Just One Taste...(11)

"Or mail it to me. My office address is on the card, too."

Mail? Was he giving her an out or trying to distance himself?

Do you really want to keep me around?

Very much.

That didn't sound like distance. But what would happen when he found out who she was?

He wasn't with her father's firm, so would his competitive nature demand  that he cozy up to her or shun her? Which would be worse?

In a city the size of Atlanta, you'd think she could find a man not  connected to her family's sphere of influence. She had, of course.  Bartenders, a club DJ, a chef at a local restaurant. She'd dated them,  had fun sometimes, endured disasters for a few, but she'd never worried  about her last name the way she had before she'd moved out of her  parents' house.                       
       
           



       

Back then she'd endured awkward setups-though her sister occasionally  still managed to foist one of those on her even now through "accidental"  meetings with sons of her father's cronies and parties where parents  worried about social standing instead of pranks and underage drinking.

Tonight, she had to fall orgasm over orgasm for a wealthy Louisiana  lawyer who'd either be groaningly impressed by her pedigree or  dismissive of the family's ultraconservative reputation.

Neither scenario held much hope for her and Lucas.

"I don't want this to end tonight," he said when they reached her car.

Even as her heart jumped, she opened the door. "Neither do I."

"But you're not offering your business card."

"If you really want to, you could find me."

"So this is like a test?"

She sighed. "No. I just-I'm tired. I need to think." She tilted her head and smiled. "Tonight was wonderful."

"Yes, it was."

It felt weird leaving him. She was afraid once the magic of this night  ended, nothing would be the same. Their tenuous bond would be broken.

Swallowing emotions she had no chance of working her way through at the  moment, she leaned toward him, intending to kiss him lightly. But he  held her against him, deepening the kiss. Just as her head threatened to  spin off her shoulders, he retreated.

"Sleep well, chère."

Stunned and out of breath, she dropped into the driver's seat, then  managed to start the car and pull away. So much of her life was just as  she wanted it, then other parts were a tangled mess. She could certainly  add Lucas Broussard to the chaos.

All the way back to her apartment, instead of thinking of him, she  forced herself to think of the party the next night. Hell, later today.

What prep work needed to be done? She and Mia were catering a small  business dinner at the new home of a pharmaceutical rep. His company  manufactured a popular heart medication that her cardiologist  brother-in-law and many others prescribed for their patients. This  dinner-consisting of caviar, lobster and grilled shrimp kebabs, no  less-was the rep's way of saying Thanks for pushing our drug!

Personally, she found the whole business shockingly close to graft, but as long as his food-service check didn't bounce …

She had to call her supplier this morning to be sure the seafood was on  its way, then she had mounds of potatoes to peel for the au gratin  casserole. She had champagne to chill. Toast points and all the caviar  accoutrements to assemble.

Sleep's a luxury I'm not sure I can afford.

Despite what she'd told Lucas about being tired, she didn't see how she  could sleep now. Her brain was wired, even if her body was weary.

When she opened the back door to the bakery-her and Mia's apartment was  on the second floor of the building-she decided to shower and change  quickly, get some of the prep work done, then take a nap some time in  the afternoon when Mia could monitor the counter out front.

She tiptoed upstairs to shower. The hallway split her and Mia's mini  apartments in half. Each side had its own bedroom, bathroom and walk-in  closet and the interior space reflected its owner's sense of style.  Mia's taste ran toward jewel tones like purple, jade and turquoise.  Vanessa had chosen bold colors like red, yellow and black. They'd met in  the hallway with purple on one side and yellow on the other.

With a smile, Vanessa remembered the day they'd given their mothers a  simultaneous tour. Different as they were, the two women had been  equally horrified by the color explosion. Elise Douglas preferred  pastels. Tawny Medini Swaggart Josephson Pauley didn't know what she  preferred. She wasn't big on commitment.

The door to Mia's room was closed, so Vanessa hoped the insulation would be enough to mask her predawn movements.

After showering, she dressed in jeans and a green T-shirt that said, Let  Me Drop Everything and Work on Your Problem. She flipped on the lights  in the bakery's workroom, then lugged a case of champagne into the  walk-in fridge. She pulled eggs, chives and red onion off the shelves  and dumped them on the counter; she checked the stock of ice in the  freezer. Seeing they had plenty, she noticed Mia's ice sculpture was  tucked in the back. It was an excellent replica of the caduceus-the  physician's symbol-which would be part of the appetizer table decoration  that night.                       
       
           



       

When Vanessa had suggested a replica of the eighteenth green at the  Tournament Players Club at Sugarloaf Country Club would be more  appropriate, Mia had roared with laughter.

Their client, however, probably wouldn't have been amused.

As she put the eggs into a pot of water and turned the stovetop on high,  her mind leaped to Lucas. Had he gone back to sleep? Or was he working,  too?

She pictured him staring out that huge window in his apartment, watching  the night sky, wondering what the pink light of dawn would bring.

"Hell," she said aloud to the empty room. "One night, and he's turned me into a romantic."

Vanessa thought of herself as practical, not dreamy. Her bank balance  forced her to be. But practical and semipoor was way better than flighty  and wealthy. Just look at her sister.

Speaking of whom … she supposed she'd better brace herself for her younger  sibling's not-so-gentle nudge toward the latest bachelor on the lookout  for a proper wife. As ballsy as she was, even Vanessa didn't have the  guts to tell her sister that when she was attracted to a guy, her ring  finger was the least of the body parts she thought about.

Definitely too shocking for Angelica's ears.

Though at least her sister did recommend Vanessa's bakery to her  friends. Unlike their mother, who pretended not to know Vanessa when she  was "playing servant."

"What would people think?" she always asked, her icy-blond eyebrows raised.

That you know the best cheesecake chef in the city? Or maybe that you're  philanthropic and always notice the little people? Would life really  stop if people thought Elise Douglas allowed her daughter to go her own  way? To do something she loved instead of doing what was expected?

Yes, apparently, it would.

Striving to ignore the ache in the pit of her stomach and knowing she  wasn't likely to mend the tension between her and her mother this early  in the morning, Vanessa tackled food prep. A much more positive  activity.

For the caviar toppings, she cooled the eggs once they'd boiled, then  chopped them along with the chives and red onions. She put each  condiment into separate dishes and stored them in the fridge alongside  the caviar, sour cream and vodka. She washed, peeled and sliced potatoes  for the rich, cheesy casserole, which she assembled and put in the  fridge. She'd cook it partway before she left for the party, then finish  the baking at the rep's house, which supposedly had a brand-new  Jenn-Air convection oven.

Superior equipment was always a plus, since she'd once resorted to a  trip to the store for a portable hibachi after a client had claimed his  gas grill was "top of the line," only to discover that was true except  that he hadn't used it in two years and had left it uncovered during  that time, and the whole bottom had rusted out.

After the seafood delivery arrived, she stored the feisty lobster in the  fridge, then washed, peeled and deveined the shrimp before sliding them  on wooden skewers for grilling. She made wine-lemon and pesto dipping  sauces. She clarified butter. She made baguettes. She made fresh batches  of cinnamon rolls, coffee cakes and orange scones for the regular  Saturday-morning customers who stopped by the bakery. She even made  beignets-in honor of Lucas.

Clear reflections or decisions about her night with him, however, she  was fresh out of. The night had been promising and terrifying. Her body  was sore and rejuvenated. Her brain was confused and stimulated.

She wanted to know more about him; she feared him finding out more about her.

Her love life, she supposed, had its wild and erratic moments, but this was a damn mess.