“What’s with all the notes?” Hudson asked.
“They’re love letters. Legend says that posting a letter to your true love on Juliet’s wall will make that love everlasting.” Allie slowly walked the length of the tunnel, stopping every so often to read a few of the messages. “It’s a shame people don’t write love letters anymore. All these emotions poured out onto paper. Imagine if they’d have sent them to the person instead of sticking them to a wall with . . .” She lifted the edge of a pale blue page and grimaced. “Chewing gum.”
From behind her, Hudson wrapped his arms around her waist. He dropped his lips to her ear. “Would you settle for a naughty text message?”
“Not quite Romeo and Juliet.” She laughed. “Then again, things didn’t work out so well for them.”
“Good point.” He tucked her under his arm as they strolled the rest of the tunnel. When they reached the brick and stone courtyard, Allie asked a woman to take their photo. She was quite sure Hudson found posing for a photo in front of the legendary balcony on par with posing for a picture with Mickey Mouse, but he humored her nonetheless.
“What’s inside the house?” he asked.
“A museum, costumes and props from the Zeffirelli movie.” Allie started toward the house. She’d only taken a few steps when she realized Hudson hadn’t followed. “Aren’t you coming inside?”
Hudson looked up from the guidebook. “If memory serves, the balcony is for Juliet. You go ahead. I’ll be over there.” He nodded to a bronze statue in the corner of the courtyard. A wicked gleam lit his eyes. “According to this book of yours, rubbing Juliet’s right breast brings good luck.”
“Might need to knock the other fifteen-year-olds out of the way first,” she teased.
“I’d rather rub your breast,” he said with a smirk. “But I didn’t think that was an option at the moment.”
Allie turned, laughing and shaking her head as she made her way inside the stone building. She moved quickly through the various exhibits, pausing only once to snap a photo of the platform bed used in the Academy Award–winning film. Her phone was still in her hand as she stepped out onto the balcony. The moment she did, it vibrated with an incoming text. Her heart swelled as she read Hudson’s words, artfully blended with those spoken by Romeo as he watched Juliet from the courtyard below.
What light through yonder window breaks. . . And in a glance, in the wake of a moment, you’ve seized my heart . . . Oh, it is my love.
Allie’s gaze lifted, searching the crowded courtyard for Hudson. She found him not standing in line to grope the breast of a bronze statue, but leaning against the entrance of the tunnel with his phone in his hand. The instant their eyes met she felt it, the connection that had vibrated between them since the day they’d first met. It had always been there, even when she’d tried her best to push it to the far corners of her mind. And Hudson felt it, too. It was evident in the way his eyes darkened when they raked her from head to toe, in the way his stance changed when she entered the room, or the way his lips parted when she touched his skin.
She clutched the phone to her chest and mouthed the words, “I love you.”
“Let’s go,” he mouthed back.
Allie couldn’t get downstairs fast enough.
Chapter Twenty-six
On the car ride back to the station, Hudson held Allie’s hand, running his thumb in circles across her skin. The contact, though small, was undeniably intimate. Each stroke of his thumb echoed through her core, torturing her with the promise of what was to come.
Biting her lip, she gazed up at him.
“You have that look again,” he murmured.
This time she knew exactly what look he was referring to, because this time it was intentional. “I want to kiss you,” she whispered back.
Hudson nuzzled the side of her face. “I intend to do a lot more than kiss you.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear and then his teeth nipped at the lobe. The sensation shot a sharp twinge of pleasure straight to her groin. “Come,” he said. “We’re here.”
In a matter of minutes they had boarded the train. Hudson moved briskly through the corridors, tugging Allie by the hand as she hurried to keep up. But when they reached their cabin, he stopped abruptly. Turning, he pushed her against the door, pinning her with his hips.
“I want you naked. Now,” he growled, before sealing his mouth over hers. Allie heard the jingle of keys behind her back. A moment later the door gave way and they tumbled into the suite, all hands and mouths and tongues.
A startled British accent greeted them. “Mr. Chase, Miss Sinclair.”
Allie and Hudson turned as one to find their steward bent over a small table, fussing with what appeared to be an already perfectly arranged setting of tea. “Afternoon tea is customarily served in the guest’s cabin. I assumed you’d be arriving shortly for departure, so I um, I took the liberty of . . .”
“It’s wonderful, Andrew,” Allie interrupted, trying to put the poor man out of his misery. When he looked up she gave him a reassuring smile. “And just what we need after dealing with those crowds.”
Hudson mumbled something under his breath, and although Allie couldn’t make out what he said, she had a pretty good idea as to the sentiment. The thought had her stifling a giggle.
Andrew straightened and smoothed his starched white jacket. “Cocktails will begin precisely at five o’clock in the bar car,” he began, reciting what was undoubtedly a well-rehearsed spiel. “After which a leisurely four-course dinner, prepared on board by our French chefs, will be served in the Côte d’Azur dining room.”
The description sounded lovely and was exactly what Allie had expected. But she was willing to bet Hudson had merely zeroed-in on the word “leisurely.” Her suspicion was confirmed when he blew out an exasperated breath as he moved to the adjoining cabin. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him adjust his jeans before running a frustrated hand back through his hair. He turned to his left and then to his right before opening a narrow door covered in lacquered marquetry. Behind it stood a small sink and oval mirror. “Where is the bathroom?” he asked.
“The lavatories are at the end of the corridor in the adjoining car,” Andrew replied.
Allie hadn’t given much thought to the restroom situation on a passenger train built in the 1920s. Judging by the look on Hudson’s face, neither had he. Until now.
“And the bed?” he asked with a frown. “Is that down the corridor as well?”
“No, sir.” The steward chuckled, obliviously thinking Hudson was making a joke. “While you and Miss Sinclair are enjoying our five-star restaurant, I will be busy transforming the seating area into a cozy bedroom.”
Allie tried to catch Hudson’s eye but he was too busy regarding the sink with a perplexed scrutiny.
“Thank you, Andrew. We’ll see you at dinner?” she said, hoping he’d take the hint and beat a hasty retreat. But instead he continued giving his rundown of the evening’s agenda.
“Dinner is formal, with black-tie optional but encouraged. The seatings are either in pairs or with another couple. If you have a preference, I can advise the maître d’.”
Hudson’s head snapped up. “We’ll be dining alone.” The look he gave him would have withered a lesser man, but Andrew took it in stride. It seemed the young steward was much better equipped to deal with frustrated CEOs than he was couples wrapped up in a passionate embrace.