“Yes, I’ll meet you at noon, just inside the main gate.”

“You’re afraid to be alone with me, aren’t you?” His index finger traced the vein pulsing wildly in her neck.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She looked over his shoulder again. “Now will you please go before someone walks in?” Allie’s gaze shifted back to him, but her stare didn’t match the icy tone of her voice.

Hudson’s mouth hovered inches from hers. Allie moistened her lips and as she did, he thought maybe she was right; maybe she shouldn’t be alone with him. With the way he was feeling he was liable to take advantage of her slightly parted mouth. He knew she wouldn’t stop him if he kissed her. And he wanted to, more than his next breath.

He had to stop.

Boy did he ever.

“Until tomorrow.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across Allie’s bottom lip before strolling out the door without a backward glance.

Hudson walked halfway down the corridor before he stopped. He ran a hand back over his unruly hair and buttoned his jacket to hide the erection threatening the front of his Tom Ford.

Yeah, he needed to get the hell out of there.

Falling back into stride, he headed for the exit. The powder room door swung open as he passed and out trotted the two women in head-to-toe Chanel. Hudson flashed them both a grin. “Ladies,” he said with a slight dip of his head.

His phone vibrated just as he handed the valet his ticket. Reaching into his breast pocket, he yanked his phone out and immediately recognized the number of a shithole on the other side of town. The guy who ran the place probably had him on speed dial.

“Chase,” Hudson barked into the phone.

“You better get over here,” a man rasped, his voice the product of sucking on cigarettes for thirty or forty years.

Hudson blew out a resigned breath. “I’m on my way.” He ended the call with a jab of his thumb and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

The valet pulled up with his car, a gunmetal gray Aston Martin DB9. At top speeds the thing looked like a bullet shot out of a gun. Hudson palmed the kid a tip, unbuttoned his jacket, and slid into the car.

As he pulled out into the Chicago traffic, he wondered what he’d find waiting for him this time.

***

Thirty minutes later, the DB9 rolled to a stop in front of Anchors. The dive was even shittier than Hudson remembered.

He knew who was waiting for him inside, what condition the “who” would be in, and how this shit was going to play out. The only thing that was ever a variable was the when.

The DB9’s cooling system ticked and hissed, cutting through the silence in the car.

Fuck.

This was the last place he wanted to be.

Hudson curled his fingers around the door handle, jerked the lever, and unfolded himself from the luxury craftsmanship. He shoved the key fob into his pocket, not bothering to activate the alarm. This would only take a minute. Besides, anyone who’d try to take his car for a joyride had to have balls of steel. The thing was fashioned with one hell of an antitheft system and GPS. The little blue light flashed “I dare ya.”

Hudson walked over to a door that looked like it had once been dark green, and cranked a knob for which he was going to need a tetanus shot .

At the bar the owner pulled his attention away from a long pour of something straight. He didn’t need to look to know when to stop; the guy just knew. Skills of someone who’d been slinging drinks as a career.

Setting the bottle back in its trough, the owner took out the cigarette that was pinched between his lips and exhaled. The smoke rocketed out of his nose in two streams before curling upward. Hudson kicked his chin at the guy, then did a fat sweep of the room, spotting Nick hunched over a table. Out cold.

Cursing under his breath he cut through the bar, skidding a couple chairs out of his way as he passed a jukebox bellowing some Johnny Cash tune. As he drew closer he could see the top of Nick’s wallet, the leather one he’d given him last Christmas, peeking out of his shirt pocket. At least someone had had enough decency to put it back and not rob the guy completely blind.

A soft snore greeted him. Shit, he was totally wasted.

“Hey, Nick.” Hudson’s palm clasped Nick’s shoulder and he gave him a gentle shake. “Come on, let’s go.”

Nick lifted his head, his eyes half-closed, and smiled. “Hudson, my favorite brother.”

“Your only brother. You’ve worn out your welcome.” He grabbed Nick by the armpit and hauled him out of the chair. “Time to go home.”

“One for the road?” Nick slurred as if his tongue was too big for his mouth. He tugged his arm out of Hudson’s grip.

“We’ll get one on the way.” Fucking hell they were.

Hudson’s face was drawn with grim lines as he watched his brother take a couple steps, then go tilt-a-whirl. He caught Nick by the bicep, his weight barely registering.

He guided Nick toward the front door, his legs pretty much gone to rubber, and somehow managed to keep him from face-planting. Pulling a Ben Franklin out of his pocket, Hudson slapped it on the bar and slid it toward the bartender. “Thanks, man. That should cover it.”

The owner dried his hands off on a rag, then dropped it on the counter and picked up the hundred. “Don’t mention it.”

Hudson pushed the door open with his hip and dragged Nick over to the DB9. He lowered him into the passenger side, stretched the seat belt across him, and clicked it in place.

Nick opened his eyes. “Shit, you brought the good car.”

Ignoring Nick, Hudson didn’t waste any time getting behind the wheel. Nothing but the purr of the engine interrupted the silence that stretched out between them as he drove. And as it did, Hudson looked over at his brother; Nick’s head jerking up and then falling back again. “I saw her, Nicky,” he finally said. Man, it’d been so long since he’d talked about her. Make that never talked about her.

Nick’s head jerked up. “No shit?”

His head fell back again. The guy was starting to look like a goddamn bobblehead. “All that pussy you get and you’ve still got it bad for that one, huh?”

More silence.

“I liked her.” Nick’s voice was quiet in the darkness of the car. “She was nice to me.”

The lights from oncoming cars flared and faded. They passed squatters in alleys. Then tall buildings.

“And you . . .” A teasing laugh burst out of Nick’s mouth. “You were so whipped for that chick.” His head rolled on the padded headrest. “What was her name again?”

Hudson glanced briefly at Nick. “Alessandra Sinclair.” He paused, then looked back at the road. “Allie.”

Nick clapped his hands, having a eureka moment. “Allie, that’s right. All the stupid shit you did to try and impress her.”

Hudson’s jaw tightened.

“Pussy whipped motherfucker. Tell me you hit that?”

“Shut up, Nick,” Hudson growled. “And don’t puke in my car. Took me forever to get that smell out last time.”

Chapter Seven

Allie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to Lincoln Park Zoo. When she was eight or nine, maybe? For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what had made her choose it as a meeting place. Harper had been talking about the fund-raiser there with Neon Trees; maybe that was it. Either way, she’d been so flustered by Mr. Sex-on-Legs that she’d blurted it out and now, against her better judgment, she was standing in front of the main gate.

At least it was a relatively safe place to meet. Despite being nestled in the shadow of the city’s skyscrapers, the zoo wasn’t exactly the type of place her friends and family frequented. She pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and slipped her cardigan off, tying it in a loose knot around her shoulders. It was the end of September, but unseasonably warm in Chicago.