Delectable Desire (6 page)

Les Nomades was within walking distance of the bakery, so he’d left his car parked in his usual spot. But Lorraine had driven here. As they waited underneath the awning for the valet to bring her car around, Carter told himself to slow down.

But he couldn’t. He had to taste her.

He leaned forward, his heart pounding in anticipation of the way Lorraine’s lips would feel against his.

Just then, a flash of lightning streaked across her face. Wait. That wasn’t lightning. It was a camera flash.

“Oh, goodness. No.” Lorraine held her purse in front of her face.

“Hey, what the hell?” Carter tried to stiff-arm the guy with the camera, but he got in one more shot before taking off.

Lorraine looked up at him with wild, frightened eyes.

“It’s okay,” Carter said, capturing her forearms and giving them a squeeze.

“No. No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

The valet picked that moment to pull up with her car. Before Carter could fully comprehend what was happening, she handed the valet a twenty-dollar bill, slipped behind the wheel and was gone.

Chapter 4

L
orraine pulled into her designated parking spot and grimaced when she spotted her brother’s car. She loved him, but she had no desire to listen to Stuart and her father lament over inventory or diamond cuts or any other business-speak tonight. She grabbed her clutch from the passenger seat before getting out of the car, then shut the door and leaned against it. Lorraine closed her eyes, sucking in a deep, cleansing breath.

What had she almost done?

She would have slept with Carter Drayson tonight. There was no doubt in her mind. If she’d allowed him to get in the car with her, she would have fallen into bed with a man she’d met a little over twenty-four hours ago. She wasn’t so sure they would even have made it to a bed. Lorraine feared she would have demanded he pull over into a dark alley so they could go at it right in the car.

“What’s gotten into you?” she said aloud as she pushed away from the car.

She was
not
this type of person anymore—some stupid, impulsive girl who disregarded all common sense because a good-looking man showed her a bit of attention.

She needed to take a step back, away from the spell Carter Drayson had woven around her. Even though everything inside her was telling her that Carter was being true, she just didn’t know enough about him to make a sound judgment call. Hadn’t she learned anything from her past mistakes?

Another man with a charming smile flashed in front of her eyes, and Lorraine’s stomach roiled. She’d tried to eradicate Broderick Collins from her psyche, but, apparently, five years was not long enough to purge such ugliness. She’d been down that road before; she wasn’t about to make a return trip.

She boarded the elevator that took her up to her family’s penthouse. Lorraine heard the muted, but distinctive voices of her father and her brother as soon as she entered the apartment. She attempted to be as quiet as possible as she slipped past the sitting room where the two of them were having a drink.

“Lorraine, I need to see you,” her father said.

Her chin dropped to her chest. She was not up for this tonight. Whatever
this
was.

She turned and walked into the sitting room that served more as an informal office for her father. He had a real office on his and her mother’s side of the penthouse, but he usually entertained business associates in this room.

Her father and her brother both sat in leather wingback chairs, holding highball glasses filled with amber-colored liquid. Her father held a sheaf of papers in one of his hands.

Arnold Hawthorne-Hayes was a huge man. Not fat. Never fat. But he had always been larger than life, with broad shoulders and an even broader countenance. Even though she’d lived with him for nearly all of her twenty-five years, Lorraine couldn’t say she knew the man all that well. He’d always been too busy building his empire; he didn’t have time to bother with something as trivial as being fatherly to his children.

“It’s just after ten o’clock,” Lorraine said. “I still have two more hours before my curfew.” She inwardly cringed. She would gain nothing by intentionally antagonizing her father.

“I don’t care what time you come home, Lorraine. What I care about is this.” Her father held up the papers. “Why are you trying to get a fellowship?”

She stared at the documents, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “How do you even know about that?”

“Because Warner Mitchell is one of the trustees responsible for making the decision,” Stuart piped in. “We were having lunch at the country club today and he wanted to know why my sister would need to apply for an artist fellowship, when the Hawthorne-Hayes Foundation already funds dozens of scholarships. I want to know the same thing.”

“It wasn’t about the money,” Lorraine said. She’d donated five times what the fellowship was worth to the school. This particular fellowship wasn’t just a need-based award. It was also talent-based.

“Do you know how embarrassing it was to have Warner ask me that question in front of everyone?” Stuart asked.

“Forgive me, Stuart—I didn’t know my art was such an embarrassment.”

“I’m tired of this, Lorraine,” her father stated. “I allowed you to pursue your art degree when you should have studied business as your brother and sister did, but I refuse to allow you to bring shame on this family’s name by soliciting fellowship money.”

He ripped the application in half.

Lorraine stared in disbelief at the tattered pages her father tossed onto the glass table between his and Stuart’s chair.

“This had nothing to do with the family name. I didn’t want the family’s name to have any influence over the selection committee.”

“You are a Hawthorne-Hayes,” her father said. “That name will always have influence.” He gave her a pointed look. “Forget the fellowship. This family gives to charity—it doesn’t take it.”

Lorraine stood in the middle of the room, seething.

She didn’t need additional proof of her skill as an artist. Many of her paintings had already garnered much acclaim across the city, but only a select few knew that up-and-coming erotic artist L. Elise and Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes were one and the same.

She was ready to step from behind the shadows of L. Elise’s paintings. Despite the success of her erotic art, a part of her still questioned whether that success had more to do with the subject matter than the artistic style. She wanted to be known for the less provocative, but equally arresting art she created as simply Lorraine.

That fellowship had been a way to prove to herself that her success was not due to the shock factor of her risqué subject matter, but because of her God-given talent. And it would also show her family that her achievements had nothing to do with being a Hawthorne-Hayes.

Her entire life she and her siblings had been accused of using their family’s influence to get ahead. Stuart didn’t mind; in fact, her brother had no problem throwing around the fact that he was a Hawthorne-Hayes, if it meant he’d get his way.

Despite being a free spirit, Trina had done exactly as expected. When she earned her MBA this fall, she would step right into her role at Hawthorne-Hayes Jewelers, and be the perfect little daughter their father had always hoped she’d become.

How appropriate that Lorraine, his mother’s namesake, couldn’t stomach the idea.

“May I please be excused?” she asked.

Her father didn’t speak, just gave a firm nod.

Lorraine fought back angry tears as she walked to her room. The tornado of emotions rolling inside her made her want to burst out of her skin. There was more to life than just being heir to the Hawthorne-Hayes empire. She needed to
do
something with her life. Create something. She’d been blessed with a talent that she knew was not a fluke. She’d received enough feedback from people who had no idea what her last name was—patrons of Chicago’s art scene who had praised the soulful passion of her L. Elise paintings.

Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes wasn’t a jeweler. She wasn’t a businesswoman. She wasn’t a socialite.

She was an artist.

She needed to find a way to share her true self with the world, to actually
do
something with it.

“Gosh, you are so pathetic,” Lorraine said with a sigh as she stepped out of her shoes.

No, she wasn’t pathetic. She was just...lost. And confused.

For the past five years, she’d gone to great lengths to present to the world a sophisticated woman who had it all together on the outside, but on the inside she was a complete mess. There was a war waging inside her, and she had no idea which side should win. Her loyalties were divided between what she wanted and what her parents demanded of her, and unfortunately, what should have been an easy choice to make had been complicated by her own stupid mistakes.

She owed her parents everything. Without their help with the nightmare that was Broderick Collins, she would have been publicly humiliated, unable to show her face anywhere. A part of her felt as if she should just fall in line and be the dutiful socialite that her mother and father wanted her to be.

But an even stronger part of her was yearning to allow her creative side to blossom.

Lorraine washed the makeup from her face, put on her nightgown and slipped between the cool sheets on her bed. When she closed her eyes, she saw her father ripping up that document, and the tears she’d tried to stave off started flowing down her cheeks.

That fellowship would have been the validation she’d been seeking, the proof that she was so much more than just her name. This battle between living up to her family’s expectations and living the life she just
knew
she was destined to live was exhausting. How would she ever meld the two?

* * *

Carter loaded the sheet pan into one of the bakery’s industrial-size ovens. Today was a rare day off for him, but he’d decided to come in and give Malik a hand in the kitchen. His original plans had consisted mainly of catching up on a couple of crime dramas he had stored on his DVR, but Carter knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on television. For the past twelve hours, all he had been able to think about was how his date with Lorraine had ended.

Having some random photographer snap their picture was strange enough, but why had she run like a scared rabbit? Last night, he had teased her about being in some type of witness protection program, but now Carter was starting to believe there was merit behind his joke. She refused to disclose her last name. She wouldn’t allow him to pick her up at her house. And she totally freaked out at having her picture taken. What other explanation was there for the mystery surrounding her?

Carter emptied the remaining batter for Lillian’s Lemon-Raspberry Bars into a second sheet pan and slipped it in next to the first one, programming the timer on the oven’s computer panel. He carried the dirty bowls, beaters and spatula to the washroom and wiped down his station, and then he went in search of Malik. He found his best friend stretched out on the sofa in the empty office that was used as a break room. He had a newspaper spread out across his lap.

Carter flicked the towel he’d draped over his shoulder at Malik’s head, catching him on the ear.

“What the hell?” Malik scrambled to sit up and turned to glare at Carter.

“That’s my question,” Carter replied. “I come in on my day off to help you and find your lazy ass lounging with the paper? What’s up with that?”

“I’m on a break,” Malik argued. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been holding out on me?”

Carter’s brows rose in question.

“This.” Malik held out the Arts & Entertainment section of the paper. “You’ve been seeing a Hawthorne-Hayes and didn’t bother to rub it in anyone’s face? That’s not like you.”

Carter snatched the paper from him. On the front page of the A&E section, in full color and above the fold, was a picture of him and Lorraine last night in front of Les Nomades. The caption under the picture read Jewelry Heiress Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes Is Showcasing New Bling.

“When did you start dating her?” Malik asked.

“I didn’t... I’m not. I mean...” But he couldn’t finish his response. He just stared at the picture, registering the pure shock and horror the photographer had captured in Lorraine’s eyes.

“I know you’re a Drayson and all, but she’s pretty rich even for your blood,” Malik added.

“I didn’t know who she was,” Carter said, still unable to tear his eyes away from the photograph. “I only know her as Lorraine. She never told me her last name. I guess this is why,” he said, gesturing to the picture. He folded the paper and tucked it under his arm.

“So, how serious is it?” Malik asked. “You plan on going ring shopping soon? I’ll bet Daddy Hawthorne-Hayes would give you a discount.”

“Shut up,” Carter told him. “I only met her a couple of days ago when she came in to order a cake for her sister’s bridal shower.”

“You’ve only known her for a couple of days and already took her to Les Nomades? Damn, maybe you
will
be ring shopping soon.” Carter glared at him, but Malik only laughed. “You know I’m just messing with you, man. I had to put up with enough flak from you when things got serious between me and Belinda. I deserve to get some payback.”

“Nobody said this thing with Lorraine was serious,” Carter countered. “I’m not about to get shackles around my wrists like you.”

“Hey, man, don’t knock it until you try it. I didn’t realize just how empty my life was until Belinda and I got together.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Please spare me the sappy love song lyrics.”

“Whatever,” Malik said. Then his expression took on a more serious edge, and his voice lowered as he asked, “Now that you’re dating, does this mean that other thing you’re thinking about is off the table?”

“No.” Malik was the only one he’d told about his conversation with the restaurateur in New York. “Tell me you haven’t told Belinda about any of this.”

“I told you I wouldn’t,” his best friend said. “Just promise me you’ll think this through, Carter. Lillian’s needs you. Don’t make any rash decisions.”