“Give a girl a chance to catch her breath,” she said with a laugh. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she considered their options. “What would you do if I weren’t here?”
“Work,” he answered matter-of-factly. “You?”
She shrugged. “Shop, go to a movie.”
“Well, you’ve already shopped my closet.” He hooked a finger in the neck of her borrowed dress shirt. “But I do have a home theater. Movie?”
“We never did get to see a movie together.”
Hudson frowned. “I couldn’t afford the price of the tickets back then.”
“Well, now’s your chance.” Allie placed a swift kiss on the corner of Hudson’s mouth before climbing off his lap. “If you’re lucky, I might even let you hold my hand.”
“Hold your hand? Oh, Miss Sinclair, I plan to do a lot more than just hold your hand.”
Chapter Eighteen
Allie followed Hudson to the second floor of his penthouse. When they reached the top of the stairs she felt as though she was peering into a gallery at an art museum. She was dying to get a closer look at the oversize canvases lining both sides of the darkened hallway, curious to see what type of artwork Hudson had chosen to decorate his home, but he stopped at the first door, opening it and gesturing for her to step inside.
As she did, a dozen Art Deco wall sconces flared to life, revealing five rows of oversize leather chairs. Large speakers were camouflaged in walls that were painted a deep burgundy, and heavy velvet curtains hung on both sides of a silver screen. It was so reminiscent of the golden age of cinema that Allie half expected to find gilded balcony seating behind her. Instead she found Hudson, standing in front of a wet bar that ran the length of the rear wall.
“Would you like popcorn?” he asked, motioning to a professional grade, state-of-the-art popcorn machine.
She raised a skeptical brow. “Do you know how to use that?”
Hudson frowned at the machine. “No, but I can make this.” Reaching up, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of microwave popcorn. The sight of him—so strong and powerful and yet so completely befuddled by another high-end, high-cost appliance—was so amusing that she had to press her lips together to stifle a giggle.
“Or perhaps I can interest you in something sweet?”
Her eyes grew wide as he opened the next cabinet. Sno-Caps, Twizzlers, Skittles, Junior Mints. The list went on and on. Hudson’s theater had a selection of candy to rival any Cineplex concession stand. Allie chewed her bottom lip as she considered her choice. “Can’t go wrong with Swedish Fish,” she finally said.
Hudson grinned and handed her one of the bright yellow bags. “One of Nick’s favorites.” He grabbed an iPad from its charger and took her by the hand, leading her down the carpeted aisle and into a row of chairs. Once they were settled, he swiped his finger across the touch screen, accessing an impressive library of films.
“What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t care,” she said, already tearing into her candy. “You pick.”
“Pirates of the Caribbean? If memory serves, that was the movie you wanted to see that summer.” He tapped the icon featuring Jack Sparrow and smirked. “Had a crush on Johnny Depp, if I recall.”
Allie’s mouth popped open. “I did not!”
He held her stare, teasing her with his you-are-so-busted smile until her cheeks heated. She tucked her chin down, muttering to herself while digging a candy fish out of the bag. “And anyway, it was Orlando Bloom.”
Hudson chuckled as he hit Play. With the push of another button he dimmed the lights. “No difference, still one hundred and forty-three minutes in the dark.” He set the iPad on the vacant seat next to him and leaned toward Allie. His voice was a low whisper. “You know, I would have made out with you the moment the lights went down.”
“You mean you would have tried to make out with me.”
“And succeeded.”
“Shh,” she hushed him. “It’s starting.”
About the time Elizabeth Swann yelled “parley,” Hudson gave an exaggerated yawn. He stretched his arms high above his head, and when he lowered them, one managed to land smoothly around Allie. She glanced down to see his hand resting on her shoulder and gave a small smile as she popped another piece of candy into her mouth.
After a few minutes Hudson’s hand moved toward her breast. Not taking her eyes off the screen, Allie reached for his hand and discreetly placed it back on her shoulder. But even with her eyes forward, she caught a glimpse of his amused grin. Clearly he was a man who enjoyed a challenge, and something told her he’d just declared “game on.”
Sure enough, after a few more minutes passed, his hand once again began to wander. But this time he stopped halfway and waited. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and when she made no protest, he slowly extended one finger, leisurely drawing a circle around the taut peak of her breast. Allie remained impassive, merely covering her hand with his and sliding it back to her shoulder.
Hudson leaned closer and let his lips drift up the column of her throat. “I know what you’re doing,” he whispered against her ear, grazing the lobe with his teeth.
Still not taking her eyes off the screen, Allie inclined her head towards his. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His tongue traced the shell of her ear. “Fine. If that’s how you want to play it.”
Allie felt the knuckles of his free hand brush the bare skin just above her knee. She glanced down to see the fabric of her borrowed shirt inching higher as his broad palm glided slowly up the inside of her thigh. Her breath hitched and yet, like any good girl would, she pressed her legs together to halt his progress.
Hudson groaned in protest as he sucked on the sensitive skin below her ear. He was driving her positively mad—licking, sucking, nipping—but she was determined not to give in to his advances. This movie was about enjoying something they’d never had the chance to experience in the past. Seventeen-year-old Allie would have never let nineteen-year-old Hudson feel her up in a movie theater.
But he was damn well going to try.
His hand was back on her knee in minutes, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake as his fingers traced the hem of the linen shirt. Featherlight touches moving back and forth. Back and forth.
“Hudson.” His name came out on a breathy whisper.
“Yes, Allie?”
“I want . . .”
She felt his rough stubble on her skin as he smiled against her neck. “Want what?
“Popcorn.”
Hudson’s hands and lips stilled. He lifted his head and the expression on his face had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. After a few shell-shocked beats he got up, cursing under his breath as he adjusted the erection so obviously straining against the fly of his jeans. Allie waited until she heard the opening of cabinets before peeking over her shoulder to spy on him through the space between the seats. In the flickering light she saw him rip open the plastic wrapper on the popcorn before tossing it in the microwave and jabbing at the buttons. He waited impatiently, running his hand through his hair before leaning down to watch the carousel through the glass. He popped the door open the minute the microwave chimed.
“Fuck!” He dropped the steaming bag on the counter and shook his fingers. “Shit!”
Allie clasped her hand over her mouth to contain her giggle. She watched Hudson pick up the offending bag with a napkin and then straightened in her seat so as not to be discovered. He’d just made it to their row when he halted midstride and made a quick U-turn back to the concession area. She heard the sound of a refrigerator door open and then close, and a moment later he was back at her side.
“Had a feeling you’d ask for this next,” he said, holding out a can of Diet Coke.
She took the can from him, genuinely concerned but unable to hide her smile. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing a skin graft won’t fix,” he grumbled, tearing open
the bag and offering her some of the popcorn.
Allie helped herself to a handful, then turned her attention back to the movie in time to catch one of her favorite shots of the handsome Will Turner.
“I don’t see the appeal,” Hudson said.
She rolled her eyes and reached back into the bag of popcorn. “You’re a guy, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me. It’s the leather pants, isn’t it?”
She whipped her head around to look at him. “Why, do you have a pair?”
He grinned. “No, but consider it my first order of business.”
His arm draped across Allie’s shoulders once again, only this time she snuggled against him. For the next two hours Allie watched sword fights between pirates and skeletons while Hudson continued his amorous assault. One step forward, two steps backs. He was relentless and she loved every minute of it.
The moment the credits rolled she was tugged across his lap. His mouth found hers and he kissed her fiercely. As if he had to. As if the past one hundred and forty-three minutes had been the longest of his life. And despite her game, she kissed him back.
Her fingers wound into his hair, holding him close as he deepened the kiss. His hand slid over her bare thigh and she felt the prod of his erection digging into her behind. He gripped her waist, shifting her so she straddled him, and with a flex of his hips pressed himself against her. Oh yes, just like that.
His lips moved lower, nibbling her neck, and she let her head fall back on a soft moan as he flexed up once more. She closed her eyes, reveling in the delicious friction as he slowly rubbed her through the worn denim of his jeans. If he kept it up, she’d be reaching for his fly in no time. It would be so easy. A few popped buttons, a subtle shift of her hips . . .
“Hudson?”
“Hmm?” he answered against her skin.
“What’s for dinner?”
He lifted his head. “Dinner? Now?”
“Yes.” She tried her hardest to keep a straight face. “Movie dates usually include dinner.”
“Christ, woman, you’re making my balls bluer than you did ten years ago.” He flashed her a hopeful grin that made him look every bit the horny teen she remembered. “Can we eat in bed?”
She laughed. “In bed? On a first date?”
The noise he made was somewhere between animal and human. “Way past first dates, Allie.” Moving her off his lap, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Any place that will deliver in thirty minutes or less.”
Chapter Nineteen
Allie couldn’t remember the last time she had pizza for dinner. She lifted a second slice out of the cardboard box and took a bite. Mmm, delicious. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, and when she opened them Hudson was staring at her, one brow slightly raised.
“No placemats, plates, or fine silver? When did you become the type to eat straight out of the box?”
“Are you forgetting the picnics we used to have when your shift was over?” Eating greasy food out of takeout cartons was something Allie had never done before she met Hudson. In fact, she’d done a lot of things with him that were outside her norm. And yet, they always felt so right.
“That was a long time ago.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
“And what about you? When did you become the type to wear a suit and tie every day?”
Hudson reached for the nearly empty bottle of merlot and split the remainder between their two glasses. “I’m still not, but Wall Street continues to equate success with the ability to strangle oneself with a five-hundred-dollar tie.” He leaned against the back of the barstool and took a sip of his wine. “All part of a strategic and well-crafted game.”
“One you obviously play quite well. This place is amazing. I can’t believe you have a movie theater upstairs.” She narrowed her eyes at him as she reached for her glass. “What else do you have hidden behind closed doors?”
Hudson leaned closer, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and dropped a kiss to her lips. “Eat up and I’ll show you.”
When they finished eating, Allie followed him to the foyer. “The study you’ve already seen, as with my bedroom.” He smirked at her before gesturing to a split staircase. “Downstairs are guest rooms, a gym, and staff quarters. But the rooms upstairs are my favorite.”
She took his offered hand as he led her up the same staircase they’d taken on their way to the theater. Only this time they continued farther down the wide hallway, affording her a full view of the artwork she’d been so curious to see. The paintings she passed were bold, brightly colored abstracts with heavy textured strokes, a few of which she was sure she’d seen hanging in the Art Institute at one time.
Halfway down the hall Hudson paused in front of a set of carved wood doors standing at least ten feet tall. “This,” he said, pushing them open, “was Hefner’s office.”
The room took Allie’s breath away. A ceiling that soared upwards of fifteen feet with elaborate plaster designs; walls that were covered in recessed mahogany panels; a herringbone wood floor polished to a glossy shine; a limestone fireplace flanked by leather wingback chairs; and velvet drapes framing French doors that led to a stone terrace with potted palms. The entire room looked to be in its original 1920s condition. It was as if she’d stepped out of the Palmolive building and straight into the pages of The Great Gatsby. She was so enthralled by her surroundings that it took a few moments for Hudson’s words to register.
“Wait, did you say Hefner’s office?”
He nodded. “Fully restored.”
“What . . . how?”
“This was his office when he launched his magazine in the fifties. A few years later he opened his first club here as well.”
Allie gaped at him. “You live in the Playboy Club?”
“Yes. Interested in wearing a bunny outfit, Miss Sinclair?”
She smiled coyly. “Particular fantasy of yours, Mr. Chase?”
“Second only to Princess Leia’s gold bikini.” He flashed her a heart-stopping, panty-dropping grin, and in that moment she was quite sure he could talk her into wearing either if it meant his hands and mouth touching her. “Come,” he said as if reading her mind. “There’s more.”
He led her to the very end of the hallway and yet another set of double doors. “This is my favorite room of all.” Allie didn’t think anything could top the room she’d just seen. But then Hudson swung the door open and she realized she’d been wrong. “The game room,” he said.
Allie whistled through her teeth. “Quite the man cave you have here.”
Like the previous room, this one was decorated in warm, rich colors. Dark hammer beams spanned the vaulted ceiling, spaced every six feet or so with trusses that came down to meet the walls where they divided the arched, floor-to-ceiling windows. Travertine tiles were covered with thick oriental rugs, and a large pool table sat front and center. Allie’s hand trailed along the table’s red baize as she admired the intricate bevels on the amber light fixture hanging above it.
“The room doesn’t get much use unless Nick’s here.”
She looked up at him, surprised.
“If I’m home, I’m working.” His mouth curved into a knowing smile. “With the exception of this weekend.”
Hudson leaned his hip against the side of the pool table, casually crossing his arms as he watched her move farther into the room. She smiled back at him before turning her attention to the mahogany bar. A flat screen television was mounted to a stone-covered wall behind the bar, flanked on either side by glass shelving with enough high-end liquor to stock Tavern for the weekend. In front of the bar two leather chesterfield sofas sat facing each other, and on the wall across from them hung a dartboard worthy of any Irish pub. A giggle escaped her lips as she pictured the boy who’d tried to impress her by besting a game of carnival darts on his brother’s behalf.
“Something funny, Alessandra?”
“I was just remembering that carnival dart game. The look on your face every time you had to hand over another dollar.” She giggled again. He must have gone through a week’s worth of tips that night.
“You think you could have done better?” he asked, pushing away from the pool table and sauntering toward her.
She shot him a teasing grin. “Well, I think I could have popped three green balloons in less than an hour, that’s for sure.”
Hudson cocked his head to one side. “Less than an hour, eh?” It was a rhetorical question, one he considered for a moment before strolling over to the board and lifting the six darts from their holes. “A game of Five-O-One?” He smirked as he approached, offering her three of the darts, feather tip forward. “You don’t even have to beat me in less than an hour.”
She tilted her chin up, holding his stare as she took the darts from his hand. “Challenge accepted.”
He smiled down at her, his eyes shining with amusement, before tucking his darts into the back pocket of his jeans and heading for the bar. “Would you like another glass of wine? I can open a bottle.”
“Trying to get me drunk? Compromise my abilities, perhaps?”
“Simply being a good host.” He feigned politeness, but she knew it was an act. If there was one thing she’d learned about the modern-day version of Hudson Chase it was that he would go to any lengths to get what he wanted. But he was about to find out that he wasn’t the only one who played to win.
“I’ll take a bottle of whatever you’re having.”
Hudson’s brow shot up. “Well, you’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?” He yanked open the glass door of a fridge displaying rows of every beer imaginable and grabbed two Heinekens. “Would you like a glass?” he asked, popping the tops off the green bottles.
“Nope, bottle’s fine. Maybe some music?”
“Won’t break your concentration, will it?”
She could see he was fighting a smile. We’ll just see who’s laughing when this is over. “Appreciate the concern, but I think I can manage.”
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