Remind Me

by Ann Marie Walker

  “It’s not like your father gave me much choice, Victoria. That man was as single-minded as he was ruthless when it came to his company.”

  “And look where it got him, Richard. Where it got you, for that matter.” Allie noted an edge to her mother’s voice, but it softened as she spoke to Julian. “I just wish Alessandra’s grandfather were alive to see the two of you marry. He’d be so proud knowing his company was being passed down to royalty.”

  Allie corrected her even though she knew it would fall on deaf ears. “He’s not royalty, Mother.” Far from it, in fact. While Julian’s title was still passed down through his family, it was an honor in name only. The French no longer recognized any class of nobility.

  “Close enough. He’s practically a prince.” Victoria laughed. “Although I dare say, your ring puts Kate Middleton’s to shame. Let me see it again, Alessandra.”

  Allie extended her left hand, allowing her mother the opportunity to admire her engagement ring. Normally she was happy to show off Julian’s family heirloom, but when Jenny returned to serve the desserts, Allie suddenly felt self-conscious. She tried to pull her hand away but her mother’s grip tightened.

  “This was your mother’s ring, Julian?” Victoria asked as Jenny set a chilled dish of lemon sorbet in front of her.

  “Oui.” Julian smiled, clearly enjoying the attention. “The diamond has been passed down for many generations, given to the first Marquis Laurent by Louis XIV.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened. “Louis XIV? Now there’s a man who knew how to live.”

  Allie gaped at her mother. Clearly she’d forgotten the fate of the French monarchy.

  “I toured Versailles the last time I was in France.” Victoria sighed and placed her hand over her chest. “The sheer opulence of it! Did you know I used the Hall of Mirrors as my inspiration when decorating our dining room?”

  “Ah, yes,” Julian purred. “But everything about Mayflower Place is exquisite in its own right. Just like the women of the house.”

  If there was one thing Allie’s mother enjoyed discussing even more than Julian’s lineage, it was the ongoing renovations at their Lake Forest home. With over thirty rooms to choose from, Victoria was never at a loss for a project. And she was always happy to describe them. At length.

  Allie took advantage of her mother’s temporary distraction, withdrawing her hand and placing it discreetly in her lap. She smiled up at Jenny as her former classmate set a chocolate sacher torte on the table in front of her. “Thank you.”

  Jenny smiled back and then quickly moved around the table, setting plates in front of Richard and Julian before dashing back to the kitchen.

  “When the Schweppes owned the estate they played host to Wallis Simpson and the Duke of Windsor,” Victoria boasted. “Were they ever guests of the Laurents?”

  Allie knew where this was headed. Whenever the conversation turned to Julian’s homeland, Victoria eventually got around to mentioning her desire to return to France. She’d invited herself to Julian’s family estate more times than Allie could count and she had no desire to watch her add one more to the list.

  “I have some news,” Allie said. Her announcement had seemed like the perfect diversion, but as she glanced around the table at three sets of inquiring eyes, she wasn’t so sure. She took a deep breath. “I received a call from the Harris Group on Monday.”

  “Is that so?” Victoria asked. Her voice gave no indication of her reaction.

  “Seems one of their partners was at the gala the other night.” Allie sat up a little taller. “He was so impressed he offered me a job overseeing their nonprofit events.”

  Her father paused with a forkful of apple pie in midair. “You have a job, Alessandra, at Better Start.”

  “Of course. And I told Mr. Harris there was no way I could—”

  “And once you’re married you’ll join your mother and the other ladies on the board, not hire yourself out to other charities.”

  Join the ladies on the board? Where was this coming from? Her father had always been so supportive of her interest in the business side of Ingram Media, encouraged it even. It had actually been his idea for her to spend those two years getting to know the inner workings of each subsidiary. Granted she had no desire to join him in the boardroom, but after the wedding she’d planned to take on a larger role within the overall foundation, not become a figurehead.

  “And speaking of the wedding,” Victoria began. Allie felt herself deflate as her mother marched on with her own agenda. “We have some wonderful news.” She paused, beaming at her husband, “Richard, do you want to tell them?”

  Her father placed his silverware on his plate, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and leaned back in his chair. “I was able to pull a few strings—”

  Victoria jumped in, unable to contain her excitement. “He was able to book the Drake!”

  “The Drake Hotel?” Allie could hardly believe it. “When I called they said they were booked for the next eighteen months. They weren’t even adding names to the waiting list.”

  Richard cut his eyes at his wife. “There was a cancelation. Rather last minute.” His tone made Allie uneasy.

  “How last minute?” she asked.

  “The wedding will be December sixth,” he announced.

  “What?” Allie couldn’t hide her shock. Her eyes darted from her father to Julian. Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that her fiancé didn’t seem all that surprised by the new wedding date. “That’s just over two months away,” she sputtered before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “People will think I’m pregnant.”

  Victoria’s eyes flicked down to the chocolate decadence waiting on Allie’s plate. “All the more reason to skip dessert, I’d say.”

  Allie blanched but tried her best to ignore her mother’s comment. She had bigger issues. Still reeling from the news of her impending wedding date, she turned to Julian. “Are you okay with this?”

  He reached for her hand once again, this time brushing his fingers across her wrist. “I’d marry you tonight, Alessandra.” She hadn’t even realized she had a death grip on the fork until she glanced down at Julian’s fingers stroking over hers. When her eyes met his he gave her a comforting smile, but she could have sworn she saw one finger nudge her dessert plate farther away.

  The room started to spin, or maybe it was just Allie’s head. She’d barely had a chance to adjust to being engaged. Hell, they hadn’t even had a chance to plan an engagement party yet and now the wedding was ten weeks away? There were so many details. Menus, dresses, flowers. “How can we pull everything together in time?”

  “Don’t worry, Alessandra, leave all the planning to me.” Her mother reassured her with a pat to her free hand. “The Gold Coast room at the Drake.” Victoria’s green eyes sparkled with excitement. “We’ve pictured your wedding there since you were a little girl. I used to take you for Princess Tea on Sundays . . .”

  Her mother continued chatting but Allie stopped listening. Their reaction to her job offer, the less than subtle dig on her weight, and now this new wedding date; it was all too much. But as overwhelmed as she felt, Allie knew it was all just the tip of the iceberg.

  She’d spent the past forty-eight hours trying to block out what had happened in Hudson’s office. But now, just thinking his name made her pulse race a little faster. She knew she’d be in trouble if she allowed her mind to wander any further. She couldn’t let herself picture the dark look in his eyes just before he kissed her. She couldn’t close her eyes and imagine his hands, his lips, his teeth. She couldn’t indulge in the fantasy of his body sliding over hers as . . .

  Stop.

  She shook her head. It was a mistake, a brief lapse in judgment. Nothing more.

  Allie eyed the untouched dessert before pushing it away. Her mother would be pleased. Thanks to the knot in the pit of her stomach, Allie couldn’t have eaten her favorite dessert if her life depended on it.

  Chapter Six

&n
bsp; Hudson leaned against a mahogany bar spanning the length of a room that looked to still be in the 1920s. The private club was smothering despite its size, with its dark panels and original wood floors polished to a high shine. Luxurious booths anchored the corners of the room, leather wingback chairs tucked in around tables sat center, and the glow from Tiffany lamps set the mood.

  It was the kind of place where men sat around drinking single malt scotch, smoking cigars, and discussing the current state of the market.

  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?”

  “Yes, I’ll meet you at noon, just inside the main gate.”

  “You’re afraid to be alone with me, aren’t you?” His index finger traced the vein pulsing wildly in her neck.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She looked over his shoulder again. “Now will you please go before someone walks in?” Allie’s gaze shifted back to him, but her stare didn’t match the icy tone of her voice.

  Hudson’s mouth hovered inches from hers. Allie moistened her lips and as she did, he thought maybe she was right; maybe she shouldn’t be alone with him. With the way he was feeling he was liable to take advantage of her slightly parted mouth. He knew she wouldn’t stop him if he kissed her. And he wanted to, more than his next breath.

  He had to stop.

  Boy did he ever.

  “Until tomorrow.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across Allie’s bottom lip before strolling out the door without a backward glance.

  Hudson walked halfway down the corridor before he stopped. He ran a hand back over his unruly hair and buttoned his jacket to hide the erection threatening the front of his Tom Ford.

  Yeah, he needed to get the hell out of there.

  Falling back into stride, he headed for the exit. The powder room door swung open as he passed and out trotted the two women in head-to-toe Chanel. Hudson flashed them both a grin. “Ladies,” he said with a slight dip of his head.

  His phone vibrated just as he handed the valet his ticket. Reaching into his breast pocket, he yanked his phone out and immediately recognized the number of a shithole on the other side of town. The guy who ran the place probably had him on speed dial.

  “Chase,” Hudson barked into the phone.

  “You better get over here,” a man rasped, his voice the product of sucking on cigarettes for thirty or forty years.