“That’s impressive.” I didn’t know a lot about cooking, but I recognized some of the awards. James Beard, Food & Wine, Michelin…
Beckett was going on and on, but I couldn’t help wondering if William had anything to do with Hutch Morrison’s interest in me. Did WML Capital Management have a stake in Morrison Hotel? The meeting next week would definitely be interesting, and not only because Hutch Morrison was charming and sexy. I was already intrigued by the project he’d alluded to.
“Don’t worry, Beckett, if I’m brought on board and they need a food stylist, I’ll recommend you.”
“Oh my God. I could come just thinking about it.” He fell back in mock orgasm, and I shook my head. Beckett was playing around, but I knew when he was genuinely excited. If Hutch Morrison got Beckett this worked up, he was someone I wanted to collaborate with.
“Wait until I tell Alec,” Beckett said, grabbing his phone.
“You’d better tone it down a little. Alec will be jealous.”
“Ha! Alec will want an introduction to Hutch too. He has excellent taste.”
“Obviously.” I gestured to Beckett.
“And if I piss him off, I know how to win him back.”
“How?”
“He has a weakness for my flourless chocolate cake.”
“What’s that?” I’d never had Beckett’s flourless chocolate cake, and usually he tried out his new desserts on me.
“It’s something new I’m working on. I use espresso in it and I infuse it with orange peel, bergamot, and just a hint of cinnamon. It’s to die for.”
“Why flourless? Does Alec have a gluten allergy?”
Beckett shifted and looked back at my laptop. “No, but it’s good to diversify. A lot of people have allergies.”
I got the feeling Beckett was evading my questions again. He was so mysterious lately. “But you don’t have to cook for a lot of people.”
“You’re right.” He waved a hand. “Let’s take a last look at these photos and email them. I’m starving.”
“Okay.” We looked over the shots for Fresh Market one last time. They looked great, which was good, because I was still puzzling over Beckett’s secretiveness. It really wasn’t like him. He usually over shared.
We sent the email, and Beckett stood. “Kuma’s for lunch?”
“Sure,” I said. “I could go for a burger.” Now that William was back in town, my appetite had returned.
Twelve
I was standing in front of my closet trying to figure out what to wear when William texted me to remind me to bring my camera. I’d actually forgotten he’d even said I’d need it in the first place. That was the effect shower sex—and just about any other kind of sex—with William had on me. I couldn’t think straight, and it made it so easy to forget everything else. Flashes of our morning ran through my head. His growling, “Let it happen” in my ear, his voice dark and choked with need as he pounded me hard from behind, had tipped me over into an orgasm that radiated all the way to my fingertips. I had been powerless to do anything but surrender to the pleasure, to his raw desire for me, and I had loved it. That was the feeling that was starting to become addictive and dangerous. If letting him call the shots was what it took to make me feel like that, I wanted more.
I looked down at my watch. Shit, I was going to be late. I picked an outfit, threw on some lip gloss and a spray of perfume, then packed up my best digital camera and headed outside to where Anthony waited to drive me to William’s penthouse. I could have driven myself, but the roads were still icy and tonight I appreciated his thoughtfulness in providing me with his driver.
The drive down Lake Shore Drive to the Gold Coast was quick and before I knew it, I was zooming up the private elevator to William’s penthouse on the fifty-sixth floor of one of Chicago’s most impressive buildings. I stepped off the elevator into his foyer, and William was waiting for me, wearing a wide smile. “There’s my beautiful girl.”
“Hey,” I replied, feeling the edges of my mouth turn up. The heaviness from the Jeremy secret that had clung to me all day was immediately replaced by the giddy excitement of being with William. I couldn’t resist him, especially when he was being charming and sweet.
He still wore his suit from work, though he’d shed the tie, and his hair was perfectly styled. I itched to run my fingers through it and mess it up just a little. As I pulled off my coat and handed it to him, I said, “I didn’t know what the surprise was. I hope this is okay.” I gestured to my outfit. I was back to my favorite color—I’d changed into black, cropped riding pants, a bateau-neck, black sweater with beaded sleeves and the Louboutin black stilettos William had sent me weeks ago. Underneath, I was wearing a really sexy black Bordelle pushup bra with little red bows on it and its matching thong. I found the set in the bag of clothes William had brought back from Napa, so I knew he’d picked it out.