A Feast of You (29 page)

“Yes.”

I laughed as he led me to the staircase at the back of the lobby. He’d returned home the night before, weary but flushed with success. The Kyoto deal had closed without much trouble and we’d celebrated with a bottle of WML Champagne, then by falling into bed. William had made love to me with a passion and tenderness that showed he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him. Maybe the break had been good for us. Absence made the heart grow fonder, but, in William’s case, it also made him hungrier for me. I didn’t mind.

Tonight he looked gorgeous in one of his black Tom Ford suits,
sans
tie, with a white button-down open at the neck. The slim fit hugged his broad shoulders and the muscles of his chest. An Irish-green pocket square, with a crisp fold and a straight line, was his only festive slash of color. He looked relaxed, but powerful. His hair was longer than usual—he needed a haircut—and he’d swept the waves back off his forehead. I actually liked that dark, tousled look. I couldn’t wait until later, when I could run my fingers through his thick curls and pull his mouth to mine.

Since it was St. Patrick’s Day, I’d opted for a Carolina Herrera cocktail dress—one that had been included in the wardrobe William had given me in Napa. The top layer was black and gauzy with a splattering of sequins, and it had an emerald green silk chiffon underlay. It was sleeveless, swingy, and sexy, and it fit me beautifully. I’d left my hair down in soft, shiny waves and played up my lips with my favorite scarlet shade.

I could hear the murmur of voices at the top of the stairs, where the private launch party was being held. I was so thrilled that Beckett was part of this. William opened one side of a rustic-looking double-door and ushered me into a large but cozy room. Like the lobby below, it had vintage details. The floors were dark wood and long, farmhouse tables were scattered throughout. The lighting looked a bit industrial—bare bulbs hanging from brushed bronze pendants—and the tap on the bar appeared to be straight out of an English pub.

I didn’t have much time to gawk because I immediately saw half a dozen people I knew, including one of the guests of honor. Beckett stood across the room, looking gorgeous in his Paul Smith London three-piece suit. Beneath the waistcoat he wore a geometric-print shirt in shades of green, and he had a small green Gerbera daisy pinned to his lapel. He was speaking with a tall, grey-haired man who looked to be in his late forties. Something about his face told me he was European. “Is that Chef LeClerc with Beckett?” I asked William.

“That’s him. I’ll introduce you.” With his hand in mine, he started to lead me across the room. We didn’t get far before we had to stop because I’d spotted Ben Lee.

“You look stunning as always,” Ben said, embracing me. Ever since I’d photographed his food at Willowgrass, Ben had been very kind to me, and I was always thrilled to see him. Ben gave William a wary look—probably wondering if he was still as territorial and possessive of me as the last time we’d met—and held out his hand.

William shook it. “Good to see you, Ben. Thank you for coming.”

The two men exchanged pleasantries, and then Ben turned to me. “I know you want to say hi to Beckett right now, but I want to introduce you to my girlfriend later.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

We moved away, and I heard a loud, raucous laugh. Only one person I knew laughed like that: Angela. She was talking with, of all people, Zoe. I couldn’t imagine what the two of them had to say to each other. Curious, I pulled William toward them.

“Hi Zoe,” I said with a polite nod. I hugged Angela and introduced her to William.

“No wonder you keep him all to yourself,” Angela quipped. “He looks good enough to eat.”

“Is Hutch here?” I asked. William’s hand in mine tightened slightly.

“He’ll be coming if he can get away.”

“Good. Beckett wants to meet him. Speaking of, I need to give him a hug. Excuse us.”

I grabbed William and we headed toward Beckett again. Finally, after saying hello to about a million more people along the way, we reached my best friend.

“Cat!” Beckett exclaimed and threw his arms around me.

I laughed, hugging him back. “Congratulations, Chef. I’m so proud of you!”

A waiter circled with champagne and Beckett grabbed two glasses, handing one to me and one to William, then reaching back for a third for himself.

William shook hands with Emil LeClerc, and turned to introduce us. “Catherine, this one of the best chefs I know, Emil LeClerc. Emil, this is my girlfriend, Catherine Kelly.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” LeClerc said, bending to kiss my hand. He had a French accent with a touch of New York and looked like a cross between Eric Ripert and George Clooney. “I have heard so much about you from Beckett and from William, of course.”

“Uh-oh,” I said.

He smiled. “All of it good, I assure you. He’s a very lucky man.”

“This calls for a toast,” William said, holding his glass high. “To Beckett and a sweet future.”

“To Beckett,” we echoed, clinking glasses.

William and LeClerc began a discussion about food, and I turned to Beckett. “This is it,” I said, practically bubbling with joy at his success. “Can you believe it?”

“I’m pinching myself. I’ve never been so happy.” He looked it too. His face practically glowed.

“It’s no dream. All these people are here to celebrate
you
. I’m so proud of you, Beckett. You totally deserve this.” I squeezed his arm. I took a sip of my champagne and looked around the room, for the first time noticing the big video screens on various walls flashing pictures. I thought they were just showing hotel guest rooms and amenities, but then saw that interspersed between were images of the bakery and lots of delicious dessert items, just like the ones Beckett would be serving at Patisserie LeClerc.

“Nice pictures.” I raised my glass toward the screens. “Thanks for hiring me.”

“Cat.” Beckett made a face. “I had no say in those. They’re photos from corporate. LeClerc’s people manage all the branding.”

“I’m just teasing.”
Mostly
.

The steady stream of William’s friends and business acquaintances stopping by to chat soon had me relaxed and laughing. The party was bustling. It was nice to just focus on having a good time, and since I was certain William’s security team was lurking everywhere, I felt safe and protected. I didn’t even mind when Zoe came up and asked to meet Beckett. I had to admit, she looked edgy and hot in slim leather pants, a grey sequin tank and sky-high stilettoes.

I’d finished my introductions and Beckett, bless him, had just given me a knowing
I now totally know what you mean
look when I saw him stiffen. Zoe was acting human for once, so I followed Beckett’s gaze and sucked in a breath.

Alec
.

Alec had just walked through the door, and one look at Beckett’s face told me everything.

Beckett wasn’t over Alec, and the break-up hadn’t meant nothing to him. Beckett looked, just for an instant, absolutely devastated. And then he swallowed the rest of his champagne, said something that made Zoe laugh, and did what he always did so well—covered the pain.

How could I have forgotten Beckett’s gift for concealing his hurts? Maybe because he’d never bothered to do it with me before. He’d always shared everything with me—good and bad.
So why hadn’t he told me the truth about his break-up with Alec?

“Do you need another drink?” William asked.

I turned to find him at my elbow, and I had my answer. I’d been way too wrapped up in my relationship with William—again. Which is why I hadn’t seen how much my best friend was hurting. Beckett deserved better from me.

“My throat is parched,” I told William. “Could you find me a glass of water?”

“Of course.” He kissed my cheek. “Be right back.”

“Who is that?” Zoe asked, bringing my attention back to her and Beckett. I glanced across the room and spotted Hutch.

I nudged Beckett with my elbow. “Guess what? Hutch Morrison is here!”

“Cat!” Beckett squeezed my hand with excitement, but I was more interested in Zoe’s response. Her eyes were glued on Hutch, her expression dazed. I waved, and Hutch made his way across the room to us, stopping to joke with Angela for a moment. Lots of interested and admiring glances were thrown his way, but he seemed oblivious to the excitement his arrival created.

Hutch wore boots, tight-fitting dark jeans, and a band collar, black leather biker jacket with his trademark plain black T-shirt beneath. No green for him on this holiday. His blond hair was carefully disheveled and he looked every inch the bad-boy-rock-star-turned-famous-chef he was. His gaze was on me as he neared, but the moment he caught sight of Zoe, interest flickered in his eyes and he looked startled and raw. I felt a jab in my gut.
Was I jealous?

And then he blinked and smooth, charming Hutch was back. “Miss Catherine,” he purred in that slow Southern drawl as he pulled me into a hug. “This is some party.”

“It’s all for Beckett.” I gestured to my friend, who was staring as openly as Zoe. “Beckett Altieri, meet Hutch Morrison.”

Beckett held out a hand. “Mr. Morrison, I’m honored. I love your work.”

Hutch took Beckett’s hand. “And I know I’m going to love yours. But Mr. Morrison is my daddy. Call me Hutch.”

“Hutch.” Beckett said the word reverently.

Hutch’s eyes slid to Zoe.

“This is Zoe Smith.” I gestured to her. “She’s William’s cousin.”

“A pleasure, Miss Zoe,” he said, taking her hand. He didn’t so much shake it as hold it in his.

“Likewise,” she said. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was all but drooling while looking at him intently.

Something was definitely going on there. I could practically see the sparks between the two of them, but I didn’t see what Hutch would be so drawn to—and he was drawn. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Hutch owns Morrison Hotel,” I told Zoe.

She frowned. “I thought you were a chef.”

“It’s only called
hotel
,” Beckett chimed in. “It a restaurant, the best in Chicago. One of the best in the world, in fact.”

“You’ll have to come in for dinner sometime,” Hutch told her. He still hadn’t let go of her hand.

Zoe was transfixed by Hutch, her head titled to one side and her eyes locked on his face, questioning. “Yes, I will,” she said quietly. “Have we met before? I could swear that I know you.”

Beckett said something then that caught Hutch’s attention, but I missed it. I felt a tingle on the back of my neck and glanced around the room. The music had gotten louder but I didn’t see anything to alarm me, just the crowd mingling and flashes of images on the video screens. William was making his way toward me with a glass of water. Maybe that was the tingle I’d felt.

I smiled at him as he drew up to our group, but he didn’t return it. He’d obviously seen Hutch. William handed me the water and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me hard against him. I saw his gaze lock on Hutch’s hand holding Zoe’s and the two of them talking intently. I was glad to have something to sip so I could look busy.

Finally, Hutch dropped Zoe’s hand and held his palm out to William. There was a long pause, where I worried William might not hold his hand out at all, then they shook.

“Morrison.”

“Lambourne. How was Japan?”

William’s stormy eyes landed on me. They were steely blue.

“Dana and Allison and I had dinner at Morrison Hotel last Saturday,” I said. “I told you.”

I hadn’t mentioned the venue, but that was beside the point. Hutch and I were working together, nothing more. I could mention that my boyfriend was out of town to a friend without it meaning anything.

“Japan was busy,” William said. “I’m glad to be back.” He squeezed my waist, and I smiled.

“I guess it’s Catherine’s turn to travel now.”

I tensed and flashed Hutch a
shut up
look, but he wasn’t looking at me. His attention was back on Zoe. “Did she tell you I’m taking her to Fashion Week in Paris? Fiona Joy asked me to put on her after-show dinner and I need Catherine to photograph it. It’s going to be quite the event.”

William’s arm had gone rigid, his fingers like stone against my waist. “Absolutely not,” he said, his voice so low I wasn’t sure anyone but me could hear it.

“William—”

“Catherine’s not going to Paris,” he said loudly enough for half the room to hear.

Beckett took a step back, Hutch raised a brow, and Zoe smirked.
Great
. We were causing a scene at my best friend’s party, in front of my boss and the one woman who would jump for joy over any discord between William and me.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I said quietly, pulling away from him.

“There’s nothing to talk about. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go.”

Our gazes met and clashed. I narrowed my eyes. Did he really want to do this here and now, with half the room watching us? He didn’t blink, so I could only assume he did.

“The last time I checked, I was quite capable of making my own decisions. I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”

“Then don’t do stupid things.”

“
Excuse me
?”

The moment was tense, but our voices weren’t raised. Only Hutch, Beckett, and Zoe could hear us, but I sensed something rippling throughout the room. People were murmuring and looking around. William must have noticed it too. He broke off and scanned the room, probably looking for Asa.

As I followed his eyes, I noticed some of the guests were staring at me.

The music, which had been a fun big-band mix, went dead and was replaced by some sort of audio montage of people talking.

I looked at Beckett, hoping this was something he’d planned, but he looked as clueless as I felt. And then he grabbed my arm. “Cat.”

He nodded to the video screens. Weird images had replaced the pictures of hotel rooms and pastries on all the screens.
What the hell was going on?
I caught the flash of an image of me and gasped. A shot from an online news site, one I recognized instantly, filled the screen.