A Taste of You (12 page)

I shook my head as the singer sang about a woman too hungry to wait for dinner and arriving unfashionably early for the theater. That was why the lady was a tramp.

How fitting, I thought, because that was exactly how I felt. Like a tramp.

I scanned the room and found the group of men William had been chatting with, but he was nowhere to be found. As the band sang about the woman who wouldn’t dish the dirt with the rest of the broads, I pulled off the platinum and diamond cuff bracelet, walked to the empty table, and set it beside William’s place card. As promised, my card was beside his, but I wouldn’t be joining him. I left the dining room, hurried down the steps to the empty Griffin Court, and stopped to get my wrap at the coat check.

I walked into the frigid night. Hailing a cab was easy in my formal wear, and I told the driver to take me home to Lincoln Park. Then I sat back, closed my eyes, and fought the sting of tears.

Nine

I woke on Sunday morning with a headache and an empty stomach. I’d turned off my phone when I got in the cab, and when I checked the time I saw I had a slew of voice mails and texts. With a sigh, I scrolled through the texts, deleting all messages from William.

Where are you, Catherine?
Are you okay?
Just call me. I’m worried.

I figured the voice mails were the same and deleted them without listening. There were a few messages from Beckett, starting at one in the morning.

Are you home yet? How was it?

The latest voice mail was from eight this morning. “Cat!” Beckett’s voice made me smile. “You naughty girl. Too busy to text me back last night? I want to hear
all
about those bad things you did. Call me ASAP. I want the full postmortem on your fairy-tale date with Chicago’s hottest bachelor. Call me!”

I let the phone drop on the bed and pulled my pillow over my head, stifling an angry scream. I couldn’t deal with the phone messages or the texts. I didn’t want to think about the disaster that was my first date in years. I didn’t understand how it had gone wrong. It started off so well.

When I thought about the ride in the SUV, my insides fluttered and melted. Even though I was mad as hell, I couldn’t deny the chemistry between us. William had more sex appeal, more animal magnetism, than any man I’d ever met. Just thinking about him could make me hot and flushed. My body tingled, and my thoughts turned to the many ways he could make me come. I had the urge to reach down and touch myself, but I resisted. Under the desire, I also felt used. Was I just another in a long line of women William Lambourne plied with gifts, bedded, and then checked off his list?

I was confused, and my visceral reaction wasn’t helping. How could I properly analyze everything happening between us when every time I was with him, my body just reacted? What did I feel? What did I want to feel?

At the moment, all I wanted was to get past this ridiculous screw-up and move on. I shouldn’t have listened to my mother and Beckett. I rushed into this, thinking I could be fun and spontaneous. I thought I’d have great rebound sex—thank God, I hadn’t actually slept with him—and not give the matter another thought. But that wasn’t me. William Lambourne and his scene weren’t me. I was out of my league, and I shouldn’t have agreed to go on a date with a known commitment-phobe and billionaire playboy. If you play with fire…

And I’d definitely been burned—in the freezer, on the kitchen floor, inside the SUV. What the fuck, Cat? I chided myself. That kind of behavior might suit my mother, but it wasn’t me. I didn’t know what I had been thinking. Was I crazed with lust? Had I hit my head and taken leave of my senses?

I rolled over and stared at the weak sunlight streaming through the slats in my blinds. And what was with William last night? He’d been charming at Willowgrass and engaging in my kitchen. He’d seemed open and relaxed in the SUV. All that charm and warmth had quickly been replaced by asshole and jealousy issues that, to me, were definite hard stops. I’d expected to attend an event with the adorable, surprising guy who’d shown up on my doorstep with fresh-baked pastries. Instead, I got Jekyll and Hyde. The guy I’d been attracted to in my kitchen was nowhere to be seen on my first date in… I did the math… seven years. What a way to start over.

With a whine, Laird poked his head in my bedroom door and climbed on my bed. He thought I had been in bed long enough and wanted breakfast and a little exercise. Poor guy. I didn’t blame him. He’d been the same way on those lazy Sunday mornings when Jace and I had lolled in bed, reading the paper, sipping coffee, and making love. Tears sprang to my eyes. I would have given anything to get those comfortable mornings back. I didn’t want to date an asshole billionaire, no matter how many diamond bracelets he gave me, or designer dresses he sent. I’d had everything I wanted, and now, it was gone. Nothing I could do or say or think was going to change that.

Laird whined again and put his nose next to mine. I patted his head, giving him the doggy love he craved. I could tell that, despite the sunshine outside, today was one of my dark days. I wanted to open my inner black box of hurt and wallow there for a while. I needed to feel something other than used and confused. There was nothing I wanted more than to curl up under the covers and indulge in my feelings of self-pity, but I couldn’t stay in my condo. I couldn’t risk William dropping by uninvited. He’d done that yesterday—and look how it had turned out. I obviously had no willpower to resist when it came to him. I had to get out and away.

I thought about calling Beckett, heading to his place, but I wasn’t ready to deal with him either. I didn’t want to rehash the horrible evening. There would be time for that later. I grabbed my phone and texted Beckett.

Hunkering down
. My code for a self-pity day. He would understand and know I didn’t want to be bothered.

He’d get the idea that the date had been less than the fairy tale I’d expected. I’d call him tomorrow, and we could dissect the evening over drinks or coffee.

“Let’s get out of here, Laird,” I said. His ears perked up at the sound of his name paired with the word
out
. I grabbed a quick shower, dressed in my customary weekend outfit—comfortable jeans, a blue, long-sleeve silk T-shirt, layered with a warm sweater, and boots. I pulled my hair into a sleek ponytail and dabbed on pale pink lip gloss. Then I found my beloved Leica and my camera bag, checked my supplies, and called for Laird. He raced down the stairs, and I wasn’t far behind. I stashed my equipment in my Volvo and climbed in after Laird. A day out of the city was exactly what I needed.

It was another bright, frigid day, but I was warm enough with the heat in my SUV, along with my layers plus my coat and gloves. I’d forgotten my gloves again but found a spare pair in my camera bag. Chicago, for all its advantages, was a big city. The noise and the crowds got to me at times. I missed the quiet and the peace that was Northern California. I decided it was a good day for a drive and headed to the most scenic route I could think of: Sheridan Road. I drove along the North Shore for miles, the blue of the lake barely visible between the impressive houses that got grander and grander as I drove. It was a nice change from the city skyline and bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Laird sat happily beside me, peering out or resting his head on his paws. I had Muse on my stereo, and Laird gave me curious glances when I sang along. The music reminded me of Jace, which fueled my pity party. God, I missed him. We listened to this band all the time. I remembered laughing with him and arguing and making up. I was lucky to find a great guy like him, and after the date last night, it felt like I’d never have that kind of connection again. It didn’t seem fair that there were many people who didn’t appreciate what they had. I’d known how lucky I was to have Jace. I loved him unselfishly. It wasn’t that I thought the whole universe was against me, but there were days when it seemed so.

I sang about dying together and love lasting forever and kept driving. After an hour, I was ready to stretch my legs. Lake Forest was ahead, and I figured that was a good place to stop.

As I drove past the grand estates built by Chicago’s most illustrious families, the families with buildings and stores named after them, I looked for a beach where Laird could run, and I could walk and think. I spotted a lovely area and pulled off the road. Laird bounded out immediately, but I paused to grab my camera bag. Laird wanted to run, and I followed him at a leisurely pace. It was cold, far colder than I liked, but the chill cleared my brain. While Laird frolicked, I snapped pictures of the lake. It was frozen near the shore, and the thin layer of ice sparkled and shone in the sun.

I caught veiled glimpses of mansions perched along the lakeshore. I knew from browsing the real estate pages that these houses were enormous. It was difficult to believe people lived there. They looked like museums or English country estates. I supposed this was where Chicago’s royalty lived, and I wondered if one of the houses belonged to William. Perhaps the one I’d passed earlier with the stone façade? Or maybe that one with the brick?

I snapped picture after picture of patterns in the sand and cracks in the ice on the lake with my Leica. It was a fabulous camera and a pleasure to use. I took shots of the woods and the trees or the dead leaves under the thin layer of snow on the ground.

Laird and I walked, stopping frequently so I could take another picture. Photography had always centered me, and this day was no exception. I felt like I was regaining my senses. Out here in the quiet and the cold, the fiasco with William seemed far away. I felt as though I could look at the situation more objectively. What had happened to make me go so fast and so far with a man who was totally unsuitable for me? And why hadn’t I seen the signs earlier?

Was I just desperate to find someone to fill Jace’s place? Lonely? I admitted I was, but I hadn’t been looking. William sought me out, and I tried to rebuff him. I was far from desperate. I studied the barren trees and the frozen lake and thought about Santa Cruz. I missed the green there. I missed not having to dress in layers, and being alternately cold and then too hot. I missed my friends and my dad. I’d needed a fresh start, and Chicago had been good—until William had stepped into my life and wreaked havoc.

The problem, I decided, was that I was more cut out for love than lust. I’d thought I could do casual with William. I thought I could have fun, and look how that turned out. I wasn’t the right woman for him. He needed someone who didn’t have expectations or want commitments. He needed someone who wanted his wealth and power more than anything else—someone like Lara Kendall from the event last night. I wasn’t that woman. Sure, I liked money as much as the next person, but I didn’t need it. And I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself for it.

So there it was. I would end things with William. I would tell him I didn’t do casual, and I was only interested in finding someone I could fall in love with and who could fall in love with me. And maybe, that meant I ended up alone. Maybe what Jace and I had was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Maybe no one else would ever fall in love with me. Maybe I wasn’t that lovable, or maybe I was too damaged to love someone in return. If that was the case, did I deserve to be loved?

I wasn’t a bad person. I’d made mistakes like everyone, but I thought that underneath it all, I was a good person. I wallowed and I wallowed and my thoughts ran around in circles and didn’t always make much sense, and I took nonstop photos with my Leica.

There was something about seeing the world through the lens of a camera. I could control my camera. I could focus it on what I wanted to see. And what I saw was beautiful. There wasn’t snow perched precariously on tree branches in Santa Cruz, there weren’t dog footprints encased in white, there weren’t ice crystals sparkling in the sun. This world was beautiful.

William Lambourne and I had that much in common. A man who collected art, who chose a heady fragrance and a gorgeous gown and bracelet for gifts, loved beauty as much as I did.

And the more I thought about William, the more my body reacted, heating and tingling from the remembrance of his touch. It happened every time I thought about him. He stirred me up. There was something undeniable between us. And I could have sworn there was more to William than I’d seen. There was something deeper, hidden deep within that I could fall in love with. He wasn’t the man at the event last night. That man was a mask for the real William, a man who, for reasons unknown, felt it necessary to hide this real self behind unassailable walls. Maybe there was a woman who could breach those walls. Maybe William didn’t want them breached. In either case, I wasn’t the right woman.

That decision made, I whistled for Laird and loaded the SUV. It was late afternoon, and I was ready to go home. I didn’t listen to music on the way back. Laird snored softly beside me, and I told myself over and over that I would say no to any more propositions from William Lambourne. I would push him out of my life for good.

I arrived at my condo around six, and I was exhausted. It was already dark, making it seem later than it really was. The cold air had deflated me, and I was ready for a long, hot bath, my pajamas, and mindless TV. I unloaded the SUV quickly with Laird at my side. We headed upstairs, and I paused to fish my keys out of my bag and unlock the door. When I swung it open, an amazing aroma wafted around me, causing my mouth to water, and making me realize I was ravenous. I hadn’t eaten all day.

The lights in the condo were on, and I heard music playing. Both had been off when I left. And then Laird raced inside, barking like crazy. What was going on? I was uneasy, but curious. What kind of burglar turned on lights and cooked dinner?

Dropping my bags at the door, I walked in and arrowed for the kitchen. I stepped inside and halted because
he
was there.

Ten

I stumbled to a shocked halt and stared at William Lambourne. He seemed to have gotten sexier overnight. He stood barefoot in my kitchen, wearing a tight black T-shirt and jeans. A dish towel was tucked into his waistband as an impromptu apron. Beside him, pots were bubbling away on the AGA. Laird was going nuts, barking. He had William cornered by the fridge. And William, for his part, looked adorable. I didn’t know if it was the apron or the bare feet or the smudge of flour on one cheek. I wanted to be angry, but it was difficult when greeted by a sight this cute.

“Laird,” I said over the noise. “Laird, down! Down, boy.”

“Attack dog?” William asked, unconcerned that he might soon be eaten.

“Something like that. Laird!”

Laird ignored me, so I grabbed his collar and dragged him to the guest room.

“Sorry about that,” I said when I got back. “He’s harmless.” I narrowed my eyes. William’s adorableness had distracted me from the fact that he was here uninvited. And I was royally pissed for the way he’d behaved the night before. “What are you doing here? And how exactly did you get into my condo?”

William walked toward me with casual confidence and kissed me on the cheek. “Nice to see you too.” He stroked my arm. “I’m making you dinner.” Up and down. His fingers caressed my arm lightly. Up then down. “Bucatini with my special Bolognese sauce. It’s simple but filling. And delicious, I have to say. I brought you flowers too,” he said, pointing to a beautiful arrangement of yellow tulips sitting on the counter.

I stood dumbstruck as my cheek burned where his lips touched it, and my stomach did flip-flops with every stroke of his fingers.
No, no, no
. This was not happening again. I wasn’t going to allow it to happen.

And I was changing my locks.

William’s hand slid up my arm again.

Tonight.

“I asked how you got in here,” I said.

William turned back to the AGA, seemingly at home in my kitchen. With his bare feet and that apron, he looked like he belonged here more than I ever had. “Minerva Himmler let me in,” he said.

“Why?” I thrust my hands on my hips. “What line did you feed her? That’s your thing, isn’t it? Charming your way to getting what you want from women. Offering expensive gifts when it doesn’t work.”

I expected my harsh words to have an effect, but he went about stirring pots and adding a dash of this and that as though I hadn’t spoken, and that pissed me off even more.

“I told her we’re dating. How could she turn away a man with an armful of groceries who’d come to cook?”

“Obviously, I’ll have a talk with her. Minerva should know better than to let a strange man into my condo. And you need to learn a lesson about boundaries. You can’t just come into my house because you want to. I didn’t invite you. I don’t want you here.”

He wore a shaky grin, and I could tell he knew he was on tenuous ground. He struggled to keep his composure. “You get a little line right there when you’re angry.” He pointed his spoon at my forehead. “It’s quite charming.”

Oh, I’d show him charming. “I suppose you’ve seen me angry often enough to recognize the signs.”

He shrugged. “And Mrs. Himmler and I said hello when I was here yesterday morning.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Remember yesterday morning?”

My breath caught at the look in his eyes, but I pushed my desire down and allowed my ire to rise. “Actually, I do remember yesterday—all of it—and I’m really angry with you. I’m not even sure I like you. Yesterday was when you took me on our first date and ditched me.”

“Actually, Catherine, it was you who left.” His grey eyes turned stormy, and his voice took on a serious tone. “And without saying good-bye. I’m not used to my dates walking out, and since you didn’t have the courtesy to respond to my texts or messages, I needed to make sure you were okay. And…”

“And nothing! I don’t know what your typical dates put up with, but I’m not a doormat. You can’t kiss me one minute and ignore me the next. I felt out of place, insecure, and nervous last night, and you did nothing to make me feel comfortable. You barely spoke to me. You weren’t even nice to me.”

I saw realization in his eyes. Clearly, he was not used to being spoken to like this, and he didn’t see last night the same way I did. Until now.

“William, that was the worst date I have ever been on. I’ve never been treated so rudely, and I’d really like you to leave.”

He stared. “I…”

I raised my brows and waited in seething silence.

“I’m not sure what to say. I had no idea you felt that way.” He was stiff now, not the confident, casual man I was used to seeing. And, if I was not mistaken, there was panic in his eyes.

“You might apologize.”

“Of course. Let me make it up to you.”

I shook my head. “I really want you to go.” It didn’t escape my notice that he hadn’t apologized.

“Catherine.” He moved toward me, his expression one of desperation. “I’m not good at this.” He reached for my hands clumsily then released them to rake a hand through his hair. I could tell he was shaken. “I admit I don’t have much experience with this, and obviously, I’m fucking up. But I’m willing to try. If you’ll give me another chance.” He gestured to the AGA. “I made all of this for you. As a peace offering.” He gave me a hopeful look, and my anger dissolved. It was incredibly difficult to resist his earnestness, but I could not allow my resolution to push William Lambourne out of my life to weaken. I’d made up my mind. William Lambourne was out.

“Catherine, I didn’t mean to intrude. But I wanted to see you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.”

I clenched my fists. This was the thing I hated about him already. He knew what to say to weaken my resolve. “I’m certain Lara Kendall would have been happy to take your mind off me.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “What does Lara Kendall have to do with anything?”

“We had an interesting chat last night after you and I danced.”

“Oh, shit. So that’s why you left. Catherine—”

I held my hand up, keeping him at a distance. “Lara seemed to know you quite well, and she was fascinated by my bracelet. She said that I must have extraordinary skills to warrant a gift like that.”

“Catherine…”

“I told you. I have no interest in being another one of your women, another convenient lay you keep at a distance with expensive trinkets.”

His eyes turned ice-blue. “No! How could you think that’s what I want?”

“What am I supposed to think when your friend calls me a whore to my face?”

“Lara is not a friend. She’s nothing to me. She knows nothing.”

“You seemed pretty chummy at dinner.”

William raked a hand through his hair again. “It’s… complicated.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going to go with?”

“That’s the truth.” He pinned me with his gaze, and his eyes were wild and stormy and sincere. He stepped closer. “Catherine, believe me when I say I want to be with you. Only you. There’s something about you—about us together. I know you’ve felt it.” He took another step closer, and I wanted to back away, but I couldn’t. “There’s an energy between us, and it’s electric. It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before.”

I knew what he meant because I could feel it too. I felt it right then, the closer he moved toward me. Could I believe this, or was it another charming line? And if it was true, that was worse. I wasn’t ready.

“I have never felt this way with anyone,” he murmured. “If you believe nothing else, believe that. You have this effect on me…” The hand went through the hair again. God, I would never be able to resist him. “In the back of the SUV—” His gaze met mine, intense and filled with desire. My own desire flared seeing it in his eyes, remembering the feel of his hands and his mouth on me.

“The way I feel when I’m with you, Catherine. I didn’t expect that. I’m not used to it, and I fucked up. I thought everyone at the gala would see how hot I was for you. I needed some distance. Look, I can’t apologize for what Lara said, but I can apologize for how I behaved last night, and for tonight. I am sorry, Catherine. I never want to hurt you. “

He removed my dish towel from his waist, folded it neatly, and placed it on the counter. “I really don’t enjoy those kinds of events, but they’re necessary. They’re business. It’s not your scene, and it’s not mine either. I threw you to the wolves last night and I’m sorry. But that’s not who I am.” He grabbed his sweater from the back of a chair and pulled it over his head. “The sauce is ready, and the water’s boiling.”

I could smell the aroma of the Bolognese. It was making my mouth water.

“Put the pasta in for five minutes. It’s fresh and doesn’t need to cook longer.” He slid his coat on and shoved his feet into his boots. “There’s bread in the warming drawer and salad in the fridge. I opened a bottle of red. I think you’ll like it.”

I blinked, trying to take everything in. I couldn’t process. I was stunned by William’s apology, and by his honesty. Did I really make him feel something he’d never felt before? I felt that way, but was his response as off the charts as mine?

And this dinner—I didn’t know what to think. I
couldn’t
think with him so near. And then, I realized he was leaving. “I don’t understand. You made this amazing meal, and you’re not staying?”

“It’s for you, Catherine. I’m not forcing myself into your life. Eat, enjoy, and maybe we can talk later this week. I’ll give you time to think about what I said. I meant every word.” And then he kissed me. I didn’t see it coming, and I certainly didn’t expect it to be the kind of kiss that made me melt inside. His lips were soft, and his mouth lingered on mine, making me hungry for more. He tasted like garlic and red wine, and I was ravenous for him.

“Call me,” he said. He caressed my cheek, looking into my eyes. I couldn’t breathe when he looked at me like that. And I didn’t remember ever seeing his eyes so serene. There was none of the turbulence from the night before. His eyes were beautiful, a silver grey.

I sighed, thinking that I could stare at him forever. “Okay.”

And then he was gone.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.” What had happened to my resolve? Where were my good intentions? They flew out the door as soon as I spotted William. And that wasn’t the William from last night. That was charming, delectable William. How could he be two totally different people in the space of twenty-four hours? And what kind of guy came over, made spaghetti—not just spaghetti, but bucatini with Bolognese from scratch—and then left? My world was spinning.

First things first. I had to eat. I was starving, and the smell was amazing. Even I, who did not possess a culinary bone in my body, could boil pasta. I threw it in, let Laird out of the guest room, and poured myself a glass of wine.

Finally, I sat down and sampled my meal. “Oh, my God,” I said to Laird. “This is unbelievable.” The pasta was so tender, and the sauce was rich and thick and flavorful. I couldn’t get enough. I tried the bread and closed my eyes in ecstasy. It was obviously freshly baked, buttery and crusty and to die for. I ate and ate until I was finally sated. It was so good, I gave Laird a taste. He didn’t appreciate it quite as much as I did, but that didn’t stop him from begging for seconds.

By my second glass of wine, I was ready to run through the date again. Maybe I’d judged William unfairly. Maybe I hadn’t given him enough of a chance. Maybe I’d been a little drunk. He was making an effort at the end of the night, and I left. I could hardly blame him for what someone else said. He didn’t tell Lara Kendall to approach me.

But that didn’t mean I’d forgotten everything I’d decided this afternoon. I wasn’t a person who did casual. And I wasn’t certain I was ready to jump into anything else, especially something as intense as what William and I had.

And that’s what it all came down to. There was something undeniable between us. Even now, I felt the black cloud that had been hanging over me all day lifting. Maybe it was the food or the wine. Maybe it was seeing William in my kitchen again, maybe it was his apology, but I felt happy again. Content.

So maybe, I
should
give him another chance. Maybe it wasn’t going to be a casual rebound thing. William’s words had taken my breath away. Maybe I could put my heart out there, and he would reciprocate…

My phone buzzed, and I checked the caller ID and smiled.

“I couldn’t wait,” William said in his sexy, velvet voice. “I wanted to hear your voice. Am I forgiven?”

He really wanted to know. A man like William Lambourne wanted my forgiveness. I found it endearing. I wanted to hug him.

“Yes,” I said. “The dinner was amazing. And I accept your apology. I wish…” I hesitated, uncertain if I should say what I was thinking.

“You wish? What do you wish, Catherine?”

“I wish I could thank you in person.”

There was a pause. Maybe I overstepped? I could feel nervous tension creeping into my shoulders.

“Then why don’t you?” His voice was deep and sensual, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

“I’ve finished my second glass of the excellent red wine you left. I’m now in no condition to drive. I don’t even know where you live. Do you realize that?”

“Look out your window.”

He lived outside my window? I stood and moved to my front window and peered down on the street. Parked outside was the black SUV from last night. Anthony was standing in the cold, waiting patiently.

I gasped. “Have you been down there this entire time?”

“No, I’m home. But I sent Anthony…” His voice trailed off.

“Because…?”

There was another long pause before he answered. “Why do you think? I do believe in hope, Catherine.”

He didn’t need to ask, and what he wanted was perfectly clear. What I wanted became clear too. I wanted him. “Give me ten minutes.”

*****

It was more like an hour by the time I climbed into the warm and cozy backseat of the SUV. I’d told Anthony to leave the privacy screen down. I peered out the window, trying to figure out where we were going. It was downtown somewhere. “Anthony?”

“Yes, Miss Kelly?”

“Where are we headed?”