A Taste of You (10 page)

“Fine,” he barked finally. “Do that. I expect updates.” He slid the phone in his pocket, and I waited for him to turn back to me.

He didn’t. Instead, he stared moodily out the window, not speaking or looking at me.

“Is everything okay?” I asked after a long moment of silence.

“Fine,” he said.

I frowned. What was going on? Had I done something wrong? “William—?” I began.

“Get your wrap,” he snapped. “We’re here.”

Eight

Stung by William’s harsh tone, I fumbled for my wrap, and when I found it, I wound it protectively around my shoulders. I looked at him, expecting an apology or an explanation, but he acted as though he’d forgotten I was in the car. From his look, it was clear his thoughts were miles away.

The SUV slowed, and I peered out. We were in a line of limos and luxury cars heading toward the Art Institute. I recognized the façade of the new modern wing, though I’d never entered this way. I’d been to the Art Institute several times since moving to Chicago and had always entered from Michigan Avenue, between the iconic lions that guarded the main entrance. But I liked this view of the museum. The clean lines and boxy shape were eye-catching but didn’t detract from what the real treasures were—the art inside.

It was dark, and the museum was lit up, the soft bright lights spilling onto the street and illuminating the well-dressed crowd inside. My belly fluttered with anticipation and unease. Was William going to ignore me all night? Surely he was going to snap out of this sudden morose mood. This was not my scene, but I was willing to be open-minded and sample William’s world.

The SUV slid to a smooth stop, and Anthony appeared to open the door. William exited first, perfunctorily holding his hand out. I took it and stepped down, looking at the impressive building and shivering without the heated seats to keep me warm. I started for the entrance then almost jumped when William took my hand and pulled it to his lips. With a smile, he kissed my knuckles. It wasn’t the apology I’d expected, but it was better than nothing. He drew back slightly, noting I was wearing the diamond cuff’.

“It suits you,” he said with a smile.

“I should have thanked you.”

“Seeing it on your wrist is thanks enough.” He tugged my arm. “Come on. I hate these events, but at least one part of the evening won’t be painful. The food should be amazing.”

We joined the queue of formally dressed men and women and made our way into the building. William took my wrap and checked it then led me into Griffin Court, a long rectangular open space with windows to showcase the stars and blond wood on the floors. On either side were rooms filled with art. Women in formal gowns and men in tuxedos meandered and mingled, while waiters moved through the crowd with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I could see that I was out of place here. The crowd was older, and judging by the jewels on the women, very wealthy.

I turned to William. “I never asked what this event is for.” The man beside me was once again the stranger I’d glimpsed after the phone call. The relaxed manner he’d shown when he kissed my hand was gone, replaced by a stern façade. The smiles he’d lavished earlier had vanished, and his expression was severe and hard. Even his stormy eyes looked cold and intense. “William?”

He flicked a glance at me, as though he didn’t even know me. As though he was looking at a stranger. “I beg your pardon. Did you say something?” Even his voice was different, formal and flat.

“I asked about the purpose of the event.”

“Fundraiser,” he said shortly and looked away.

If he’d slapped me in the face, he couldn’t have been crueler. Where was the warm, sexy man from my kitchen this morning and the SUV moments ago? Once again, I wondered if I’d I done something wrong. Why was he shutting me out?

A waiter passed, and William took two glasses of champagne from a tray, handed me one, and then put his hand on the small of my back. His palm was warm and his pressure gentle as he urged me forward. His touch reminded me of his hands on me in the SUV. I glanced back, wondering if he was thinking of our kisses on the drive over, but he wasn’t looking at me. What had I done?

Suddenly, an older man and his much younger trophy wife were standing in front of us.

“Lambourne!” the man said, shaking William’s hand. “Good to see you. I recognized some of your pieces.”

Confused, I glanced at William for an explanation.
His
pieces? Was he an artist?

“Good to see you, Martin. And you, Sheila.”

The blond gave him a huge smile, then reached out and stroked his arm. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

I raised my brows at her flirtation. I imagined it was commonplace for a gorgeous man like William.

“And who is this beautiful woman on your arm tonight?” Martin asked. I felt William’s fingers tighten and release on my back. He hesitated, but it was long enough to make me wonder if he didn’t want to introduce me.

“Martin and Sheila Warwick, this is Catherine Kelly.”

“Lovely to meet you, Catherine,” Martin said, taking my hand warmly. William stiffened as our hands met. “May I say you look lovely tonight?”

“Thank you.”

“Hello,” Sheila said, looking away without interest.

Martin’s gaze shifted to William. “How are things going with the Taggert people? Any movement on the term sheet?”

What ensued was a lengthy discussion on conversion rates, liquidation preferences, and anti-dilution adjustments. I was no idiot, but I couldn’t follow the conversation, and neither William nor Martin included me. Sheila drifted away immediately, but I didn’t know my role. Was I supposed to stay and listen? Attempt to contribute? Stand beside William and look pretty? His hand stayed firmly on my back, but he didn’t look at me or acknowledge me.

Finally, Martin had the answers he wanted and moved away, enveloped by the growing crowd. I estimated over two hundred people were in attendance, and I wondered if there would be a dinner, or if the black-tie event would consist of champagne and mingling. William had mentioned great food, but I had yet to taste the hors d’oeuvres.

When Martin Warwick moved away, I took the opportunity to engage William again. “Mr. Warwick mentioned recognizing your pieces,” I said, though William wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he moved me down the hallway and deeper into the crowd. He nodded to people as we walked, and I saw blatant envy on the faces of many women. I could hardly blame them. William, even this new William, was hot. If I’d had my eye on him, and a woman I’d never seen showed up on his arm, I’d shoot daggers too.

That thought pacified me a little. After all, William was mine for the evening. He might be virtually ignoring me, but I was the one he had asked to accompany him.

“Warwick talks too much,” William said abruptly. I wasn’t certain what he meant, and then I remembered I’d asked about his pieces.

“Is it something you don’t want to talk about?” I asked, trying to understand what I was doing wrong to earn this reaction.

“It’s fine. Warwick is referring to pieces from my personal collection. I have them on loan to the museum.”

My jaw dropped. I could now add art collector to his billionaire endeavors.

A steady stream of people approached us for the next half hour. The men talked business, as did some of the women. Other women all but openly propositioned him. I tried to appear interested. I attempted to follow the conversations. Once, I even interjected a comment, but that only earned a long silence from the man speaking to William and an annoyed look from William himself. Finally, that group moved away, with a promise to chat at dinner, and I said, “I think I’ll go look at some of the art.”

“No.”

I blinked at William in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I need you with me.”

I shook my head but had no chance to reply before a woman and two men appeared, eager to shake William’s hand. I began to move away, and William grabbed my hand, holding it tightly, keeping me by his side. It was ridiculous. I’d been standing next to him for the better part of an hour, completely ignored, and now that I wanted to walk around, he suddenly needed me. I’d never felt so bewildered by a man’s behavior. One moment I was flush with his warmth and passion, and the next I was frozen out. This was supposed to be an enjoyable night, not a mind-fuck. I thought a date with William would be fun and exciting, but now, I wondered if this whole thing had been a mistake.

I began to wonder if I should have come at all. Jace never would have treated me like this. Jace would have been as bored as I was. We’d have sneaked off and got drunk. But William wasn’t Jace.

I pulled away from William and his tedious business conversation. When he reached for me, I said in a low voice, “You’re busy, and I understand. I’ll be fine.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but he could hardly do so in front of his colleagues.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you when dinner is served.” I moved away, and William finally allowed it, but I felt his gaze as I wandered through the crowd. I stopped to admire the art, but I couldn’t help my gaze drifting back to William. I watched him speak and gesture. He seemed to be someone else, not the man who had kissed me in the freezer at Willowgrass, or brought me
pain au chocolat
, or tongued me until I screamed in ecstasy on my kitchen floor. The man across the room was cold, distant, and hard. I didn’t like him much. In fact, I was pretty pissed. I thought about just walking out.

Instead, I snagged another glass of champagne—my third or fourth, I couldn’t remember—and moved into an adjacent room housing an exhibit of modern photography. I recognized the artist and smiled as I studied the familiar pieces. These were some of my favorites, and seeing them up close was inspiring. I studied the angles and the lighting, the choice of subject and the choice of film. Two women entered, chatting, and I was so caught up in my admiration, I didn’t take any notice. But when one mentioned William, I couldn’t help but listen.

“William Lambourne looks even better in person than in
Forbes
. I wouldn’t mind taking him home.” She was a slim brunette in winter white.

I moved along the wall, keeping to myself, but listening with a small smile. Either they didn’t know I was his date or hadn’t seen me. I didn’t mind the girl talk. As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to Stormy Eyes and his mercurial moods. I couldn’t wait for this night to end.

“The pieces on loan aren’t the only reason he’s here,” the other woman, dressed in an embellished navy sheath, added. “His company underwrote some major acquisitions in the modern wing. He’ll have the best table tonight.”

I slipped out as their conversation went on. I didn’t really want to hear more about William Lambourne and his many acquisitions. I was feeling like one of them now. I moved through a group of women in blinding jewels and stepped into another room adjacent to Griffin Court. This room wasn’t filled with photography, but I could admire the art nonetheless. Each time I visited the Art Institute, I saw something new and fascinating. The museum’s collection really was world class. I thought about seeing if the rest of the museum was open. I would have liked to see more photography, but dinner would be served soon. So I moved into the main hall and took another flute of champagne. It was going down far too easily, making me more than a little insecure.

Had I misread William in the SUV? He’d seemed happy I was with him. Maybe he was pissed that I hadn’t worn the gown he sent, but he’d seemed pretty turned on by this one. It was annoying how much I second-guessed myself. I could be insecure all on my own, thank you very much, William Lambourne.

And then I spotted a familiar face. It broke into a smile, and Ben Lee, the head chef from Willowgrass, strutted over and enveloped me in a big hug. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Catherine, it’s great to see you!” Ben leaned back and gave me a quick once-over. “You look great.”

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Thanks. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t know I’d be here. I’m William Lambourne’s date.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Really.” Ben gave me another once-over, this time scrutinizing me closely. He met my eyes with a knowing smile. “He’s moving really fast with you.”

I frowned. What did that mean? Did he move slower with other women? Was everyone here tonight looking at me and wondering how long I’d be on William’s arm before he tossed me aside for the next notch on his bedpost?

I took a deep breath and forced myself to get a grip. Who cared what everyone else was thinking. And maybe Ben meant something different than the way I’d interpreted his comment.

“Oh, Catherine! Do not move.” Ben flagged a waiter and waved him over. Across the room, I caught a pair of stormy eyes watching. William looked more than a little irritated. I could tell he didn’t like that I was talking to Ben. Too bad. I finally had someone to mingle with. He couldn’t ditch me at a party and then be annoyed when I found a friend.

“You have to try this,” Ben said, taking one of the artfully arranged hors d’oeuvres from the tray.

“What is it?”

“It’s a caviar and smoked salmon blini with crème fraiche. It’s going to melt in your mouth.”

“Did you make it?”

“No, Emil LeClerc did. I trained under him in France, and he’s doing all the food tonight. He’s why I’m here.”

“Lucky you.”

“Actually, the thanks goes to your date. William is an investor in Chef LeClerc’s New York restaurant. Not that I blame Lambourne. Emil is a genius. Open your mouth. You won’t be disappointed.”

I opened my mouth, and Ben popped the blini inside. I closed my lips and my eyes and savored the taste. The caviar burst in my mouth with a salty pop followed by the smoky flavor of the salmon and the rich creaminess of the crème fraiche. It was delicious, the flavors perfectly balanced.

I opened my eyes and found myself looking into William’s stormy ones. They were blazing with lightning as he glared. “Catherine, I’ve been missing you.”

I’d had too much champagne and replied, “It didn’t look that way to me, and I ran into Ben. I’m starving, and he took pity and found me a blini.”

Ben held his hand out. “Good to see you again, William.”

William did not take Ben’s hand. “I’m here now, and I’ll be the one to take care of Catherine.”

Ben looked a little stunned, then took a step back. “No problem. Catherine, I should find my date. See you around.” And he was gone.

I rounded on William. “What the hell was that?”

“I could ask you the same.” He still glared, obviously pissed, but at this point, I really didn’t care.