Delectable Desire (20 page)

Lorraine smiled at her reflection.

She was
so
in love.

And she was no longer afraid.

Yes, she and Carter had only been dating for a few weeks—at dinner tonight they would celebrate their three-week anniversary—but in that short amount of time she had grown closer to him and learned more about him than any other man she’d ever been with before. Carter was everything she could ever hope to find in a man. She could see herself being with him, being this incredibly happy, for...ever.

Lorraine pulled in a shallow, anxious breath.

She didn’t want to think in terms of forever. Not yet. Despite how close she and Carter had grown over these past few weeks, it was unwise to have such thoughts this soon.

In the back of her mind was the knowledge that Carter was still contemplating moving to New York. She hated to think of him leaving after her just finding him, but Lorraine knew that this was a decision Carter needed to make for himself. She would complicate his decision even more by divulging just how much he’d come to mean to her in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t fair to place that kind of pressure on him.

But, God, how she hoped he felt the same way about her.

He’d told her that he loved her, and she had believed him one hundred percent. But was Carter’s idea of love the same as hers?

If there was one thing she had learned in life, it was that one person’s concept of love didn’t always measure up to someone else’s. She would never doubt that her father loved her, but Arnold Hawthorne-Hayes’s idea of love was throwing money at his children so that they wouldn’t bother him with pesky intangibles, like needing time and attention. Her mother’s idea of love was controlling every aspect of Lorraine’s life in order to shield her from the world, so that Lorraine would never again find herself in a situation like the one Broderick had created with his blackmail and lies.

What was Carter’s idea of love?

Lorraine glanced past the open door, and into her bedroom. Inside the bureau’s top drawer was that private investigator’s report. How many of the many women listed in there had Carter whispered “I love you” to as he’d held them close? Had he tenderly made love to all of them in that warm, inviting bed of his? Was that what he considered love?

“Stop it,” Lorraine demanded. She’d made the choice to ignore what the P.I. had written, and she was sticking to it. For all she knew, everything within the pages of that report had been made up. She wouldn’t put anything past her mother.

She went over to her dresser to get her simple pearl studs. On the bureau was a blank printout of the form for the arts fellowship she’d applied for, the one her father had ripped up. She had printed another form the very next day, but had yet to fill it out and submit it.

“I’ll get to it tomorrow,” she promised herself.

She grabbed her earrings and put them in, then opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of panties. She slipped the extra pair of underwear in her purse.

A few weeks ago, she would have blushed just at the thought of bringing extra panties on a date, but she’d grown by leaps and bounds in this short amount of time. She’d allowed shame over those pictures Broderick had taken to stifle her body’s needs for far too long. She was done feeling ashamed about pursuing sexual pleasure. She was a young, healthy, vibrant woman, and thanks to Carter, she knew what she wanted when it came to her sexuality.

She headed for the kitchen so she could let Frannie know that she might not be back tonight. Lorraine stopped short when she found her mother standing in the middle of the kitchen instead.

“Mother, I thought you had flown to San Diego with Father.”

“I changed my mind at the last minute,” her mother said. “Actually, this changed my mind for me.”

Her mother motioned to a flat brown envelope sitting on the kitchen countertop.

“If that’s about Carter, you can keep it,” Lorraine said. “Nothing that investigator says will change the way I feel about him.”

“Really?” Her mother’s brows rose as she opened the flap on the envelope and pulled out a single photograph. “Would seeing it with your own eyes change anything?”

Lorraine braced herself as her mother flipped the photograph over. She had expected to see Carter in the throes of passion with another woman—or worse, more than one woman in the same bed. Instead, her brow furrowed as she stared at a group photo of young men, at least fifty, standing in front of a large house with tall white columns.

“What is this?” Lorraine asked, taking the picture from her mother. “Is this a fraternity photo?”

“Yes,” her mother answered. “Your new boyfriend is in the front row, the last person on the left. Did you know Carter belonged to a fraternity?”

Lorraine gave an indifferent shrug as she found Carter. He looked so much younger. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen in this picture.

“He mentioned that he joined the fraternity that his father belonged to during his one year of college. He said it was one of the main reasons he started at a regular four-year college, even though he knew he wanted to go to culinary school.” She looked up at her mother. “What difference does this make? Father is a member of a fraternity. So is Stuart.”

“Would you care to learn who else is in that fraternity?” her mother asked. “Look at the top row, the third person from the right.”

Lorraine looked where her mother had directed, and her blood turned to ice.

“Is this...?”

“Broderick Collins.” Her mother said the name that Lorraine couldn’t force herself to utter. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that Carter and Broderick were in the same fraternity?”

An unbearable tightness constricted her lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

“This...” She started, but had to stop. Her throat ached, clogged with a knot of anxiety that refused to dissipate. She swallowed and tried again. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she finally managed to get out, though her voice was so weak she barely heard the words.

“You don’t believe that.” It was a statement from her mother, not a question. “You know exactly what this means.”

“Please, don’t say anymore.”

“You are not this blind, Lorraine.”

“Carter did not seek me out, Mother. If I had not gone into Lillian’s to order Trina’s cake, I would never have met him. He didn’t even know who I was at the time.”

“Or maybe he knew exactly who you were, and pretended not to, because he remembered that his fraternity brother was able to swindle a million dollars from the Hawthorne-Hayeses.”

Lorraine shook her head. “Carter would never do that,” she said, cursing her voice for remaining so weak. “You don’t know him.”

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t know him. You are holding the proof in your hands, Lorraine. Are you really going to stand there and tell me that you don’t think he knew
exactly
who you were?”

Lorraine stood straight, holding herself as rigid as possible as she faced her mother’s blistering stare. “I have to go. I’m meeting Carter for dinner,” she said.

She could feel the rage radiating from her mother. It flowed from her in a pulsing wave of disapproval, but Lorraine ignored it. Abigail had dictated her life for far too long. Only now did she see just how much of herself she’d relinquished to her mother.

But, try as she might, Lorraine couldn’t ignore the sickening feeling that settled in her stomach, or the chill that raced along her skin at seeing Broderick Collins’s face again.

Most disturbing of all was seeing him standing only a few yards from Carter.

She returned to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Lorraine concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

They were fraternity brothers. How could Carter
not
have known Broderick?

Her mother’s warnings roared back to life, taunting her. They were joined by memories of that awful scene that had taken place five years ago, when her father had called her into his office and confronted her with those photos. She recalled with amazing alacrity the absolute horror she’d experienced as she’d stared at pictures of her completely nude, twenty-year-old self, mimicking the suggestive poses of models in
Playboy
magazines she’d found in Stuart’s room.

Lorraine closed her eyes against the shame that washed over her, even five years later. It had taken months before she could look either of her parents in the eye. She had never known such complete humiliation. Yet it didn’t hold a candle to the mortification she would have faced if Broderick had made good on his threat and released those photos.

Had Carter known about that? Had he seen the pictures? Had they been passed around the frat house so all of the fraternity brothers could ogle and laugh at the silly little rich girl Broderick had conned into stripping nude for him?

Lorraine clutched her stomach, the pain causing her to double over.

There was only one way to find out if Carter knew of her before that day she’d met him at Lillian’s three weeks ago.

Taking a few moments to collect herself before rising from the bed, she stalked back into the kitchen and snatched the envelope from the counter. On the short drive to the restaurant, she tried to calm her frayed nerves so that she could think clearly.

She wanted to give Carter the benefit of the doubt. The picture was damning evidence, but it wasn’t proof that he had somehow collaborated with Broderick to make a fool out of her. However, when she pieced together other things she’d read in the P.I. report, Lorraine didn’t like the story it created.

Could a renowned ladies’ man suddenly fall head over heels for a woman he barely knew? That was exactly what had happened to her—she had fallen for him—but she had to be realistic. Her few past relationships had taught her that most men had another agenda when it came to dating her.

Had she only seen what she’d wanted to see in Carter? Had he been making a fool out of her this entire time?

A better question was, what did he want from her?

And what was he willing to do to get it?

* * *

Carter pulled up to the valet at Les Nomades and hopped out of the car. He slipped the guy a fifty and raced into the restaurant. He was nearly a half hour late. He’d texted Lorraine to let her know that he’d been caught up at the bakery longer than he’d planned to be, but she hadn’t responded. Carter hoped she was running late, too.

“I have a reservation for two for Carter Drayson,” he told the maître d’.

“Yes, Mr. Drayson. The other person in your party is already here.”

Carter grimaced, hating that he’d kept her waiting. He was shown to the same table he and Lorraine had shared on their first date three weeks ago. Her back was turned to him. Carter walked up to her and placed a kiss on that soft, fragrant spot behind her ear. She stiffened beneath his lips.

“Sorry for startling you,” he said as he took the seat across the table from her and accepted a menu from the server. “And I’m sorry I’m late. Drake and Malik had me tied up all day with that photo shoot for the
Brothers Who Bake
cookbook. Thankfully, Drake has taken the lead on this. He’s working with a writer to get the proposal in order and shipped off to the publisher.”

At her complete silence, Carter looked up from his menu. “I’ll shut up now. You probably don’t want to hear about all of this.”

The silence ensued.

Carter’s brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for her wine goblet and brought it to her lips.

A fissure of unease stalked down Carter’s spine at her remoteness. He wasn’t
that
late. Carter motioned to her wineglass.

“That’s a good idea. Is that the merlot?”

“Pinot noir.”

Her cold, lifeless voice caused his unease to ratchet up a notch. “Rainey, what’s going on?” Carter asked. “Did something happen today? Is it your parents? Your sister?”

She didn’t answer, just brought the glass to her lips again. But then she set the wine back on the table without taking a sip. She cleared her throat, and finally met his gaze directly.

“Do you know someone by the name of Broderick Collins?” she asked, her voice soft, hollow.

Carter frowned. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He sensed that he’d answered wrong. Disappointment instantly clouded her eyes, and she expelled a sad sigh.

“Should I know him?” he asked.

Lorraine reached down under the table and came up with a brown envelope. She pulled out a picture and set it on the table.

He instantly recognized the scene, even though he hadn’t laid eyes on the group photo he’d taken in front of the fraternity house in at least nine years. He’d had a copy once, but Carter had been so far removed from that world for so long, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d tossed it out years ago.

“Where did you get this?” Carter asked.

She didn’t answer his question, just said, “Broderick is on the top row, the third from the right.”

Carter picked out the guy, but still didn’t remember him. “Lorraine, I don’t get—”

“He is the person who blackmailed my family for a million dollars,” she said softly.

Carter’s eyes shot to hers. “Lorraine, you can’t think—” But he didn’t get a chance to even finish his statement before she pushed back from the table and ran out of the restaurant.

“Shit.” Carter took off after her, not giving a damn that their hasty exit drew stares from several tables. “Lorraine,” he called. He looked down the street and saw her walking toward Fairbanks Court. Carter made it to her in five strides.

“Lorraine, what in the hell is going on here? Where did you even get that picture?” He caught her by the shoulder, halting her escape. “Would you talk to me?”

She turned and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

So lost.

Carter wanted to gather her into his arms and pretend that the past five minutes had been some type of nightmare. At the same time he wanted to lash out at her. What she was accusing him of was unthinkable.

Avoiding his eyes, Lorraine said, “My mother hired a private investigator. It was he who discovered that you and Broderick belonged to the same fraternity.”