A Feast of You (11 page)

I wished, again, that I hadn’t lost my phone. William had acted like I’d intentionally kept the fact that it was missing from him, but people lost their phones every day. I was still so flustered by the darkroom incident—every time I thought about it too long that panicky feeling came flooding back, bringing me to the edge of tears—I wasn’t even thinking of my phone. The fact that William had immediately jumped to the conclusion that whoever was in my condo had taken my phone terrified me. What if he was right and I was some sort of target? I just couldn’t let my mind go there.

For once I was appreciative of George Graham and William’s security team. They’d been able to calm him down about the lost phone and the thing that had really sent him over the edge—the mysterious “OK” text message he’d received. George had calmed me down too. He’d pointed out that the “OK” text could be a stupid prank from whoever had my phone. He’d said that the SIM card and the phone were probably long gone and gone for good, but they would trace the text and ping the phone, hoping to locate where the text was sent from. I’d seen covert ops like that on TV shows and marveled that the technology really existed. Apparently it did for business tycoons with private security teams. If anyone could trace a missing cell phone, it was William. By the time we’d left, his guys had tried calling my voicemail without much luck. Initially, William had suggested we stay home, but George had said there was nothing to be alarmed about. He’d practically pushed us out the door.

The throbbing in my head was getting worse as we inched forward in traffic. I All I wanted to do was turn the car around then crawl into William’s bed and forget the mess my life had turned into. Some freak had sent creepy pictures. My condo was off-limits. My phone was gone. I’d been locked in my darkroom. What next? I didn’t even want to think about it.

I needed a distraction, and another glance at William made me think he did too. I hated being at odds with him and I especially hated when we disagreed over things that were out of my control. Maybe if I could get him talking, I could take the edge off of this tension between us. If that didn’t work, I’d turn to the open bar to help. “Remind me what tonight is all about again?” I asked.

“It’s the Chicago Botanical Society. Abigail has been on the women’s board for years. Tonight is a dinner and a lecture on...some garden topic.” He gestured vaguely. “They do these once a quarter for their corporate sponsors and most generous donors. The Board is always looking for money for some special project or another. But the real reason we’re going is because Abigail wants to introduce you to some of her friends. She’s excited I finally have a girlfriend.”

With this last statement, William smiled at me, and warmth coursed through me, as I always did, when he referred to me as his girlfriend. It was good to see him smile. Maybe he was starting to get some perspective on the whole phone thing.

I needed some perspective on the event ahead of us, which loomed like a dark cloud. After all I’d been through the past few hours, smiling and making small talk with a room full of society matrons was not on my list of things to do. But it would be over in a few hours, and I really wanted Abigail to like me—I wanted all of William’s family to like me—so I gave myself a mental pep talk to be my best, most charming self. If only my headache would go away, at least that would be something. I sighed softly, knowing I would get through it.

I guess I hadn’t been quiet enough, because William squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Catherine. We’ll get out of there early if you want.”

He bent and kissed me, and I leaned into him, giving his mouth better access to me. His lips grazed mine, brushing over them and nipping softly. He ignited a slow burn that flared hotter when his tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I loved that, no matter what was going on with us, our attraction was undeniable. I opened for him, and he entered, exploring slowly and thoroughly. My headache and my sense of everything around us faded away. There was only the two of us, our mouths pressed together and our bodies seeking each other’s warmth.

William pulled back, his hand tilting my chin up as he looked deep into my eyes. “We’ll definitely have to leave early.”

I nodded, and he slid his hand to my nape, angling my neck so he could brush his lips against the sensitive skin. Thank goodness I opted for an up-do. His kisses fluttered against me, light as a butterfly’s wings, and I squirmed in my seat as the heat he’d ignited pooled lower and lower. My coat slid from my shoulders, and William’s hands moved up from my waist, lightly brushing over the fabric of my dress until he hit the underside of my breast. I moaned softly and my head fell back. His lips continued their gentle assault, caressing my jawline as his palm found my already hard nipple. The heat of his hand through the red silk only made the peak harder.

He palmed me, his breath warm on my neck and then sliding to my earlobe. I trembled as his lips pressed to my ear and his fingers closed on my nipple. “Soon you’ll be back in my bed. Under me. Naked.” His fingers worked my nipple, and I felt myself grow wet. My sex was moist and ready, and I was about to take his hand and move it between my legs when William pulled away.

I blinked, making contact with his stormy eyes for a second. I wanted more, but before I could pull William back, he tugged my coat back onto my shoulders and, looking out the window, said, “We’re here.”

“Oh.” I shook my head, trying to clear the haze of arousal. Why was it that I couldn’t get enough of this man?

He took my hand, kissed it lightly, and said, “Later.” His grey eyes met mine. “That’s a promise.”

* * *

W
e’d arrived at a large, three-story brick building with rectangular windows and a sweep of steps leading to the door. The footprint of The Peabody Club was impressive, given how tightly buildings were packed together in this neighborhood. A warm glow emanated from the large windows, and valets stood ready to park the stream of expensive vehicles pulling up outside.

Anthony jumped out of the SUV and opened the door for William and me. I pulled my coat close around me as William took my elbow and escorted me up the stairs. He held me tightly, as if aware of my shoe concern. Luckily, the club had taken great pains to make sure the steps were clear of snow. The doorman recognized William immediately. “Welcome back, Mr. Lambourne. The event is right upstairs.”

At the top of a grand staircase, we entered what I could only describe as a ballroom, filled with about a hundred or so people. The cavernous space was all arches and dark, wood-paneled ceilings. It was old school Chicago at its absolute finest. The wood trim gleamed in the dimmed light and, with the snow swirling outside, the large windows that lined the room on one end made it feel like we had walked into a posh snow globe. Several people were lined up at a large mahogany bar not far from the windows, and tuxedoed waiters milled around with silver trays of
hors d’oeuvre
and glasses of wine. Round tables were scattered throughout, set with white tablecloths and tasteful centerpieces made up of white flowers. My stomach rumbled at the thought of dinner and I realized that it had been a while since I’d eaten. I was suddenly famished.

My gaze swept the room, and I spotted a photographer taking pictures. He was discreet as he mingled among the guests and paused to pose and then snap his willing subjects. I caught sight of Abigail, who quickly detached herself from a small group and headed toward us. Abigail looked poised and elegant in a classic black Chanel suit accented with a string of pearls, her grey hair swept up in a sleek French twist. Behind her, Charles, in a dark suit, followed.

Abigail smiled when she reached us. “William. Catherine. It’s so wonderful to see you both. You look lovely, Catherine.” She gave William and then me a quick kiss on the cheek.

Charles greeted us, holding out his hand to shake William’s and then kissing on the cheek. William squeezed my hand tightly and smiled at me proudly. He looked so happy to see his aunt and uncle greet me warmly. I almost felt like part of the family, and my heart melted. This was what I’d wanted—to be part of William’s world. I loved him, and his family’s acceptance mattered to me.

Abigail had a flute of champagne and as a waiter with a silver tray passed by, I took a glass of white wine. After our disagreement about the phone and make-out session in the car, I was eager to relax with a drink. William declined, and I noted Charles had a short glass half-full of an amber liquid. Given the choice, I knew that William would have preferred bourbon to wine.

Charles slapped William on the back. “This man needs a real drink. Come on, William. I’ll get you three fingers at the bar.”

William squeezed my hand. “Maybe later.”

“William, go,” I urged him. After the evening we’d had so far, he could probably use a stiff drink. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

He looked at me with the same intensity he’d had in the car and nodded. “I know. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He kissed me tenderly on the cheek and strode off with his uncle.

Almost immediately, Abigail smiled at an older couple who approached and introduced themselves as the Van Horns. I shook hands and kept myself busy with my glass of wine as Abigail caught up with them. Their conversation moved to something about the Lyric Opera and I tried hard to look interested and follow along, but between my headache and the few sips of wine on my empty stomach, I wasn’t retaining much.

As the Van Horns continued to talk, I looked around again and realized that most of the attendees were of Abigail and Charles’s vintage. I started to feel hopelessly out of place and wondered if it showed. Under the Dior dress and the Manolo pumps, I wasn’t fashionable or important. Or sixty.

The Van Horns moved away, taking their chatter about opera with them, and Abigail said, “I heard you met Zoe this afternoon, Catherine.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t know she lived in Oklahoma.” I wasn’t sure what to say about my initial meeting with Zoe
. Your daughter was intense and kind of freaked me out and was kind of a total bitch to me
seemed wrong. What had Zoe told Abigail about me?

“She’s here for the shower, of course,” Abigail continued, “but I convinced her to stay two weeks. Not that I’ll see her much. Her training regimen means she keeps long hours at the gym.”

“You must be proud of her. I’d never even heard of a coxswain—” But before I could finish sucking up to Zoe through her mom, I was interrupted.

“Abigail? Is that you?”

William’s aunt turned, and I looked past her to see a young woman approaching. She was in her thirties; had dark, shoulder-length, straight hair; and was thin to the point of gauntness. Her brown eyes dominated her angular face, the muscles of which stretched tight when she smiled. Abigail glanced back at me. She was smiling, but her expression was puzzled. She obviously had no clue who this person was. I smiled too, confused.

“It’s Elin. Elin Erickson,” the woman said. “How nice to see you this evening.”

“Oh, Elin.” Abigail’s eyes widened as recognition washed over her face. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not, but was glad that she at least knew this person. The moment had been getting awkward.

“It’s been too long. Look at you.” She gestured to Elin’s slight frame. Did Elin look better or worse than the last time they’d met? Abigail looked Elin up and down, taking in her dark, long-sleeve shift dress, which accented her skinny frame. “How wonderful to see you,” Abigail continued, embracing Elin lightly. I wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed like Elin and Abigail might want to catch up, but I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. As if reading my mind, Elin turned to me and tilted her head in an
And who might you be?
way.

Catching Elin’s pointed look in my direction, Abigail said, “Elin, this is Catherine Kelly, William’s girlfriend. Catherine, this is Elin Erickson. Her late mother was a dear friend of mine and of my sister. We spent many summers together in Lake Geneva when our children were young.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, holding my hand out. Elin looked at it for a moment then stretched her face into a smile that might have seemed genuine from afar, but up close came at me with lifeless eyes. Finally she took my hand and shook with a loose grip. Was she afraid of catching something?

“You too.”

Silence descended, and we all gave awkward smiles. I searched for something to say and was relieved when Abigail finally said, “Had I known you were going to be here, Elin, I would have asked the girls to come. I’m sure they’d love to catch up with you.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. I ran into Lauren a couple of months ago, but I haven’t seen Zoe or Sarah in so long.”

“I have the perfect solution to that. Why don’t you come to Lauren’s baby shower? I know she would love to have you.”

Suddenly my invitation to Saturday’s festivities didn’t seem so special. Apparently Abigail was inviting anyone and everyone.

Just then the photographer approached. “Can I take a picture, ladies? For
Chicago Now
.”

“Oh, of course!” Abigail said. No one moved for a moment, and I was wondering if I should cozy up to Elin for the shot when Elin scooted to the other side of Abigail. It was as though she didn’t want to stand next to me.

Okay then
. I closed the space between Abigail and myself and smiled for the camera. This was definitely turning into a bizarre evening. Or maybe my hunger had me imagining things.

The camera flashed and I remembered seeing Hutch in the pages of
Chicago Now
. As the photographer moved away, I said, “Hey, if we make the pages of
Chicago Now
, I’ll have to send the issue to my mother. She’ll be thrilled.” I laughed and, to my surprise, Elin laughed too.

“Kind of surreal to see your own face on the same page as a celebrity. Always makes me do a double take.”

I couldn’t help but wonder how often this happened to Elin, but appreciated that she’d contributed to the conversation. I nodded as the hostility I’d felt a few seconds ago vanished and I became sure I’d imagined it. Maybe Elin wasn’t so bad after all. She might even make a good ally in this social world I kept being pulled into, courtesy of my relationship with William and his billions. Maybe we would be sitting together at dinner tonight.