We are alike, you and I. Both alone. Both misfits.

But not alone when we’re together, she added in her head. A powerful feeling swelled in her chest.

“How is your father?” he asked quietly.

She grimaced. “He’s growing more stubborn in his old age.”

“He always could have used being a bit more stubborn when it came to you,” Lucien said with dry amusement.

Elise rolled her eyes, even though she actually thought Lucien was right. She hadn’t minded half as much as she thought she would have when her father cut her off financially. Maybe part of her had been waiting for someone in her life to show a little backbone; although, when it came to her father, she suspected he wouldn’t hold out if she begged him hard enough. She’d just been tired, too worn out to exhibit the required amount of wheedling and bargaining to get him to relent.

“Other than his newfound cantankerous streak, he’s much the same as always. Still gay, and pretending to all the world that he’s the Heterosexual Bull of All of Europe.” She saw Lucien’s small smile and matched it sadly. “Bless his heart. If only he realized it wouldn’t matter a bit to most of us. It hasn’t mattered to those closest to him for forever, if only he’d step outside of his brilliant head for a moment and notice. Although if he declared himself, my mother would be lost. How could she possibly justify all her affairs then?”

Lucien grunted softly in understanding. “A lie disguised by a mask wrapped in yet another façade. That’s how I thought of my childhood.”

“How is one ever to recognize the truth?” Elise replied softly.

Their stares met. She felt a little bereft when the waitress came and he released her, leaning back in his seat.

Nearly an hour later, she groaned in a mixture of discomfort and supreme gustatory satiation as they left the restaurant.

“Those carrot cake pancakes were soooo good,” she said, rubbing her stomach as Lucien held open the door for her. “So was the bacon and cheddar omelet.”

“Don’t forget the hash browns or blueberry waffle,” Lucien said dryly as they walked onto the tree-lined street, the sidewalk separated from the green lawns by a low, iron-gated fence. She saw his amusement and laughed. She’d asked to try far too many items from the menu, her culinary curiosity piqued by the cheerful, packed crowd and Lucien’s description of American breakfasts.

“How could I forget them? All the ingredients were fresh, and it was so delicious.”

He nodded in the direction of Division Street and the farmers’ market. “They buy the produce right there.”

“It was brilliant. This was a wonderful morning. Lucien, can we do a breakfast at Fusion?” she asked, enthralled by the idea. “I’ll put a spin on it you’ll never forget.”

He glanced swiftly back at her and caught her dreaming about her breakfast. His expression went hard. He turned and she found herself in his arms.

It happened so suddenly, she didn’t have a chance to exclaim in surprise. One second they were walking down the sidewalk and she was teasing and dreaming, and the next she was pressed against his hard body, her chin just below his nipple line, and he was lifting her face to his. She got a glimpse of the fierceness of his gaze before his mouth claimed hers.

His tongue pierced her lips, agile and possessive. His taste permeated her consciousness and she melted against him, her body going soft and supple against his solid length, their tongues sliding together in a manner that made her forget where she was. Lucien’s kiss on a Chicago sidewalk on a shiny new day was the most delicious thing she’d ever experienced in her life.

She moaned in regret when he lifted his head a sensuous moment later.

“You’ve already got me spinning,” he said quietly against her lips, his intensity stealing her breath. His gaze moved over her face, narrowing.

“I’m sorry. I told you I wasn’t going to do that. What kind of a model for self-control am I?”

“Don’t be sorry. I liked it. A lot,” she finished on a whisper, pressing her body closer to better feel his heat, his masculine contours. She grinned. “Who cares about self-control?”

His nostrils flared slightly. His expression went flat. He stepped away, keeping her hand in his.

“I do. Come on,” he said. “We should get over to Fusion.”

She hurried to keep up with his long-legged stride, disappointment swamping her. She didn’t know what to say. He was obviously attracted to her, but he just refused to fawn over her like other men did. He’d said she had him spinning, but it was she who was struck completely off balance by his cool aloofness interspersed with moments of intense, entirely addictive, raw sexuality.

She glanced at his handsome profile and scowled. He’d said he wanted her to learn self-control, but it just wasn’t fair, how much control he wielded over her.

The following Tuesday, Elise waited nervously in the examination room of the Michigan Avenue medical practice.

She hadn’t seen a lot of Lucien since they’d gone marketing on Saturday, much to her disappointment. He wasn’t avoiding her—or at least she hoped he wasn’t—it was just that their paths didn’t cross often at the busy restaurant. She’d been excited when Lucien had covertly pulled her aside this morning at Fusion, but he’d merely given her a few instructions and handed her a piece of paper with the address and time for her doctor’s appointment. When he’d told her his appointment was at a different time, and that he wouldn’t be accompanying her, she’d heaved a sigh of relief. She was highly anxious about this appointment, and she didn’t want him witnessing her nerves with those cool, knowing eyes of his.




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