Remind Me Page 3

  “I’m glad you called. I never did get the chance to thank you Saturday night.”

  “For the money or the dance?”

  Allie could almost see his smug smile through the phone. She paused, then chose to ignore his question. “Your donation was very generous.”

  “Which brings me to the purpose of this phone call, along with my lack of trust in the noble United States Postal Service,” Hudson said. “I’m sure you’re eager to obtain my . . . generosity.” His voice had changed with the last line. It was darker, almost seductive.

  Harper leaned closer. “What is he saying?” she whispered. Honest to God, she was acting like they were teenagers at a sleepover. Allie half expected her to activate the speakerphone, or worse, run around the desk and press her ear to the receiver.

  “It’s very kind of you to follow up,” Allie said. “I’d be glad to send a courier over to pick up the check.”

  “No, I insist on delivering the check into familiar hands.”

  Allie nearly choked on her words. “You want me to pick it up personally?” She knew her voice sounded several octaves too high, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She panicked, unsure of how to respond to his unusual request. On the one hand, she owed it to her employer to collect the donation. On the other hand, the last thing she wanted was to see Hudson again. Her eyes drifted down to the photo in the newspaper. Well, maybe not the last thing.

  His deep voice interrupted her internal debate. “Yes or no, Miss Sinclair?”

  Harper gaped at Allie, her mouth hanging open. “If you don’t go, I will,” she offered. How generous.

  “Fine.” She reached for a paper and pen. “Where?”

  “My office. This evening.”

  Allie quickly scribbled down the address, trying to wrap her head around the fact that in a few hours she would once again be in the same room as Hudson Chase.

  Chapter Four

  On the south bank of the Chicago River, perched high above the others, Hudson leaned over his desk and slashed his John Hancock on the bottom of a million-dollar check.

  The offices of Chase Industries occupied the top six floors of what was previously known as the Leo Burnett building. Made up of granite, glass, and steel, the postmodern structure exuded power and strength and was every bit as masculine as the man who sought it out as his command center.

  Hudson set the Montblanc on the mahogany and hit the direct line to his assistant. “I’m expecting Miss Alessandra Sinclair. Show her in as soon as she arrives.”

  Straightening, he turned to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed one hell of a showstopping view. As the sun settled behind the skyline, turning the urban sprawl into a shimmering vista, he thought about how ten years ago he wouldn’t have been able to write a ten-dollar check; the crap apartments that offered nothing but a ground-level view, and the pathetic future he’d been segregated into.

  Now he carried a black Amex, drove a luxury sports car packing a lot of horses under the hood, and lived in a three-story penthouse that had previously been the HQ of the magazine most teenage boys spent hours with locked up in the bathroom.

  He infinitely preferred this life, the control it brought him. He’d done the blood and sweat thing to get here and his hard work had paid off. He had everything he’d ever wanted, except the woman who’d drop-kicked his heart and walked away without so much as a good-bye.

  Hudson checked the LeCoultre strapped to his wrist; ten minutes had passed. He was so over this shit.

  But some things were worth waiting for.

  Just as he reached for the check with an impatient hand, there was a knock at the door, then a male voice. “Mr. Chase, Miss Alessandra Sinclair is here.”

  Hudson looked across the immaculate office at his assistant. The guy was a wrestling match between hipster-geek and an ad for J-fucking-Crew. Dollars to shit piles, those horn-rimmed glasses he wore weren’t even prescription. And the bow tie, the motherfucking bow tie. But the guy was a good assistant and didn’t pull any crap.

  “Thank you, Darren. That will be all for the evening.”

  His assistant’s brow shot up. “Ah, thank you, Mr. Chase. Have a good one.” The surprise on Darren’s face was obvious, a direct correlation to the numerous hours the guy had been pulling at Hudson’s demand. And well compensated for, he might add.

  Whoever said being a CEO was a fairy tale had their head up their ass. Sure, you may have the castle in the clouds, climbed the fucking beanstalk to get there, but at the stroke of midnight you were more likely to find yourself wanting a few hours of shut-eye versus waking Sleeping Beauty to go a round with a glass stiletto digging into your ass.

  Darren exited the office, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. A second later, Alessandra stepped through the archway.

  Damn. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

  “Good evening, Alessandra.” He moved around his desk. “Take your coat?”

  “I’m fine.” He could tell by her tone this wasn’t a pleasure call. She was doing her job, nothing more.

  “Nice office,” she said. “I saw a crew hanging the new sign downstairs. Did you buy the whole building?

  “Not the entire building, no.” A smug grin curved his lips. “But enough that they let me put my name on it.” He leisurely crossed his arms over his chest, watching her with fervent eyes as her gaze slid over the black leather couch, then shifted to the numerous flat screens mounted side by side on the wall. The silence stretched on as she absorbed every detail of her surroundings. The artwork, the view, even his oversize desk. When her stare lingered on the bar showcasing a collection of crystal decanters, he dropped his arms to his sides and shifted his stance. “A drink, perhaps?”

  The gold flecks in her eyes shimmered with defiance. “No, thank you.”

  Hudson let out a short laugh. “You’re killing my attempts at being a gentleman, Alessandra.”

  She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her blonde curls were down this time, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. As Hudson watched her, he found himself wishing it were his fingers buried in her hair.

  “I believe you have a check for me, Mr. Chase?”

  “Ah, yes. My generosity.” He twisted around and lifted all those zeros off the desk.

  “Thank you. This will go a long way toward making the new school a reality.” She took the check and stuffed it into her purse, then paused and looked at him. “Why did you insist I come here? You could have easily mailed it.”

  “As I said on the phone, I lack confidence in the US Postal Service.”

  Liar. Fucking liar.

  “I offered to send a messenger,” she shot back.

  “I wanted to make sure you got the money, Alessandra.” Hudson stared into those amazing eyes of hers. “I know how important it is to you.”

  A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your preference for men who are taller when standing on their wallets.” Screw tiptoeing into the minefield; he was going in at an all-out sprint.

  “You know nothing about me or my preferences.”

  “I know ten years ago you got a good, hard look but went running to that Ivy League fuck as soon as he flashed his trust fund your way.” His words were clipped and cold.

  Her voice raised a couple octaves. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “How was it, then?” Hudson’s gaze was rock-steady as he stared into her flushed face, her gaping mouth. “You sure as hell had no problem telling me no. Leads me to believe you have an affinity for spreading your legs if the price is right.”

  Alessandra’s pupils dilated. For a split second she was stunned silent.

  That’s when he saw it coming.

  Her palm opened and her hand traveled through the air. Hudson’s body fully engaged, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, and in a flash of movement he caught her wrist and hauled her against him.

  She
glared back at him, her chest rising and falling. He knew he should push her away, send her out the door with his check and never bother with her again. But she stayed in his arms, her fiery gaze almost daring him to make the next move.

  He slid his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips, and a deep, primitive sound vibrated in the back of his throat. He was a selfish bastard for taking her like this, but he couldn’t let her leave without having a taste. Her breath was sweet and the scent of her went straight to his thickening cock.

  Alessandra shoved against his shoulders but Hudson held her in place, tightening the arm banded around her waist and fisting his hand into her hair. As if a sigh of relief, her resistance dissolved. Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud and her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair, pulling on the dark waves.

  He groaned into her mouth. Goddamn, he wanted her to pull harder.

  Hudson deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth in lush, firm strokes. His heart pounded and his muscles flexed with restraint. She was delicate and thin against his powerful frame and his body was aware of every soft curve. The contrasts between them extended far beyond the physical. If she was the hottest summer, then he was a stage-five hurricane altering everything in its path.

  His hand shifted, splaying his fingers on her ass and urging her against him. God, he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted any other woman, and his cock was pounding, ready to take.

  To own.

  After all those years of wondering and wanting, he was going to have her, and there wasn’t going to be anything slow or gentle about it.

  In a surge of power that roared through his body, Hudson lifted her, and with their mouths still fused, laid her out on his couch. Leveraging over her with his knee pressed into the rich leather and his elbow flush with the cushions, his body lowered, stretching over hers. His hand gripped the back of her knee, curling her leg around his waist. The slit of her burgundy dress fell open and he pressed between her thighs, hissing at the contact he’d been craving. The feel of her beneath him was everything it had been ten years ago; hot, passionate, and so fucking good.

  He took her mouth again, kissing her deep and long. As her tongue slid over his, Hudson’s hips rolled with fluidity, massaging the thick ridge of his erection against her sex. The rhythm was deliberate and inexorable.

  Allie moaned and her hips tilted up to meet his, responding to his every touch.

  “Christ . . . you’re killing me.” He dragged his open mouth down Alessandra’s throat to the deep V of her wrap dress, his lips relentless in their pursuit of her skin. Irritation burned through him at the clothes between them. Lacking the patience to fully undress her, he wrenched open the fabric, exposing perfect breasts covered in black lace.

  His breath caught. “Fucking hell. You’re beautiful.” He traced the edges of her bra with his fingertips before palming her breast. The weight was heavy and full in his hand. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips across the rough lace, then tugged her straining nipple between his teeth. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

  Her hands raked over his back, pulling him closer as he continued his barrage against her senses. He yanked the lacy cup down and sucked the taut peak into his mouth. Shit, she tasted fantastic. And he bet even better once his tongue was thrusting inside her until she fell apart against his lips.

  The sound of a phone ringing ripped through their heavy breathing like a lightning strike.

  Alessandra tensed beneath him.

  “Ignore it.” He captured her mouth again in slow, teasing licks and she parted her lips, inviting him back in. He had her. She was right there with him.

  Ring two.

  For the love of fucking God.

  “Stop.” Her head arched back. She was breathless, her lips swollen from his merciless kisses.

  “Are you going to make me beg for it now like you did back then? Because I will.” Pride be damned. He needed this woman out of his head once and for all. He shifted to her other breast, promptly pulling her nipple between his teeth.

  “I can’t do this.” She shoved hard against his chest and pried herself out from under him.

  Hudson stood and rearranged himself with a curse.

  “I have to go.” Alessandra worked on retying her dress as she rounded the couch and snatched up her purse, the phone still wailing inside it.

  He dragged both hands through his hair, waiting for his hard-on to take a number. “Tell me this isn’t about that pretentious fucktwit with the bullshit title?”

  Her hazel eyes met his as she yanked open the door. “That pretentious fucktwit is my fiancé.”

  All the air sucked out of the room as if he were trapped in a vacuum.

  Hudson watched her take off as though she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. For long moments he stood staring blankly at the door, pretty damn sure shock had just taken over.

  He should let her go.

  He had to let her go.

  But he already knew he wasn’t going to.

  Chapter Five

  Allie couldn’t help but wonder why her father had suggested they meet for dinner at his North Shore country club on a Wednesday night. Richard had scarcely said two words to her—or her mother, for that matter. Instead he’d spent the entire evening huddled with Julian discussing business.

  Victoria didn’t seem to mind. She was far too busy catching Allie up on the latest gossip to pay much attention to her husband or future son-in-law. Allie had hoped to discuss the allocation of proceeds from the benefit but her mother was in club mode, not to mention on her third glass of wine, which meant any discussions pertaining to the foundation would have to wait until morning.

  Allie watched her mother scan the dining room, her green eyes shifting from one linen-covered table to the next. She knew it wouldn’t be long until there was another scandal or rumor her mother just had to share, although she couldn’t imagine what secrets remained. She’d already heard about every tummy tuck and facelift. She knew whose kids were going to Ivy League schools and whose would be in jail if not for a team of high-priced lawyers. She was caught up on every impending divorce and knew who’d been to rehab, even though they called it a “retreat.”

  The moment the server cleared the dinner dishes, Victoria inclined her head toward Allie. “Such a shame.”

  “What’s a shame, Mother?” Allie despised gossip she but knew ignoring the comment wouldn’t dissuade her mother. It would only make her angry. Sometimes it was just easier to play along.

  “What happened to Jennifer.”

  Allie did a quick run-through of her mother’s so-called friends and drew a blank. “Jennifer?”

  “Jennifer Larson.” Victoria lifted a perfectly sculpted brow. “Our waitress.”

  “Jenny Larson?” Allie peered around her leather wingback chair and caught sight of a young blonde carrying a tray of dirty dishes to the club’s kitchen. “Jenny works here?” she asked after turning back to the table.

  “You’d think her mother would have more pride.” Victoria made a clucking sound with her tongue. “But with all their assets frozen . . .”

  “What?” Allie asked a bit louder than intended. Julian and her father looked up from their conversation. Her father frowned before turning back to whatever had the two of them so engrossed.

  “Honestly, Alessandra, do you listen to a word I say?”

  “Of course.” Well, sometimes. “I just don’t remember you saying anything about the Larson’s having their assets frozen.”

  “They have Bernie Maddoff to thank for that,” her mother scoffed. “Now it’s freeze first, investigate later.”

  Allie sat back in the oversize chair. Jenny Larson, her high school chem lab partner, was waiting tables at the club. Her table. And she hadn’t even noticed.

  Victoria reached for her glass of merlot and nodded to a stunning platinum blonde making her way across the dining room. “I’d bet my Mercedes that necklace is a knockoff,” she murmured from behind h
er wine.

  Allie had heard enough. She tuned her mother out, turning her attention to the other side of the table.

  Her father was leaning close to Julian. “We’re moving up the timetable,” he said.

  “Do we know who it is?” Julian kept his eyes focused on the stem of his wineglass as he rolled it between two fingers.

  “No, it appears to be shell companies.” Her father drained the last of his gin and tonic. He usually had one and then switched to wine with dinner. Not tonight, though. Tonight he was on his third cocktail. “We’ll need to close the deal sooner than expected.”

  “That will require the liquidation of additional assets. I can discuss it with my attorneys when I’m in New York on the eighth.”

  The eighth? They had plans for the eighth. At least she thought they did. Allie was about to ask him when she saw a deep crease form on her father’s brow.

  “I’m not sure a trip is wise right now, Julian.” Richard tugged on the knot of his tie. “This is a critical time.”

  “Unavoidable,” Julian said with a slight shake of his head. “Laurent family business.” He lifted his glass, swirling the wine before taking a sip. “Everything is fine, Richard, no reason to panic.”

  There was a lull in the conversation and Allie took the opportunity to question her fiancé. “You’re going to New York?”

  “It’s only for one night, ma chérie.” Julian covered Allie’s hand with his.

  “I thought we were going to the symphony on the ninth. Tchaikovsky’s fourth, remember?”

  “It slipped my mind. Forgive me?” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

  Victoria touched Julian’s forearm. “Of course she forgives you, Julian.” She beamed at him before turning her attention to Allie. “Better get used to it now, Alessandra. Once Julian takes over the business he’ll be traveling and working late hours all the time. Don’t you remember how it was when you were young? I think your father spent more nights at that office than in his own bed.”