“You’re more than just talented. Your work is fabulous.”
She smiled. “Thank you, but the fact that your naked body is huddled against mine makes you a tad biased.”
“I loved L. Elise’s paintings way before I knew she and the woman I’m doing the nasty with were one and the same.”
She gasped, and slapped his arm. “Doing the nasty? How very eighteen-year-old-frat-boy of you, Carter.”
He laughed at her indignation, and marveled at how she could pull it off while she lay naked in his arms. Miss Prim and Proper could turn on the haughty socialite like a faucet.
“I gave up being a frat boy a long time ago,” Carter said.
“So you belong to a fraternity?”
He nodded. “I joined it because my father and uncle belonged to the same fraternity and I wanted to fit it, but it wasn’t for me.”
“That’s just as well. I’m not a fan of frat boys.”
“Now, I’ve got a question for you.” He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen against her cheek. “If it doesn’t matter whether or not your family approves, why do you still hide this place from them?”
“Because it’s mine. This is my sanctuary. I can be myself—lose myself—when I’m here.”
“I think I understand,” he said, pulling her even more closely against him. “That’s the way I feel when I’m baking. I have my particular spot at Lillian’s, and everyone knows not to be there when it’s time for me to bake. I sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to bake anywhere else.”
“You mean during the
You Take the Cake
competition? Are you afraid you won’t be comfortable baking on a Hollywood set?”
“No, I mean when I leave Lillian’s.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are you thinking of leaving?”
Carter debated for a moment whether he should say anything more, but as he looked around the loft, he realized that Lorraine had trusted him with this very private, personal part of herself. He should be able to do the same.
“I’ve been talking to a restaurateur in New York. He’s offered me an executive pastry chef position with his organization.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What does your family have to say about this?”
“They don’t know. The only person I’ve told is my best friend, Malik.”
She was quiet for several moments. “This is a big step. Although I must be honest, Carter—I don’t understand why you would be interested. Lillian’s has such an outstanding reputation in Chicago. It seems as if you are already at the height of your profession. Why would you need to seek something else?”
“Because I don’t fit in at Lillian’s.” He grimaced, hating the whine he heard in his voice, but Carter knew this was at the crux of his issues with the bakery. With everything. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider. It doesn’t matter how many write-ups my cakes get in
Chicago Today,
or the
Tribune
or on online blogs. It just never feels as if I’m doing enough. I’m always going to be the bastard grandson who should feel grateful that he’s even been given a place at the table.”
“Oh, Carter.” Her hand came up to caress his jaw.
He hated seeing the pity in her eyes and, in the same breath, was touched by it. She actually cared about his feelings, cared how his world was affected. Had he ever felt this kind of empathy from someone? This kind of...love?
Was this love?
He ran his hand down the side of her cheek. “I’m falling really hard for you, Rainey. It scares the crap out of me.”
A sad smile tilted her lips. “I know the feeling,” she said. “I’m falling just as hard.” Her piercing eyes seared him. “Please be real, Carter.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t be some mirage that looks so genuine on the outside, but turns into something different when I get too close.”
“I’m one hundred percent real,” he said. He leaned in, his lips hovering mere inches from her mouth. “That’s a promise.”
Chapter 10
L
orraine stood before the small college-dorm-size refrigerator in a T-shirt and bare feet. She hadn’t bothered with underwear. Carter told her it would just hinder access.
“I only have diet soda and water,” she called.
“Diet soda kills,” Carter called back.
Lorraine chuckled and grabbed two bottles of water. She walked over to where he stood in front of some of her less risqué portraits. He looked like pure sin standing there with his chest and feet both bare, his jeans riding low on his hips. The jeans were unbuckled and partially unzipped, for the same reason she was going sans panties and bra.
She handed him the bottle of water. “Diet soda does not kill.”
“It kills taste buds.” He took the water from her and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, then motioned to the paintings. “The only L. Elise paintings I’ve seen are the naked—” She gave him a stern look. “The more erotic ones,” he corrected. “But these are spectacular. Have you had showings of your...what should I call them...normal paintings?”
“I’ve only offered a few to galleries. The L. Elise name has become synonymous with sensual art. I’m unsure if people will accept, to quote you, ‘normal’ paintings from L. Elise.”
“Maybe you should put them out under your real name,” he suggested.
Lorraine huffed out a humorless laugh. “I can only imagine my parents’ reaction.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice, though she didn’t really try to.
“Why do you even care what they think? You have an amazing talent, and you’re keeping it hidden because you don’t want to upset your parents? That’s crazy.”
“It is so much more complicated than you can possibly comprehend,” she said.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. These paintings are more for my enjoyment. I’m not ready to share them yet.”
But that was a lie. She was more than ready for the world to know that Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes was good for more than just attending society functions. She was ready for the world to see the talent she possessed. It was the reason she’d applied for that fellowship, the reason she’d begun painting less provocative subjects that would be more acceptable in galleries around the city.
Carter stared at her for several long moments, looking as if he wanted to say more, but blessedly, he let the subject drop. He continued his stroll, observing the numerous paintings taking up nearly every inch of space along the walls of the loft. He came upon the one painting she usually avoided. It was a self-portrait of her looking out of a window, with streams of rains rolling down the glass.
He set his water bottle on the floor and picked up the canvas. “What’s this one called?” he asked.
She took a deep breath before answering.
“Just Lorraine.”
He flashed her a surprised look. “The real name, huh? So, I’m guessing it’s not going into anyone’s gallery.”
“No,” she said. “This one is just for me. I painted it about five years ago.”
He pointed to the canvas. “Are these raindrops or tears?”
She cocked her head to the side and stared at the painting along with him. “It’s up to the observer to decide.”
Carter studied the painting for a few moments longer, then carefully set it against the wall with the others. He turned to her, and said, “I think they’re tears.”
Lorraine hunched her shoulders, her throat clogged with too much emotion to speak.
Carter took a step closer. He trailed a single finger down her cheek. “What could have brought you so much sadness?”
Lorraine leaned into his touch. “Please, don’t ask me that,” she said. “It still hurts too much to talk about.”
“Tell me.” His softly whispered plea tore at her heart. He hooked that lone finger underneath her chin and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “Tell me, Rainey. What happened to you? What broke your spirit?”
Lorraine shut her eyes against the tears that instantly formed, but two still managed to escape. Her skin tingled at the feel of Carter’s thumbs wiping the moisture from her cheeks. She opened her eyes, studying his face through the blur of tears.
“I made a stupid mistake,” she said.
“Who hasn’t?” he asked softly.
A sad smile pulled at her lips. “Most people’s mistakes don’t cost them a million dollars.”
Carter pulled in a swift breath as his head snapped back. “What happened?”
Lorraine took a couple of steps back and wrapped her arms around her upper body. She couldn’t look at him while sharing her most embarrassing secret.
“It was my junior year of college. I had been dating my boyfriend for about four months, almost five. Of course, I thought I was in love.” She swiped at her cheeks again. “When he asked me to pose for some pictures, I was all too happy to oblige. He was going to Europe to study international finance for a semester, and told me he needed something to keep him warm on those cold, lonely nights.”
Lorraine heard Carter’s curse.
“I’m sure you’ve guessed what happened next.”
“He blackmailed you,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not me. The first time I actually saw the pictures with my own eyes was when my father showed them to me.” Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, “It’s not the father/daughter moment most people dream about.”
“Oh, God.” Carter came up to her and wrapped his arms around her.
Lorraine glommed onto the comfort his embrace provided. “My father paid him one million dollars to destroy the pictures.”
“And you think he actually did? You don’t think he has copies stored on a computer somewhere? What’s to stop the bastard from coming after more money?”
“That’s the one thing I’m afraid of.”
“Why didn’t your dad just go to the police?”
“Because the story would have gotten out,” Lorraine said. “It would have been just as detrimental as if the actual pictures had been released.”
Carter wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I’m so sorry.”
“No one else in my family other than me and my parents know about this. Not even Trina or Stuart. I can’t imagine the humiliation I would have faced had my father not paid him. It would have tarnished the entire Hawthorne-Hayes Jewelry name. Who would want to buy their engagement ring or Mother’s Day pendant from a jeweler attached to a sex scandal?”
“You were a young college kid who’d been duped by an unscrupulous asshole. You can’t keep beating yourself up over it.”
“How can I not? It would have been detrimental, Carter. I take full blame for this. I’m the one who let him take those pictures of me.” She shook her head. “I came so close to causing irreparable damage to everything my father worked so hard to build. I owe both him and my mother so much. Without their help, my ex-boyfriend would have ruined me.”
She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath.
“That is why I vowed to be the dutiful daughter and live up to my grandmother’s name. That is why L. Elise must remain a secret.”
“Why can’t there be room for both?” Carter asked. “What’s stopping you from sharing your paintings and being the epitome of what an upstanding Hawthorne-Hayes is supposed to be?” He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “Your art is who you are, Lorraine. You can’t continue to hide it.”
“I know,” she said. “I just have to figure out how to meld the two halves of myself. I fear if I don’t do something more with my art, I’m going to slowly die inside.”
“I won’t allow that to happen,” Carter said. “Do you know that this has been the most excited I’ve ever seen you, when you were showing me your paintings? You’re happier when you’re surrounded by your art. Don’t you want to feel this way all the time, Rainey?”
She nodded as another tear escaped.
“Then go for it. This is your true self. You have to stop hiding it from the world.”
Lorraine slipped her hand up to his jaw and cradled it in her palm.
“You are very good for me, Carter Drayson.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
His heated look seared her. “I think I’ve already fallen.”
“This is crazy,” she said. “Love doesn’t happen this quickly, Carter.”
“It has never happened at all for me,” he said. “I wasn’t running some kind of game on you when I said I’ve never felt this way, Lorraine. But I don’t know what other word I could use to describe it. This has to be love.”
Then he leaned in close and captured her lips in a slow, easy kiss that was unlike anything she could ever make up in her vivid imagination.
* * *
The next morning, Carter drove Lorraine home and parked her car in her designated parking space. He was preparing to walk her up to her door, but he was already running late, and Lorraine assured him it was unnecessary. He walked the few blocks from her Gold Coast high-rise to Lillian’s, grateful for the change of clothes he kept tucked in a backpack in one of the consultation offices.
This wasn’t his first time having to go straight to the bakery after being out all night, although it was usually after a night of hard partying and no sleep. He hadn’t had much sleep last night, but those few hours that he’d spooned against Lorraine, his arms wrapped around her soft, petite frame, were some of the best hours of sleep he’d ever had.
He’d told her he loved her last night.
Instant panic seized his chest. Carter tried to tamp it down. It was ridiculous that just the thought of falling in love could evoke such terror, but it was there, clawing at his throat, making it hard to breathe.
He didn’t do love, especially this intense, all-consuming kind he was starting to feel for Lorraine. That kind of love existed for his grandmother’s generation, and maybe a few others here and there, but it just wasn’t in the cards for him.
Look at his own parents. There sure as hell wasn’t any love lost there.
What if in the middle of all of this he pulled a Devon Drayson and decided that the love and marriage thing just wasn’t for him?
Wait.
Marriage?
Who was talking marriage?
“Stop thinking so damn much.” Carter cursed underneath his breath. They had only been dating for a few weeks. He needed to chill the hell out and stop creating problems where none existed. He and Lorraine enjoyed each other’s company. He was having more fun with her than with any woman he’d ever been with before. Why couldn’t he just enjoy it and stop thinking so damn much?