Farrah Rochon - Delectable Desire

“Trina’s the fun one,” Lorraine blurted. Embarrassment washed over her. Okay, just where in the hell was that fire!

“And you’re not fun?” Carter asked.

She could feel the blush creeping up her face. “Let’s just say I don’t scuba dive.”

“There are a lot of things besides scuba diving that I’d classify as fun. I’m sure you’ve got a dangerous side hidden somewhere in there.”

Her mother would have fainted at the unladylike snort that slipped out, but Lorraine couldn’t help it. “The most dangerous thing I’ve done in the past five years was ordering that under-the-sea-themed cake instead of something more refined.”

She was suddenly appalled at the truth behind her admission. How had she allowed herself to become this person, a caricature of the hollow socialite she’d vowed never to be?

Actually, she knew exactly how it had happened. She could recall with amazing alacrity the precise moment when she’d shed her rebellious streak and vowed to become the perfect daughter. She just tried not to dwell on that one stupid mistake that had changed the course of her life forever.

“If that’s the case, we’ve got some work to do with you,” Carter said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Lorraine found that gleam hard to resist. “Such as?” she asked.

“You need to explore your dangerous side. Maybe trade in that stuffy suit for a leather jacket?” He snapped his finger. “I’ve got it. You should run away with me to Antigua on a scuba diving expedition.”

She choked on a laugh.

“No?”

“I don’t think so,” Lorraine said. “If I were to accompany you to Antigua, who would bake my sister’s cake?”

“Hmm, you’ve got a point. I wouldn’t trust something that important to anyone else. I plan to give that cake my undivided attention. I want to make sure it’s perfect.”

“I appreciate that,” Lorraine said, her face warming as she realized that right now she had his undivided attention.

She was amazed at how comfortable she felt around him. Ever since “the incident” she had become so wary of men and their motives that she rarely opened herself up to more than a few moments of conversation. And with good reason. Most of the men she met had an agenda, especially after they discovered she was an heiress to the Hawthorne-Hayes jewelry empire.

Would Carter do the same?

Although, after what she’d learned about the Drayson family while searching the web last night, she knew that Carter also came from significant wealth himself. She’d discovered that the Draysons who owned and operated Lillian’s were the same Draysons who played a major role in Chicago real estate. In fact, they owned this entire building. Carter would have no reason to be intimidated by her wealth, as some men were. Or, even worse—and what she encountered more frequently—be on the lookout for ways to cash in.

Yet something still stopped her from revealing her full identity. Maybe it was because she didn’t know how he’d react, and she wanted to keep things the way they were for as long as possible. Just in case he turned out to be like all the others.

Please don’t be like all the others.

Carter took her hand in his. “If you won’t let me take you to Antigua, would you consider dinner?”

Her shoulders stiffened in surprise. Had he just asked her out on a date?

A customer walked up to the display table, giving her a chance to process Carter’s question.

“So?” he continued when they were alone again in their little corner of the bakery.

Lorraine’s first instinct was to decline. Years of being cautious made her want to take a step back. After the incident that had happened five years ago, she didn’t have much faith in her ability to judge people, especially men.

Yet something told her that things would be different with Carter. She was unsure whether it was her good sense talking or whether the feeling was based on her body’s overpowering reaction to him, but she wanted to say yes.

So she did.

“I’d love to,” Lorraine answered.

His eyes widened, as if he had thought she would be harder to convince. That smidgen of vulnerability exposed by his shocked expression went a long way in relieving her anxiety. Maybe he wasn’t the all-confident player he’d first appeared to be.

And maybe she was just a bit out of her mind. She’d met him less than twenty-four hours ago. What was she doing agreeing to dinner?

But she refused to take it back. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself the simple luxury of sharing a meal with a man she felt a connection to. She needed this. If accepting Carter’s dinner invitation turned out to be a mistake, she could always leave. She was older now, wiser. She wouldn’t allow what happened before to happen a second time.

“Great,” Carter said, that note of disbelief she’d seen in his eyes coming through in his voice. “How about tonight? Is eight okay? Where can I pick you up?”

“Eight o’clock is perfect,” Lorraine answered, even though her heart was pounding. “But why don’t I meet you at the restaurant?”

He was shaking his head, but Lorraine stood her ground. She wasn’t ready to step from behind the curtain of anonymity just yet.

“Fine,” he relented. “Meet me at Les Nomades at eight.”

“Les Nomades?”

“Yes, have you ever been? Their food is amazing.”

Yes, she’d been, and she loved it. But Les Nomades was one of Chicago’s most expensive restaurants.

“I have,” she said. “But it’s been years. I’ll meet you there tonight.”

The grin that spread across his face warranted a new word in the English language: naughty-sexy. Lorraine sensed that her first instinct had been spot-on. Carter Drayson was dangerous...in the absolute best way.

* * *

The sounds of glasses tinkling, silverware clanking and muted conversation faded into the background as Carter sat across the table from Lorraine. The understated elegance of his favorite restaurant set the perfect mood for tonight. It felt as if they were the only two people here.

“How is the duck confit?” Carter asked.

“As usual, it is delicious.”

“As usual?” His fork stopped in midair. “I thought you said you haven’t been here in years.”

She looked at him over the rim of her wineglass, a soft blush dusting her cheeks.

“Perhaps it hasn’t been quite as long as that,” she said, taking a sip of the ’03 Bordeaux.

She was an enigma. A beautiful one, but an enigma all the same. He was still trying to figure out his attraction to her. She was so different from the flashy women he usually dated, but he’d be damned if he hadn’t thought about her at least a thousand times today.

Maybe it was the mysterious air about her. So often, the women he dated left nothing to the imagination, both physically and personality-wise. Lorraine was like a puzzle, gradually revealing delicate pieces of herself.

Except for one obvious piece.

“So, now that I’ve convinced you to join me for dinner, what would it take to convince you to tell me your last name?”

Her alluring smile lit up her eyes. “My last name? I didn’t know it was such an interesting subject.”

“It wasn’t until it proved so hard to uncover. You only listed your first name on the cake order form. You paid for it in cash. Why the big mystery, Lorraine? Are you in the witness protection program or something?”

“Perhaps I go by a single name, as Madonna and Beyoncé do.”

“So you’re secretly a singer?”

She shook her head and, with a laugh, said, “I can’t sing a note.”

Maybe not, but her laughter was musical. It traveled along his nerve endings, its soothing, melodic effect causing his skin to pebble. Damn, the woman was giving him goose bumps. This kind of stuff did not happen to him.