When I'm With You: The Complete Novel by Beth Kery Page A

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