He leaned forward and planted his palms on the mahogany. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?” He’d hired the guy because he had a pair. But since he’d gotten married he seemed to have handed his nuts over to his wife and tucked his dick between his legs.
“We’ve been at it for over forty-eight hours, Mr. Chase . . .”
Hudson’s blue eyes narrowed. Lawyer guy seemed to relocate his brain and snapped his mouth shut. Riding a crest of aggression, Hudson pivoted away. With his back to the door and his muscles coiled tight, everything about him resonated get-the-fuck-out. “You have work to do.”
In the window, Hudson watched his lawyer’s reflection as he grabbed the decimated file from the center of the table and fled with the rest of his staff. When the room was empty he went over to the bar, poured himself a few fingers of scotch, and loosened his tie. Making his way back to his desk, he eased into his chair and swiveled toward the tireless view. He gripped the glass and stared out the window at a city that was his for the taking. The move to Chicago was proving beneficial. The deal that had brought him here was ahead of schedule, his name was blasted into stone on the goddamn building, and the press couldn’t keep their lips off his ass. Hell, he’d even pushed Rahm off the front page of Crain’s.
But when he thought of Allie, he felt like his life was spinning out of control.
That woman was a distraction that left him perpetually hard. And he had no time for distractions when a multibillion-dollar deal was on the line. But fuck, he wanted to see her, and the fact that she was attending a pretentious gathering her mother was throwing in the name of charity was riding him raw.
Of course she couldn’t take him with her. Not that he’d wanted to subject himself to another glad-hand event, although he would have. To see her in her element. To watch the secret blush color her cheeks when he whispered all the ways he wanted to possess and pleasure her. To stand beside her and support her. He wanted that privilege.
This was his time with her. A fucking two-week window to prove their connection extended far beyond the bedroom.
The ultimatum he almost gave her when she broke the news of her mother’s little party would have laid it all on the line. He’d been so tempted to put an end to this bullshit and make her choose. But he’d made the conscious decision at the start of this to wait the two weeks.
And timing was everything.
So he choked on his words to avoid ruining a night that started with dinner and ended with her for dessert. She’d been so beautiful spread out on his dining room table, her skin flushed with arousal and her body bowing off the surface. He tossed the rest of his drink back and the liquid slid sinuously over his tongue and down his throat. As it did, he thought of how his tongue had teased her swollen flesh and pulsed inside her as she came against his mouth.
Hudson let out a curse and tugged his shirttails out of his pants. With his free hand he reached for the phone and dialed Allie’s number, waiting to hear her voice before his palm fused to his cock.
Chapter Twenty-three
Only Allie’s mother could convince Chicago’s A-list to drive all the way to Lake Forest on a Tuesday night, let alone get the weather to cooperate. But when Victoria Sinclair decided to throw a party at Mayflower Place, no one dared decline. Not even Mother Nature.
She’d determined a gathering was in order—“something intimate, a dinner perhaps”—when the final numbers revealed that the museum gala had far exceeded expectations. The target of a spring groundbreaking was all but guaranteed and Allie’s mother thought the board of directors at Better Start should be thanked for their efforts.
What had begun as a simple affair for the board and a few key staff members had turned into a full-blown event. Valets greeted guests as they rounded the fountain court. Tuxedo-clad waiters passed hors d’oeuvres on silver trays. And a string quartet played under the glow of tiny lights strung above the limestone terrace.
So much for an intimate dinner.
Victoria had relented at the last minute and, at Allie’s urging, extended invitations to the entire Better Start staff. They’d spent countless hours ensuring the event’s success and deserved a show of appreciation far more than someone who simply lent their name to the program. Of course Allie knew they would have never exceeded their goal without one very generous donation pledged in exchange for a dance.
Her heart sank as she pushed through one of the many French doors spanning the rear of the house, and in a moment of clarity she realized why. It wasn’t because she was dreading the customary small talk with board members or her mother’s constant attempts to work Julian and the wedding into every conversation. It was because she already knew the person most deserving of thanks, the one whose face she suddenly longed to see, would be nowhere in sight.
Allie walked to the edge of the terrace and leaned against the stone balustrade. The grounds of the estate were still in full bloom thanks to the unseasonably warm weather, and the sweet scent of jasmine hung in the air. Copper lanterns lined the stone steps, their flickering candlelight leading to an expanse of perfectly manicured grass. In the distance, Allie could make out the silvery shores of Lake Michigan just beyond the esplanade. She took a deep breath. Watching the water ebb and flow usually soothed her, especially on nights like this when her mother was in high gear. But as the small whitecaps crashed on the sand, she couldn’t help but wish she was enjoying the view of the lake from Hudson’s penthouse.
She needed to get a grip. It was only one night. But if this was how she felt spending one night without Hudson Chase, how would she ever endure a lifetime?
“I have to hand it to Vicky, she certainly knows how to throw a party.” Harper was suddenly behind her. She was wearing a tailored floral sheath dress that would have surely caught Don Draper’s eye, and from the looks of it, had just relieved a waiter of several salmon crostini. “Find out what caterer she used and let’s call them for our next event.”
“Food’s that good?”
“No, the waiters are that hot.”
Allie laughed at her friend’s ability to see every situation as her own personal version of match.com. “I thought you were planning to marry the waiter at Tavern.”
“Found out he was still in college,” Harper mumbled as she crammed an hors d’oeuvre in her mouth. “I’m all for dating younger men, but I have to draw the line somewhere.” Allie could practically see the lightbulb turn on over her head. “Hey, Mr. Moneybags doesn’t happen to have a younger brother, does he?”
“Harper!” Allie checked to see if anyone was in earshot.
“Oh relax. No one knows which Mr. Moneybags I meant. Look around,” she said with a snort. “The place is crawling with them.” Harper grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. “You can’t keep dodging me. Sooner or later I’m getting the scoop,” she said before taking a sip.
“I haven’t been dodging you.”
“Please, for the past two days every time I’ve come near your office you’ve either been conveniently on the phone or dashing out the door to some mysterious meeting.”
Allie didn’t mean to hurt her friend’s feelings. But how could she explain her roller coaster of emotions when she didn’t understand them yet herself? She was about to assure Harper it was nothing personal when she heard someone call her name. The unmistakable voice sounded like fingernails on a blackboard. Oh great.
Allie and Harper turned as one to find Hillary Prescott, heir to the country club throne.