“Me too. Miss you,” he said, his tone devoid of any emotion.
It occurred to her that perhaps working on wedding plans as a couple would bring them closer together. It was worth a try. “My mother dropped a box of wedding samples off at the brownstone. I was going to start going through them tonight, but I can wait until you return.”
“No, no need to wait.”
She tried a different approach. “Okay. I’ll sort through them and then we can make the final decisions together.”
Her suggestion was met with exasperation. “Pick whatever you want, Alessandra.”
“Julian?”
“Hmm?”
She hesitated. Clearly he was distracted, but she had to know. “Do you love me?”
“I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”
Not exactly the answer she was looking for.
A lighter clicked near the mouthpiece of his phone. “Is there anything else, Alessandra?”
“No, that’s all. Enjoy your evening.”
“Yes. . . . you too.”
She hung up the phone, Julian’s words replaying in her mind. I’m marrying you, aren’t I? Unbidden, Hudson chimed in. To be honest, I wish I didn’t care. Her heart raced as their voices grew louder, talking over each other in an attempt to be heard. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. She needed to get out of the office. She needed to get out and think. A run, yes, she needed a long, punishing run along the lake if she had any hope of getting to sleep that night.
Allie grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She suspected she could run halfway to Evanston and still not clear her head, but she was damn well going to try.
Chapter Ten
Hudson wasn’t expecting anyone. He finished buttoning his shirt and shoved the tails into his pants while making his way over to the phone. A muscle in his jaw flexed as he picked up the direct line to the front desk. He hoped like fuck it wasn’t another one of those Architectural Digest geeks stopping by on the off chance he’d let her take a look at the place.
“Chase,” he said, holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear as he zipped his fly.
“Good evening, Mr. Chase. You have a visitor, Miss Alessandra Sinclair.”
Surprise flared in his eyes and tension weaved through his shoulders. “Send her up.” Hudson set the phone back in its cradle and ran a quick hand through his damp hair.
A subtle ping announced the elevator’s arrival as he strode into the main room. When he reached the foyer, the doors slid open and Alessandra was right there, her finger jackhammering the buttons on the panel.
The doors began to glide closed, and lightning quick Hudson stabbed his arm in their way. His eyes darted from her Band-Aid of a sports bra to the tight black running pants, then drifted over every fucking inch of exposed skin, glossy with a sheen of sweat.
Sweet fucking hell.
His hand clenched against the urge to touch her, to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked. “I’m a little surprised to see you standing in my elevator, Alessandra.”
Her words tumbled out quickly, “I was running along the lake, and next thing I knew I was at Oak Street Beach and then . . . I don’t know, I just ended up in front of your building.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “This is a bad idea. I should go.” She reached for the panel, no doubt to get to work on those buttons again.
“After you’ve gone through all the trouble?” He stepped aside. “Come in.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“In another five minutes it will be dark. Come in. I’ll drive you.” Allie hesitated. His palm gripped the edge of the door and he pushed it back as it began to close again. “In or out, Miss Sinclair?”
Reluctantly she stepped off the elevator. Hudson dropped his arm and moved with her, the elevator doors whispering closed behind him. Her soft-soled shoes made no sound on his dark wood floors as she headed toward the sweeping view that any artist would go to his grave attempting to duplicate. One he felt privileged to have¸ but perhaps took for granted. The entire city of Chicago was revealed below, its glittering lights and the cascading traffic a mesmerizing display.
Hudson leaned his hip against the breakfast bar. He watched Allie as she examined the room, looking for what, he wasn’t sure. Insight? As if he could be figured out by the overpriced items selected by an overpaid designer.
She paused in front of a polished steel sculpture, her fingers skimming over the curved edges. The presence of her in his place tightened his skin and an instinctive demand shot down to his groin. His eyes deliberately drifted along the curve of her hips and down her long, athletic legs. He relished the memory of those soft feminine curves underneath him, gasping and leaving him practically begging.
He bit down on a groan. “Are you a fan of Kapoor?”
Jerking her hand away, she looked over at him. “The artist who designed the Bean?”
Hudson nodded.
Confused, Allie looked back at the mirrored sculpture. “I thought he only did public commissions.”
He smirked. “Something to drink?”
“I’d love a water,” she said, still admiring the piece.
Hudson yanked the Sub-zero open, the cool air wafting from the stainless steel box as he pulled out a bottle of water. When he turned around, Allie’s gaze slid up and a perfect blush heated her cheeks. Not from exertion, but because she’d been caught checking him out. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he set the bottle in front of her.
“You look nice. Have a hot date?” Allie cracked open the bottle of water and took a sip.
Hudson leveled his stare. His expression remained impassive. “I do, yes.” He lingered on her face, cataloging the delicate details and catching an imperceptible flinch of . . . “You’re not jealous, are you, Miss Sinclair?”
Fifteen minutes ago he thought he knew the answer to that question, but that was before she showed up at his penthouse half-naked. He held her stare, willing her to say one simple word. Bastard that he was, he’d drop everything, cancel his date, and spend the remainder of the evening between her thighs.
“Of course not.” A brief scowl creased her perfect brow.
His lips twitched. It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for but her expression was indeed an admission of the green-eyed monster lurking beneath that beautiful package. “If you say so.”
“Same girl I saw you with the other night?”
“Sophia? Yes.” His words came clipped and fast.
“Pretty name. Suits her.” She avoided his stare and twisted the cap on and off the water bottle. “So, how long have the two of you been together?”
“We’re not.” He took a deep breath, counting the seconds it would take to get her completely naked. “Ready to go?”
Allie frowned. “Still, you must like her to be in such a rush.”
Hudson took a few quick strides toward her. “On the contrary, Alessandra, I’m in a rush because I’m dying to peel you out of that little number you’re wearing and fuck you on that barstool until you beg me to stop.” His stare burned into her. “And believe me, as hard as I am right now, I’m just crazy enough to do it.” She flushed, her chest rising with shallow breathes, and he knew she was picturing every detail. “What’s it going to be, Alessandra, barstool or ride home?”
“A ride home would be great.” Her voice was slightly breathless and thoroughly lacking conviction.
“I’ll get my keys.”
***
Hudson gripped the wheel of his Aston Martin, trying to get a bead on the feeling inside his chest. A low hum vibrated through his body, growing more intense the further he got from Allie’s brownstone.
She’d made her feelings on the matter clear, so he’d shoved aside his all-consuming lust. But when he’d said he wanted to fuck her tonight, it was the God’s honest truth, and getting away from her wasn’t helping or easing his need. No cooling of the jets or simmering on a back burner. Damn it, why in the hell did she just happen to stop by his place? Not knowing wasn’t sitting well and heading in the direction he was going seemed like a violation of something pure, something he needed, something meant to be.