Allie flushed, busted for letting her fingers do the walking to satisfy her curiosity. Truth be told, she hadn’t been able to garner very much information about Hudson’s personal life. About the company? Sure, tons. Chase Industries was quickly becoming one of the most talked about conglomerates in the nation. But when it came to the man himself, there was very little information available. “Just researching the depth of your pockets,” she offered as a flimsy excuse. “Always thinking about the next donation.”

“You would yield faster results by going directly to the source.” His eyes were alight with humor. “They’re rather deep.”

She somehow doubted they were still discussing pockets and was grateful when the waiter appeared with their coffee. Taking advantage of the brief interruption, she quickly changed the subject. “So what made you move your company to Chicago?”

“I see your predilection for asking a multitude of questions hasn’t changed.”

Allie gazed at him impassively, waiting for an answer. When he spoke, he was all business. “There are a few companies I’m interested in. Made sense geographically to relocate to a central location.”

She rotated the china cup on its saucer, studying the smattering of cinnamon and trying to maintain an air of indifference. “So where are you living these days?”

“The Palmolive building.” He lifted his coffee cup and smirked over the rim. “Or Playboy building, as I believe it is commonly referred to among locals.”

His adolescent reference aside, Hudson was obviously a shrewd investor when it came to real estate. The Palmolive building was not only considered to be one of the world’s finest examples of Art Deco architecture, but it encompassed the three most important considerations when selecting property: location, location, location. The 1920s landmark sat at the north end of the Magnificent Mile, nestled between the Drake Hotel and the John Hancock building, and was one of the few residences where no street address was needed. Simply stating the name of the building would suffice. Allie was impressed.

“What about your little brother?” she asked, lifting her cup. “Is he in Chicago, too?”

Hudson frowned. “Ah . . . yeah, Nick followed me here.” He shifted back in his chair and crossed his leg at the ankle. “You’ve had your turn, Miss Sinclair. It’s only fair I get mine. So tell me, what happened to that boy you ditched me for?”

“God, I haven’t thought about him in years. And for the record,” she corrected, “I did not ditch you for him. My dad was working some deal with his father and I was stuck entertaining him.”

He gave her a smug grin. “That wasn’t so hard to explain, now was it?”

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was with him.” A giggle escaped her lips as she recalled Hudson’s rather accurate description.

“What’s so amusing, Alessandra?”

“He really was a pansy-ass.”

“And now you’re engaged to a . . . what was it he called himself?”

“A French marquis.”

“I see.” His lips twitched with a hint of a smile. “The title that segregates him from the rest. How did you meet?”

“My father had business with Julian’s family. He introduced us this summer.”

“How opportune,” he said, his tone void of all levity. “When’s the big day?”

“December sixth.”

Hudson’s brow shot up. “You aren’t wasting any time.”

She felt a sudden unease and her words came out in a rush. “The Drake opened up at the last minute. But yes, throwing a wedding together in less than two months—at least the kind my mother wants—is going to be a challenge. Of course it doesn’t help that Julian will be in France most of the month.”

“Excuse me.” Hudson scowled as he pulled his buzzing phone out of his breast pocket. “What?” he snapped. The crease in his brow relaxed as he listened. “How many? Excellent, keep me posted.” Hudson pushed back his French cuff, glancing at his watch, then back to Allie. “Cancel my two o’ clock.” There was a brief pause. “No, that will be all.” He ended the call with the jab of a button before slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Where were we?”

Nowhere I want to revisit.

Allie’s reaction confused her. After all, they were just making small talk. Two old friends catching up on the usual subjects: family, friends . . . engagements. And yet she found herself not wanting to discuss Julian or her wedding any further with him. “You were explaining your plans to acquire most of Chicago,” she said, trying her best to shift his focus.

“Nice try, Alessandra. Tell me about your foundation. If I’m to consider writing any more checks, I need to be well informed.”

Her job? Yes, that she could discuss.

Allie told Hudson all about her work at Better Start. She told him about the success of the charter school and how his generous donation meant the second location could break ground in the spring. He listened intently, asking questions and complimenting her on all she had accomplished.

Their conversation flowed easily, the two of them laughing and talking until the manager gently informed them the staff would need to set the table for the dinner seating.

“I believe we’re being politely kicked out,” Hudson said, standing with authoritative grace and reaching for his wallet. He dropped a few bills on the table as Allie gathered her belongings.

“Hudson?”

His eyes met hers. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad we had the chance to clear the air.”

“Me too.” His lips quirked up in a half smile and he waved a hand toward the door. “After you.”

They stood on the sidewalk, staring at each other for several awkward moments before Allie broke the silence. “Well, I guess . . .” Her voice trailed off as she wondered if this was actually the good-bye they’d missed out on ten years ago. She cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“To be honest, I wish I didn’t care whether or not we ran into each other again.”

For a moment she thought he might say more, but he merely turned and walked away. Stunned by his comment, Allie was still standing there long after he’d disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Nine

By the time Allie got back to the office it was nearly quitting time. Part of her secretly hoped Harper had already left for the day. No such luck. Her head popped over the wall of her cubicle the minute Allie came through the door, and she was right on her heels as they walked to her office.

Allie heard the door close behind her as she rounded her desk.

“Well?” Harper asked.

“Well, what?” she replied, still holding on to her foolish hope of avoiding the Harper Hayes Inquisition.

Harper’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Are you kidding me? What happened with you and Mr. Moneybags after I left?”

“Not much.” She kept her tone light as she dropped her purse in the large bottom drawer and kicked it closed with her foot. “We had coffee and talked about the foundation.”

Hand on hip, Harper let her have it. “Alessandra Sinclair, I leave you alone with possibly the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on and you expect me to believe you spent three hours discussing alternative learning environments?”

She shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“Deny it all you want, but I know there’s more you’re not telling me. I saw the way the two of you were eye fucking each other at the restaurant.”

Allie’s gaze shot up from her stack of messages, her mouth gaping open. “We were doing no such thing!”

“Oh please, you looked like you wanted to rip each other’s clothes off.”

“Might I remind you I am engaged to be married?” Allie held up her left hand as if proving her point. Problem was, she wasn’t completely sure which one of them needed the reminder.