Delectable Desire. Farrah Rochon

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      Chapter 2

      As she exited the bakery, Lorraine slipped on her Roberto Cavalli sunglasses and headed up Michigan Avenue. She couldn’t risk walking any faster than a casual stroll; her heart was already beating triple time.

      She had not been prepared for the likes of Carter Drayson.

      Her hand still tingled from their parting handshake. His fingers were long, the skin slightly rough, with a couple of darker spots, as if he’d been burned by a hot cake pan a time or two.

      And he was gorgeous. Seriously, unquestionably gorgeous.

      From the moment he’d stepped up to the counter and introduced himself, Lorraine had been aware of every breath that had left her lungs, because it had been just that hard to breathe around him. It wasn’t the first time she’d been immediately bowled over by a charming guy, but it had never been that intense. His silky voice, vibrant smile and overpowering charisma had hit her like a Midwestern tornado in the middle of the active season.

      “He’s probably just as dangerous, too,” she said underneath her breath. Best to stay far, far away from Lillian’s. She didn’t need the extra calories from their sinfully tempting desserts, and she most certainly did not need the devastating Carter laying on the heavy charm.

      Lorraine arrived at the garage where she’d parked her car and took the elevator to the fifth level. Even though she lived within walking distance, she’d driven to the bakery because Lillian’s was just the first stop on a slew of errands she had to run for the shower preparations.

      It had practically taken an act of Congress to convince the family driver, Bradford, that she didn’t need to be chauffeured today. Driving her own car was one freedom that Lorraine refused to relinquish. It gave her the illusion that she had some control over her own life; it was hard to keep a low profile when you were driven around in a gleaming pearl-white Bentley. She had a hard enough time distancing herself from her famous last name; she didn’t need the “look at me” car attracting the curious gazes of onlookers.

      Lorraine was convinced that her name had had nothing to do with the attention Carter had given her. Oh, he’d flirted—she had pegged him as a natural-born player from the minute he’d sidled up to the counter—but it wasn’t because he’d recognized her as a Hawthorne-Hayes.

      It had been...nice. Refreshing.

      She’d spent her entire twenty-five years bearing that name, and although being an heir to one of the wealthiest families in Chicago had its perks, it was definitely not all it was cracked up to be.

      Lorraine slipped behind the wheel of her Jaguar. She loved this car. It was luxurious, but not overly so. It certainly didn’t raise as many eyebrows as the Bentley did.

      She turned over the ignition, then immediately shut the car off.

      “What were you thinking ordering an under-the-sea cake?” she asked herself. “Abigail will have a fit!”

      She opened the door, preparing to return to Lillian’s and order a nice, normal cake with roses made out of icing and pearls looping along the edges.

      “But Trina will love that under-the-sea cake,” she told herself in the rearview mirror.

      Lorraine could just imagine the look on her sister’s face when she walked into the Drake and saw it.

      She closed the door and started the car again.

      Her eyes slid shut and she leaned forward, resting her head on the steering wheel as the idling engine purred. What mattered more? Making sure her mother didn’t have a stroke over a cake, or her sister’s happiness?

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