Julian spoke into the phone. “Seems there is more work than anticipated. I’ll call when . . .” His message was interrupted again, this time by a loud pop followed by squeals and a chorus of laughter. “Ne renversez pas le champagne tout le putain de tapis,” Julian shouted. “Elle vaut plus que ce que vous ferez au cours de votre vie, vous idiots!” He was still ranting about his precious rug when the recording ended, cutting him off with a shrill beep.

“End of messages,” the machine announced.

An awkward silence hung in the air for several moments before Harper chimed in with what was obviously an attempt to lighten the mood. “You know what? I vote drinks instead of jogging. In fact, screw the margaritas. I say martinis at Tavern instead.”

Allie tried her best to muster a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

Allie sank back against soft red velvet. Tavern on Rush was standing room only but she and Harper had arrived early enough to score one of the couches lining the club’s paneled walls. A distinguished-looking gentleman in a dark suit smiled when she glanced his way, but the last thing Allie needed or wanted was a conversation with a man. Any man. Not a French diplomat with a taste for expensive champagne and even more expensive rugs. Not a billionaire industrialist with serious boundary issues. And certainly not a George Clooney look-alike at a Rush Street bar. The only thing on her evening agenda was having a cocktail—make that cocktails, plural—with her best friend.

She gave the gentleman a tight smile and shifted her gaze to the main floor, where a circular mahogany bar sat bathed in gold-and-red lighting. As she scanned the room she realized her admirer wasn’t the only silver fox at Tavern. Everywhere she looked she saw gray-haired businessmen in designer suits mingling with young women in black dresses and red-soled pumps. Allie chuckled to herself. Ah yes, the Viagra Triangle. That was how locals referred to the high-priced restaurants that dotted the corners of three intersecting streets. As she took in her surroundings she realized the description was more than just an urban legend and made a mental note to tease Harper about how often she frequented the establishments.

Allie reached for her lemon drop martini, her second of the night, and licked a bit of sugar from the rim. The tangy beverages were going down much too smoothly. If she didn’t get some food in her stomach, she’d be paying the price come morning. The last thing she needed was to roll into work with a hangover. “We should order.”

Harper took a generous sip of something called a Strawberry Blonde and grabbed a menu off the marble tabletop. She flipped through the small leather binder, bypassing the extensive wine list in favor of colorful drinks with elaborate descriptions. “Oh!” Her eyes grew wide. “How about a Sucker Punch? Vodka, brandy, pomegranate liqueur, fresh orange juice, fresh pineapple juice, and grenadine.”

“I meant something more along the lines of dinner, but what the hell.”

Harper craned her neck, searching for the waiter she’d been flirting with all night. She startled when he was suddenly at her side.

“Can I bring you ladies another round?” he asked. Allie had to admit he was a bit of a doll. Big brown eyes with lashes that wouldn’t quit, dark hair a little longer than most, and a smile to make you forget what you were going to order. At least that was the effect he seemed to be having on Harper.

Allie came to her rescue. “Two Sucker Punches, please.” As soon as he was out of earshot she jumped on the chance to tease her tongue-tied friend. “Harper Hayes, speechless. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harper grumbled. Her cheeks were rosy pink as she reached for her glass. “He just caught me off guard, that’s all. They should tell him not to sneak up on people like that.” She finished off the rest of her cocktail and plucked the strawberry garnish from the edge of the glass. Allie could almost see the wheels turning as Harper regained her composure. “I’m going to give him my number,” she announced.

The waiter returned a few minutes later with two oversize hurricane glasses on his tray. The size alone assured Allie the drinks would live up to their name, but when she tried a sip she knew she was in trouble. The fruity concoction was far too delicious considering the pleasant buzz she was already feeling. She stirred the drink with her straw, watching in awe as Harper jotted her number on a napkin and slipped it into the waiter’s hand. Allie shook her head. She could never be as daring as Harper. Then again, she’d had a pretty daring afternoon.

Images filtered through her mind. Hudson’s body pinning hers against the mirror . . . his warm breath fanning out across her neck . . . his fingers teasing and taunting before sending her spiraling over the edge . . .

“So what’s the real scoop with you and Mr. Hottie from the party?” Harper asked as if reading her wayward thoughts.

Allie tried to hide her blush behind her glass, needing a moment to regroup before once again denying any interest in the man who’d brought her to orgasm during her lunch hour. In a dressing room. At Macy’s. Dear lord. She tipped the glass higher, practically gulping her cocktail.

“He seems like a man who knows his way around a bedroom and would be more than happy to give you a tour.”

Allie choked on her drink.

Harper sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God, you slept with him.” It was a statement, not a question, and one Allie knew there was no point in denying. The proof was all over her face, not to mention spilled halfway down her blouse.

She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “A little louder, Harper. I don’t think the valet heard you.”

“Sorry. It’s just . . . I don’t know, you’ve always been so reserved. You’re not exactly the type to get down and dirty with someone you just met.”

“We didn’t just meet.”

Harper paused with her drink in midair. “Come again?”

“We knew each other a long time ago, when we were teenagers.”

“I thought he grew up in Michigan?”

Allie raised a brow. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who’d done a bit of research on Mr. Chase.

“What?” Harper feigned innocence. “I was curious.”

“My parents and a few of their friends rented houses up on Lake Charlevoix the summer before I left for college. I met Hudson on the water taxi the day we arrived.”

“Summer romance at the yacht club?”

Already feeling a bit warm and fuzzy, Allie reached for her drink. “Hardly. Hudson worked at the pier. He drove the water taxi.”

“And Dick and Vicky were okay with their daughter dating the hired help?”

“They never knew.”

“You were able to keep it a secret?”

Allie nodded as she sipped on her straw. “From everyone. We spent the whole summer together and no one ever knew. Well, except for his little brother.”

“That is so romantic, like Romeo and Juliet,” Harper said.

“You do know they died in the end, don’t you?”

Harper frowned. “You know what I mean. So how did it start? Did he slip you a note or something?”

“A note? Seriously?” Allie shook her head. Harper had to stop reading so many Nicholas Sparks novels.

“Whatever. Finish the story.”

“I saw him again that night. My friends had heard about a bonfire at one of the mainland beaches and Hudson was there with a few of the other townies. At first I thought he was a cocky little jerk just like the rest of them. They were awful. It started out simple enough, a few whistles, some rude comments from behind beer bottles. But after awhile one of them started to hassle us. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, started pawing at me. Hudson knocked him on his ass.”

“Holy shit.”

“We ended up talking for hours that night, just walking on the beach.” She smiled at the memory. “I’d never met anyone like him.”