A Feast of You (15 page)

I nodded. He was in charge and all business now. No matter that we were in the bathtub and he was naked. He might as well have been in his three-piece suit, seated behind his desk.

“Who do I report to on this project, Mr. Lambourne?”

“To me. I personally oversee everything related to the winery. I plan to stay very involved in that endeavor.”

I pressed my lips together, mulling it over. “I’d love to do it and I will...but I have a few conditions.”

His eyes turned steely. “Such as?”

“I’m not giving up Hutch’s project, and I’m not giving up Fresh Market. But”—I raised a finger before he could argue—“I’ll back off on my other work for the time being.”

“What else?” William, of course, knew that wasn’t all.

“I’ll continue to work out of the penthouse, but I need to go on location sometimes. I’ll go with Asa or Anthony or whoever you want, and I promise I won’t go anywhere without security. I’ll stay in contact, and I’ll be careful.”

His eyes were icy blue and his gaze didn’t waver as it met mine. “Anything else?”

“Just two more things.” His look was cold and hard, so I spoke quickly. “I want to take Laird on walks. I don’t care who goes with me, but I need to go outside. And...” I paused, taking a breath.

“And?”

“I want my darkroom. Is there any way we can get my stuff and set it up here? I don’t know where, but I really miss it. It’s not absolutely necessary, not a deal breaker, but if we could find a way—”

“Of course we can find a way. Consider it done.” He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Kelly.”

“But?”

“I agree to your conditions.”

“We have a deal then!” I settled back against him, excited to begin. But a small part of me was concerned too. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that William had given me what I wanted too easily. Was he hiring me because I was really that good, or because I was his girlfriend and he wanted to make sure I had less time to spend on my other projects?

Specifically, less time to spend on Hutch’s cookbook project?

T
he next week passed in a blur. The night of the Chicago Botanical Society event had been the first in a string of snowy days. The weather had been raw and shitty as February rolled to a close and the groundhog had been right all those weeks ago: winter wasn’t letting up.

I longed for spring and couldn’t help but think about Santa Cruz and the fact that I wouldn’t be trudging through snow, ice, and slush if I were there. My favorite pair of Frye boots had developed stains from the salt on the sidewalks—and it’s not like I was trekking to and from the L every day. It had been way too easy to stay in, just like William had wanted. Maybe billionaires could control the weather after all?

But I couldn’t really complain. I relished spending my time indoors with my boyfriend, snuggling in front of the fire, cuddling under blankets, keeping each other warm in bed. William and I had settled into a comfortable routine, and I’d even found time to unpack and hang most of my stuff in a small section of William’s massive closet. Maybe it was because I had taken these steps to “move in” that William had been keeping quiet about my work with Hutch. Whatever it was, I was happy that Hutch and Morrison Hotel were no longer a point of contention between us. I loved my new gig and I wanted William to be proud of me.

I had ventured out to begin shooting dishes at Morrison Hotel for the cookbook on Thursday, two days ago, and the day hadn’t started out well. I’d been psyching myself up for the first shoot for the better part of a week. I’d been prepared. I’d had my gear. I’d had Asa in tow. I was comfortable around Hutch and I knew he trusted me. But when I’d arrived at the restaurant, something had felt off. I’d tried to get warmed up by taking a few test shots, but I’d had trouble focusing. Only when Hutch had brought out the first dish and one of the stylists I’d recommended had walked in had it hit me what was wrong: Beckett. I was missing Beckett. Faced with having to do a major shoot without him, I’d had an epiphany and realized just how important he’d been to my work as a food photographer.

Beckett and I would usually meet before a shoot to talk strategy and his ideas would often inspire me. Then on the day of, he’d always make me feel grounded with jokes, encouragement, and his snappy one-liners about his magic sprays and food having a perfect window, how to perk-up any food item that had wilted or dropped even the slightest bit. Shooting with him had always been fun and not like work at all and he gave me a confidence I didn’t feel on my own.

Hutch’s cookbook project was in an entirely different league for me, which was unnerving enough, but it also threw me into a working situation with a stylist I’d heard was great but whom I’d never met. It had taken a little while for me and Chris to find our groove, mostly because of me. He was fine, but he just wasn’t Beckett. And that had sucked.

Thank God for Hutch. I think he’d sensed my nervousness and he’d had taken the edge off by being his charming—and I admit sexy—self. He’d started the morning with his mega-watt smile and his brown sugar beignets with blueberry compote and chicory coffee for those of us on set. It was a lethal combination, and I’d probably eaten ten beignets by the day’s end, mostly at Hutch’s urging. Good thing I’d picked that day to become a stress eater. Of course, I hadn’t argued much. The beignets had been delicious and Hutch was a hard man to say no to.

Once he’d declared my beignet shots were perfect, I’d started to relax and finally got into my zone. The rest of the shoot had gone by in a blur. Hutch had brought out three more dishes, including a spectacular deconstructed gumbo with sugarcane, shrimp, crawfish, Louisiana Andouille sausage, and fried chicken that had been truly breathtaking. In between the plates, I’d gone back to the kitchen to shoot him and Angela in action. It had been inspiring to watch him work. He was so in love with what he did and I’d gotten great shots of the kitchen, its controlled chaos, and of Hutch and his staff. My favorite was a shot of Hutch forming tiny little finger-sized lobster and basil-infused hush puppies by hand. Hutch was looking up with this smile on his face that pretty much encompassed his total joy at cooking, and his muscular, tattooed arms were such a contrast to the delicate, perfectly shaped little ball of cornmeal batter in his hand. If that shot didn’t make it into the book, I really wanted to do something for Hutch with it.

Just thinking about Hutch’s food made my stomach rumble—loudly—and I rolled out of bed to the smell of coffee wafting into the master suite. I threw on leggings and a Lululemon savasanah wrap and headed to find William.

I found him in his favorite room in the penthouse standing at the range, flipping pancakes, my Saturday morning favorite. The beignet overload Thursday should have satisfied my craving for carbs, but I couldn’t ever say no to pancakes.

William’s dark hair was damp and curly, which meant he’d already worked out and showered. My breath hitched as I watched him, his muscled broad shoulders rippling under his tight, light blue T-shirt as he wielded his prowess with a spatula. God, he was so hot. I wondered for probably the millionth time how I ever got so lucky.

I came up behind him and put my arms around his waist, breathing in his clean, musky William smell and feeling the hard planes of his abs tense at my touch. “Are all of these for me?” I asked at the sight of the stack of cakes on the counter.

“If you want them to be, beautiful girl,” William answered. His put his hand over mine and stroked it. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling.

I did want them all, but I promised myself I’d stick to one...
okay, maybe two
. This perpetual winter wasn’t doing my waistline any favors. I’d been carb-loading like an athlete, except without a marathon to burn all the calories.

I slid onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar and William set a plate in front of me, the pancakes covered in whipped cream and strawberries, and then he bent and gently brushed his lips against mine. “Good morning, love,” he said between maple syrup–sweetened kisses. “I hope you enjoy your breakfast.”

“I’m sure I will,” I replied between kisses. The pancakes smelled delicious and I really was starving, but I was hungrier for William.

We stayed like that for a while longer, making out as our kisses deepened and waves of pleasure began coursing through me. I could have spent all morning like that, wrapped in his arms, warm and satiated by his sugar-coated lips, but when my stomach rumbled audibly, the spell was broken. William pulled back and laughed. “Someone’s hungry, I see. Eat up.”

So I did.

* * *

L
auren Smith Matthews’s baby shower was being held at The Drake, the iconic hotel overlooking Lake Michigan. I’d never been because I’d never had a reason to go, so I was excited to check yet another Chicago landmark off my “must see” list. Like The Peabody Club, I was sure the Drake would impress with old Chicago flair. Standing in front of my closet, I was stumped. I couldn’t decide what to wear. As I surveyed my wardrobe, I saw lots of black, great for photography gigs, but not really the right choice for a baby shower. This was a celebration, not a funeral.

I pulled down a winter-white sweater, still in its dry-cleaning bag from earlier in the season, took it out, and tugged it over my head. It didn’t feel right, though, and I stared down at the way the fabric strained across my boobs.

“Damn it.” The cleaners had done a number on this piece. I might as well have washed it myself if I was paying for the cleaners to shrink it.

I pulled it off and, as I did so, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. As much as I wanted to deny it, my boobs spilled out of the cups of my favorite T-shirt bra. So maybe it wasn’t the dry cleaners’ fault after all. I had to acknowledge that the sweater wasn’t the only article of clothing that had been clingy lately. Clearly, I’d gained a few pounds.
Damn it
. Factoring in William’s sensational home-cooked meals, Hutch’s beignets, and the non-stop winter, I was helpless. I was powerless against all those carbs, and my body seemed to hold onto them like a bear storing up for winter.

I’d been hitting the gym with William nearly every morning. I’d even come to appreciate those early workouts, though I was still far from liking them. But they weren’t doing enough to counter the calories, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the extra weight because Beckett had noticed it the last time I’d seen him. William was enjoying the way my tops clung to my breasts lately, however, and wasn’t complaining. So I wouldn’t dwell on it.

Since I wasn’t going to lose five pounds in the next thirty minutes, I had to find another outfit to wear. I browsed through my section of the closet and settled on a pretty white blouse with a ruffled, plunging neckline. If I had cleavage, I reasoned, I might as well make the most of it. I paired the blouse with slim black pants and sleek, high-heeled Prada ankle boots. I looked chic, but the clothing was also functional. I was the photographer, as well as a guest, today. I had to be able to move around freely.

I wound my hair into a low, messy twist, a style I had spied while flipping through a magazine at the gym, threw on some mascara and lip gloss and a few spritzes of perfume, and headed out.

In the living room, William intercepted me, pulling me into his arms. “Lip gloss,” I said, pointing to my lips. “No kisses unless you want to be covered in Sexy Vixen.”

“Is that a proposition?”

“No, a color.” I said and gave him a playful shove. As much as I wanted William’s family to like me, I could have easily succumbed to his come hither tone and stayed in.

“I won’t mess up your perfect lips,” William said, ducking his head to kiss me on the neck. “I just wanted to tell you how pretty you look. I love you in white, Catherine.”

“Thank you. I kind of threw this outfit together, so I’m glad it works”

“And I love your tits.”

I rolled my eyes. So much for sweet William.

“That blouse is sexy as hell. If you didn’t have to go, I’d enjoy taking it off you.” His eyes were a shining, silvery grey and I knew what that meant.

“Tempting,” I said, as William dipped his head to kiss the other side of my neck. “But I need to take a rain check. I don’t want to disappoint your aunt.”

William groaned in disappointment. Somehow he knew just how to boost my self-esteem. A few minutes ago, in front of my closet, I’d been feeling fat and bloated, but now I felt beautiful and desirable again.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Don’t move.” He took a few steps backward, holding up his index finger in a “one minute” sign, then turned and strolled off toward his study. I glanced at my watch and hoped whatever distraction William was plotting didn’t take too long. He came back with a large shopping bag and handed it to me. It was heavier than it looked, and I peeked inside. A professionally wrapped gift, topped with an extravagant amount of ribbon, was nestled inside.

“Oh my God. I totally forgot to get a gift.” I would have been mortified if I’d shown up empty-handed.

The door opened and Asa, leading Laird, came in. William took the bag from me, handed it to Asa, and said, “Don’t worry about it, Catherine. Abigail gave me some hints. I had Parker pick something out.”

Thank God for jack-of-all-trades assistants.

“There’s a card too, and I signed both of our names.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Oh really? Both of our names?” I couldn’t help but smile. I loved how much of a couple William and I were becoming.

“Of course,” he replied and gave me a kiss on my nose. “Now go. Do your baby thing.” He gave my ass a pat as I headed to grab my coat.

* * *

T
he Drake was only a few blocks from William’s penthouse, but Anthony was driving me because I had my camera equipment and the gift as well. With all the safety measures in place, William would have probably insisted Anthony drive me anyway. Asa was with us, and he’d stay with me during the event, though William promised that my bodyguard would remain discreetly in the background. It still felt weird to have Asa go everywhere with me, but I had to admit, after recent events, having him close by did make me feel safe.