Delectable Desire (7 page)

“If I were in the business of making rash decisions, I’d be gone already,” Carter pointed out. “I’m weighing all of my options, but when I finally do make a decision, it’ll be the one that’s best for
me.
”

The door swung open and Drake entered the break room. “Hey, what are you two up to?”

When Malik looked over at Carter with a note of inquiry in his eyes, Carter gave his head a subtle shake. He didn’t want Drake’s opinion on either of the topics he and Malik had just discussed.

“Nothing,” Malik said. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk about the cookbook,” Drake started. “I heard from the publisher earlier today. They’re ready to move forward on this ASAP.”

“Damn, they’re that eager to cut us that fat advance check?” Malik asked.

“More likely they’re eager to jump on the bandwagon of the
Brothers Who Bake
blog,” Carter said. “Can’t say I blame them.”

“My entry with the white chocolate, macadamia and pineapple cake bars had over five thousand hits,” Malik bragged.

“That’s a good recipe. We need to include that one in the book,” Drake said, grabbing a pen and steno pad from a side table. “We also need to figure out who will write which portions. It makes sense for Carter to do the entire section on cake baking and decorating, since that’s his specialty. Malik, you’re the guy who does brownies, cookies and bars.”

“Hey, I do more than just that,” Malik said with an affronted frown.

“We all do more than just one thing,” Drake pointed out. “And we’re all going to have some input into everything that goes in the book. But I think for the first pass, we should work with our strengths.”

“Have they set a deadline yet?” Carter asked, thinking about his own timetable. He knew he would have to make a decision about the job in New York sooner rather than later, and with the
You Take the Cake
competition coming up, and the mystery that was Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes now occupying every bit of space in his brain, his mental plate was full.

“Once we sign the book contract, we have six months to get the first draft to them,” Drake said. “And that includes detailed recipes and photographs. I think the smartest way to tackle this is to brainstorm the recipes we want to include in the book, and clear an afternoon so we can bake them. We hire a photographer to come in and take all the shots, and it’s done.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Carter said.

“So, we’re definitely doing this, right?” Drake asked.

“I’m in,” Malik said.

“Hell yeah,” Carter added. “With the blog, this book and
You Take the Cake,
Lillian’s is about to hit the big time.”

He just wondered if he would be around to see it all happen.

* * *

Lorraine used the pad of her thumb to fill in the white space on the canvas. She was working with charcoal today. It was a medium she rarely used, but the somber shades of gray matched her melancholy mood.

It never ceased to amaze her how rapidly things could go downhill.

Last night had started out practically perfect. Carter had been the ultimate flirt, but also the consummate gentleman, to the point of almost charming her right out of her panties.

Almost.

Thank goodness she had not succumbed to her body’s craving. In the light of day, without the romance of a fancy dinner and Carter Drayson’s deadly charm clouding her judgment, Lorraine knew that going home with him last night would have been detrimental to the image she’d cultivated over the past five years, not to mention the delicate trust she’d been able to build with her parents.

For that alone Lorraine was grateful to the photographer who’d snapped those photos last night. But that was all she was grateful for. She resented the complete disregard for her privacy, and with the emergence of additional online social media, it seemed to get worse every year.

She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could keep her identity hidden from Carter any longer, and the thought left her heartbroken. She could usually count on at least a few weeks of being able to just be herself before she was forced to don the Hawthorne-Hayes mantle. Carter would treat her differently; men always did once they discovered she was heiress to part of her family’s jewelry empire.

“They can keep their empire,” she said as she swiped the charcoal across the canvas with violent strokes.

The guilt that followed was immediate and stinging in its intensity.

She had enjoyed the type of life many people dreamed of. She’d attended the best schools, dressed in the best clothes and had visited more than two dozen countries on lavish summer and winter vacations. She’d never wanted for anything...except her parents’ attention.

Thanks to Broderick Collins she’d certainly gotten it, in spades. It brought new meaning to that adage “be careful what you wish for.”

“Enough with the pity party,” Lorraine admonished herself. But as hard as she tried, she could not shake the gloomy cloud that had been hovering over her all day. She felt as if she were drifting, with no real direction, no purpose.

She looked around her studio, her eyes roaming over the paintings of luscious landscapes, architectural landmarks and the Chicago skyline lined up against the walls, stacked two and three deep. What was the point of all this if they just remained in here, for only her eyes to enjoy?

She needed to do something with these paintings. She needed to find some meaning in all of this.

She wondered what Carter would think if she brought him here to show him her work, and then wondered why his opinion would matter at all. There were people she had known her entire life who had no idea she owned this loft in Chicago’s more artist-friendly Wicker Park neighborhood, yet she was thinking of bringing a man she’d met only a couple of days ago here?

What was it about him that elicited such a strong reaction within her? Lorraine didn’t have to think too hard to come up with an answer. He had a genuineness about him that was in such contrast to the men she had previously dated. She’d had her fill of artificial men who didn’t bother to get to know the real her, men who were only interested in what she could do
for
them as a member of the powerful Hawthorne-Hayes family.

Now that Carter knew who she really was, would it change the way he saw her?

“I hope not,” she said with a forlorn sigh.

Her cell phone rang.

Lorraine wiped the charcoal from her fingers with a swatch of ragged linen. She reached for the phone, expecting to see Trina’s number, or maybe her mother’s, but it was a number she didn’t recognize.

“Lorraine speaking.”

“Hello, Rainey,” came a smooth, familiar voice.

Tremors of excited heat skittered across her skin. A part of her had hoped to never hear from him again after the disastrous end to their date, but an even stronger part had desperately prayed that he’d contact her. She had been
waiting
for him to contact her.

“How did you get this number, Carter?”

“From your order form. You didn’t leave your last name, but you did leave a contact number.”

She leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window in her loft, staring out at the people going about their day. With a deep breath, Lorraine asked, “Is my name still a mystery to you?”

“No,” he answered. “I saw the paper.”

“And?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat in anticipation of his response.

“And I’m happy you’re not part of the witness protection program or a secret agent in the CIA.”

Lorraine let out a relieved laugh. Her anxiety melted, and the relaxed contentment she’d experienced the two times she’d been in Carter’s presence eased into place.

“I’m sorry for being so secretive, but after last night I’m sure you can see why,” she said.

“Is that what life is usually like for you? People constantly snapping pictures of you?”

“I’m not subjected to the Kardashian treatment on a daily basis, but the Hawthorne-Hayes name carries a fair amount of newsworthiness. It’s something I’ve lived with my entire life, but I will never, ever get used to it.”

“I guess when you own half of Chicago, it’s tough to keep a low profile.”

“I do
not
own half of Chicago,” she said. Maybe one-third. “And it’s my family, not me.”

“But you stand to inherit a part of your family’s jewelry empire, don’t you?”

Disappointment caused her heart to squeeze within her chest. She had hoped Carter wouldn’t be like the others, but apparently, he couldn’t see past the wealth connected to the Hawthorne-Hayes name, either.

“Does the pressure get to you, too?” he asked.

Lorraine’s back stiffened. “What was that?”

“You know, the pressure that comes with trying to live up to the family’s expectations. I know what it’s like, remember?”

He did. And her heart melted.

This was what made Carter different. He could identify with her in a way very few men ever could. In the past, whenever she tried to convey the problems she faced being a member of her family, she was met with derision. Men thought she was being a whiny brat, that she should thank her lucky stars that she’d been born into privilege. Carter understood that being born into privilege carried its own burdens.

“What pressures are you under?” she asked softly, her fingers clutching the phone.

He was quiet for several moments; then Lorraine heard him sigh.

“We’re in the midst of a transition period at Lillian’s. All indications point to my grandparents handing the reins of the business to one of us grandkids in the very near future, and everyone is trying to stand out. I’m starting to question whether it’s even worth it, you know? A part of me is ready to say to hell with it and just branch out on my own. Make a name for myself that has nothing to do with the Drayson family dynasty.”

“Oh, goodness, I
do
know, Carter. I know
exactly
what you are speaking of. The pressure can be overwhelming.”

“It was nice to get away from it all last night.”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, an unbidden smile tilting up the corners of her mouth.

“If it was so nice, why did you run away like that?” he asked, accusation layering his softly spoken question. “I wasn’t ready for our date to end.”

“Neither was I,” she said. “The photographer just...I don’t know... He caught me off guard. I didn’t know what you would think of me after that happened.”

“I think that I never got the kiss I was hoping for,” Carter answered. “I’d like the chance to try again.”

Lorraine pulled in a deep breath. Was this man real, or was he just a pro at talking a really sweet game? A really,
really
sweet game. Ever since Broderick nearly destroyed her, she had gone to such extreme caution when it came to the men she dated. But she had to take that next step again someday, didn’t she?

Why not today? Why not with Carter?

“If I asked you out again, would you say yes, Rainey?”

Even his silly nickname made her body warm from the inside out, especially when he said it in that low, sexy tone.

“Why don’t you ask?” she encouraged.

His low chuckle traveled seductively up and down her spine. “Lorraine, would you like to go out with me again?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes,” she answered. “I’d like that very much.”

“Can I pick you up from your home like a gentleman this time?”

She hesitated for a second, but now that he knew who she really was, it seemed silly to hide from him. She gave him her address.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “Make sure you wear comfortable shoes.”

“For what reason?”

“Tonight’s plans require a lot more walking than last night’s. I just want you to be prepared. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Before she could ask just what those plans were, he disconnected the call.

She had known the man for two days, and was already going on her second date with him.

“Hussy,” she said, and burst out laughing.

Lorraine looked around the studio, unable to staunch the grin that broke out across her face. Nothing had really changed. She still felt as if she was drifting, unsure of what she should do with the rest of her life. But after months—no, years—of discontent, she had finally found one bright spot: Carter Drayson.

Chapter 5

C
arter pulled into the parking garage of the high-rise in Chicago’s elite Gold Coast neighborhood. He had not been surprised when Lorraine had told him where she lived, but did she have to live in the biggest, ritziest building on the block?

It was ridiculous to feel intimidated; he had enough money in his own right. But when faced with this type of wealth, Carter couldn’t help feeling a bit awed.

He approached the doorman and gave him his name. The uniformed man made a call, then moments later asked Carter to follow him to the elevator. The doorman slipped an electronic card into a slot and pressed fifty-seven. Carter watched the numbers climb as the elevator smoothly rose to the top of the building.

“It’s the penthouse. Make a left when you exit,” the doorman instructed.

Carter walked down the hallway to the only door on this floor. He smoothed his hands down the front of his lightweight cashmere sweater, then knocked. He waited a few moments before the door opened.

“Good evening. You must be Mr. Drayson,” said the middle-aged woman who answered the door. She, too, was dressed in a uniform. A live-in housekeeper? Was Lorraine really rolling like that? Man, and he thought he was something special because he’d bought himself a Porsche.

“I am,” Carter answered. “How are you?”

“Frannie, is someone at the door?” Lorraine came into the room and her face lit up. “Hi,” she said, a bit shyly.

“Hi,” Carter answered, feeling a smile growing on his face. She tended to do that to him.

The housekeeper stood between them, looking pointedly at Lorraine. She cleared her throat.

“Oh. Gosh. Sorry. Carter, this is Francine, our housekeeper. Frannie, this is Carter Drayson. His family owns Lillian’s, the bakery.”

“I know it well,” the woman answered. “Lorraine doesn’t know this, but she’s been eating your grandmother’s pies since she was a little girl. Of course, I passed them off as my own.”