As for the culture of the club, things hadn’t changed much, though women were now allowed inside. And you didn’t have to wade through a thick haze due to the no-smoking laws. But he bet he could still catch an old-timer or two bitching about the good old days.

He’d been invited to join every private club in Chicago, including this one. They were all looking for the next billionaire to boast as a member of their institution. Except Hudson wasn’t interested in being institutionalized or taking part in a my-yacht’s-bigger-than-yours pissing contest. No, the only thing that interested him was the woman sitting in one of those wingback chairs.

Hudson moved slightly to his left for a better view of Alessandra Sinclair. He watched as she crossed her legs and thought about how good it felt to have them wrapped around him. But those thoughts were soon ruined by an arm intruding on the perfect image.

His stare shifted to the Prada-wearing prick whose fingers were caressing her wrist. Hudson was already in a foul mood, and the more Mr. Touchy got feely, the more he wanted to cut the guy’s hand off with a butter knife.

Slowly. Painfully.

Hudson’s body warmed and he grounded his weight to keep from hurdling over the tables to do just that. Christ, he was acting like a jealous boyfriend.

As he swirled his glass, he stared at the familiar scene playing out before him. The cubes rattled and beat against the amber liquid that was doing nothing to burn the taste of her out of his mouth. He took another drink, further proving the definition of insanity. What the hell, eventually his tongue would grow numb. But there wasn’t anything that could short-circuit the memories that had a merciless grip on him. And they always found a way to the surface. Especially now.

The hours passed slowly and the water taxi he’d been driving all summer couldn’t move fast enough. With each ferry run, his excitement grew. His shift was ending soon and she was always waiting for him with a look on her face like she was seeing him for the first time. One smile from her and he was a goner.

He’d “borrowed” this same boat the night before to take Allie on a little sightseeing tour of the island. But all they’d managed to see was a whole lot of each other. His body had been rock hard against the softness of her curves and they were all tongues and hands and breathless lust. She’d locked her arms around his neck and raked her fingers into his hair with a greedy intensity. And when he’d slipped his hands beneath her shirt, unclasped her bra, and cupped her breasts, she’d moaned softly against his lips. He’d pushed her to the limits, begging her to let him inside, but the answer was always no.

Hudson steered the boat up to the dock. He shoved his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the seashell anklet, his other hand giving his coworker the finger for thinking he was playing a game of pocket pool. At some point during their tryst her anklet had fallen off, and after a thorough search of the boat, they’d been certain it was gone forever. He’d kissed away her tears and promised to buy her another one. Then this morning when he jumped in the boat, ready to fire it up for the day, the sun caught the little metal clasp. He couldn’t wait to secure it around her ankle again. As people loaded and unloaded for the last run of the night, he was sure he had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.

But when the last passenger boarded, his face fell. It was her. She stepped into the boat with her parents and some boy who looked like he was dressed for a game of cricket. She walked right past him without so much as a glimmer of recognition. No smile, no little nod. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. The message came through loud and clear. He was the help and she was the one percent. Hudson released the anklet, gripped the wheel, and throttled the boat out across the lake.

He closed his eyes against the recollections, but when he opened them he was met with more of the same: Alessandra sitting with her self-serving parents sporting prideful grins directed at him, the dandy dipshit. And Hudson was right where he’d always been. Nothing had changed. He was still the guy on the outside looking in.

But goddamn it, he had changed and so had the rules of the game.

Hudson watched as she excused herself from the table, catching the slight frown playing on her lips. His brow furrowed as he wondered which of the three were responsible for putting it there.

He downed the rest of his drink and dropped a couple bills to cover the 200 percent markup on the scotch, plus a hefty tip. Hudson gave her a head start, then quickly walked the length of the bar, tracking her zigzag movements around the tables. When he reached the lobby he caught the heel of her shoe disappearing around the corner and was tight on her.

She paused for a split second. He halted midstep.

Two biddies wearing the socialite’s uniform of Chanel suits were making a beeline for the door marked “Ladies,” their heels clacking on the marble floor. Alessandra ducked her head as if she didn’t want to be recognized and continued down the hallway.

Hudson moved silently through the paneled corridors, paying no mind to the history depicted in the black-and-white photographs that hung on the walls. His gaze was focused solely on her as his eyes lingered unapologetically on the sway of her hips. As he watched her, he felt himself harden.

When he rounded the second turn into the recesses of the club, she was gone. The place was like a fucking labyrinth with sharks at the center. A door clapped shut. He flattened his palm against it and pushed, walking into a locker room and not giving a shit it was the one reserved for women. He closed the door behind him and flipped the lock in place.

Alessandra spun around, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” He moved across the room in deliberate strides. “And I didn’t think you’d appreciate me strolling up to your parents’ table.”

“So you thought you’d follow me into the locker room?”

Hudson came to a stop in front of her. “Whatever it takes, Alessandra.” He inhaled. God, he loved her smell. Clean and fresh with a slight hint of flowers.

She blinked up at him. “For what?”

“For you to admit there’s something between us.” He hadn’t been able to get their kiss out of his mind. Her mouth had been unbelievably sweet, and so soft. Softer than he remembered.

Alessandra opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Her eyes narrowed. “How did you even get into the building? This is a private club.”

“I’m considering a membership.”

“Really? To a North Shore club?”

He smirked. “I heard they have a world-class golf course.”

“You golf?” She asked with a nervous laugh.

“Quite well. Smooth grip of the shaft, careful stroke.” His voice was deep and resonant. “Perhaps I can show you just how good I am, Alessandra.”

She glanced over his shoulder at the door, then back at him. “You need to leave, Hudson.”

“You can’t ignore what happened. Not this time.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek.

“It was a mistake, that’s all.”

“Your body says otherwise.” He stepped closer and heard the catch in her breath.

“This is hardly the time or place to discuss it,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Then when?”

“I don’t know.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to let her blow him off. “If you want me to leave you’re going to have to do better than that.” His mouth curved into a sensuous grin. “Unless, of course, you want me to stay?”

“Next week,” she blurted out.

“No. Try again.”

“Fine, tomorrow. Just go.”

“Where?”

“Lincoln Park Zoo,” she said, exasperated.

Hudson drew back a fraction and looked down at Allie with a whole lot of what-the-fuck on his face. “The zoo?”