A Taste of You (25 page)
“Beckett?” I called. No answer, so I headed into the kitchen. There was the evidence of Beckett’s culinary sleepover—a half-dozen cupcakes on the counter along with a note.
My latest creation: New York cheesecake cupcakes with berry compote filling. Decadent, sexy, and perfect with champagne. Hope you’re not eating alone! XO, B.
I squealed with delight. “Oh, my God! These are my favorite!” I snatched one and tasted it, closing my eyes at the delicious flavor. “So good.”
“What’s going on?” William asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Beckett stayed over last night to bake in the AGA and watch Laird.” I took another bite, unable to resist. “He left me these cupcakes, and they are to die for,” I mumbled.
William raised a brow. He’d never seen me so enthusiastic about food, but he’d be a convert when he tried one. “Here, taste this,” I said and fed him a bite. He took it, licking my fingers as I placed the morsel in his mouth.
His eyes widened. “This is delicious. Beckett made these?”
“Yeah, aren’t they great? I know cupcakes are cliché these days, but this isn’t all he can do. He’s an amazing baker.” I took another bite, polishing the cupcake off.
William looked thoughtful. “Beckett? That’s interesting.”
“How so?” I eyed the cupcakes, deciding whether I should eat another now or later.
“I’ve been thinking about a dessert endeavor.” William lifted a cupcake and ate another bite. “These are good. Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
“A present?” I asked.
He’d left half the cupcake uneaten, and I wondered if he was going to finish it. If not, maybe I could…
“You might say that.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief. Setting it on the counter, he carefully opened it. I forgot about the cupcakes when I saw the Patek Philippe watch he’d given me upon returning from London. I’d left it at his penthouse when we broke up. Beside the Patek Philippe was my ugly Walgreens watch. “I didn’t know what to do with these, so I thought I’d ask. What time is it, Catherine? Is it…”He glanced at the Patek Philippe. “Eleven forty-two? Or is it…” He looked at my black plastic watch. “Is that eleven fifty-eight? It’s hard to tell if that’s an eight or three.”
I slapped him playfully.
“Which one?” He dangled both watches in front of me.
“William, I know what time it is. It’s morning. And it’s before noon. I think that’s good enough. Not everything needs to be exact. And don’t make fun of my plastic watch. I’ve had that one for four months now, and it’s done a good job.”
“I imagine a fine Swiss timepiece from your
boyfriend
will do a better job. May I?” He gestured to my wrist. I held my arm out, and he slid the watch on and closed the delicate clasp. There was a jolt of electricity between us, even in a gesture as simple as this. I felt the connection coursing through me.
“I’d like you to look at this at precisely eleven forty-two every morning and think about me touching you… like this.” He leaned close and kissed my neck, making me shiver. “Like this…” His hand drifted down and gently caressed my breast. My nipple was instantly hard beneath his hand. “And like this…” His hand traveled leisurely down my body, leaving a path of heat wherever he touched.
Finally, he delved between my legs, cupping me, and rubbing my sex. He must have felt scorching warmth emanating from my core, even through the material of the dress and my tights.
“Every morning, think about my touch, Catherine.”
“William….” I blushed, feeling a familiar stirring. Of course, I knew, despite my embarrassment, I would do exactly as he asked.
“I have something for you too,” I said with a smile. I took my plastic watch from the counter and said in the same tone he’d used a moment ago, “Hold out your hand.”
With a bemused expression, he held out his left wrist, on which he already sported an impressive Rolex.
“No, the other arm.”
He offered his right arm, and I strapped on my cheap watch. It suited him, as it was a man’s style. I was a little surprised William went along with this. He probably found it amusing. He had a wicked grin on his face.
“I want you to look at this at least once every day,” I said, “and realize that you don’t always have to be on time. I just want to know where you are.”
William laughed, throwing his head back. He gave me a deep, genuine smile. “What are you doing to me, silly girl?”
“Exactly what you do to me. Will you promise?”
He shook his head. “I adore you, Catherine Kelly. Yes, I will do as you ask. I promise.”
I hadn’t thought about the gesture, but it suddenly meant a lot that he had accepted it and promised. I was giddy with the closeness I felt, the love I felt. William pulled me to him, embracing me, and whispering, “ I love it. Thank you.” His mouth found mine, and he kissed me deeply, showing me how much my small gesture meant.
“Maybe I should give you cheap gifts more often.” I looked into his eyes and knew this was the moment. I wanted to tell him.
William, I love you
.
He kissed me again, passionately, his hands running up and down my back. Perhaps we wouldn’t make that trip to Milwaukee after all...
Then, I felt something vibrate against my arm and pulled back.
“Damn,” William said, pulling his phone from his coat pocket. He glanced at it and stepped back. “Shit. I have to take this. Yes?” Holding the phone to his ear, he walked from the kitchen into my living room.
All the happiness and pleasure I’d felt drained out. The day had been perfect so far. Finally, I’d been happy—happier than I had been in so long. I’d been content, and I’d felt safe with William. I didn’t want it to end.
I looked at the beautiful watch William had given me. It was a perfect reminder of him. My gaze traveled to the remains of the cupcake William had been eating. I could hear him speaking in a low voice, so I took a bite. Laird had followed us into the kitchen and wagged his tail hopefully, so I fed him a morsel.
“Pretty good, isn’t it?” I said. “Want more?”
I tried not to eavesdrop on William’s conversation, but it was difficult not to hear. His voice rose. “Damn it! I can’t.”
I froze, listening now.
“Now is not a good time.” There was a long pause. I wondered what the person on the other end was saying. Was it George? Someone else?
“Are you sure?” William sighed loudly. “No, it’s has to be me. I’ll go myself. It’s the only way.” Another pause. “I understand. I’ll call you from the jet.”
I clenched the counter as my stomach dropped. The jet? He was leaving?
Now?
Hadn’t we talked about this? Hadn’t he said he’d keep me informed?
And what about our day—our plans? I didn’t know how this relationship would work if it was always like this—if I would always take a backseat to William’s demands.
William strode into the kitchen. He’d been running a hand through his hair in frustration. It was tousled and going in all directions. His jaw was set, his eyes steel grey and somber. “Catherine…”
“I heard,” I said without preamble. “You’re leaving.” I turned away.
“It’s not what you think. I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”
I rounded on him, angry. “Why you? There’s no one in your empire you can delegate this to? I don’t even know what it is. I don’t want you to go. Not today.” I could feel tears ready to spring forth. Every time I tried to tell him how I felt, we were interrupted.
William pulled me close, and I sank against him. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. Trust me, if someone else could take this on, they’d be on the jet, and you and I would be on our way to Wisconsin.” He stroked my hair.
“Where are you going this time? London?”
“Much nearer actually. Napa.” He held me close, and I pressed my cheek to his chest, inhaling his scent and listening to the steady beat of his heart. I heard him take a slow, deep breath. “Come with me.”
I clenched my jaw. I wanted nothing more than to go. I would have gone anywhere with him. Except there. Except Northern California. I hadn’t been back since I moved to Chicago, and there was a good reason. I would refuse him. I hated to do it, but…
“I need you with me, Catherine,” he said. “I can’t do this alone.” He took another breath, and I felt his heart accelerate. Tension filled his body, and his heart raced. I looked at him, concerned. I loved him, and his fears were mine now. His jaw was clenched, his expression deadly serious. “They think they found my brother. Alive.”
To be continued…
Catherine and William’s story continues in
A Sip of You
The Epicurean Book 2
Coming in Fall 2013
About the Author
Sorcha Grace is an adventurous eater, beach lover and author of scorching contemporary erotic romance. She is also the nom de plume of a nationally bestselling author who publishes in another romance genre. Visit her website or follow her on Facebook and Twitter.
Twitter:
@SorchaGrace
Here’s a sneak peek from—
A Sip of You
The Epicurean Book 2
One
“You doing okay back there, Miss Kelly?” Anthony’s voice woke me from my reverie, and I blinked at the view from my window of Chicago’s Northwest side. We were speeding up the Kennedy toward O’Hare. Traffic was light, and the black SUV seemed to glide effortlessly in an open lane, bringing me closer to my destination. I glanced down at my fingers, entwined tightly in my lap, and loosed my white-knuckled grip.
“It’s Cat, Anthony.” I caught his smile in the rear view mirror. He hadn’t forgotten that I’d asked him to call me by my first name. In his small way, he was trying to take my mind off this trip and help me relax. He’d taken on an impossible job. I was nervous and giddy all at the same time.
“Of course, Miss Cat. We’ll be at the executive terminal in less than ten minutes.”
“Great.” But my voice sounded tinny and false. How had I gotten myself into this? What was I doing going back to Northern California so soon? It was the one place I really didn’t want to go.
William
. No one but William Maddox Lambourne could have convinced me to go back. I would have done anything for William. He needed me. I saw the look of desperation on his face when he told me the shocking news that his brother, presumed dead for nearly twenty years, might be alive. He’d only had to say the words, and here I was, doing the one thing I really didn’t want to do. I knew all about loss and whatever petty hang-ups I had about going back to California didn’t compare with the turmoil William was experiencing. I wanted to be there for him, so here I was.
William had sent Anthony and the SUV to drive me to O’Hare, and we were taking his private jet to Napa. I’d never so much as seen a private jet, much less traveled on one. But like everything else he did, William traveled in style. I wished he was beside me now. Then I wouldn’t feel so uncertain.
It was just this morning that I awoke in William’s arms at The Peninsula Chicago after the best night—and the best sex—of my life. I was still riding the high from our reunion. Last night, when we’d come back together after our break-up—a break-up that had totally leveled me—everything had changed. Images of my sexy striptease and William’s stormy eyes on me, his mouth on my body flashed before me. I’d cried at the orgasm he’d given me. I’d never felt anything as intense before. And then there’d been the sweetness of sharing jelly beans and strawberry-sugared kisses and of talking into the wee hours. Finally, he had started to open up to me and I felt closer to him now than I ever had. I never imagined I could feel the way I felt with William. We’d only known each other for a short time, and yet he’d changed my world completely.
A few hours ago, we’d been standing in my kitchen, kissing, his tongue tasting sugary and sweet from Beckett’s cupcakes. My insides knotted and fluttered with excitement at the prospect of picking up where we’d left off. Kissing him again, touching him—and having his hands on me. We’d only been apart four hours, but it felt like so much longer. I glanced down at the watch William had placed on my wrist this morning. The Patek Philippe was excruciatingly accurate. Now it was just after four o’clock in the afternoon, central time. In a few hours I’d be back in California. Back home. Well, not exactly home, but only a hundred fifty miles away.
I leaned my head back against the seat cushions and closed my eyes. Mentally, I went over my checklist one last time. It had been a hectic afternoon. I’d had to pack, find a dog sitter for Laird, and make sure my condo was taken care of. Thank God for my best friend Beckett, who never let me down in a time of need. Since I worked freelance, work was coming with me. This trip was open-ended, so I didn’t even know how much to pack. I’d argued that I needed more time to go through the warm weather clothes stored in my guest room, but William said I should pack lightly and that everything would be taken care of.
William was good at taking care of details. He was good at taking care of
me
, when I let him. I trusted him and ended up bringing just one bag with a pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, a couple of light sweaters, two cute dresses, and lots—and I do mean
lots
—of lingerie. The weather in Napa was in the sixties and seventies, and with the temperature in Chicago hovering in the twenties, the warmer weather at least sounded welcoming. Of course I was snug in the SUV and in my layers of clothing. One thing I’d learned about winters in Chicago was that layering was key. I wore indigo jeans, black heeled boots, a black silk T-shirt, and a dark green cashmere sweater that matched my eyes. I had my winter coat on as well, but I knew I wouldn’t need it. I still wore the ivory lingerie William had given me this morning. It hadn’t seemed practical to wear the wrap-dress and tights, but I wanted to have a part of his gift close to me. I’d forgotten my gloves and scarf, of course, but I wouldn’t need them either. I just hoped those were the only items I’d forgotten.
On the seat beside me were my purse and my camera and laptop bags. This trip wasn’t exactly great timing for me. I’d just finished shooting Fresh Market’s spring campaign, and I needed to edit the shots of the asparagus and cherries that would be highlighted in the Fresh Market advertising. My shots and Beckett’s food styling would be featured online, in stores, in mailings, and on billboards all over the Midwest. Every detail had to be perfect. I was hoping I’d have some time to work over the next few days, as the shots were due at the end of the week.
I’d brought both my digital Canon PowerShot and my vintage Leica. Leaving my cameras behind would have been like leaving a necessary appendage. I needed them like I needed my arms and my legs. Photography was more than a hobby for me—it was in my blood. I processed emotions through film and came to remarkable conclusions looking through the lens of my Leica or spending time in my darkroom. As images materialized on film, insights and realizations were revealed to me. That’s how I’d known I was in love with William.
“Miss Cat, we’re here,” Anthony said. He angled the car toward a sign that read “Signature Flight Support.” I’d flown in and out of O’Hare a few times, but I’d never been to this section of the airport. I, Catherine Kelly, was about to fly on a private jet. It seemed so ridiculous and so fabulously exciting.
We approached a non-descript, beige two-story building. There were no cabs lined up here, no angry traffic cops, no people running with their luggage pulled behind them. There were signs for a few companies that provided air charter service, but we headed for an area marked simply as “Private.”
“It looks pretty empty,” I said.
“It was probably busier earlier in the day.” Anthony glanced back at me and flashed a smile again. I couldn’t help but smile back. Anthony looked serious in the
Men in Black
suit William’s male employees seemed to prefer and with his ever-present earpiece. He even had a military-style shaved head. Anthony was very serious about his work, but he was a nice guy and took the time to be pleasant to me.
Anthony nodded at the windshield. “Those are Mr. Lambourne’s jets up ahead.”
“Jets?”
Plural
? I leaned forward and watched as Anthony drove toward the tarmac and two planes. Behind them was a hangar, whose doors were partially closed. I could hear the planes’ engines roaring to life, and mechanics in bright orange vests scurried about performing what I assumed were last minute checks on both aircraft. Why two planes? I wondered.
Just then a man ducked out of the plane on the right, and my breath caught in my throat. I’d know William anywhere. There was something about the way he moved, the way he stood, the power and hard lines of his toned body. His thick dark hair blew around his face like a tarnished halo, his vivid blue-grey eyes scanned the tarmac, and I felt a jolt the moment his gaze landed on the SUV. I doubted he could see me inside, but I felt as though he was looking directly at me. My belly fluttered, and my breath shallowed. I didn’t think there was a woman alive who could resist William. And I, who knew what he could make me feel, what he could do with his mouth and his hands and that sculpted body, wetted my lips with the tip of my tongue in anticipation. But it wasn’t just my body that warmed upon seeing him, my heart swelled too. I was in love with William—something I hadn’t found the right moment to reveal yet.
Anthony pulled to a stop, and William watched the SUV with a hooded look. I noted his stance was wide, like a fighter’s. I could tell he felt defensive, and I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and comfort him.
He really does need me, I thought as I gathered my purse and my laptop and camera bags. And that thought assuaged some of the reservations I had about returning to California.
My hand was on the door handle, ready to open it so I could sprint into William’s arms when Anthony opened it for me and helped me down. The wind whipped about me, wrapping my coat around my legs and blinding me with my hair across my eyes. It was freezing, the wind chill obviously below twenty degrees. “I’ll take those for you,” Anthony said over the wind. I handed him my laptop bag but held on to my purse and camera bag. William stepped out again and waved at me. I started for the plane, and Anthony followed with my gear. I climbed the stairs, my gaze never leaving William’s, and finally I reached the last step and he took my hand.
“You’re here.” He squeezed my hand. “Finally.”
“Am I late?” For once, I thought I was actually on time.
“No, but I can’t stand being apart from you.” He slid his hand to my back, and I felt the warmth of his skin even through my layers.
I was thankful for his touch. I felt almost weak at the prospect of this trip, and his hand steadied me. It also shot heat and arousal through me and William seemed to know exactly the effect he had on me. He pulled me into the plane’s interior, out of the freezing wind, and into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” Our mouths locked, and he kissed me with an intensity that showed me just how much he’d hated being away from me these past few hours. Despite the cold, his hands and body were warm, and I released my purse and camera bag and threaded my hands through his hair.
“It’s only been a few hours since we were together, but it feels like days since we last kissed,” I said.
“It’s my fault we couldn’t spend the day together. Let me make it up to you.” His lips found mine again.
He tasted so good, and his body against mine both comforted and aroused me. I had flashes of us together—him pushing me against the shelves of the freezer at Willowgrass as his tongue, tasting of cinnamon and bourbon, invaded me. And then there was the sweet richness of chocolate and the ecstasy of his mouth on me while I writhed on the floor of my kitchen, completely naked and open to him. And I’d never forget the taste of champagne and chilled grapes mixed with my own taste on William’s lips as he thrust inside me, filling me until I shattered again and again. For me, the experience of kissing William, the taste of his lips, was forever linked with food and sex.
Finally, he broke the kiss. I noted his eyes had darkened. We’d been standing in the plane’s doorway and poor Anthony had been standing on the steps behind me, waiting for our kiss to conclude. Now William tugged me farther inside the cabin. Here the roar of the wind quieted, and I was engulfed by the comforting smells of leather and polished wood. The lights in the cabin had been dimmed to a warm glow, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. And then it was all I could do not to sputter in amazement. I glanced around incredulously, and knowing William was used to this sort of thing, I gave Anthony a have-you-
seen
-this look.
“Pretty nice digs, huh?” Anthony nodded, stopping behind me and setting my laptop case on the large, plush seat closest to us. Then he moved away to stow my bag.
“Do you like it?” William asked with a smile, his hand on my back, gently stroking me. We could rarely be together without touching in some way.
Like it? I had nothing to compare it to. The cabin reminded me more of a living room than any airplane I had ever seen. On the floor was a soft carpet in a light beige color and the walls were a slightly bolder shade of that same color. On my left was a couch for two, upholstered in beige leather with brown and beige throw pillows. Across from it were two wide leather armchairs beside one another with a dark wood desk equipped for either a business conference or work. In fact, William’s laptop was already on the desk. Behind the chairs was a large beige sectional, big enough to seat five and with a small wood coffee table in front of it. The sectional faced a flat screen TV and a smaller TV screen was built into the plane’s back wall. Stock reports scrolled across that screen, though the volume had been muted. Beside that TV, a door indicated the plane had yet another room.
“Thank you, Anthony,” William said as Anthony finished with my luggage. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Yes, sir.” He disappeared through the cabin door.
“Is he coming with us?”
“He’ll travel on the other plane. Was the drive here alright?” William asked.
I wanted to ask about the other plane. I hadn’t realized this trip would be more than just the two of us, but I’d leave it for the moment. “The drive was fine.” I smiled at him and waited for him to offer to show me around, but he wasn’t looking at me. In fact, William looked distracted. He seemed alternately fascinated by the floor and then by the stock report. I cleared my throat. “What’s through the door?”
“Hmm?” He blinked at me, seeming to remember I was there. “The bedroom and bathroom. Take a look. I want to speak with the pilot.”
Without another word, he headed to the cockpit. He was definitely distracted, I thought as I made my way back to the bedroom. I opened the door and almost laughed. I couldn’t believe this plane. It was like something out of a movie. The bedroom boasted the same beige color scheme as the rest of the interior, and I had to wonder if there were interior designers for private jets. Probably. The textures, the colors, the soft pillows—the effect was one of comfort and relaxation.
Inside the bedroom, the requisite bed was large enough for two with a dark wood frame and a soft white comforter topped by fluffy pillows. The space was small but spartan, as was William’s style, so it didn’t feel cramped. Across from the bed was a well-appointed bathroom. I peeked inside and wasn’t surprised to see it was modern in tone, much like William’s penthouse. There was a vanity with a small square sink, a shower, and a toilet. Fresh, fluffy towels hung on a towel bar.