When I'm With You: The Complete Novel

by BETH KERY

  “But what about the bed? I think it’s supposed to rain this evening,” Elise mentioned dubiously as she followed him.

  He nodded toward a locked ten-by-fifteen-foot structure in the center of the roof. “I’ll call someone from building maintenance and ask if they’ll break it down and store it in there. It’s an airtight enclosure. I think the bed will fit in there.”

  “You’ve never stored it in there before?” she asked, studying his profile closely.

  He gave a sideways glance and smiled knowingly. She blushed, suddenly certain he’d guessed at the reason for her question. “I just purchased that bed. For you.”

  She grinned, unreasonably happy at the knowledge that he didn’t typically treat women to the decadent fantasy of being made love to by Lucien beneath the stars.

  They showered together in the master bath, taking their time, washing each other with caressing fingertips, finding ticklish spots, laughing, and kissing each other’s smiles. Her nipples were still slightly swollen, flushed and sensitive from the nipple chain. Lucien played with them gently while they bathed, his gaze hot and admiring. She loved seeing Lucien like this, relished his unguarded manner, sultry stares, and fond teasing, and she treasured the knowledge that he’d loosened his self-restraint enough to show her more of his true self.

  That required trust, didn’t it? she speculated hopefully.

  When she noticed how full and firm his penis became as they showered, she reached to stroke him, but he halted her with a hand on her wrists.

  “We’ll let it build,” he said, softly cupping an aching breast and tweaking a nipple before he released her. Something about his husky voice and steamy stare sent a thrill through her. At one time, she would have taken his response as a rebuff, but not anymore. He’d proven his desire for her exceeded her wildest dreams. His methods of restraint only served to mount the friction so that the final release was all that much more explosive.

  “I’d like to take you somewhere,” he said as he dried her off with a towel a while later.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” he replied quietly. “Dress in riding clothes. We’ll go see Jax and Kesara afterward and ride.”

  Her curiosity piqued, she dressed in dark brown jodhpurs, boots, and a cream-colored short-sleeved blouse. As she buttoned up the shirt in the bathroom, she noticed that her nipples were still very sensitive, the material of her bra abrading them slightly. It was a pleasant, welcome sensation, a constant reminder of her night spent with Lucien. When she glanced at herself in the mirror, she saw that the peaks protruded from the fitted shirt, showing even through the light padding of her bra. She brushed her fingertips over a stiff nipple. Wincing, she pressed her hand between her thighs to staunch that sudden, sharp ache.

  It was as if her body had sprung a billion more nerve endings beneath that starlit sky and Lucien’s touch.

  She let her hair dry in natural waves, combed it, and pinned back her bangs with a white and yellow daisy clip. The decoration matched her sunny mood. They shared a smile when they rejoined in the bedroom after dressing, Lucien’s gaze running down over her appreciatively . . . possessively. He cradled her jaw and brushed his thumb over her cheek. He looked outrageously handsome in a pair of khaki-colored breeches, light blue cotton shirt, and scuffed, supple leather dark brown riding boots. What Lucien did to a pair of riding pants ought to be considered illegal, in her opinion. She was about to tease him by saying so but paused, her lips parted, when she saw the intent way his gray eyes ran over her face.

  “You’ve bloomed overnight,” he murmured, kissing her so softly, so persuasively, she closed her eyes and lost herself for a moment. He finally lifted his head and took her hand, and they left the penthouse together. He said little once they’d gotten into his sedan, but Elise was divinely relaxed and happy as he maneuvered smoothly through the busy city streets. It was strange, this elevated feeling, this contentment. Her whole life she’d chafed a little inside her own skin, always longing, always striving for the electricity of the perfect moment, maneuvering and pushing herself without really understanding where she wanted to be, or precisely what she wanted to be doing.

  So amazing, to realize that she’d arrived, that she was precisely where she wanted to be in that precious moment. She glanced at Lucien’s classic profile and told herself to savor every delicious second as it came . . . and not think about tomorrow.

  Lucien pulled in front of a nineteenth-century redbrick building with beautiful, stone-carved ornamental decoration. It was about fifteen stories, built in the French-chateau style. The street on which they’d parked reminded her more of Paris than Chicago, with its brick townhomes and trees that created a canopy over the street. The way Lucien stared at the building to the left of them made her lean forward and gaze at the structure.

  “It’s lovely. So is this entire area. Where are we?” she asked, never having seen this atmospheric neighborhood on the Near South Side of Chicago that spoke of another era.

  “In the Prairie Avenue Historic District,” he said. He turned the keys in the ignition. “Do you want to see inside?”

  She smiled as realization hit her. “Is this the building you bought for the new hotel?”

  He nodded. She flipped open the door and sprung out of the vehicle. “Let’s go,” she said enthusiastically.

  “You have got to be kidding,” she said, utterly stunned ten minutes later when they walked into the building’s kitchen. It was enormous, and even though it was ancient and had fallen into disrepair, all the hallmarks of the classic European great kitchen remained: the large alabaster-topped center island, the exquisite handmade cabinetry complete with intact lead-crystal panes, three large serviceable but still elegant copper chandeliers.

  “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Lucien asked, looking around the interior. “It was the preferred hotel for guests visiting Chicago during the late eighteen and early nineteen hundreds. After the district fell to manufacturing, it became an administrative building for a local hospital. This kitchen hasn’t been used for its original purpose in almost a hundred years.”

  “It’s perfect,” she said, meaning it. It was every chef’s dream to revamp a classic kitchen like this one, stock it with all the new culinary accessories, and yet keep all the elegant nuances of days gone by.

  Lucien turned. “Do you want it?”

  It took a moment for her to absorb the meaning of his quiet question, but even then, she was confused.

  “Want it?”

  “Yes. With proper redevelopment and remodeling, will these premises suit your purpose for the restaurant you told me about?”

  She blinked and looked around her stupidly.

  “Of course they would. It’d be fantastic. But you bought it for your restaurant and hotel,” she exclaimed.

  “I know. I’m offering you the position of co-manager of the establishment, if you’d like it . . . along with that of executive chef, of course.” When she just stared at him, speechless, he added, “I was very impressed by your idea, Elise. I had a market research firm do the statistics for me. This entire area is undergoing a massive redevelopment, but there aren’t enough restaurants and clubs to keep up with the growing population. There isn’t one boutique hotel within two square miles. Plus, there’s almost a dozen new upscale condo buildings within a half mile, not to mention a high-end workout facility patronized by members of the Board of Trade. The idea of healthy, fresh gourmet food without the temptation of alcohol will appeal for several reasons. I think it’d be a good opportunity for your concept. We might consider marketing lunch for an ‘in’, and using that hook to expand to dinner.”

  “Lucien, I just wanted your advice on how to get started. You don’t have to offer me all of this.”

  “I know that.” He took a step toward her, his gaze narrowing. “If you don’t like the id
ea of having your restaurant here, just say the word. We’ll find the right location for you.”

  “No, it’s not that!” she exclaimed, once again staring around her in disbelief. “I’ve never seen premises more ideal in my life. But . . . this was your project. I don’t want to horn in on it.”

  “You’re not,” he said simply. “I told you. I really liked your concept. If anything, I’m the one horning in on your good idea.”

  She swallowed thickly. “You really thought it was good?”

  “I’ve said it several times, haven’t I?” he asked, a slow smile spreading across his mouth.

  She stepped toward him hastily and threw her arms around his waist. When she lifted her face, he leaned down, his grin widening when she kissed his jaw and lips fervently.

  “Does this mean your answer is yes?” he asked, his laughter deep and rich.

  “No. I want to talk about it more,” she mumbled, plucking at his mouth with her lips. “This is because you believed in me.”

  His smile faded. He cradled her jaw with his hand. “I’ve always believed in you,” he said. “I just wanted you to believe in yourself. When you expressed your idea to me, when you told me what you wanted, I knew that you were starting to do just that.”

  Her heart seemed to swell to two times its normal size, making it difficult for her to speak. She was glad when he lowered his head and kissed her with barely restrained passion, making speech an utter impossibility.

  * * *

  Lucien took her to lunch at his club, where they talked almost nonstop about the exciting possibilities for the restaurant and hotel. He had thought things out carefully, laying out several potential plans for a partnership and assuring her she could choose whichever one she wanted and change her mind at any time. In essence, he was giving her carte blanche to be anything from a full, invested business partner to merely a well-paid employee with fifty percent of the right to make decisions. When she dryly pointed out to him that all the odds were in her favor for the venture, he merely shrugged unconcernedly.

  “It’s such a good idea, I would have risked more to be a part of it,” he said levelly. Despite his assurance, Elise couldn’t help but feel that he was doing this as a very special favor to her . . . giving her the priceless gift not only of the unique, excellent location and opportunity, but of his vast experience. No other entrepreneur would ever offer her a tenth of what Lucien proposed. His belief in her was like a charm stored safe away in her heart, a talisman that was forever within her reach.

  His belief in her had magically segued into a belief in herself.

  After a light lunch, they rode on the grounds, Elise enjoying the physical activity and glorying in spending exclusive time with the man with whom she’d fallen in love.

  It seemed pointless at this juncture to keep denying it.

  They dismounted at a wooded lake and tethered the horses. She sat next to Lucien on a nearly horizontal branch of a low-lying oak tree, leaning back against his strong thigh. He put his arm around her, opening his hand below her waist, and they stared out at the peaceful surface of the mirrored lake.

  “Lucien?” she asked after a moment. “Have you spoken to your father at all since he’s been in prison?”

  “No,” he replied, moving his chin idly in her hair.

  “Are you angry with him? For what he did?”

  “Yes. Not as much as I used to be, but still . . .” He paused and kissed the top of her head. “He took advantage of a lot of people because of his own greed. The company that he stole the industrial patents from was publicly owned. His actions could have potentially driven the stock down to nothing. Thousands of people would have lost their investment savings and jobs.”

  She sighed, sensing his bitterness over the blind depravity of his adopted father’s greed. “And then he embroiled you in it all,” she murmured. “The police questioned you. He was sent to prison, leaving you his tainted empire. No wonder you never wanted to touch any of it.”

  His hand moved below her belly, stroking her, creating a heavy, pleasant feeling at her core. “I’m going to have to stop running from his legacy, no matter how tainted it is. It’s my responsibility.”

  She turned to gaze into his sober face. “You’re going to accept your inheritance?”

  “Not the money, no. But I can’t keep ignoring the responsibilities my father left me. I would be no better than him if I kept ignoring all the people that rely on the businesses my father created.”

  “The embezzled funds at the Three Kings made that clear to you, didn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you . . . do you plan to return to Europe?” she asked. Her pulse had begun to throb at her throat and a sick feeling swept through her stomach.

  “No,” he said, sunlight reflecting in his eyes as he studied her. “I can manage things from here as well as anywhere. But I will have to dig in for the short run and make sure I hire people I trust in Europe. It will require more travel than I’ve been doing as of late.”

  She nodded, relief sweeping through her at hearing he had no immediate plans of leaving permanently. His gaze sharpened on her and he cradled her jaw.

  “Did you think I was planning on leaving you?” he asked.

  “No, of course not,” she said too quickly. When he raised his eyebrows in a sardonic gesture, she blushed and lowered her head, a feeling of shame seeping into her awareness. He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his stare.

  “Why are you always convinced you will be rejected?”

  His words cut to the quick. She twisted her chin out of his gentle grasp and stared blindly at the still lake, unwanted tears filling her eyes. What could she say without sounding melodramatic and foolish? Because every time I feel close to someone, they end up leaving me? Because no matter how hard I tried to please the people in my life, they would rather I wasn’t around?

  Never. She’d never say those stupid, weak things.

  She couldn’t stop a tear from spilling down her cheek, however. Lucien leaned down and caught it with his lips. He made a rough soothing sound. Suddenly, his arms were around her, and he was lifting . . . urging her onto his thighs. He turned her, so that they were face-to-face, and her legs straddled his hips and fell over the tree branch. His arms closed around her until her breasts were crushed against his chest. He held her there, heartbeat to heartbeat, his hand massaging her back in that deft, knowing manner.

  Elise pressed her chin between his shoulder and neck, shielding herself. She cried silent tears, warmed by dappled sunlight, filled by Lucien’s embrace.

  “Because your parents didn’t prize you doesn’t mean that you’re not a precious, priceless jewel,” he said gruffly near her ear minutes later. “It only means that you have to learn to prize yourself. And you are, ma fifille. Aren’t you?”

  She swallowed thickly and inhaled for courage. She leaned back and let him see her damp cheeks.

  “I am,” she whispered.

  His eyes glinted between narrowed lids as he looked upon the gaping weaknesses and uncertainties she’d run from her entire life . . .

  . . . and she’d never felt so whole.

  She kissed his mouth softly, and he plucked at her parted lips with his own. For several golden, sunlit moments she melted in the cocoon of Lucien’s acceptance. Her flesh grew torpid, her sex damp. She felt him harden against her and knew he shared in her arousal. But it was more than just a sexual embrace.

  It was so much more.

  She wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, but eventually Lucien cradled her face with both hands and waited for her to open her eyelids sluggishly.

  “Come on. Let’s head back to the city. I’m going to take you for dinner. Where would the chef like to go? Everest? Savaur’s? Tru?” he asked, referring to some of the finest restaurants in the city,
all with world-renowned chefs.

  She leaned her forehead against his and stroked his back. “To be honest, I wish I could go to Fusion. I’ve never been there to dine.”

  He chuckled appreciatively. “We’re closed on Sundays.”

  “I could cook for you,” she murmured languidly near his mouth.

  “Absolutely not. You’re not working tonight. I want you focused on one thing: pleasure,” he said gruffly before he kissed her once, brisk and thorough. He stood and cupped her ass, letting her body slide against his hard length sensually before he set her boots on the ground. “But that gives me an idea.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” was all he said as he led her toward the grazing horses and she stumbled after him, her mind still fuzzy from arousal and Lucien’s all-encompassing embrace.

  * * *

  When they returned to the penthouse, Lucien left her to attend to a few things in his office. She was so relaxed and content following the sunlit ride on Kesara that she took off her boots and curled on top of the made bed, almost immediately falling asleep.

  She awoke to the sensation of Lucien’s lips skimming along her hairline and the sound of running water in the distance.

  “Wake up, beauty,” he murmured, the sound of his rough, low voice in her ear making her shiver with pleasure. “We have dinner reservations to make.”

  She blinked her eyelids open sleepily and brought him into focus, her gaze glued to the sexy shape of his firm, curving lips.

  “How long did I sleep?” she asked, disoriented.

  “Two hours,” he said, his white teeth flashing in his shadowed face. “You needed it, no doubt. After you kept me up all night,” he added, pulling on her hand until she rose alongside him.

  “After you kept me up all night, you mean,” she muttered drowsily, letting him lead her to the bathroom.