by Evelyn Adams
Couldn’t be helped. She opened the door and found herself face to face with the charming Frenchman who graced the covers of magazines and cookbooks.
“Chef, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, stepping aside to let Eric in.
“I, cher, am your knight in shining armor,” he said, leaning in press a kiss to each of her cheeks. She smelled the soft clean scent of some kind of expensive soap and then he was moving through her house, taking in every detail. Closing the door behind him, she hurried to catch up.
“This is extraordinary,” he said, making his way through the dining room to the kitchen. “Ah, but no kitchen yet.”
“The cabinets will be delivered this week,” she said. “Not what you’re used to I’m sure, but it’s a decent size for a family home.”
“It’s beautiful, cher. All of it and I can only imagine it will become more beautiful as you continue to add your touch to it.”
Her face flushed at his praise. She was proud of what she’d done, but it felt nice to have her work validated.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I’m sorry. I can’t even offer you a seat.”
“No matter,” he said, setting down the bag he was carrying on a relatively clean patch of floor and dropping down beside it. “Sit.” He patted the floor beside him. “We’ll have a picnic.”
“I really am glad you’re here. I get working and by the time I remember to stop, it’s too late. Everything’s closed,” she said feeling a little sheepish. Surely a grown woman should be able to feed herself
“Don’t worry. I’m here to save you.”
She laughed as he started to unpack the bag, setting a pair of glasses beside the bottle along with napkins silverware and a stack of boxes.
“How did you know I’d be hungry or where to find me for that matter? Luke must have called you.” The idea that he was still looking out for her even when he was out of town loosened some of the tightness in her chest she’d been feeling since the previous night’s encounter.
“He just sent a text.” Eric passed her a glass of wine and raised his in a toast. “I made the food and brought it to you. That is a much bigger deal, cher.”
She couldn’t hold back the laugh which bubbled out. “Absolutely,” she said, raising her glass.
“To new friends.”
Claire took a sip of the cool white wine. It was crisp, light and delicious with just a hint of pear. Eric spread something on a water cracker and held it to her lips when she reached to take it from his hands.
“Bite,” he said pressing the cracker to her lips and leaving her no choice but to comply. It was buttery and rich with the slightest hint of herbs underneath.
“God, that’s so good.” She groaned in pleasure. Now that there was the prospect of food her poor neglected stomach had woken with a vengeance.
He held the second half of the cracker to her lips and watched intently, almost hungrily as she opened her mouth and took the bite from his fingers.
“It’s my chicken liver pate,” he said, following the cracker with a slice of pear. He pressed the sweet slice to her lips and she opened her mouth to take it, closing her eyes in pleasure as the sugary, slightly grainy taste hit her tongue. When she opened her eyes, Eric was sipping his wine watching her like she was something good to eat. His expression made her uncomfortable. It was too open somehow. Too overt. But if she was being honest with herself, seeing him look at her like that tightened something low in her body. Eric was a playful, charming flirt, but looking at him sitting on the grubby floor of her house feeding her gourmet food, she could see there was a much darker and more demanding side of everyone’s favorite chef.
“I’m not a baby bird, Eric. I can handle eating crackers by myself.” It was too intimate having another man feed her, especially one who was looking at her the way he was.
He made a kind of nasal disapproving noise. “Look at your hands, cher.”
Claire looked down at her hands smudged gray with some unknown dirt and splattered with the primer she’d been using to paint the upstairs bedroom.
“Point taken,” she said embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, cher,” he said, holding up another pate covered cracker. “Luke and I have been friends for years now, and I never come to a party I haven’t been invited to. You’re safe with me.”
She nodded, knowing he wouldn’t deliberately do anything to jeopardize his friendship with Luke or her for that matter. Yet she couldn’t help but feel a bit like red riding hood picnicking with le loup.
By the time she finished more than half of the food Eric had brought, she was feeling close to human again. Eric tried to talk her into quitting for the night, but aside from the fact that she still had much more to finish before she could call it a day, she didn’t think it was a good idea to leave with him. The night had been innocent – mostly – and she wasn’t about to tempt fate.
“Be careful you don’t work too hard, cher,” said Eric, standing with his back to the front door. She opened her mouth to protest and he held up a finger silencing her. “I know why you are doing it, and I know what it is to work hard at something. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I just want you to make sure you take care of yourself, too.”
She nodded her agreement, knowing he could never have gotten to where he was without an unimaginable amount of work. “Okay. Thank you for a picnic I will never forget.”
“The pleasure was mine,” said Eric pressing an almost chaste kiss to her cheek.
“OF COURSE I’LL go with you, darling,” said Gretchen, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of being seen on his arm.
Luke wasn’t sure what moment of madness made him think asking Gretchen to go to the leukemia benefit with him was a good idea, but it was too late now. The damage was done. And really what was the harm? It was one more room filled with the filthy rich trying to appease their souls by eating ten thousand dollar plates of the over-engineered culinary trend of the week.
He had to go. He was an honorary member of the board and the cause was one he actually cared about. He didn’t have to like it, but he had to at least put in an appearance. He thought of what Claire would say about it, thought about what it had been like to have her on his arm at the 609 West opening just a few weeks ago. But Claire wasn’t here and those thoughts weren’t doing him any good.
“I’m not sure I have anything to wear,” said Gretchen as he handed her into his car.
She had a room sized closet full of things to wear, thought Luke sliding in beside her, but there was no point fighting it. It was all part of the dance they did whenever they were together. She was beautiful. He had money. They both liked their sex rough with no strings. It was the currency they traded in.
“Call Colin in the morning. He can set you up with someone at D&G. I’m sure they’ll have something that will work.” By the time she was done, she’d have gotten Colin to schedule a spa day with the works including hair and makeup, but Luke didn’t have to care about it. It was all part of the game.
He had a flash of Claire, her lips red and eyes smoky from whatever the makeup guy – Andre the gay makeup guy, he thought relaxing his fist – had done. She been looking at herself in the mirror like she couldn’t believe it was her staring back. He’d bent her over the sink and forced her to watch while he fucked her. Claimed her. He could still picture his tanned hand around her pale throat as she came apart in his arms. It was the first time he’d been inside her without a condom, the first time he’d been inside any woman without a condom in years. His cock went iron hard at the memory.
“You’re a generous man, Luke Masters,” said Gretchen. She slid across the seat to him, resting her hand on his thigh. Her fingertips grazed his cock, and he heard her suck in a breath.
“I can be generous too,” she said, stroking him through his slacks, her touch rough and demanding. The car stopped in front of the Star and the driver got out. “Come upstairs with me.” Her teeth scraped over his jaw, her breath hot on his
neck, and she tightened her grip on his cock. “And I’ll show you exactly how generous.”
CLAIRE OPENED LUKE’S FRONT door and let herself inside. It was strange being in his space without him. After she and Eric had their picnic the previous night she’d worked for a couple more hours, finishing priming the upstairs. She’d been so exhausted by the time she got back to Luke’s she hadn’t had the energy to think about how weird it was being there without him. For the past week or so he’d been working so much it felt like she was alone most of the time anyway. She should probably go back to her place. They barely knew each other, and she’d practically moved in with him. It was crazy. The perspective would be good for both of them. She decided to ignore for moment the way her heart hurt at the thought.
Nobody was working the Ashton Court job on a Saturday. With everything that had been going on, she didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be there alone. She wasn’t scared exactly, more prudent. And she had more than enough work to do on her flip. She’d spent the day working there and managed to make it back to Luke’s at a respectable eight o’clock.
She was going to take some of Eric’s advice and take a bath, maybe read or play around on her tablet and then sleep a full uninterrupted night. Luke should be home in the morning.
She’d sent him a text to thank him for the food and to tell him about Eric. She’d gotten a growly one back and a couple lamenting boring meetings today, but nothing for a couple of hours. Dropping the key fob into the bowl on the kitchen counter, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text.
In for the night. I plan on raiding your refrigerator. No French cavalry needed.
As a second thought she added;
Taking a bath. Wish you were here.
She waited a moment for a response before opening his massive stainless steel refrigerator and digging around for leftovers. Popping a carton of some kind of chicken into the microwave, she picked up her tablet and started to skim her emails. There weren’t many and by the time the microwave dinged she’d moved on to surfing the web. She wasn’t really looking for anything, just killing time waiting for the chicken to cool.
Snagging the container from the microwave, she peeled back the top, careful not to burn herself with the escaping steam. She took a fork from the drawer and stabbed a piece of something she was probably chicken Marsala, but she thought twice before she stuck the steaming piece in her mouth. On a whim she typed Luke Masters into Google search. She missed him, and she was pretty sure Google search was the grown woman’s equivalent of writing his name in her notebook.
She hit the image button knowing it was a bad idea. Luke had been photographed hundreds of times with dozens of different women on his arm. She’d make herself crazy looking at those pictures, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to see him. She scanned the thumbnails. There were lots of red carpet photos with many gorgeous woman. One in particular, a stunning brunette stood out. She was on Luke’s arm at a couple of different events.
There were also pictures of Claire and Luke together at the opening of his building, 609 West. She looked at them together and still couldn’t believe it was her in the photos. Andre was a genius. But it was the pictures of Luke by himself which made her heart flip. Several of them were obviously posed PR pictures, but others caught him in more candid moments looking like a barely civilized sexy pirate in a business suit. He was so handsome he stole her breath.
She saw one with a blue background that made his eyes seem to flash. She clicked to make the image bigger and saw he was standing in front of a leukemia benefit backdrop. He wore a tux with the ease that other men wore jeans and the one in the picture fit every hard angle of his body, hinting at the muscles underneath. Her mouth went dry remembering what it felt like to have all that strength over her, moving inside her until her world flew apart. She clicked the arrow to go to the next picture.
It was another at what looked like the same benefit, but in this one Luke had his arm around the brunette from the other photos. Claire fought the jealousy which reared its head at seeing the other woman with Luke. Then she saw the time date stamp on the photo and the bottom fell out of her world.
She looked at the date on her phone, praying she was seeing things wrong. She wasn’t. The photo had been taken a couple of hours earlier. No wonder he wasn’t answering her texts. He was at some benefit with another woman.
Forcing herself to close the photo, she went back to scanning thumbnails, pausing when she saw one with Luke helping what looked like the same woman into the back of his car. They obviously hadn’t known they were being photographed, but Claire didn’t have any trouble recognizing both of them. She clicked to open the photo and then clicked again to follow the link to the website. It was for some kind of gossip rag and the caption read Billionaire developer Luke Masters and socialite Gretchen Carlisle out for a night on the town at la Maison. The article was dated yesterday
He’d been with the other woman the whole time. And even Claire was savvy enough to know someone didn’t just walk into a restaurant like la Maison. It took months to get a table there. Even if they did give arrogant billionaire developers special treatment, Luke would have had to plan ahead. Claire thought back to how casually Luke had pulled the key fob out of his pocket. He had it ready for her. He’d never intended to take her with him on the trip.
What would he have done if she’d said yes when he asked her? She hadn’t made him find out. She let him fuck her against the wall and then sent him off to the arms of a woman he’d obviously been with plenty of times before.
She felt like such a fool. He hadn’t made her any promises or said he wouldn’t see other women. Just because she’d fallen in love with him, didn’t mean she was anything more than a convenient fuck for him. Just thinking it sliced at her heart. She’d been playing house with a man who didn’t care about her. She had to get out; she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t spend another minute in a place that smelled like him, where she saw him everywhere she turned. Leaving the chicken untouched on the counter, she shoved the tablet in her bag, grabbed her phone and walked out the door.
LUKE OPENED THE DOOR TO his penthouse. It was just past dawn on Sunday morning. He’d hurried to get home so he could be there before Claire woke up. He’d tried to convince himself he could keep things just physical between them, but it wasn’t working. He was tired, and he missed her. He planned to drop his bag, strip off his clothes and then slide into his bed about thirty seconds before he slid into her. It felt like he’d been hard for days. He wanted to wake Claire up with his cock inside her and then lull her back to sleep in his arms. He’d put off working for a day and convince her to do the same. They could spend the day in bed and maybe by the time tomorrow rolled around he’d have managed to dull the ache he was feeling in his chest.
He hung his garment bag on the hook by the front door for Esmerelda to deal with in the morning. He started toward the hall, but when he walked past the kitchen he saw the uneaten cartoon of food on the counter and something tightened in his chest. He hated messes and it wasn’t like Claire to leave things out. Maybe she was too tired to put it in the sink last night, but she’d texted him saying she was having an early night. It was the I’m in the bath wish you were here text that had him hurrying home in the dark this morning. Maybe she’d gotten a better offer for dinner. That thought bugged him a lot more than it should have.
Hurrying down the hall to his bedroom, he found the bed made and no sign of Claire anywhere. It didn’t make any sense. Surely she hadn’t gone to work on the flip already. Even she wasn’t that crazy. Pulling out his phone to call, he walked back to the kitchen to drop the carton of food into the trash. That’s when he saw the key fob he’d given her sitting in a bowl on the counter. How could she get back in without the key? She wasn’t expecting him until later. Something was going on and he intended to find out what. But if she was at the jobsite, hers or his, working herself to death, he was going to be well and truly pissed.
He called her phone, not all that surprised when it went to voice mail. If she was working she’d likely have the music turned up to earsplitting levels. Shaking his head in frustration, he grabbed the jacket he’d just taken off and went back out the door. Why couldn’t the woman just stay put and rest for fifteen minutes? She worked harder than he did and until he met her, he didn’t think that was possible. When he found her he was going to drag her home, tie her to his bed and not let her up again until he’d had his fill of her. If his dick had any say in it that might never happen.
He hit the button to call Jackson while he took the private elevator to his car.
“Where is Ms. English?” he asked when Jackson answered.
“She’s at her property on Chestnut,” said Jackson confirming Luke’s suspicions. “According to my log, she spent the night at her apartment and left for the Chestnut Street property about an hour and a half ago.”
“She spent the night at her place?” Luke wanted to be sure he’d heard the other man right. It didn’t make any sense. Why would she make dinner at his place, not eat it and then spend the night at her place? Something happened, and he didn’t like the direction his thoughts were going in.
“Ms. English went to your penthouse at a few minutes after eight. My man assumed she was in for the night but less than an hour later she was back in her car headed to her apartment on Westend.”
“Did she meet anyone?” Luke hated asking the question, but he needed to know.
“No,” said Jackson. “It looks like she was in by eight fifty and didn’t leave again until this morning.”
“Thanks, Jackson.” Luke disconnected, more confused than he’d been to begin with. Something must have upset her, but damned if he knew what it was.
He started the Veyron and the engine purred to life. Taking advantage of the lack of traffic on Sunday morning, he made record breaking time to Claire’s house on the other side of town. Her truck was parked in front and Luke let out the breath he’d been holding. She was there. He’d figure out what was going on and then he could get her home and back into his bed, exactly where she should be on a Sunday morning.
