His brow creased. “Exercising my right as an American citizen to move about this country.”

She blinked up at him, his cold reply taking her by surprise.

“My business is here.” Hudson stopped dancing and nodded to a photographer poised to snap their photo. “Smile pretty for the camera, Alessandra.”

Flashes fired in rapid succession. “Thank you, Mr. Chase,” the photographer said before scurrying off the dance floor.

She used the brief interruption to regain her composure. “What type of business are you in?”

“I acquire things.” His tone lacked any trace of humor.

So much for making small talk. She stared over his shoulder, watching the other couples sway and turn as they moved around the dance floor. Ms. Maxim Cover Girl was standing under the giant T. rex, scowling from behind her flute of champagne.

Jeez, if looks could kill.

“You’re not doing a very good job convincing me to part with my cash, Ms. Sinclair.”

She reared back to look at him. “You were serious about that?”

He leveled his stare at her and the intensity was almost too much to bear. “I take a million dollars incredibly serious.”

“A million dollars?” Her words came out in a high-pitched squeak. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “You want to donate a million dollars?”

“Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Confused, Alessandra stared at him blankly. He’d just pledged a million dollars with no more fanfare than if he’d told her he’d bought a bottle of wine from the silent auction. A million dollars was more than a “sizable” donation. It was four times the highest amount she’d ever received from a single donor. Surely he was joking. How could he not be?

As if reading her mind, Hudson offered a vague explanation. “A lot can change in ten years, Alessandra. Though I see you’re still using your formal name.”

“You’re the only one who ever called me Allie,” she whispered. Her eyes met his, searching for any sign of the boy she once knew. His gaze softened, and for a moment she felt it, the connection that made her knees go weak even now.

Their dance slowed to nothing more than a gentle sway as so much passed unspoken between them. Allie hadn’t even realized she’d stopped breathing until a hand touched her shoulder and she jumped.

Chapter Two

Hudson bit down hard, his jaw flexing. He was convinced he’d rearrange this guy’s face purely for interrupting.

A thick French accent sliced between them. “May I cut in?”

Shock widened Alessandra’s hazel eyes. When she regained her composure, what Hudson saw in them resembled guilt. As if she suddenly realized whose hand was gripping her waist. Her spine straightened and he felt the weight of her hand leave his shoulder.

“Of course,” she said. “Julian, this is Mr. Hudson Chase. Mr. Chase, this is Julian Laurent.”

The pretty boy extended his hand, but not before flipping his hair like he’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. “Marquis Julian Laurent,” he said, emphasizing a title that was nothing more than a mouthful of elegant bullshit.

Hudson’s glare narrowed on this grade-A prick. The guy was sizing him up as if he was wearing Men’s Warehouse instead of custom-tailored Armani. There were two options, he decided: mock the smug son of a bitch or serve him up a bunch of “fuck off.”

Option two was arguably not a terrible idea.

Instead he slid his hand off Alessandra’s waist and extended his arm. “Mr. Laurent.”

“Mr. Chase has generously pledged a million dollars to the foundation,” Alessandra said.

Abruptly, Julian’s eyes locked on Hudson’s. His expression was one of pure arrogance. “People donate what they can.”

Option two was beginning to look really good. It would take a minute tops, he thought, to flatten this bastard.

Julian’s stare drifted from Hudson and he smiled. “Alessandra, some guests want to speak with you.”

Hudson’s mouth curved, unable to suppress his amusement at being dismissed. Saving his PR department a clusterfuck of spin doctoring, he dipped his head in a polite bow. “Thank you for the dance, Alessandra,” he said, carefully enunciating her name.

He turned away and the shift was palpable. One encounter with her and the control he’d so carefully mastered was nearly shredded. Every muscle tensed to fight the urge to go after her, to press her against a wall in the dark recesses of the museum and fuck ten years of unresolved lust out of his system. Instead he searched the dense mass of partygoers for his date. Stalking toward her, he caught her wrist. “We’re leaving.”

Sophia set her half-empty champagne glass on a table as they hurried toward the door. “We just got here and I was . . .”

Hudson glared over his shoulder, effectively silencing her. He reached inside his jacket, yanked his phone out of his breast pocket, and ordered in a string of clipped, single syllable words, “Pull the car up.”

He practically dragged her down the stone steps of the museum, the click-clack of those skyscraper heels, which would look fan-fucking-tastic over his shoulders, echoing behind them. By the time they reached the bottom of the steps, the sleek black car was waiting. Hudson urged Sophia through the open limo door and gave the driver a cursory glance.

“Drive until I say otherwise,” he said, unknotting his tie and ducking inside.

***

Allie pushed through the museum doors, welcoming the gust of crisp air. The night had been a huge success. Final numbers wouldn’t be tallied until Monday morning, but all indications were they’d met their goal. She took a deep breath and inhaled . . . smoke? She turned to find Julian cupping his hand around a lighter. “No smoking within fifteen feet of the building,” she reminded him.

“Damn Americans,” he said, talking around a cigarette defying gravity as it dangled from his lips. “Ridiculous laws.”

“It’s meant to protect people from inhaling secondhand smoke.”

Julian threw his arms out wide. “There’s no one here, Alessandra.”

“I really wish you’d quit,” she suggested softly.

A stream of smoke filled the space between them. “I’ll quit when I’m dead.”

“You didn’t have to be so rude.” She started down the stairs and Julian followed.

“Fine. I’ll put it out.” He sounded like a petulant teen.

“I’m not talking about your cigarette. I meant earlier, with that donor.”

“What donor?”

“The one who pledged a million dollars.” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud.

Julian stopped short. “I thought I was very courteous considering he had his hands all over my date.”

“We were only dancing.”

He gave a harsh laugh before continuing down the concrete steps toward the valet. Allie joined him a few moments later and they waited side by side for their limo. A breeze blew across Lake Michigan, sending a cloud of smoke in Allie’s direction. She turned her head and moved closer to the water’s edge. The bright lights of the Navy Pier Ferris wheel blinked patterns of red and gold. Her thoughts drifted as she watched it turn. Had it really been ten years? When she closed her eyes, the memories played through her mind as if it were only yesterday.

The wind kicked up again and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” Hudson asked her.

“I’m fine.” She smiled. The summer wind wasn’t the reason Allie shivered. It was Hudson, sitting so close, that made her tremble.

“Here, let me warm you up.” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling Allie tight against him. “I think you can see the whole town from up here.”

Allie hadn’t noticed. Their car had been perched at the top of the carnival’s Ferris wheel for several minutes now as they waited for passengers to load, but she’d barely noticed the view. She couldn’t take her eyes off Hudson Chase. With his black T-shirt, faded jeans, and motorcycle boots, Hudson was what her mother would have called a thug. But Allie knew better. And there, high above the town, no other opinion mattered.