A Taste of You (22 page)

Once I was off the floor, I watched them and smiled. Alec couldn’t keep his eyes off Beckett, and the look on Beckett’s face told me he was flirting big time.

I walked around and stopped to watch one chef cook. It took me a moment to realize the chef was Ben Lee. When he took a break, I leaned over to say hi, and he gave me a warm hug. “Catherine! What a great surprise! Where’s your boyfriend? I don’t want to get in trouble.” He held his hands up to indicate he wasn’t touching me.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, so you’re safe. What are you making?” I asked to change the subject.

“It’s a new take on grilled cheese. Try it.”

I ate Ben’s yummy dish and then wandered away, looking for other delicious offerings. I would gain five pounds by the end of the night, but I’d probably lost that much from being sick and depressed about the breakup.

“You’re Catherine Kelly, right?” someone asked.

“Right,” I said, turning. It was a Fresh Market exec. I remembered that he was a VIP. He was young with blondish brown hair and hazel eyes, and he had a nice smile.

“I was impressed with your work on the kebabs. I’m glad you were chosen for the Fresh for Spring campaign.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m glad too. I’m sorry. I forgot your name.”

“Mark Sanders. Are you from Chicago?”

“Actually, I’m a transplant from California.”

His eyes widened. “Whoa. How are you liking the winters?”

“They’ve taken some getting used to.” I smiled.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I shook my head. “I’d better not have another. I have work in the morning.”

“Then how about a dance?”

I hesitated. Why not? I deserved a little fun. “Sure.”

Mark led me to the dance floor and took my hand. He was a good dancer and had an infectious smile. I couldn’t stop smiling either, until a movement in the mezzanine caused me to glance up.

My gaze roamed over the railings and the curtained alcoves until I saw
him
. I froze and stared. He was dressed in a dark suit with a slate grey tie. His eyes were as grey as the tie and stormier than I had ever seen them. His hair was brushed back from his forehead, drawing attention to his strong jaw, which looked clenched with tension.

“Catherine?” Mark asked. “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him then back at the mezzanine. No one was there. Had I imagined William standing there?

“Catherine?”

“Sorry, Mark. I’m fine.” I fumbled. My heart raced, and I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of there. “I’m a little tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

I knew I was being rude, but I walked off the dance floor. I steadied myself on a tabletop and stared at the mezzanine again. Had I really just imagined seeing William? Maybe I’d had too much to drink.

I found Beckett and Alec and told them I was heading home. Beckett tried to convince me to stay, but I didn’t want to risk seeing William if he hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. I fled to the lobby, my heels clicking on the marble as I made my escape.

“Cat Ryder? Is that you?”

My heart jumped into my throat, and I skidded to a stop. A tingle of unease skittered up my back, making my hair stand on end. Slowly, I turned and glanced around the all but empty lobby.

“It
is
you!” A compact man with a shaved head and a two-day growth of beard waved and strode up to me. He was dressed in a gray suit and tie, but I could easily picture him in a wet suit and sunglasses. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Ryan,” I heard myself say. “What are you doing here?” The room tilted, and I felt as though I was walking through a dreamworld. It seemed like I’d known Ryan Lewis in another life. He gave me a hug, but my arms refused to embrace him. I stood stiff while he greeted me as though everything was normal. As though I was still Cat Ryder. He didn’t know I hadn’t been that girl for three years.

“I could ask you the same!” he said, stepping back. “Listen, I heard about Jace.” His expression grew solemn, and he reached out and rubbed my arm. “I’m so sorry. You got a raw deal, Cat.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. I couldn’t speak. I had to concentrate on blinking back the tears.

“What are you doing now? I’m still with
Sports Illustrated
. This isn’t quite as fun as the surfing scene, but I’m moving up in the world. Are you working tonight?” He looked at my clutch, seeming to wonder where my camera might be hiding.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not doing sports photography any longer.”

His eyes widened. “Why the hell not? Cat, you were really good. One of the best—and I know the best.”

My breath hitched, and I swiped at my cheek, where a rogue tear had broken loose.

“Let me give you my card.” He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a business card. I took it mechanically. “Call me if you want to get back in the game.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, beginning to walk away.

“Cat.” He grabbed my elbow. “It really is good to see you again. Call me. We could have lunch and—”

A shadow appeared in the corner of my eye, and Ryan was shoved back. “Get your hands off her.”

I gasped and stared at William. His eyes were icy blue, his face flushed with anger. He turned to me, his eyes softening. “Is he bothering you, Catherine? I’ll take care of this.”

I shook my head, my senses reeling. Was this really happening? I’d never felt so torn between my past and my present. Was I Cat Ryder or Catherine Kelly?

“Cat, what the hell?” Ryan said. “Call the guard dog off.”

“Sorry,” I said to Ryan, but my gaze stayed riveted on William. My body swayed toward his, and I felt myself reacting to his closeness. He was gorgeous with those stormy eyes and that protective stance. I still wanted him.

“I’m sorry,” I said again and fled.

Eighteen

I had several meetings with prospective clients the next day and shopping to do. I hoped Fresh Market would call and ask me to shoot more for their spring campaign, so I justified the purchase of a new lens, a couple memory cards, and an upgrade for my editing software. Despite the fact I’d managed to cross tasks off my to-do list, I hadn’t distracted myself from thoughts of William.

Or of Jace.

Seeing Ryan again had brought back old memories and emotions, and once at home, I found myself standing outside my darkroom. I hadn’t been inside since William and I were in there together, when I showed him my pictures. I missed William, but I was proud of myself too. I’d taken a huge step in my life. Seeing Ryan brought me back to everything I’d had before—and everything I’d lost. I wasn’t the shell of a person I’d been after Jace’s death. I was making a new life for myself.

My relationship with William hadn’t worked out, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work out with someone else. That I’d let William get close was a huge step. I’d let myself
feel
, and that was major too. For the first time since Jace’s death, I thought there was a possibility I could be happy again. I could envision myself with someone besides Jace. For three years, I’d lived in the past, but now, I could look forward.

Happiness without Jace was possible. I would never forget him. I would always love him, but I could move on with my life. Amazingly, I’d come to these realizations in the last two weeks, over what really amounted to just a few days.

In that instant I knew exactly what I had to do. Seeing Ryan made me appreciate how far I’d come. I was finally ready. I stepped into the darkroom and searched among the dozens of boxes on the shelf until I found a roll of undeveloped film.

This was
the
roll.

I held it in my shaking hand and tried to breathe. This was the last roll of photos I’d taken of Jace. These were shot on Oahu’s fabled North Shore the afternoon of the accident that claimed his life. Little did I know these were the last photos I would take as Cat Ryder, fearless surf photographer and wife of the most promising new surfer on the pro circuit. This roll symbolized everything I had thought my life would be. It was everything I wanted. Once Jace was dead, once my life veered wildly off course, I hadn’t wanted to see that roll of smashed dreams. I’d almost thrown it away a half dozen times, but something always stopped me. And now, I knew why. I’d been saving it for this moment. I needed to confront those images now. I needed to confront my past as Cat Ryder.

I prepared my supplies and soaked the paper in the developer. As I watched, images slowly took shape. The clear, gorgeous blue water of Hawaii was the first thing I saw. These initial pictures were of the waves breaking and the ripcurl. I remember I’d been out on my long board, past the break point, with my heavy waterproof photo gear strapped on. The lens port I’d used on the water housing was gigantic. I loved the bubble effect it created because it allowed me to capture what was happening above and below the surface. These weren’t shots you got on land. You had to be in the surf, riding the waves with the guys. I had angled myself so I looked down the barrel to get the deep pocket shots.

The next pictures were of Jace. He was paddling out on his board, his smile as wide as his paddle. And he was looking directly at me. I stared at images of Jace as he waited for the perfect set or went duck-diving when waves broke in front of him. I had shots of Jace catching a wave and pictures of him deep in the tube as a wave curled above. More pictures—roundhouse cutbacks, aerials, Jace hitting the lip—Jace doing a backside bottom turn, a roundhouse cutback, and a carving frontside 360.

My breath whooshed out. I’d forgotten how good he was. He had so much talent. More pictures of him clawing toward the horizon as a set rolled down the reef, pictures of Jace and our friends, waiting on the shoulder, paddling to catch a wave, dropping in. I laughed when I saw the first of the shots where Jace wiped out. The swells that day were wicked, and even after Jace traded in his six-foot board for a seven-foot, he was still tossed around like human flotsam.

Finally, I saw the photos I was really looking for. These were the ones I’d taken back on the beach. Jace laughing and goofing around. He and his buddies were posing for the camera, pushing one another, making muscles. Then there were a few of Jace watching the surfers in the wild waves. He looked serious, contemplative, and focused. I remembered how I loved that look. It made my heart ache to see it again.

Tears streamed down my face as each image emerged in the developer bath. I missed Jace so much. There was a huge hole in my life where he should have been—where he’d never be again. He was beautiful, so full of life. And then I crushed my hand to my mouth because I’d forgotten this last photo. I’d probably taken it to finish the roll. It was an image of the two of us together as I’d held the camera and snapped a picture. I sobbed openly when I saw how young we were. Our faces were pink from the sun, and there was so much love in our eyes as we grinned at one another.

It hurt to look at the two of us. I missed him so much. “Jace,” I whispered to the photo. I couldn’t speak the words, but I was so sorry. Sorry I was driving, sorry I’d had a beer before we left, sorry I pushed him to leave before he was ready, sorry I didn’t see the beat-up, red pickup truck barreling toward us before it was too late.

Sorry I never said good-bye or
I love you
one last time.

I pressed a finger to the image in the bath. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, Jace.”

The image blurred as my tears fell and mixed with the developer bath. I took a deep, shuddering breath and
finally
let go.

I was ready.

Using my tongs, I grasped the picture of Jace and me. I smiled through my tears at the way our heads tipped easily toward each other. Marveled at our clear eyes and sun-kissed skin. We looked so happy and so young. And we were. We were all of that and more.

This was the picture I wanted to remember. This was the one I’d frame and treasure.

I hung the photo to dry and set the tongs down, almost knocking another roll of film off the table. I lifted it and realized it was the final roll I’d taken on my walk in Lake Forest that afternoon two weekends ago. It seemed like another lifetime—someone else’s life.

I hadn’t used all the exposures, and when I’d showed William my darkroom, I’d playfully snapped the remaining few of him with my Leica. I took a deep breath and submerged these in the developer bath. I watched as an image of William and his stormy eyes materialized. In the image, he was playful. I smiled, thinking back. I’d been laughing so hard as William and I goofed around. I’d been happy and content. I’d felt safe, relaxed, and…loved.

Oh, shit. Loved! I took a sharp breath. What the hell had I done? Was William right all along? Had I been fighting him and my future? And if he was my future, had I walked away from him and all we could be together?

I heard a buzz and jumped from the unexpected sound. With a frown, I left the darkroom, rubbing my hands on my jeans. Laird was standing by the door, and I pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

“Miss Kelly, it’s George Graham.”

I blinked. What the hell did he want?

“May I come up?”

“I…” I sighed. Better get this over now. I pushed the buzzer and opened the door. A moment later, George crested the stairs. Once again, he was wearing a black suit and looked as though he’d come directly from his desk at the FBI. “Come in,” I said, indicating my living room. “I only have a minute.”

“I’ll be brief.” He stepped inside, standing stiff and formal, posture rigid. “I must speak with you. This is the only way.”

“Did William send you?” I patted Laird on the head, staying near the door. We weren’t sitting for this. He could speak and leave.

“No. If Mr. Lambourne knew I was here, I would lose my job. You hold my livelihood in your hands.”

“Why would you come against William’s wishes?”

For the first time, the man looked human. A flicker of emotion crossed his features. “You need to know the truth. Mr. Lambourne told me you discovered the dossier I created on Jenny Hill.”

My eyes widened. “So that was your work?”

“I make one for every woman Mr. Lambourne sees.”

“Including me.”

“No.” He took a step forward. “That’s why I came. I never made one for you. Mr. Lambourne told you the truth. I suggested doing so. In fact, I all but insisted. Mr. Lambourne refused. That’s the first time he’s ever done so.”

“What exactly is your job, Mr. Graham? Head snooper?”

I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m head of personal security for Mr. Lambourne. I’ve protected him for years. He’s a wealthy man—the perfect target for abduction, violent crime by an anticapitalism group, or exploitation by a certain kind of woman. I make sure no one who hasn’t been vetted gets close to Mr. Lambourne. I generally select dates for him. I—”

“Wait a moment. You’re like his pimp?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “I search for women who are Mr. Lambourne’s type, those who would make suitable companions. Whether the lady chooses to date him is her decision. You cannot expect a man like William Lambourne to meet women on the Internet or troll bars, and it is frequently necessary for him to take a date to an event.”

“And yet, he managed to meet me without your help.”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t help but note that George looked none too happy.

“You were—are—different. I’ve never seen him act like he’s acted with you. And now…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Mr. Lambourne has been miserable the last few days without you. I’ve never seen him like this, and I’ve known him a very long time. I worked for his father and I’ve known Mr. Lambourne since he was a young man. I know you doubt your relationship with Mr. Lambourne, but I came to tell you it’s genuine, Miss Kelly. He’s never lied to you and what Mr. Lambourne feels for you is genuine.”

I swallowed, a lump rising in my throat. Did the man have any idea how much I wanted to hear this? Was this another of William’s manipulations? “Why are you telling me this?”

“Honestly, Miss Kelly, I don’t know. I suppose I think of Mr. Lambourne as my responsibility. I don’t like to see him like this. I could think of no option but to speak with you personally.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to believe George Graham. I didn’t want to know William was miserable without me, that his feelings hadn’t been a fabrication. That he never ordered a dossier on me. I had gotten past the worst of the pain, and I couldn’t imagine going through a breakup again if we got back together.

“I know you have severed all ties with Mr. Lambourne,” George said, “but if you reconsider, you will find Mr. Lambourne at a benefit dinner tonight for the new cancer wing at Chicago Hospital. Mr. Lambourne endowed the new wing.”

“Of course, he did,” I muttered. “And what’s a million or two?”

He held out an envelope, and I hesitated before taking it.

“This is a ticket to the event. Perhaps you will attend. I promise it will be worth your time if you care to see the real William Lambourne.” He pulled his black leather gloves from his coat pocket. “And it was twenty million, actually. Good afternoon, Miss Kelly.”

He opened my door and disappeared down the steps. I stood in my empty living room for a full minute before looking at Laird, who yawned. I gave Laird a hug and pulled the ticket from the envelope. The event was at The Peninsula Hotel, and the ticket stated it was black tie.

I dug my phone out of my purse and called Beckett. “Hey!” he answered. “You left too early last night. You missed all the fun.”

I smiled. “Did you go home with Alec?”

“What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“The easy kind?”

“You know me so well. All we shared was a kiss. It was nice. Didn’t you have a good time?”

“Yes, but then I saw William, and it freaked me out.”

“Cat, it was your imagination.”

“No, it wasn’t.” I told Beckett about running into Ryan Lewis.

“Oh, Cat, I didn’t even think. Of course,
Sports Illustrated
would cover the event.”

“You couldn’t know they’d send someone I know, and that’s actually not why I called. Something weird happened.” I told him about my conversation with George Graham. “I don’t think I should go, Beckett. It’s not like William apologized. So what if he’s miserable? He said himself I was better off without him.”

“Bullshit, Cat. You don’t believe that. The man is pining over you and—hello—you have been pining over him. This is your chance. It’s so romantic, like Harry and Sally on New Year’s Eve.”

“Except he’s not Billy Crystal, and I’m not Meg Ryan. And it’s not New Year’s Eve.”

“Cat, I see you running into the hotel, looking frantically for William, spotting him across the room…” He sighed.

I forgot what a hopeless romantic Beckett could be.

“It’s a black-tie event, Beckett. William and I don’t have a good history at high-end charity functions.”

“Don’t go then.” He sounded petulant. “Give up. This might be your last chance at finding true love again. What if William is
The One
? And you won’t go to one event?”

“Yeah, an event that William’s creepy CIA guy gave me a ticket to.”

“The man risked everything for true love! How can you be so hard-hearted?”

I laughed. Beckett could be so over the top. “Okay, Beckett. When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

“So you’ll go?”

“I have to.”

*****

Beckett was right. Not about the Harry and Sally thing, but about my chance for finding true love again. I did love William.

I sat in the back of a cab, dressed in the fabulous red gown William had sent for our first date. Strangely enough, I felt comfortable in it. I didn’t mind the red like I thought I would. That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous and as skittish as a rabbit.

I couldn’t believe
I
—Catherine Kelly Ryder—was doing something so outrageous. I finally knew. I wanted William Lambourne. It was more than attraction, more than great sex. I
loved
him.