A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) (23 page)

William stood up, his expression unreadable, but I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. His gaze snapped to the chair before his desk and then back again. I followed his look and noted we weren’t alone. The man in the seat across from William faced away from me, showing only the back of his head, but there was something familiar about him nonetheless.

Something very, very familiar.

The man turned, and I gasped. It was Beckett.

For a moment I couldn’t process it. Everything was strangely surreal, like a scrambled image that made no sense. Why was Beckett in William’s office? Beckett didn’t belong here. Beckett and William had nothing in common except…

Me.

Oh my God. I stumbled back a step. I took a deep breath, forcing oxygen into my chest, which felt tight with panic. Beckett had just accused me of thinking everything was about me. So maybe this wasn’t about me. That didn’t mean it wasn’t weird—my best friend and my boyfriend. Why hadn’t they told me about this? Was this something else they were hiding from me? Something bad? Had something happened to a friend? Someone in my family?

“What is this?” I blurted out, looking from William to Beckett. “What’s going on?”

Neither man answered. My heart pounded even harder in my chest. What was wrong? What couldn’t they tell me? They would have said if it was my family, so it had to be something else. “Is this what you’ve been so secretive about?” I asked Beckett. I looked at William. “Is this another thing you can’t tell me?” Still neither one of them spoke.

I looked from Beckett to William and felt tears burn my eyes. I had to get out of here before I started crying. “I’m sorry. I can see I’m intruding. I’ll get out.”

“Cat—”

“No, Beckett. It’s okay. I’ll just go.” I looked at William. He looked concerned, and I didn’t want his concern at the moment. I just wanted to run before I started sobbing. The paper of the envelope brushed my arm, and I reached into my bag and yanked it out. “Here, you can have these. Maybe we can talk about it later when you’re…not so busy.” I tossed the envelope on the table in the center of the room and turned to leave. Before I could reach the door, William was beside me. He took my arm and swung me around to face him.

“Catherine, calm down. This is not what you think. There's nothing secret about this.” He gestured to Beckett, who had risen now.

“Really? Nothing secret?
I
didn’t know about it.”

William’s hands rested on my upper arms, holding me firmly in place. I didn’t fight him. I was still holding back tears, but it was difficult to resist those stormy-grey eyes, especially when he had his gaze leveled directly on me. “Beckett has been wanting to tell you about this since the beginning. He stopped by this afternoon to ask if he could. He said he told you he signed an NDA.”

“So?”

“My big secret,” Beckett said. “Remember? I told you I was working on something but I wasn’t allowed to talk about it yet?”

The puzzle rearranged itself again. So this meeting was about Beckett and William doing business? Together? I glanced at Beckett again. He was dressed in a suit. Of course it was a slim pastel blue suit with tight trousers, much different than William’s classic charcoal wool Armani, but like me, Beckett tended to dress
creatively
. If this was business, the suit made sense.

“What does he have to do with the NDA?” I asked, pointing at William.

But William answered before Beckett could. “I’m a financial backer in a new restaurant venture.”

“Cat, I’m going to run a bakery,” Beckett said. “That’s the big news. And it’s not just any bakery.”

I stared, trying to take in what Beckett was saying. This was huge. “Do you remember Emil LeClerc?” William asked.

“No.” The name sounded familiar, but I was still reeling from the news that Beckett was finally going to get the chance to bake. He would finally achieve his dream.

“Emil LeClerc catered the Art Institute dinner we attended,” William said.

I remembered that dinner very well. It was my first date with William and my absolute worst date ever. William had been sweet and charming in the car on the way there but had changed completely once we arrived. He’d been cold and distant and completely ignored me. I’d ended up walking out without even saying goodbye. But I remembered William had praised Chef LeClerc, and I’d wanted to try his food. I’d run into Ben Lee that night, and Ben had remarked that he’d trained in France under LeClerc. Ben had given me a bite of a blini, but other than that I’d mainly drank my dinner. I never got the chance to eat much of the beautiful food.

“I do remember,” I said. “Ben said you’d backed LeClerc’s New York City restaurant.” Suddenly my heart clenched. “Beckett, you’re not moving to New York, are you?”

“No. LeClerc is opening a restaurant in Chicago.”

“Not quite,” William added. His hands were still on my arms, and his thumbs were moving in circles, sending waves of warmth through me. “LeClerc is the name behind a French bistro concept restaurant that I and several other investors back. We’ll be rolling it out in Chicago in a new luxury boutique hotel opening in Lincoln Park. Bistro LeClerc will be in the hotel, and next door to Bistro LeClerc will be Patisserie LeClerc, a bakery.”

“Pastries, Cat,” Beckett added. “Just like Paris.” His eyes shone brightly, and his face was flushed with excitement. I couldn’t help but smile.

“The kind of delicacies you’re so good at making,” I said.

“Exactly. And the patisserie is going to have a storefront and offer lots of fabulous confections. But we’ll also supply the bistro with all of its bread and desserts.”

“And what Beckett has been wanting to tell you is that he’s been tapped as the head pastry chef for Patisserie LeClerc. If the concept succeeds here, similar outlets will open in Las Vegas, Miami, and Los Angeles. Beckett will oversee all of that.”

“Cat, I’ve been dying to tell you,” Beckett said, moving toward us. “I’m so bad at keeping secrets, especially from you. But I couldn’t take the chance I’d fuck it up.” He held his hands up. “Not that telling you would fuck it up, but I had to sign the NDA, and I’d never signed one and was paranoid. Everything happened so fast.”

“Once we knew LeClerc wanted Beckett, we moved quickly,” William added.

“Forgive me, Cat?” Beckett pled. “It’s not the same if I can’t celebrate with you. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“Oh, Beckett.” I stumbled away from William and gave Beckett a huge hug, my eyes welling with tears. I was so glad things were okay between us again and so happy for Beckett. I squeezed him tightly. This was an amazing opportunity. I could see that quite clearly. It was exactly the kind of opportunity I’d always wanted for Beckett and the kind he had never dared dream of. He was so talented, though, and he totally deserved this. I pulled back and looked Beckett in the eye. “I’m so happy for you. I’m sorry I was such a complete ass. Again. Let me make it up to you. I’ll throw you a huge party to celebrate. It’s going to be awesome.”

“No parties yet,” Beckett said. “Technically, I still can’t talk about it. But I really wanted to tell you, and that’s why I came to William’s office. I just signed the contracts at the lawyer’s offices a few blocks from here. I came over to plead for leniency.”

“Beckett, you’re completely forgiven. We’ll party in a few weeks.”

“As soon as PR makes the announcement, you should be good,” William added.

“PR!” Beckett squealed. “I’ve never had PR people—I mean, technically they’re LeClerc’s people. He’s the star, but I don’t care. Next I’ll be lunching with my
agent
.”

“It won’t be long before you’re a star too.” I squeezed his arm. Both of us were grinning like idiots.

“See, this is why I had to tell you. William told me he thought it would be okay right before you got here. I was going to call you the minute I got home, but you beat me to it. Champagne at my place later?” Beckett winked, clearly thrilled beyond measure.

“Absolutely,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

He gave me another hug, then looked at William. “And I think that’s my cue to depart stage right.” He moved to shake William’s hand. “William, thanks for everything. Catch you later, okay?”

“Later,” William said with a bemused smile.

Beckett moved toward the door. “Cat, call me…” He held his hand to his ear in a phone gesture. He gave me a meaningful look, opened the door, and then he was gone.

William and I were alone. Suddenly, flutters erupted in my belly. I was so nervous. It was one thing to imagine telling William I loved him when I was a half a mile away. It was another when he was standing right in front of me, his smoldering gaze raking over me. It was all the more nerve-wracking because he looked so fucking hot in his suit. It fit him perfectly, and he looked completely cool and powerful in it. But I also knew he looked as good out of it as he did in it. We were standing there, saying nothing, and I had to be the one to break the silence. “I'm so happy for him,” I said, gesturing to the door. I was pretty sure William knew how happy I was for Beckett—he’d been right there when I’d burst into tears—but I rambled, just to keep talking. “I’ve always thought that all of his talents weren’t being utilized in food styling. Part of me worried that he was just doing it for me, so I could get work.”

William nodded, listening with the same intentness I imagined he showed everyone from world leaders to little old me. Suddenly, I felt so unsure of myself. And the more insecure I felt, the more I babbled on, telling William more things he already knew. “Beckett has been my best friend for a decade. He’s been such a great friend. He's the most selfless person I know. He deserves this. He’s really talented. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said, saving me from babbling on. “Catherine, you have nothing to worry about. I met Beckett because of you, and I did recommend him. But he landed this on his own.” As usual, he seemed to understand what I was saying even though I hadn’t spelled it out. “Beckett impressed LeClerc,” William said, putting a hand on my back and leading me toward his desk. “And that’s no easy feat. Beckett’s an immensely talented pastry chef, and you’re right—he deserves this and more.”

I felt some measure of relief. I didn’t want there to be any rumors that my relationship with William had garnered Beckett this opportunity. He’d earned it on his own. “Thank you,” I said.

He moved so his arms were around my waist. I could smell his cologne, that special scent that was uniquely William Lambourne. “And now I think we have something to discuss.”

“We do?” I whispered.

“You came to me,” he pointed out. “Not that I mind. I’m always glad to see you, but I assume there was something you wanted.”

“Besides accusing you of conspiring with my best friend?” I gave him a sheepish grin.

“Yes, besides that.”

We did need to talk, and I wasn’t going to be able to keep my thoughts straight if I was standing so close to him. All I could think about was touching my lips to his and pressing my body against his. I wanted to strip off that suit—perhaps leave the red power tie—and feel him skin to skin. Exercising more willpower than I thought I possessed, I stepped out of his embrace.

“This must be serious,” he said, looking as displeased as I felt.

“It is. We need to talk.”

“Alright, but I don’t want to do it here. Too many interruptions.”

He moved to his desk, swiped his hand across it, and tapped something.

“Yes, Mr. Lambourne.” It was Parker’s voice.

“Tell George to bring the car around.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And reschedule my afternoon appointments.”

Pause. “Right away.”

He tapped the desk again.

“How do you do that?” I asked, gesturing to his desk. “It just looks like glass from this angle.”

He grinned. “It’s magic.”

“I’m not five.”

“I’ll show you the technology some other time. It’s nothing more than a tablet on a larger scale.”

And, I imagined, with a much larger price tag.

He walked toward me and gestured to the door. “Ready?”

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“My place. Is that okay?”

His territory. Was that an intentional power play? I could have fought the decision, but I was reluctant to have our discussion at my condo. Right now it held too many memories of our last fight. “That’s fine.” I followed him to the door. “Oh, wait.” I dashed to the table where I’d thrown the envelope and picked it up, stuffing it back in my bag.

“What’s that?” he asked.

I gave him a puzzled look. Was he really going to pretend he didn’t know? Or maybe he didn’t want to discuss it until we arrived at the penthouse. “Let’s talk about it at your house.”

We took the private elevator down. William didn’t move to kiss me, but he did hold my hand all the way down and out of the building. George was waiting out front with the black SUV. He held the door for us, his head held high. He didn’t even glance at me, just murmured, “Good afternoon, Mr. Lambourne. Miss Kelly.”

Some things never changed. We climbed in the back of the car, and William raised the privacy screen. I wondered if he would pull me onto his lap, kiss me, run his hands up my skirt…but he merely held my cold hand in his large warm one. “No gloves?” he asked. I gave him a look, daring him to say anything.

He grinned and squeezed my fingers. In a way that was comforting, and his restraint meant I could keep my thoughts focused on the conversation ahead.

I loved him.

I was willing to be totally honest with him.

The stalker shit had to stop.

As soon as I covered those topics, I could jump him.

“What are you smiling about?” William asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said.

The drive to William’s penthouse at the pricey State and Walton location didn’t take long at this time of day. We arrived and George opened the car door for us. William led me through the foyer and into the elevator. My heart pounded against my ribs. This was it. I was going to bare my soul. I could only pray William accepted me.

The elevator doors opened on the fifty-sixth floor, and we stepped into William’s marble lobby. Beyond the small entryway, the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the Chicago skyline. The bright sun glinted off the glass and metal, and the dark blue expanse of the lake extended as far as I could see. William led me into the living room and shrugged off his coat, laying it neatly on a chair. I watched him remove this outer layer and took a deep breath. It was impossible not to think of the last time I was here—the night William had surprised me with the naked sushi. I could remember him whispering in my ear, “Are you still hungry?”