On the verge of losing control, he dragged his mouth away from hers. His breath was harsh against her lips. “Christ, Allie, I need to get you out of this limo before I tell my driver to keep going.”

She hesitated for a moment with her lips hovering over his before sliding off his lap. Hudson hissed as she shifted over the erection beating like a drum against his fly. He adjusted himself and thought how he’d misjudged in thinking this was going to be a long night. It was going to be excruciating.

The door opened, and when she stepped onto the sidewalk he was right behind her, catching her wrap as the wind blew it off her bare shoulders. He draped it across her and then placed his hand discreetly beneath it, stroking his thumb down her spine. His fingers lingered at the top of her zipper and all he could think about was peeling her out of that dress, laying her back on the leather seats, and spreading her wide. Fuck. He ran a hand through his hair and slammed the door to the limo shut to keep from yanking her back into the car and enjoying the hell out of her in the middle of Chicago.

Walking up to the brick and stone orchestra hall, Hudson placed his hand on the small of Allie’s back. When he did, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden stiffness in her body.

“Don’t,” she murmured under her breath.

He held the door open and dropped his hand from her back. The tension in her shoulders visibly eased as if it was his hand that had held it there. As they crossed the gold CSO emblem hammered into the marble tile, he reminded himself that this kind of place was as regular a joint to her as McDonalds had been to a guy like him.

They started up the stairs and Hudson watched her hand drift up the varnished banister. He wanted her gentle hand to be on his arm, her delicate fingers curled around his bicep. God, he wanted that connection; to feel her hand close the distance he suddenly felt between them. But he understood her trepidation. Being here with him and displaying anything other than a professional front was guaranteed to make the damn society pages. She was an engaged heiress and he was the playboy billionaire. A dark secret once again.

When they reached the top, Hudson guided her through the mingling crowd, all humming about this year’s “season.” Man, the people surrounding them were colder than the ice they wore on their ears and around their necks. When her gaze swept the room, his followed, stopping short on the bar across the room. He dipped his mouth to Allie’s ear.

“Would you like a drink?” He straightened back up. “I know I could use one.” Or five.

Allie nodded.

“Be right back.”

Women turned as he walked through the room, their stares following him to the bar; no doubt curious about all the recent press or wagering his net worth. To them he’d just gotten lucky. Funny how the harder he worked, the luckier he seemed.

“Pinot Grigio and Blue Label, neat.”

When the bartender set his order on the bar, Hudson curled his fingers around a crystal glass filled with the finest scotch, and yet he still felt like he was holding a can of Budweiser. He tossed back his drink and ordered another, the heat of the recognizing stares burning into his back.

Fuck, this was becoming an increasingly bad idea.

He dropped a fifty on the bar and worked his way back through the throngs of people. The closer he got, the more he could see the nervousness on Allie’s face, the way she fidgeted with her clutch.

“I’m sorry if this was a mistake,” he said, handing her the glass of white wine.

Allie’s eyes shot up to his and softened. “I love that you surprised me with these tickets, that you remembered . . .” Her voice trailed off. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“We can leave if you’d like.”

“No, I want to be here.”

“Would you rather I leave? I can pick you up after the show if that—”

She placed her hand on his forearm. “I want to be here with you.”

The contact was casual, but the intimacy made his chest hurt as she if she was squeezing his heart. He lowered his head and everything around them faded. The clanking of glasses, the murmurs of conversation, the sounds of the orchestra warming up. All of it disappeared. In that moment she was his whole world.

His lips inched closer to hers, and at the same time she lifted onto her toes.

The overhead lights began to flicker the five-minute warning, and all sound returned to the room. Allie dropped smoothly back on her heels and Hudson straightened. What the fuck was he doing? They were in public, for Christ’s sake. Yet with her, everything around him evaporated.

“We better get to our seats,” Hudson said. He waved in the direction of the box but refrained from laying his hand on her back. Once inside the private box, he pulled the door closed and ducked around the red velvet curtain to join Allie at their seats.

Hudson walked up behind her plush red chair, the vantage point affording him a spectacular view. She crossed her legs and the slit of her dress fell open. Sweet Jesus, those legs. The next three hours were going to be one helluva practice in self-control.

He dropped his mouth to her ear. The movement was innocuous enough, someone attempting to speak to another over the sound of bows warming over strings in the orchestra pit. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, “I can’t wait to get you home. And naked.” He took his seat and flashed her a salacious grin. “Then again, all manner of things happen in the dark.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Allie’s mouth gaped open as the lights of the CSO dimmed. All eyes were on the conductor as he took his place at the podium. All eyes but hers. She was far too busy staring at Hudson’s impassive profile to pay much attention to a waving baton. Alexander Borodin’s “In the Steppes of Central Asia” had always been one of her favorites, but not even the rousing French horn could capture her attention.

All manner of things happen in the dark.

Surely he was joking. He wouldn’t really try something in the box. Out in the open. Where anyone could see. He wouldn’t dare. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Or would he?

As it turned out, she had nothing to fear. Hudson was a perfect gentleman during the first performance, and when it came to a close, Allie found herself feeling more than a bit foolish for expecting otherwise. And if she were really honest with herself, a tad disappointed. Jeez, Sinclair, get a grip. Where was all this coming from? She thought about it and realized that what she was really hoping for was a bit of reassurance that she hadn’t hurt his feelings. After the way she behaved when they arrived, it was a wonder he was still in the building. She had totally overreacted. What difference did it make if someone saw them together? It wasn’t a big deal to go to the symphony with a friend. She snorted softly to herself. Yeah right—a friend who’s spent the past week taking her on every surface imaginable.

Khachaturian’s flute concerto served as the second portion of the evening’s entertainment. Allie stole a glance at Hudson as it began, hoping he wasn’t bored out of his mind. Their eyes met and to her great relief, he smiled. A warm blush spread across her cheeks. What was it about this man that could make her feel so uninhibited one minute and so unbelievably shy the next? He held her stare and slowly his gaze began to shift. It became darker, more heated, and she found herself squirming from the sheer intensity.

Allie looked away, staring blindly at the stage in front of her. Hudson shifted so his hand was on the armrest next to hers, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the radiating warmth of his body. And then, with a subtle shift of his wrist, there was contact. It was small, hardly visible to the eye, but it felt as though a current of electricity passed between them at that one tiny point where skin touched skin.