by Sorcha Grace
“Step.” The tone of his voice didn’t allow for argument. I could tell he was someone who rarely, if ever, dealt with dissent. Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped into my panties and allowed him to pull them up my legs.
He didn’t move quickly. He pulled them slowly, so that the feel of the white lace was a caress against my bare skin. When he reached my ass, he allowed his fingers to linger, cupping the curve. Finally, my panties were back in place, and he looked me in the eye. “This was all about you, Catherine. I want to see you again. I want to take you out, feed you, take you somewhere you haven’t been.”
I stared. I could have looked into his eyes forever. They were constantly changing. First blue, then grey, then blue again. I loved that his every emotion seemed to be reflected in those eyes. I already knew he wasn’t going to be the kind of man who spoke about his feelings. I’d have to learn to read his eyes.
And why was I thinking about the future anyway? This was about now. And right now, it appeared we were through. “You don’t want anything in return?” I must have sounded incredulous because he gave me a brief, amused smile. I loved it when he smiled. It was sexy as hell.
He handed me my T-shirt, and I slipped it on as he was talking. “Like I said, I was disappointed when you left last night. I worried about you.”
Did I miss something? Did he say that earlier? Maybe he said it while I was coming on his hand when I couldn’t hear anything except my heart pounding in my ears. This man, who owned most of Chicago, and possibly several small countries, had worried. About me.
“But I see you’re fine. More than fine now, I hope. Maybe you’re not so hard to please after all…” He smiled again, and this time it was his devilish, sexy grin that practically made me melt. Everything inside me fired up again from that one grin. Did he know how sexy he was? Did he know the effect he had?
I was reeling, feeling surreal. I kept glancing at my kitchen floor, willing myself to believe I’d allowed this man I hardly knew to do all of that to me a few moments ago. I still didn’t understand how he could have made me feel like this when we barely knew one another. He had an intuitive sense of what pleased me.
“I obviously interrupted you this afternoon,” he continued, “and it’s too late for coffee.” He gestured to the cups he’d brought, which I imagined were cold by now. My gaze settled on the pain au chocolat, and even though I could still taste it on my lips, my mouth watered again. I wanted to see what he would taste like covered in that rich, spicy chocolate. And then I was horrified by the thought. I had said I wasn’t relationship material, and I meant it. I didn’t want this to go any farther.
Or did I?
“Tell me I can take you out.”
I blinked. “I… William, I told you—”
“I’d like to see you tonight.” His eyes were a steely blue. It was his negotiation look. I had a feeling he lost few negotiations.
“Tonight?” I stammered.
“I know it’s short notice, but I’d like you with me, Catherine.”
My belly clenched. I hadn’t been on a first date in years, but I still remembered it was bad form to ask a girl out the day of. But how could I refuse him? I didn’t want to refuse him. I wanted to be with him too, if only to see where this would lead. My core throbbed, and I had a good idea where it would lead. There was no point in fighting it now. I liked that direction.
“It’s a formal event at the Art Institute. I’d get out of it, but I’m expected. Say you’ll go.”
“I’ll go,” I heard myself say. I would have agreed to go to a drive-thru and eat burgers and fries, but there was no way I could refuse. “I love the Art Institute.”
“I know.”
How could he know? And that made me wonder what else he knew about me.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” He lifted the pain au chocolat from the counter. “I’m leaving this here for you.” His eyes caressed my lips in a way that made me hungry—but not for food.
“It’s better warm. Heat it for a few minutes in the warming oven.” He gestured to the AGA. I wasn’t aware it had a warming oven. The whole machine was a mystery. I didn’t understand why ovens had to be complicated.
“I barely use that thing.” I rolled my eyes. A high-maintenance stove. Who would have thought? “I’ll microwave it.”
“No.” William took my hand firmly. “You won’t.” He pulled me over to the AGA and nimbly opened one of the compartments, as though it were as simple as a child’s play kitchen. “Put it in here for five minutes.”
I leaned closer. “Where do I turn the warming oven on?”
William rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “Catherine, an AGA is never cold. It’s always hot. Always burning. It’s always turned on.”
I caught my breath and flicked my gaze to his. His eyes were dark again, and I could feel my skin heating and my nipples puckering at the arousal I saw reflected. “I know the feeling.” The comeback girl had reappeared.
He laughed. “Good. I intend to keep it that way. I want you burning for me, Catherine. I want you to want me as much as I want you.”
I didn’t really think it was possible to want him more than I already did.
He kept talking, which was surprising. “I want to fill all your desires, starting with your desire for food.” He tugged my wrist, bringing me closer to his heat. “And someone has to teach you how to use your cooker.”
I felt a shot of heat pierce me, and my knees wobbled. Only a man as sexy as William Lambourne could make using a cast-iron stove sound erotic. He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply, taking possession, and making me hunger for so much more. My breath quickened, and I dragged a hand through his soft curls. Slowly, he took my hand, lowered it to my side, and broke the kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.” His eyes, an indigo blue, were filled with promise.
And then he grabbed his sweater and his coat and walked away, cutting through my small dining area. I stood next to the ridiculous oven and listened as his boots clicked authoritatively on my wood floors, the sound muffled when he reached the rug in the living room, then a faint click when he opened my door and closed it again.
*****
The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur. I was alternately nervous and giddy with excitement. I hadn’t been on a date, and this was no ordinary date—as though anything I did with William Lambourne would be ordinary.
I still had time before I had to pick up Laird from the groomers, so I popped over to a spa I walked past sometimes and asked if they could fit me in for a manicure and pedicure. Then I luxuriated in the pampering, feeling pretty and girly again with my nails polished and buffed. Laird looked good after his grooming, and he was excited to see me. I felt bad that he’d be on his own tonight and took him to the park to play fetch. It was cold, but by Chicago standards, it was a perfect day to be outdoors. I was bundled up in a hat, scarf, and coat, and the sun was out. Laird yipped happily, and I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.
Despite the fun playing with Laird, I couldn’t keep my thoughts off tonight and what had happened in my kitchen. I was confused about my reaction to William, uncertain I’d made the right decision in agreeing to go, but I wasn’t panicking. Nothing refreshed and calmed me like being outside in the fresh air.
Finally, Laird plopped down at my feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth, and I slipped on his leash and headed to the condo. As we walked back, my phone vibrated, and I dug it out of my pocket.
It was a text from William. Did you eat more?
I could hear his voice in the words, and I shivered.
I paused and texted back. Yes, I heated it in the AGA too.
It had been impossible not to think of him. The pain au chocolat had been delicious warmed up as he’d promised. I was going to forever associate William Lambourne and his talented tongue with the lingering taste of spiced chocolate.
I’m sending you a package.
I blinked at the text, a little surprised and then excited at the nove
lty. What could William be sending me? What is it? I texted back.
I stared at my words, waiting for his reply. He could afford anything, so there was no way I could guess what it could be.
A cup of coffee? A new car?
You’ll see.
I had to laugh. Had I really believed he’d tell me? Laird and I arrived home a few minutes later and headed upstairs. I barely had Laird’s leash off, and I was unwrapping my scarf when my intercom buzzed. “Hello?” I answered.
“I have a delivery for Catherine Kelly.”
“Come on up,” I responded and buzzed to let him in.
A few moments later, I opened my door to an older gentleman, probably late fifties, with a military bearing. He wore a black suit and stood at attention. He wasn’t much taller than me but had more brawn and muscle. He was distinguished, with his clipped silver hair. I glanced at the oversized shopping bag, containing what appeared to be a large rectangular box. “Can I help you?” My heart pounded, and I imagined all sorts of horrific scenarios.
“Hello, Miss Kelly.”
I half expected him to salute—or pull out a gun and shoot me.
“I’m George Graham. I work for Mr. Lambourne.”
I relaxed slightly and gave Laird a reassuring pat.
So that was the package William was sending.
“Mr. Lambourne asked that I deliver this. May I come in and place it for you?” His gaze drifted toward Laird, who wagged his tail.
I didn’t really need a box “placed,” but before I could refuse, George Graham moved into my condo, marching toward the living room.
“Um, okay.” What else could I say? He was already inside.
“Where should I place it?”
I faltered. I had never been good at this. I searched the living room. “Why don’t you… um, put it on the coffee table?”
“Very good, Miss Kelly. I am to remind you that Mr. Lambourne will see you this evening at seven.”
“Thanks.” I followed him and watched as he delicately set the bag with the box on my table, centering it just so. “What’s in it?” I asked, releasing Laird’s collar. He bounded into the kitchen where his food and water waited.
“I’m afraid I cannot answer that, Miss Kelly. Please do be ready promptly at seven.”
It was a little annoying that William thought I needed someone to remind me of a date we’d made only a few hours ago, but I tried not to let my irritation show.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kelly,” George said, giving me a smile and stepping back from the table. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
And then he walked away, striding through my living room as though it were his own. I locked the door after him then stood there. How weird was that? I felt like I was an undercover operative for the CIA. In which case, I’d better see what was in my special delivery. I was giddy with anticipation. I pulled the large box out of the bag and removed the lid. And then my cell rang. William already? But when I glanced at the screen I saw it was Beckett. Perfect.
I answered and hit speaker. “Hey, Beckett.”
“Hey, yourself. You sound like your day improved.”
I grinned, fingering the delicate tissue paper inside the box. “You have no idea.” I filled him in on the events of the day, editing very little—I decided I might as well give him full disclosure—and he oohed and aahed at just the right times.
After I related the kitchen floor scene, he interrupted. “And he didn’t want anything in return? Are you making this up?”
I laughed. “In fact, he asked me out on a date tonight. We’re going to an event at The Art Institute.”
“Formal?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Damn. I wish I could come over and help you get ready, but I have a thing tonight. I can’t get out of it.”
“I’ll be fine.” I was beginning to panic a little now. I had been counting on recruiting Beckett’s help. Now I’d have to get ready by myself. “I’ll be fine,” I repeated for my own benefit. “I got a mani and a pedi and everything. And guess what happened on the way home?”
“I would have never guessed oral sex on your kitchen floor, which, by the way, I will never look at the same way again. You’ll have to tell me.”
“William texted me he was having a package delivered, and when I got home, this butler commando guy delivered it.”
“Oh, my God! What was in it? Diamonds? Keys to a Mercedes?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know. I pulled off the lid but haven’t looked inside yet.”
“Cat! Open it! Hurry!”
“Okay, okay!” But I was laughing so hard I had to take a deep breath.
“It’s like Christmas all over again,” Beckett said, and I could hear the anticipation in his voice. “What do you see? What does the box look like?”
“Um, it’s a white box, large, deep, and rectangular. It was in a shopping bag without any writing on it. I pulled the top off and inside is thin, white tissue paper.”
“The good stuff.”
“There’s good tissue paper?”
“Just open it already! You’re killing me!”
I started laughing again, but I pulled the folds of the paper away, revealing something red. I reached out to touch it and felt the soft silk slide through my fingers. “It’s red and silk,” I told Beckett.
“What is it?”
“Hold on.” I lifted the gift from the box and stood, allowing the long silk dress to cascade to the floor. “Oh, Beckett.” I sighed. No one had ever given me surprise gifts, and no one had ever given me something like this.
“What is it?”
I couldn’t begin to describe it. It was too beautiful. The dress was deep red with a plunging neckline accented by intricate beading. There was no way that could have been done by machine. It must have been hand-sewn, and that meant the gown was ridiculously expensive. “It’s a dress, Beckett. A formal one for tonight.” I described it, hardly doing it justice, and finally, I took a picture and texted it to him. Had William picked this out? If so, his taste was exquisite.
When Beckett received the picture, he sighed. “It’s going to look fabulous. Wait. Is it your size?”
I checked the label. “Yes. Exactly. Is that creepy?”
“Maybe a little.”
I carefully draped the gown over the couch and caught a glimpse of something else in the box. “Beckett, there’s more.” I couldn’t believe this. This kind of stuff just didn’t happen to me.
“More? Tell me!”
I reached into the box, moved the tissue aside, and pulled out a red and black lace bra and thong set. I knew this set. I had it on my if-I-win-the-lottery wish list. It was incredibly expensive and stunningly gorgeous. And the red and the black were scorching. Really sexy. I’d been coveting it ever since I first laid eyes on it. I checked the label and was stunned that, again, the set was my size.
“Beckett, you’re not going to believe this. You know that bra and thong set I showed you?”
“Cat, you show me dozens. You’re obsessed.”
“It was red and black lace and seriously expensive.”
“Oh, right. I remember. Do not tell me he sent it to you.”
“The exact one—my size. And there’s more.”
“I can’t take it! What else?”
I couldn’t take it either. Why was William sending me all this? He was spoiling the wrong girl. He might have correctly guessed my bra size, but he didn’t know me at all. I pulled out another lacy item. “Beckett, there’s a matching garter belt. It’s gorgeous.” I reached back into the treasure box. “And black silk stockings. Beckett, you have to feel them. They’re weightless and impossibly fine.”
“This is so hot. He obviously knows what he likes. Your tastes mesh.”
Except I didn’t like to wear red, and it felt totally weird to receive lingerie from a guy I barely knew. I should send it back. How could I possibly accept this? And then I gasped because I saw shoes. “Shoes!”
&
nbsp; “Cat, I seriously hate you right now. Describe already.”
“Black pumps. Really sexy and…” I hissed in a breath when I saw the red soles. “Beckett, these are Christian Louboutins.” I flipped them over and stared at the signature on the inside.
“Those have got to run like nine hundred dollars.”
“I know, and they’re my size and everything.” I slipped them on and admired the way they looked. “They’re gorgeous.” I stared at the dress, the lingerie, and the shoes. It was all exquisite, chosen by a man with impeccable taste. And it was too much for any woman on a first date, and definitely too much for someone like me.
“Cat, I’m happy for you. You totally deserve this,” Beckett said as though reading my thoughts. “I need a picture after you get dressed.” Beckett continued squealing in delight, but I had to sit on the couch. I was overwhelmed. How did William have time to shop for all this? And how did he know my sizes? Not just my dress size— my bra size and my shoe size. I peered around my condo half afraid I’d spot a spy camera.
I slipped the shoes off and started to place them back in the box when I spotted two smaller boxes. “Beckett,” I interrupted. “There’s more.”
“Shut up!”
My heart was pounding now. This was crazy and exciting. I wanted it to stop, but it felt like Christmas to me too. “Two smaller boxes. I’m opening the first one.” I pulled the lid off. “It’s a crystal vial with amber liquid.”
“A decanter?”
“It’s small, like the size of perfume.”
“What’s the label?”
“There isn’t one.”
I pulled the delicate stopper out and inhaled deeply as the most amazing scent wafted to my nose. “Oh, my God, Beckett. It smells so good.” I dabbed a little on my wrist and couldn’t stop sniffing it. “It’s delicious.”
William really knew how to pull out all the stops. Perfume, shoes, lingerie. It was too much. And it wasn’t over.
“I’m almost afraid to open this last one,” I told Beckett. “It’s small and leather. It looks expensive. Really elegant.”
“Jewelry?” Beckett asked, his voice breathless.
