“How did you know I was on my way up?”

“Me and the new door guy are tight now, rocking the whole bat signal thing.” Nick’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Don’t change the subject.”

“How do you know Harper went to Paris?”

“We hung out once or twice while everyone else we knew was with their families or jetting off to Europe for some ooh-la-la romantic love fest.”

Hudson raised a brow at his little brother. “Your sponsor said no relationships until you’re six months sober.”

“Shit, you getting all big brother on me?”

“I’m always your big brother.”

Nick chuckled. “Age before beauty, respect my elders and all that?”

“I mean it, Nick, not for a year.” Hudson started to move deeper into his place, then did a double take at his brother’s appearance. Nick was wearing his standard-issue jeans and a black tee, but they were clean and hole-free. And goddamn, had he had a haircut? Hudson shook his head as he made his way into the kitchen with Nick tight on his heels.

“Wait, I thought it was six months?”

Hudson wasn’t in the mood to go round for round on the subject. “Call your sponsor.”

“Ah, shit,” Nick snorted. “You know I’m not the relationship type. Love ’em and leave ’em.”

“Don’t be an ass.” Hudson tossed his coat over a barstool and began popping the top three buttons on his shirt. “You better not be pulling that ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ shit with Allie’s best friend, you feel me?” Fuck, not how he should have played that. Pretending to be split from Allie was going to take an effort he had no desire to make.

“It’s not like that. She’s cool, but just a friend.”

“Besides, Allie and I are through,” he said, amending his previous objection. “Better you not get involved.”

“What?” Nick stared at him for a beat. “What happened? You okay?”

“No, and I don’t want to discuss it. I’m exhausted.” Hudson finished unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward his room. “I’m going to take a hot shower and go to bed.” So much for the Blue Label. Just as well. He really wasn’t up to slam dunking his mood further into the toilet.

“Mind if I crash here?”

“Now you’re asking me?” Hudson stopped before turning the corner. “Haven’t you been living here since Christmas?”

“Someone had to enjoy the amenities while you were gone. Can’t let all that mortgage you shell out go to waste.”

“It’s not a hotel.”

“Hey.” Nick’s voice dropped an octave. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” God, he sounded like a dick when his brother was just concerned. Hudson wanted to tell him what was going on, but if he did, it would stress Nick out to the nth degree and back, and might force him into using his two favorite coping mechanisms—drugs and booze. Though Nick did have new skills, relapse was always a threat. Playing it off like he and Allie were broken up was the best maneuver for the time being. And when he’d been dumped, Hudson shut down; he didn’t go all chatty-Kathy-let’s-paint-each-other’s-nails.

“Hudson, I’m serious.”

“I know, Nicky, thanks. You’re always welcome to crash here,” Hudson called out over his shoulder as he continued down the hall. With that, he shut the door to his bedroom and leaned against it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

There had to be another way.

Chapter Seven

Allie expected to find the thirtieth floor empty. Even if the combination of jet lag and stress had kept Hudson awake the same as it had her, he’d no doubt be across the river at Chase Industries. And at six in the morning it was unlikely any of the support staff would have arrived. Which was why she was so surprised to see Colin already at his desk.

A to-go tray of coffee that she was sure included an extra hot, two pump, light froth skinny vanilla latte sat in front of him. Her mouth would have watered at the sight of the much-needed caffeine if it weren’t for the rest of the scene in front of her: Harper with her chair pulled up in front of Colin’s desk, a box full of croissants open between them.

Colin greeted her as she approached. “Morning, Boss Lady. I thought you’d be early, time change and all.” He lifted one of the cups out of the cardboard holder. “And Harper here delivered croissants straight from Paris.” His lips curved into a smile but the question in his eyes was impossible to miss. Allie couldn’t blame him for his curiosity. Colin was the only one at Ingram who was aware of her personal involvement with Hudson Chase. And while he knew very little about the relationship between the co-CEOs, he knew enough to question why Allie’s best friend would have joined them on a romantic trip through Europe.

“I didn’t have time to shop for souvenirs,” Harper said. Although she left out the words “because we left Paris like a bat out of hell,” Allie still heard them loud and clear. “But I figured these would do.”

“I’ll say.” Colin flashed Harper a dazzling grin. “Not every day a beautiful woman bearing French pastries stops by to say hello.”

Harper looked at Allie and laughed. “Quite the charmer, this one.”

Allie had to agree. With his easy laugh and quick wit, Colin James was charm personified. Not to mention the cover-model looks and the boy-band hair that fell in a perfectly disheveled mess over his green eyes. But while Allie could certainly appreciate all those attributes, it was his razor-sharp mind and his degree from the nation’s number-one journalism school that had pushed his résumé to the top of the pile.

“And a proper introduction was long overdue,” Harper said. “At least in my opinion.” It was true she’d wanted to meet the man she chatted with far too long whenever she called the office, but Allie knew that wasn’t her real motivation for the crack-of-dawn delivery. Harper had questions and she wanted answers that Allie wasn’t prepared or able to give her. Not now and maybe not ever.

“Well, you two enjoy your picnic,” Allie said, attempting a quick getaway. “I’ve got a week’s worth of e-mails to catch up on.”

Harper stood in a rush, affording Allie her first full look at her friend’s Friday morning ensemble. The black-and-white dress she wore made her look more like Don Draper’s assistant than a twenty-four-year-old from the twenty-first century, but on her it worked. The rotary phone imprint on the skirt complemented the vintage look while the red patent leather flats sent more of a Dorothy vibe. The whole look was wacky and whimsical and totally Harper Hayes. Her tone however, was all business. “Not so fast,” she said. “We need to talk.”

It was worth a shot, Allie thought as she made her way into her office with Harper close behind.

“Okay, cut the crap and level with me,” Harper said the minute Allie had closed the door.

“It wasn’t crap. I haven’t so much as looked at an e-mail in days.” Allie hung her coat in a closet concealed behind a wood panel. Like everything else in her father’s office, it had a rich mahogany finish. Before the holidays Ben Weiss had suggested bringing in a designer to redecorate the decidedly masculine space. At the time she’d had bigger concerns than color swatches, and had agreed to do so only if her position was confirmed. Now both topics seemed trivial. Keeping the people she loved safe was the only thing that mattered. Not her title, and certainly not her office. But she had to keep up appearances.

“I wasn’t referring to the e-mails and you know it.”

“Well I am. And I’ll be lucky to come up for air by dinner.”

“Then you better start talking.” Harper dropped her purse and coat in one of the leather wingback chairs facing Allie’s desk, then plopped down in the other. “Because I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell happened in France.”