relationships seemed to last very long. She knew what she felt right now, and it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She was not going to let some P.I. her mother had hired mar her vision of Carter.

  Their seat came to a stop at the base of the Ferris wheel and they got off.

  “I promised you dinner,” Carter said. “I guess it’s time I make good on my promise.”

  Walking hand in hand, they bypassed the restaurants along the pier and headed for the food court. Lorraine laughed at Carter’s shocked look when she admitted that she did not like the traditional Chicago-style hot dog.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not a fan of tomatoes, or those seeded buns.”

  “Next thing you’ll tell me is that you root for the Cubs instead of the White Sox.”

  Lorraine scrunched up her nose. “Is that football or basketball?”

  Carter’s head fell forward with his weary sigh.

  “I’m just kidding.” She laughed. “I know that the White Sox is a baseball team, but you would never catch me watching a game, no matter who is playing.”

  Carter purchased two hot dogs—a traditional Chicago dog for himself and a plain frank on a bun for her—then guided her to a less-crowded area on the pier. They stood against the railing, eating their hot dogs. Just then, something sailed past them, making a plopping sound as it hit the water.

  A voice yelled, “Come here, Ethan!” and a young boy came running up to the railing. Carter caught him just in time.

  “Whoa, there,” he said, catching the toddler by the waist.

  The little boy pointed at the inky water and said, “Truck.”

  “Ethan!” The father came up to the railing, pushing a stroller with a baby who couldn’t be more than a few months old. The man was puffing like someone who’d just run a marathon. “Ethan, never run away like that again,” the father scolded. He turned to Carter. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Carter said. “But I think you’ll need to buy a new T.R.U.C.K.” He pointed to the water.

  Thanking Carter again, the father attached one of those kid leashes to the curly redhead’s tiny wrist and continued on.

  “Looks as if he’s got his hands full,” Carter said.

  “I give him kudos for being brave enough to bring such young kids out to the pier, but I do hope the mother is in the restroom or something. I’m not sure he will make it much longer on his own.”

  Carter laughed. “Dad looked as if he was ready to dive in that water just to get away.” He looked over at her, his head tilted slightly. In a softer, muted tone, he asked, “Do you want kids?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. She dreamed of having children someday. And actually being there for them instead of allowing a nanny or housekeeper to raise them. “What about you?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Kids are so much responsibility.”

  “Does that scare you?”

  “In a way, yeah. When I do have kids, I want to do it right.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He was silent for so long that Lorraine wondered if he would continue. “I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, because I do love both of my parents, and I know my mom tried her hardest to do right by me, but I’ve always resented the fact that they were never married. They’re the reason I stood out, the reason I’m different from my cousins.”

  “What makes you so sure things would have been better for you if they had been married?” she asked him.

  “Oh, I know better than to think that,” Carter said with a humorless laugh. “As much as I resented the fact that they didn’t get married, I know it would have been a disaster. They’ve never gotten along. It makes me wonder how they tolerated each other long enough to actually make me.” He turned around and leaned back against the railing. “But in all these years, neither of them ever came close to marrying anyone else, either. It makes me wonder if I’m even wired for marriage.”

  Lorraine was silent for a long stretch of time. It wasn’t as if she had been hoping for a marriage proposal. She and Carter had only been dating for a few weeks. But the way he was talking right now, it felt as if he didn’t think he would ever be marriage material.

  It broke her heart that he saw himself as someone who wasn’t worthy enough for the kind of love that came with marriage. That wasn’t the Carter Drayson she saw when she looked at him. She saw a man who placed her feelings—her pleasure—above his own. The man she saw standing next to her was selfless and so full of love that he took her breath away. Why could he not see the same?

  “I think they may put us off the pier if we continue with this conversation much longer,” Carter said. “Our mopey frowns will run the guests off.”

  Lorraine laughed, loving the way he could so effortlessly put a smile on her face.


  Carter announced that he had room for dessert, so he went in search of ice cream. Leaning against the railing that lined the pier, Lorraine looked out over the water, her mind once again drifting to that private investigator’s report and all the women it had listed as being a part of Carter’s past.

  She was no psychologist, but after their previous conversation, she couldn’t help thinking that Carter’s association with all those women had something to do with how he saw his parents’ relationship. Maybe, without even knowing it, he had created a self-fulfilling prophecy by not giving himself the chance to develop a long, stable relationship.

  She was not going to allow that to happen to them. Carter had come to mean too much to her in these few short weeks. She’d never felt so alive, so full of life. She wasn’t ready to give him up.

  “I hope you like mint chocolate chip.”

  She turned to find Carter holding two ice-cream cones and a white bag.

  “I’ve got ice cream and Garrett’s caramel corn. It’s dessert heaven.”

  “Or a ticket to the gym,” Lorraine said, taking the ice-cream cone from him.

  “You don’t need a gym.” Carter pressed a kiss to her temple. In a decidedly sexy voice, he whispered, “I’ve got my own workout regimen for you.”

  “You can’t help being naughty, can you?” She laughed.

  “Not when I’m around you,” he admitted. “Are you ready for the concert?”

  With a nod, she grabbed on to his hand that held the bag of popcorn and they headed toward the stage area, where a local band Trina had mentioned was scheduled to hold a live concert. As they walked hand in hand, a group of three women who looked to be about her age walked toward them. They didn’t try to hide their ogling as they looked Carter up and down. Carter seemed oblivious, but Lorraine certainly was not.

  She begged herself to just let it go, but she couldn’t hold back, not with the things she’d read in that P.I. report still fresh in her mind.

  “So,” Lorraine said, trying to keep her tone as playful as possible, “just how many women have been treated to the Carter Drayson Experience?”

  He looked over at her. “The Carter Drayson Experience?”

  “You must know what I’m asking, Carter. I’m not naive. I know I’m not the first.”

  “I told you from the beginning that I haven’t been a choirboy,” he said.

  “I’m not judging you.” Yes, she was. “I just want to know. Am I the twenty-first? Fifty-first?”

  “Rainey, I haven’t kept count.”

  “So, there have been enough that you’d lose count?” Just shut up, Lorraine pleaded with herself.

  Carter stopped walking and turned to her. “Where is all of this coming from?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about the P.I. report, but she could only imagine what Carter would think. Any negative reaction would be completely warranted. How could she even begin to explain her mother’s actions to him?

  Instead, Lorraine decided to take another approach. It was a partial truth.

  “Even though you seem oblivious of it, there have been quite a few women checking you out, Carter.”

  A smile crept up the sides of his mouth. “Are you jealous?”

  Lorraine frowned at him, giving him the evil eye. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.

  Carter pitched what was left of his ice-cream cone in a nearby trash bin and turned to her. He lifted her chin up to his gaze. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about,” he said. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a saint. I’ve done some things in the past that I’m not proud of, and when I think about it now, I wonder how I could have been so...indiscriminate, for lack of a better word.”

  “How indiscriminate?”

  “Are you really going to judge me based on my past?”

  “I don’t want to,” she said.

  “If I’d known that someone like you was on the horizon, I would have made very different choices,” he said.

  Her skin instantly flushed with the most delicious warmth.

  “I’m not the man I was a month ago, Rainey. You’ve changed me in so many ways. It scared the hell out of me at first, but I realize that I like the man I am when I’m with you.”

  Lorraine brought her hand to her chest, afraid her heart would burst at his beautiful words.

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” she said.

  “That’s okay,” Carter said as he leaned in close, his lips hovering just a smidgen above hers. “I can think of a dozen ways that you can make it up to me.”

  Chapter 12

  “You are going to get me into so much trouble,” Lorraine whispered in his ear.

  “How’s that?” he asked, his voice equally soft.

  “I was scheduled to attend a Junior League meeting this morning. Yet here I am, sneaking out to be with you.”

  “You could have said no when I called.”

  “You knew I couldn’t resist this invitation,” she said.

  Carter tried to staunch the cagey smile playing at his lips. It was a good thing the room was dimly lit. Maybe she wouldn’t see it.

  “I know,” he said, the words coming out with a hint of mischievousness, despite his best effort to hide it.

  Lorraine pinched his arm as they strolled to the next exhibit.

  When he’d extended an invitation to attend a special Marcel Duchamp exhibition being held at the Field Museum, Carter knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. As he’d predicted, Lorraine blew off her schedule for the day. When he’d picked her up from her building, she’d admitted that it was the third time she’d cancelled on previously held commitments since she and Carter had begun dating.

  Carter had experienced a stab of guilt, and had offered to take her to the exhibit another time, but Lorraine wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You’ve helped me to rediscover that fun, spontaneous side of myself that I’d buried after the incident with my ex-boyfriend,” she’d told him. “I didn’t realize just how much I miss being that girl.”

  He had to admit that he liked that girl, too.

  Spotlights shone on the paintings and small sculptures encased in glass. As they viewed the paintings, Lorraine explained tidbits she’d learned about many of them while studying as an art history major. She’d been surprised by the fact that he knew several of her little-known facts.

  “Did you know that Duchamp had a pseudonym? He was also known as Rose Selavy.”

  “A woman?”

  She nodded. “He dressed in drag and had a series of photographs taken. They are on display at museums throughout the U.S. and Europe.”

  “Now, that I didn’t know,” Carter said. “What little-known fact will people say about you when they’re looking at your work hanging in a museum?”

  She lowered her voice even more than the whispered tones they were already using. “I doubt any of L. Elise’s work would be welcome in the Field Museum,” she said.

  “Maybe not, but Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes’s would be,” he said. “Maybe in the Hawthorne-Hayes gallery? If I’m not mistaken, I do believe I saw one of those silver plaques with Arnold and Abigail Hawthorne-Hayes etched into it.”

  “You did,” Lorraine answered. “My father supports the arts, but he still does not approve of his daughter being an artist.” Her laugh was light, but Carter caught the hint of sadness. “It is ridiculously hypocritical, but it doesn’t matter. As I’ve previously stated, those paintings that I paint under my own name are just for me.”

  Carter was stunned by the rush of frustration that swiftly tore through him. “Are you telling me that you plan to keep your talent hidden for the rest of your life? Do you really want people to think that all there is to Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes is a rich socialite who throws afternoon teas?”

  The flash of hurt that etched across her face caused his chest to tighten with remorse.

  “That’s not fair,” she said, her voice muted.

  Carter dialed back his tone. He caught her ch
in between his fingers and lifted her face up so that he could look into her eyes.

  “No, it isn’t,” he said. “It’s not fair to you. You have unbelievable talent. You need to take credit for it.”

  “I’m not one to brag about my work, Carter. It’s not about that for me.”

  “There’s a difference between bragging and owning what’s rightfully yours, Rainey. This gift you’ve been given is amazing. Own it. I don’t care how much you try to convince yourself that you’re happy as the mysterious L. Elise. I know deep down you want people to know that Lorraine is the genius behind those paintings.”

  The glimmer of a smile played at the corners of her lips. “Well, perhaps a little,” she admitted.

  Carter joined her in her smile. “I knew it.”

  His phone let out a beep. He pulled it from his pocket to silence it, then noticed the reminder that had popped up on the screen. “Oh, damn. How did I forget about this? We’re going to have to cut this short,” he said. “I have a standing date at the University of Chicago Medicine’s pediatric burn unit. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” Lorraine said. “Can I join you?”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  They left the museum and headed back to Lillian’s. As they were driving, Carter called the bakery and ordered three dozen cupcakes to be boxed up for him. Jason was waiting with the stacked boxes when they pulled into the alleyway behind Lillian’s.

  They drove south to the Hyde Park neighborhood where the hospital was located. Carter parked, but before he opened the car door he turned to her.

  “This won’t be easy,” he warned. “The burns on some of these kids...” Carter pulled in a deep breath. “The first time I came here, I almost left halfway through my visit. I’m talking second- and third-degree burns over sixty percent of their bodies. Some of them have been in here for months. It’s amazing the progress that’s been made.”

  “You do this often?” she asked.

  “At least once a month,” he answered. “These kids don’t even get the chance to attend events like the one at Lincoln Park Zoo the other night because of the risk of infection. And it’s actually easier to bring cookies, cupcakes or brownies to the kids in the burn unit. You never know what kind of restrictive diets the kids in the other wards are on, and if you think seeing a sick kid lying in a hospital bed is hard, just wait until you see that same kid after you’re forced to tell him that he can’t have a cupcake.”