Read A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) Online

Authors: Sorcha Grace

Tags: #“Absolutely delectable.”—J. Kenner, #New York Times Bestselling Author “A satisfying, #sensual read not to be missed.”—Raine Miller, #New York Times Bestselling Author “An intriguing start to a saucy new trilogy.”—Roni Loren, #National Bestselling Author “Yummy! Imagine Christian Grey with warm chocolate and you have William Lambourne.”—Aleatha Romig, #New York Times Bestselling Author

A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) (11 page)

BOOK: A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series)
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“I’m on the jet now. We’ve been diverted to Omaha, but as soon as we get clearance, we’re heading back. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’m not going to hold my breath.”

“This isn’t over.” Then he hung up.

I threw my phone down on the couch and buried my face in my hands. Half of me was so fucking pissed at him. Who was he to tell me I couldn’t call things off? This was my relationship as much as his. He couldn’t call all the shots. But as soon as I got really good and mad, I burst into tears. I didn’t want it to be over. I didn’t want to tell William goodbye.

God, I was a complete basket case. I was glad Beckett wasn’t awake because if he saw me now he’d make me eat more dessert, and I didn’t think my waistline could handle it.

Finally, I got it together, washed my face, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I’d dropped everything on the floor when I came in the night before, so I started unpacking. There wasn’t much to put away, but I needed to charge my laptop. I brought my bag to my desk, plugged my laptop in, and noticed a stack of paper in the printer. I couldn’t remember printing anything, and when I lifted the sheets, I realized they weren’t mine.

Beckett had printed several copies of his résumé. He hadn’t said anything about looking for a job. I put them back and finished unpacking, and when Beckett came out of the bedroom, hair sticking straight up, I brought him coffee and the résumés. “What’s up? Are you applying for a job or something?”

He didn’t answer right away—no whimsical quip, which was unusual—and I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I’d thought he was the one person I could always trust and believe in. “What are you not telling me?”

“It’s nothing, Cat. Well, it
is
something, something that could be really big. The problem is I can’t talk about it.”

“Seems to be a common theme right now,” I muttered.


Legally
, I can’t talk about it. I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement and everything.”

“And that includes me?”

“Yeah. But I’ll be able to tell you soon, okay? You’ll be the first one.” He rose and put his hands on my arm. “I promise.”

“Okay. Great.” But it wasn’t great. What the hell was going on? Now even Beckett was keeping secrets from me? We’d always shared everything.

“Look at this!” Beckett said, staring out the window. “You know what this is?”

I joined him. “Snow?”

“A snow
day
.”

“What’s a snow day?”

“A day when we don’t do any work. We gotta go play in the snow.”

It was as good an idea as any, especially given that I’d just kind of broken up with my boyfriend over the phone. I needed a distraction.

I dressed warmly and put Laird’s leash on. Right before we went out, I grabbed my Leica and a few rolls of film. The three of us tromped around the neighborhood. I took pictures of the icy landscape while Laird made it his personal mission to pee on every buried fire hydrant, bush, and tree stump. Beckett and I built a snowman, made snow angels, and had a snowball fight with a couple of kids who lived across the street. We laughed at the lawn chairs that were already starting to line the streets as people began digging out and claiming parking spaces. I was glad I paid for a parking space for my Volvo, but I’d be shoveling it out soon enough too.

After lunch, we went back out and walked through Lincoln Park down to the lake. I took pictures of everything—the gunmetal grey sky with hints of sun peeking through, the snow on the frozen water, a fallen branch covered with intricate ice crystals, a pair of cross-country skiers
whooshing
quietly across the snowy drifts.

As I snapped photos, Beckett talked. Apparently, he’d seen Alec a few times while I was in Napa. “Are things getting serious?” I asked.

“Things are progressing.”

I lowered my camera and gave him a look. “Progressing? What does that mean?”

“I really like him, Cat. I think—no, I
know
I’m falling for him.”

I felt my frozen face break into a huge grin. “Really?”

“I might even be in love. I’m not sure yet. Is that weird? Not to know?”

“Not at all.” I could definitely relate. “You’ll know soon.” I gave him an impulsive hug. “Beckett, I’m so happy for you. I really like Alec. I think you two will be good together.”

“We are.”

“I’m sorry I blabbed so long last night that you didn’t get a chance to tell me about things with Alec. I’ve been a sucky best friend lately. It’s all
Cat, this
and
Cat, that
.”

“It’s not every day I get to rub elbows with the girlfriends of the über-rich. I forgive you. Did you hear from William yet?”

“Yeah,” I said, not holding back on the resignation in my voice. “He’s on his way here. I told him even he couldn’t fly in a blizzard.”

Beckett looked at the sky. “It’s not snowing now.”

No, it wasn’t.

We headed back to my condo, and though I told Beckett he could stay, he said he was anxious to get home. I sent as many of the desserts off with him as I could, and then I closed the door and leaned against it.

I needed to get ready. I wasn’t certain what I was getting ready for, but I didn’t want to be caught off guard. I checked my phone again. No more calls or texts from William. Presumably, his plane had been allowed to take off again, and he was on his way. Knowing him, he wouldn’t call. He’d just show up.

I decided to take a long bubble bath. I wanted to warm up after all day outdoors, and I lingered until my fingers were prunes. Then I climbed out and dressed in skinny distressed jeans and a chunky ivory grandpa sweater. I took a little extra time with my make-up and hair. I had a smattering of freckles across my cheeks from my time in the sun, and I didn’t want to cover them up. I dusted a light sheen of powder on my nose, happy to see I didn’t look quite as pale and pasty as I had before the trip, and then slicked on some berry lip gloss.

I padded out of the bathroom, checked my phone again—still nothing—and headed to the kitchen to feed Laird. I’d taken all of three steps when the buzzer sounded.

Ten

 

William usually circumvented my buzzer, so there was a moment when I wondered if it was really him. But when I pushed the button, he said, “Buzz me in, Catherine.”

My whole body warmed at the sound of his voice. Despite everything, I had to admit I’d missed him. I opened the door as he came to the top of the stairs, and I felt my mouth go dry. He looked so good. His face was slightly flushed, his hair mussed and curly from the damp weather. He wore a heavy black wool overcoat with a red scarf loose at the collar. He carried about six bags of groceries and the bag I’d left in California.

“William,” I began. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but it didn’t matter. He stopped before me, dropped the groceries and my bag, and pulled me into his arms. His mouth was on mine, and he wasted no time teasing or coaxing me. He wanted nothing less than a complete surrender. His tongue filled my mouth, his lips demanding and possessive. Oh God, I wanted to be possessed. I couldn’t help it. The heat I’d felt at just the sound of his voice ratcheted up a thousand degrees, and I melted into him. I pressed against his big muscled chest and my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. With a growl, he shrugged off his coat and scarf, and then smothered me with his warmth.

I never could resist William. My body betrayed me every time. But it felt so good to be held by him, to be safe in the circle of his embrace. He never kissed me the same way twice, but each kiss made my head spin and my muscles go weak. I was strong and independent, but something inside me needed the pleasure only William knew how to give me.

His tongue mated with mine in a fierce, passionate battle I knew he would win. And if he won, I won. I nipped at his lips, and he smiled, running his hands down my back as he pushed me against the doorframe and continued to take my mouth completely. I couldn’t nip at him now. He kissed me deeply, and when we pulled apart, I was gasping for breath.

I realized we were still standing in the hallway, the bags at our feet, his coat and scarf in a pile next to them. “It’s been three days since I’ve been inside you.” His hand caressed my face, tracing the line of my jaw. “I’ve missed you, Catherine. Missed you terribly…” His voice trailed off and his hot breath landed on my neck as he trailed light kisses up toward my ear. I arched my neck to the side to give him better access and shivered with anticipation, imagining how good it would feel to wrap my legs around his waist while he thrust hard and fast into me. His erection bulged in his grey trousers. I felt it pressing against my belly and knew he wanted me. I wanted him too, though my emotions were in complete turmoil. As always, the physical connection between us overpowered anything else I was feeling.

He pulled his head back and glanced down at the shopping bags. “But we need to cook and then eat. And we have lots to talk about. You, beautiful girl, will have to wait.”

I stepped back from his embrace. “You should come inside.” I watched as he lifted the groceries and my bag and brought them inside.

He must have seen my frown at my luggage because he said, “I brought your clothes back, along with some of the things I picked out for you.”

“So you did go back to the house?” I asked, following him to the kitchen, where he dropped the bags. He looked as though he’d come straight from a business meeting. He wore charcoal trousers and an ice blue button-down shirt, open at the collar. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his tie and suit jacket. He’d also rolled the sleeves to his elbows. My gaze flicked to his bronzed, corded forearms.

“Yes, but there was no reason for me to stay without you there.” He smiled a tentative smile and ran his hands along my shoulders and arms then across my breasts. I winced and pulled back. His expression was instantly concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

I felt my face flush with heat, but not from arousal. Really, after everything we’d done and shared, I didn’t know why a little biology should embarrass me. And maybe if he knew, he’d ease off the physical stuff and give me a little time to start thinking with my head again. “My breasts hurt. That’s typical for me when I have my period.”

“I see.” He didn’t blink, and his eyes never left mine. “Maybe I can find a way to make them—and you—feel better.” Instead of shying away from me, his hand began to gently caress my left breast. His touch felt surprisingly good, and when he touched my other breast too, I let out a slow, ragged breath. He leaned close, and I could smell the scent of his shampoo and aftershave. His mouth dipped below my ear again, and I felt his breath on the tender skin there. He feathered hot kisses onto my skin and pressed that hard erection firmly against me.

“William…” I could hardly catch my breath. My cheeks felt hot, and I knew some of the flush in them was from embarrassment. I was wet for him, my body responding as always to his touch. I should have known William wouldn’t be put off. For most guys that time of the month was a deterrent, but William didn’t seem turned off in the least.

As though reading my thoughts, he said, “Your bleeding doesn’t bother me. Are you uncomfortable with it?”

“I…” Was I? I had no idea. “I guess not.”

“Good. Orgasms can help with cramps.” He smiled down at me, and it was that charming, playful smile that always managed to slay me. I felt my heart clench in my chest, and tried not to think too hard about it. I had a suspicion I was still in love with William Maddox Lambourne.

I shook my head, trying to muster some defense. “I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

“All that matters is I know it to be true.” He gave me a long, promising look then turned to the bags on the counter. “Let’s get these unloaded and I’ll tell you what’s for dinner.”

From the amount of food William had purchased, we were obviously cooking together and staying in for dinner. With the weather a mess, that made sense, but I still felt a stab of disappointment. If we went out, we’d have a public space as a buffer between us. Right now I felt like I could use that buffer—obviously I wasn’t upset enough with him to be able to resist his kisses or caresses.

But I wasn’t going to suggest we go out. I knew how much William loved to cook, and now that I saw him, saw how concerned he was about even a little wince I made, I felt guilty for leaving him in Napa. He must have been sick with worry. And he didn’t need that on top of everything else that was going on. I never thought I was the kind of girl who bailed on her boyfriend during his time of need, the kind of girl who got all selfish and needy when she wasn’t a guy’s number one priority every second. Unfortunately, that was exactly the way I’d acted, and I regretted it now.

“So what are we having?” I asked when we were done unloading. I surveyed the wrapped meat, herbs, mushrooms, and a bottle of red wine. If I’d been a chef, I would have been able to put the ingredients together into a meal, but I had no clue. Fancy hamburgers?

“Beef bourguignon,” William said. “Have you had it before?”

“Maybe…”

“It’s a really simple French stew—good for a cold winter night—with beef braised in red Burgundy with garlic, onions, herbs, and mushrooms. It’s delicious.”

I nodded and watched as he unwrapped the ingredients and pulled out pots and pans. He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to me. I’d learned to stay out of his way when he was cooking. If I tried to help, I only amused him. “Why don’t you chop the onions?” William said, indicating a cutting board and knife.

“Sure.”

“You remember how?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Yes.” I started chopping, my thoughts returning, no doubt as William intended, to the night he had showed me how to chop onions at his penthouse. The blindfold and frozen grapes night. But tonight William didn’t stand behind me, guiding my hands as I quartered and turned the onion. His muscled chest wasn’t pressed against my back; his warm, sure hands weren’t over mine on the knife.

I paused and glanced over my shoulder at him. He stood at the AGA over a large Dutch oven. Already a wonderful herby aroma scented the kitchen. William looked exhausted. Faint smudges darkened the skin under his eyes, and his shoulders slumped slightly. But even as I watched, he rolled those same shoulders and took a sip of wine. The act of cooking was relaxing him and helping to ease some of the tension between us, thank God.

I took another sip of wine, figuring it couldn’t hurt. It hadn’t escaped my notice that we still weren’t discussing the really important issues. By the time I finished chopping and drank a second glass of wine, William had finished assembling his stew. I was warm and slightly buzzed and ready to talk. “So where were you on Monday?” I asked, leaning against the counter and playing with the rim of my all-but-empty wine glass. “And how about Tuesday? Why did you leave me alone?”

He didn’t speak immediately. I saw his back straighten, but he continued stirring the big cast iron pot simmering away on the AGA.

“You haven’t offered any explanation,” I pointed out. “Why did you leave me alone?”

“You weren’t alone, Catherine.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You were at Casa di Rosabela with my staff at your service. I thought you’d enjoy it, actually. You were comfortable, your every need was seen to, and you were safe.”

“Yes, safe as a bird in a cage.”

He frowned at me and looked back down at the Dutch oven, lifting his spoon to stir again. “I hadn’t planned to be gone more than a day, but plans don’t always work out.”

“I get that, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you didn’t tell me any of this—not where you were, when you thought you’d be back, what was going on with the whole Wyatt situation.” I stepped forward, anger surging through me. “You didn’t contact me for three days, William. We talked about this, remember? No more secrets. You promised me no more secrets.” I heard my voice rising, reaching an almost shrill pitch. I hated it. Not only was I the girl who’d left in his time of need, now I was the shrill nagging girlfriend.

William set down the spoon and turned slowly to face me. “I was in Canada. In the Yukon, just north of Whitehorse. I couldn’t get any cell service, which was why I couldn’t call or text. I’d planned to be back by Monday night, but there was heavy snow and we couldn’t take off. My staff told you I was fine, and I was. I was just delayed.”

Shock shuddered through me. I felt as if I’d been hit by a blast of arctic air. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Fucking unbelievable!” I had to move. Had to do something besides throw a plate at his thick skull. I stomped out of the kitchen, then turned and stomped right back in again. This was so not over.

“How can you think telling your housekeeper or your hired thug you’re fine is the same as telling me? I don’t work for you. I’m your girlfriend, not your employee. I’m entitled to hear from you directly.”

“Catherine.” He stepped toward me, but I held up a hand. I wasn’t even close to finished.

“And how do you justify flying off to God-knows-where Canada without even a head’s up?
Hey, Cat, going to fly to Canada tomorrow. Might not be back for dinner.
You just left. And you didn’t even say goodbye. Why did you go there? Obviously it had something to do with the whole Wyatt situation, but that’s a guess because you’re keeping me in the dark about that too.”

I stepped closer to him, inches from his face. “I care about you, William. I worry about you. Do you think I
wanted
to go to Napa? You said you needed me. You said you couldn’t do it alone. I wanted to be there for you. Why couldn’t you let me?” I swiped a hand across my cheek, wiping away tears. I didn’t want to cry. I hated crying in front of other people, but my frustration and anger and worry had all coalesced into a hot ball in the pit of my stomach. The tears came unbidden. “Why won’t you let me in?”

“Don’t cry.” William pulled me into his arms. “I don’t want you to cry.” I resisted but his arms tightened around me and I buried my face in his warm, muscular chest. I was still pissed as hell, but it felt so good to be held by him as I sobbed. This was where I felt safest—in his arms, surrounded by that musky scent that was uniquely
him,
and hearing the steady thump of the heartbeat in his chest.

The stubborn tears continued to fall, and gradually William pulled away and tipped my chin up. He used his thumb, large and masculine, to wipe the tears away. Why did everything have to be so complicated between us? We could be so good. I
knew
we could.

“You’re killing me right now. I hate seeing you this upset. I’m trying, Catherine. I’m still new to this boyfriend thing. Listen, I didn’t want to be away from you. You have to know that. But I’m here now, and we’re together. That’s what matters.” He kissed me, his lips gentle and apologetic.

He was being sincere. I heard the regret in his voice. But sincerity, no matter how heartfelt, didn’t change the fact that he’d done the very thing he’d said he wouldn’t do. It didn’t change that he frustrated me to no end. I pulled away, and I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Was Anya with you? She’s part of your team, right?”

He stiffened, his head jerking up and his eyes hardening slightly. “Anya was there. So were George, Anthony, and a few other security personnel.”

I’d assumed the security detail had been with him, but hearing him say it made chills run down my spine. He’d needed that much security? That much protection? From what? And how was Anya protecting him? “I’m sure sexy Anya made the cold Yukon nights a little less frigid.”

William tilted his head, wary. “What do you mean?”

“I saw the picture in the library. You two go way back, don’t you?”

“We do. I met Anya in Alaska when I was nineteen. She’s been a good friend to me.”

Alaska. I’d had no idea. That must have been a particularly vulnerable time in his life. He’d reopened the investigation into his parents’ plane crash, putting off a year of college to do so. “Is that all she is?”

“That’s all she is now.” His tone was careful.

I reeled back. She was a former lover. I knew it. But I wasn’t prepared for the stab that went through my heart at that revelation.

“Do you really want to talk about this? Trust me, it doesn’t matter now, Catherine. It was a long time ago.” His voice was cold and unwavering.

BOOK: A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series)
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