Wanted

fifteen

“I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me,” I whispered, as I woke in Evan’s arms to the soft pre-dawn glow filling the sky outside the windows.

“I’m glad.” He stretched, coming easily awake. His fingers stroked my hair. “I don’t like that you’ve ever had them at all. I wish I could erase them. They’re not real, you know. They’re survival guilt, baby. I get that you miss your sister, and I understand that the way she was taken from you was damned horrific, but you don’t have to feel guilty for being alive.”

“I don’t,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Not because I’m alive.” I sucked in air. “It’s because she shouldn’t have even been out of the house that night.”

I spoke in a whisper, my voice so low I wasn’t actually certain I was making sound. I’d never told this to anyone but Jahn. And though part of me screamed that I needed to keep this to myself—that I shouldn’t build bridges when I was just going to burn them in three weeks—the truth was that I felt safe and warm with Evan. And, more important, I knew that he was strong enough to hold whatever load I piled onto him.

“I’d been sneaking out a lot,” I continued. “Meeting friends to get drunk and smoke cigarettes and do idiot shit, you know? And Grace had been covering for me even while she tried to get me to stop. But I didn’t. She was always so perfect. The brilliant and beautiful oldest daughter, and I was such a fuckup, and I told her she needed to mind her own business.”

“But that night she followed you?”

“And that was the night they took her.” My voice broke on a sob. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t even know she’d followed me until the next morning when she wasn’t in her room and then they found her body and no one could understand why she’d snuck out of the house. Except for me. I understood.” I met his eyes, sure that mine were filled with guilt and shame. “I never told anyone.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He stroked my hair. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly. “The universe is a fucked up bitch, and she doesn’t play by the rules.”

“I stopped, you know. That very day I stopped sneaking out and acting wild and cutting loose. I turned myself completely around.”

“Did you?” he asked. “Yourself? Or your behavior?”

I didn’t answer, but he was dead on the money, and I think he knew it. Nothing inside me had really changed. I’d just locked it up tight.

He sat up, then pulled me onto his lap. I leaned in close to him and sighed. I didn’t like playing true confessions, but at the same time it felt good to have shared my secrets. Or, rather, it felt good to share them with Evan.

“I’m an absolute wreck you know,” I said. “I think you must be a saint for putting up with me.”

His low chuckle thrummed through my chest. “Hardly. And you’re not a wreck.”

“Oh, I am.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “You say you’ve wanted me for so long, but I don’t think you’re seeing the person you think you’re seeing.”

“No? You told me before that I see you.”

“Wishful thinking, maybe,” I said.

“No.” The word was strong and simple and held a world of understanding. “You were right. I see you. I do. I see what you are.”

“What am I?” I asked, hating how small and insecure my voice sounded, but I had to know. Had to hear.

“Beautiful, vibrant, smart. You’re selfless. You’re empathetic. And though you may not always be correct, you always do what you think is right. And,” he added with a mischievous grin. “It turns out that you’re quite talented in bed.”

At that, I laughed out loud.

“I see you,” he repeated. “I see the core of you, Lina. The heart. And I damn sure hope that’s what you see in me, too, because my top coat may be shiny and bright, but underneath that you’re going to find a lot of tarnish.”

“And beneath the tarnish?”

“Much shinier,” he said. “But very hard to get to. Except for Tyler and Cole, Jahn is probably the only one who ever has.”

I sat up straight so that I could see his face better. “That’s sad,” I said, but even as I spoke, I realized that his words could apply to me, too. How many people had I truly let in? Honestly, except for Jahn, I could think of none. Not even Kat. Not even Flynn.

“What about your mom and your sister?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. To a degree. But they’re not around. They moved away years ago. I hardly ever see them anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” I regretted bringing it up. I remembered now that the various articles I’d read had talked about the fact that he’d worked his ass off to move them out of Chicago so they could make a better life elsewhere. He’d remained behind, running the businesses that had earned the money to finance their move.

“It must have been hard,” I said. “Growing up the way you did. Your father’s death, and then having to shoulder so much when you were so young.”

His smile was humorless. “Just how many articles have you read about me?”

I shrugged. “All of them, I think.”

As I’d hoped, he laughed.

“Fiction writers aren’t the only ones who spin stories, Lina,” he said.

“It’s not true? The way you took care of your mom and your sister?”

His expression was both harsh and wistful. “I did—and will always do—whatever is in my power to protect my family. I will take any risk, I will make any sacrifice, I will do whatever it takes to turn the odds to my favor. And I will never regret a single choice I made where those two women are concerned.”

The passion in his words reverberated through me, and I couldn’t help but picture a young Evan carrying such a huge burden. That he’d not only survived but thrived—was just one more bit of proof that this man was exceptional.

“The universe is fucked up,” I whispered, remembering the words he’d spoken to me—and wondering what risks he’d taken, what sacrifices he’d made, and how, exactly, he’d shifted the odds in his favor.

“Yes,” he said harshly. “It is.” He met my eyes. “Don’t ever be naive, Lina. Whatever you’ve read—whatever you think you know—keep in mind that the press coverage about me doesn’t even come close to the truth.”

I frowned, knowing this was an opportunity. I’d told him about Gracie; if I asked, he just might tell me the truth. About what happened after his father died. About all those secrets Jahn had mentioned. About all the things that Kevin had hinted at.

And yet I didn’t ask. I didn’t say one single word.

I’m not entirely sure why I held back. All I knew was that the sexy, dark, dangerous man I’d fantasized about was finally in my bed, and would be for the next three weeks. Did I want to risk that high by bringing reality into the mix?

I didn’t, and so I stayed silent, gently stroking my hand over his. His knuckles had healed quite a bit, but they were still red, the skin obviously tender. “There was trouble with one of the women who works at Destiny,” he said, though I hadn’t even lifted a brow in question. “I had a little chat with the man causing the trouble. Now there’s no more trouble.”

I thought of what went down in the alley and could easily imagine him protecting the girls. I hoped the man’s face looked one hell of a lot worse than Evan’s knuckles.

I kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad.”

He met my eyes and held them, and the moment had the quality of a salute. As if he not only approved of my words, but I’d passed some sort of test. He smiled, just a little, then he laid his head back and closed his eyes. I settled against him. Even though it was still ridiculously early, I knew that sleep would elude me. I wasn’t yet awake, but at the same time I was full of energy.

I let my fingers explore his body, stroking his chest, easing up his arm. The vibrant green of the vine tattoo popped in the dim light, and I traced its outline with my fingertip, feeling relaxed and lazy and so very comfortable with this man. “Does it mean something?”

He turned his head toward me, his eyes barely open.

“It’s a reminder,” he said. “Let’s just say it keeps me focused.”

I waited for him to say more, but he just turned his head back and closed his eyes again.

I thought of what Jahn had said so many years ago—about how Evan had secrets. His own, and those he keeps for others.

I might have guessed at some of his secrets, but as I looked at Evan, resting peacefully beside me, I had to acknowledge that I didn’t really know the man at all.

But, damn me, I wanted to. I so very desperately wanted to.

I woke again a few hours later to the incredible scent of coffee and the even more incredible man smiling down at me.

“Hey,” he said, passing me the mug. “Drink up. Get dressed. We need to get going.”

I blinked at him. “Going? Where?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I said, without hesitation.

“Then you’ll see when we get there.”

I took a long sip of coffee and felt life returning. “Do I have time for a shower?”

“A quick one,” he said.

“Do I have time for a shower with you?”

He laughed. “That wouldn’t be quick.” He leaned over and kissed me, long and deep and so scrumptious it curled through me, setting me just a little bit on fire. Yeah, I thought. It wouldn’t be quick at all. “Now go,” he said, taking the mug and then tugging the sheet off me as I squealed and scrambled out of bed.

He patted my ass as I hurried by, and I paused long enough to shoot him a saucy grin. “Naked and soapy,” I said. “But I guess you’re going to miss it all.”

“Vixen,” he said, then laughed.

When Uncle Jahn had remodeled the penthouse, he’d wanted every guest to feel as much at home as Jahn himself did. And to that end, he’d focused on making each of the four guest suites as stunning as possible. Each had a bedroom that was beyond gigantic with a full wall of windows with a view of either the lake or the city. The bedroom abutted an adjacent sitting area complete with decadent furniture, a wet bar, and the most important of all essentials: the coffee station.

But it was in the bathrooms that Jahn’s generosity really shined. Unlike most homes in which only the master suite had a bathroom with bells and whistles, in Jahn’s condo, every guest was treated as royalty, too. And the bathroom that had become mine when I’d moved in and selected my suite was absolutely my most favorite room in the entire penthouse.

The walls were a combination of dark teak and white marble with pinkish veins that gave the room a classical yet slightly funky feel. The shower stall was bigger than the entire bathroom in the apartment I’d shared with Flynn and had a line of showerheads descending from floor to ceiling, and two other lines arching out for almost 360 degree coverage. Teak benches lined two walls of the stall, and except for the glass door and one glass wall, the walls were made up of that marble I loved so much.

The glass wall looked in on the sauna that was positioned beside the shower, and next to that was a steam room. Adding to the spa-like theme, there was a giant whirlpool tub, an entertainment center with the television hidden behind the huge mirror, and a beverage center, complete with a carbonated water dispenser and a wine fridge.

When you also considered the dressing-room-style closet—which would comfortably house a family of five—the bathroom crossed the line from freaking awesome to fan-fucking-tastic.

The only thing what would make it better was if Evan was with me, but if time was an issue I had to concede that it was probably for the best that he’d declined my offer.

Still … he was on my mind as I turned on the ceiling-mounted rain-shower head, then brushed my teeth while I waited for the water temperature to adjust. He was even more in my thoughts when I stepped into the warm, wet spray.

I tilted my face up, letting the water run over my skin and soak my hair. There was a shampoo dispenser in the wall, and I put some into my hand, then rubbed it over my head. My hair was thick enough that it took a while to soap it up well, and even longer to thoroughly rinse it. I closed my eyes and let the water fall onto my face and then sluice down my body in warm trails.

I didn’t hear him come in, but even before he touched me I knew he was there. Maybe it was a shift in the ambient noise. Maybe there was a change in the light. Or maybe I was just attuned to his presence, connected to him now as I’d never been to anyone before.

All I know is that I felt no surprise when he pressed up behind me, his erection teasing my rear as his hands cupped my breasts.

Neither of us said a word, but I leaned back as he stroked me, his strong hands playing with my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples. He trailed one hand down my belly to find me slick and wet and ready. His fingers stroked me, filling me, and finding my sensitive clit, and I gasped as he brushed his finger over it, sending ripples of warmth coursing through me.

His fingers played with me, moving slowly and sensually in teasing strokes designed to drive me wild, and he kept it up with minute attention until I knew that it was a good thing he was holding me upright, because my legs felt so weak I knew I would collapse if he even thought about letting go.

I was so close to release that I actually whimpered when he pulled his hand away, but he wasn’t done with me. He moved me forward, bending me at the waist and putting my hands on the wall. Still, he said nothing, and I smiled as I stood there, my hands on the warm stone, my rear pressed up against him. He stroked my back, his hands sliding down either side of me until he reached my hips. He used his knee to ease my legs slightly wider, and then—as I closed my eyes in sweet anticipation—he slid his cock deep into me.

I was so wet, so damn ready, that he entered easily, my muscles contracting to draw him in farther, as if he were part of me. As if in the short time since he’d last been inside me I’d lost a part of myself. His thrusts were deep and powerful and demanding, and I could feel his body tense as he got closer and closer.

I took one hand off the wall, then slid it between my legs, finding my clit and stroking it faster and faster in time with his thrusts. Water sluiced over us, but I felt none of it. All I could feel was my hand upon my clit and Evan’s cock inside me. I was reduced to nothing but the sensation of sex, of coming release, of the electricity that now concentrated between my legs like a single vibrant point that was growing and throbbing and threatening to burst free, as if there was no way that so much pleasure could be held enclosed in anything smaller than the universe.

And then Evan was coming, his hands tight on my hips as he tugged me even closer, our bodies slapping wildly together as he emptied himself inside me, taking me to my own release as that vibrant point exploded out, making my entire body sing and tingle, all the way to my toes and my fingertips.

I pressed both hands against the wall again, gasping and spent. I wasn’t certain I could ever move again. Then Evan pulled out of me and he turned me around and I moved obediently, draping my arms around his neck and pressing my head to his chest as he used a washcloth to gently soap me up and then adjusted the rest of the showerheads to rinse us both completely.

“I thought you said we’d be late,” I murmured when he was done ministering to me.

“I imagine we will,” he said. He kissed me so soundly that my body fired all over again. “It was worth it.”

Yeah, I thought as I clung tight to him, it was.

I still felt boneless when we emerged from the shower moments later. I sank down beside him on the upholstered bench, my head leaning against his shoulder. “You’ve melted me,” I said, though there wasn’t a hint of complaint in my voice.

“You managed to destroy me pretty completely, too,” he said. “Should we blow off my surprise?”

“Is it a good surprise?”

“The best,” he said.

“Then no.” With effort, I forced myself to stand, then held out a hand to help him rise. “But I warn you. My standards are high. If it’s not the best, there will be consequences.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said seriously.

Since he wouldn’t tell me where we were going, getting dressed was a bit of a challenge. But he swore that the flirty dress and sandals I picked out were perfect. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail with a few loose tendrils framing my face, then swiped on some mascara and lip gloss and called myself ready.

“Perfect,” he said, returning to my bedroom after leaving to change clothes himself. He wore jeans and loafers now, with a casual jacket over a simple white T-shirt.

“You couldn’t possibly have had an entire outfit in your briefcase.”

“No. In my suite.”

“You have a suite? If I’d realized, I wouldn’t have let you share mine last night.”

“Don’t even joke about kicking me out of your bed. And yeah, Cole and Tyler and I crashed here quite a bit. Jahn gave us each a drawer.”

“A drawer,” I teased. “That’s serious.”

“It was,” he said. “The man was like a father to me.”

I might have been playing, but I could tell that Evan was serious. “What about your own dad? I mean, you were old enough when he died. Surely you remember him.”

“I remember him,” he said, his words like ice. “He was a goddamn bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing my words were inadequate. The press had painted a picture of a happy family struck by tragedy. Now I tried to revise my perception to picture a broken family that had been even more destroyed with the death of Evan’s father. A man who, from what I was guessing, hadn’t exactly been around for his wife or kids.

I tried to imagine not having my dad, and the thought left a huge hollow spot in my gut.

I went to him and took his hand, then rose up to brush a kiss over his lips. “In that case,” I said, “I’m even more glad you had Jahn.”

We headed out, and to my surprise, Evan stopped the elevator on the lobby level instead of descending all the way to the parking garage.

“No car?”

“It’s reasonably close. We’ll take a taxi.”

“Close,” I said, running various options through my head.

“Don’t even try. I’ll only be disappointed if you manage to guess.”

I laughed. “Fair enough,” I said as a taxi pulled up in response to the call light. Evan stepped off the curb to open the door for me, then walked around and got in on the opposite side.

“One thing I forgot to mention,” he said, as he settled in beside me. “I’d like you to put this on.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black sleep mask with an elastic strap.

I peered at it dubiously. “Seriously?”

He just looked at me, not answering.

“Evan!”

“Hey, if you don’t want to …” He trailed off, then leaned forward and told the taxi driver to take us back to the condo.

I goggled at him. “What are you doing?”

“Rules are rules.”

“Fine,” I said, snatching it out of his hands. I slid the mask on over my eyes. And in the moment before the world disappeared from sight, I was pretty sure that I caught the driver’s smirk in the rearview window.

“Better?” I asked.

“Much,” Evan said.

“And you’re not going to even give me a clue?”

“Not even,” he said.

“I know this area pretty well. I could probably count stops and turns. I’ve watched enough espionage thrillers to know how that works.”

He laughed. “Good point.” He sat silent for a moment, and then I felt him drape something across my lap. “You look a little cold,” he said. “Let me warm you up.”

I started to tell him that my legs weren’t cold, but in that same instant I felt his hand upon my thigh. I realized as he gently stroked my skin—easing his fingers higher and higher toward the mid-thigh hemline of my dress—that he hadn’t put the jacket there to keep me warm, but to give us privacy.

He eased the hem higher, and it was all I could do not to whimper. I felt on fire, my thighs craving more of his touch, my sex so sensitive that even the slight rubbing of my panties against my flesh in time with the movement of the car was making me hot. And, so help me, the fact that I was blindfolded and we were in the back of a taxi, not four feet away from some anonymous driver made the whole thing that much more arousing.

“Evan,” I said, because we should stop even though I didn’t want to. Even though I wanted this rush. This heat.

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Distracting you so you can’t count turns,” he said, even as his finger slipped under the tiny strip of material that made up the thong part of my teeny-tiny panties.

“Oh.” My breath was a gasp, the word forced out even as he slid his finger inside me. “Oh, well, um, okay.”

He chuckled. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’re close.”

“Yes,” I said, because he was right. I was close, so damn close, but he was keeping me on the edge, slipping his finger in and out, making me wetter and wetter, playing and teasing and trailing a soft fingertip all over my sex, between my legs, on the soft skin between my cunt and my thighs. But though his touch fired my senses and made me crave more, it was more that he denied me.

He was deliberately avoiding my clit, and I had no way of complaining. I couldn’t say a word—I couldn’t even shift my hips and writhe in silent demand—unless I wanted to advertise what was going on to the driver. And, yeah, he might already be clued in, but since I was blindfolded I was happy to live in the fantasy that he was completely oblivious.

Which meant I had to sit there, perfectly still, as Evan’s fingertips played me as skillfully as an instrument. As my body warmed. As every inch of my skin became so sensitive that every tiny hair seemed to send sparks shooting through me.

By the time the taxi finally pulled up in front of our mystery destination, I was taut and ready and totally primed.

I didn’t know where we were going, but I really hoped that getting naked was next on the agenda.

“I don’t think he bought your excuse about the cold,” I said, as I stood blindfolded on what I assumed was a sidewalk. “It’s in the seventies this morning and he didn’t even have the AC on.”

Evan’s arm held on to my elbow as he guided me forward. “You may be right. But I wanted what I wanted, and that was you.”

“Hmm,” I said, adding a hint of censure to my tone.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

I frowned. “I take the Fifth.”

He burst out laughing. “Fair enough. But I know the truth. You told me, remember? You’re a woman who likes to let go. Who likes the rush. Who needs it.”

I wanted desperately to peel the blindfold off and look at him. “I do,” I said. “But it also scares me.”

“That was the point, Lina. You were with me. You can do anything with me.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Anything. Because I will always be there. I will always catch you if you fall.”

I didn’t know what to say. He’d managed to twist the moment around completely. From a casual sexual encounter in a taxi, to a moment of pure intimacy.

“Evan,” I said, turning blindly toward him and finding his face. I pulled him toward me for a kiss, deep and long and sweet.

When I pulled back, he gently stroked my cheek. “What was that for?”

“Wherever you’re taking me, whatever we’re doing, I know it’s going to be amazing. And just in case you have me so distracted later I forget to say it, I wanted to say thank you now.”

“You’re welcome.” He took my hand. “Are you ready to go inside?”

I nodded and let him lead the way.

“Distracted, huh?” he said as we entered a very air-conditioned room. “I can’t imagine how you think I might distract you.”

I grinned, absolutely delighted with the man, with the morning, with the whole damn world.

I knew better than to ask where we were. There was stone, not carpet, beneath my feet, and the space had an echo when we walked. It felt empty, too, and I assumed it was some sort of lobby. My assumption was confirmed when I heard the ding of an elevator. A moment later, we stepped onto one. And ascended, higher and higher and higher still.

“About that flying thing,” I said. “If you’re thinking about hang gliding off the roof of one of the sky-rises, then I think I’m going to have to exercise my veto power.”

“That’s tomorrow’s agenda,” he says. “Today’s Sunday. I figured something less active would be appropriate.”

I wanted to scream with frustration because I had absolutely no idea what he had up his sleeve, but I also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. So I stayed calm, cool, and collected. And kept my curiosity soundly buried.

Finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. The doors opened, and I heard a few people moving around, but not too many. I heard the clattering of dishes and—happily—I caught the scent of coffee.

“Know where we are?”

“One of the clubs? A breakfast buffet?” Uncle Jahn belonged to the Metropolitan Club and had taken me and Flynn there for drinks and appetizers to celebrate Flynn’s first trip as a flight attendant.

“Not a bad guess,” he said. “But no.”

“Well, I give up.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have long to wait now.”

I’d been walking carefully, his hand on my elbow, and now he had me turn just slightly. The floor beneath us changed texture, and I heard the scrape of a chair.

“Here you go,” he said, helping me sit. He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He bent over, and his breath rippled my hair as he asked, so very gently, “Are you ready?”

“I think so.” I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to be ready for, and he clearly expected me to be astounded. For a moment I feared that my reaction would disappoint him, but the fear faded quickly. If anyone knew how to overwhelm, it was Evan. “Yes,” I said more firmly. “I’m ready.”

“Close your eyes.”

I did, effectively blocking out the tiny bits of light that had crept in under the mask. His fingers brushed my hair as he gripped the elastic and pulled the mask up and off my face. “All right,” he said softly. “Open.”

I did, and then gasped in awe and wonder. “Evan—oh my god.”

I have no memory of moving, but I must have, because now I was standing, and all of Chicago was spread out beneath and around me, and my heart was pounding because we were suspended above the city and all I could think was that there was no place more perfect that he could have brought me. “It’s the Skydeck,” I said. “You brought me to the Ledge.”

“I did,” he said, moving to stand beside me. I’d gone to the edge, and now my hands were pressed to the glass, but I wasn’t looking out, I was looking down, watching the world falling away beneath our feet as we stood in this clear box that hung from the side of the Willis Tower.

“Are you ready for breakfast?”

“What?” I asked foolishly.

He took my shoulder and gently turned me around. I saw the chair where I’d originally been sitting next to a white cloth-covered table topped with dishes and a shiny silver coffeepot.

For a moment I frowned. “Breakfast? I’ve wanted to come here for breakfast since I learned they served, but I thought it was closed on Sundays.”

“It is,” Evan said. “I arranged catering for a private party.”

“A party?” I asked, lifting a brow.

“A very small party,” he said. “Will you join me for breakfast on this lovely Sunday morning, Ms. Raine?” he asked, holding out his hand and drawing me toward him.

“Yes, Mr. Black. I’d be delighted.”

He held my chair out, and as I sat, I looked down at the city again. The world seemed to swirl around me, making me both dizzy and excited, making my heart swell and soar. But no matter what, I knew that I wouldn’t go crashing down to earth. I was safe here. Safe on this ledge, and safe with Evan.

“Thank you,” I said. “This is incredible. More than incredible, in fact. It’s perfect.”

“I told you I’d make you fly,” he said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “You did.”

Esther Martin swooped into my cubicle, her smile as wide as her eyes were sad. She crossed the small space in one stride, arms outstretched, and folded me into the kind of genuinely emotional hug that most women of Esther’s money and breeding usually eschewed.

“We’ve missed you,” she said, releasing me. “Are you doing okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I miss him. But I’m doing okay.”

“Oh, honey. We all miss him.” She stood back so that she could look me up and down. “You look good. You got some sun.”

I nodded. “I spent most of yesterday outside.” I shrugged a little. “It was nice.”

Nice, in fact, was an understatement. After a breakfast among the clouds, Evan and I spent the day like petals on the wind, soft and lazy and with no purpose other than to move and to explore the city. After breakfast on the Ledge, we’d walked from the Willis Tower all the way down the Magnificent Mile to the Oak Street Beach. I’d expected him to balk when I’d suggested it, because most people don’t share my love of simply walking around big cities, soaking up the vibe and absorbing the energy. But Evan didn’t complain, despite the fact that we walked about three miles even before our adventure truly started.

I pointed out my favorite haunts along the way, including the funky water tower. The real one, not the mall, though as far as shopping went, I fully approved of the multistoried shopping complex.

“It’s a castle in the middle of the city,” I’d said, tugging Evan to a stop and pointing at the building that had miraculously survived the Chicago Fire. I dragged him inside, ignoring his mock protests, and we stood with our hands pressed against the Plexiglas as we peered down at the tubes and equipment before going into the adjacent tourist center.

“Can I help you or answer any questions?” the clerk asked as we entered. And Evan, with a straight face, told him we were tourists with only thirty-six hours to spend in town, and we needed to figure out how to do everything.

The clerk, bless him, actually had some decent suggestions, and we left with a handful of brochures and a plan that started with bike rental from the stands that dotted the city. Then we continued on to the beach, leaving the bikes parked as we walked barefoot in the sand.

“I don’t have a favorite part of Chicago,” I’d said. “But if I did, this might be it. How cool is it that we’re in the middle of a continent and walking along a sandy beach?”

We’d gathered rocks to toss back into the water, drank beer at a beach-hut style restaurant, and watched an old man search for treasure with a metal detector. Then we’d backtracked to The Drake hotel and bought two cheap backpacks from the gift store downstairs. After that, we took our rented bikes and cruised along the lakefront and zipped through the parks, finally ending up at the famous Bean sculpture. We’d made faces at ourselves in the curved reflective surface and held hands while we walked underneath and peered up into the interior that seemed to me like the vortex of a black hole.

“Where to next?” he’d asked. “Wait, let me guess. The Art Institute?”

I paused beside my rented bike and grinned, delighted that he knew me so well. “Where else? After all, it’s in keeping with today’s theme.”

“We have a theme?”

I moved toward him and took his hands in mine, then lifted myself on tiptoes to kiss him. “Art makes me feel like I’m soaring—and that’s how I’ve felt all day with you. Hanging over the city at breakfast, walking hand in hand. And now, just looking in your eyes.”

“Careful,” he said, with a tease in his voice. “You’ll make me blush.”

I laughed aloud. “That, I’d like to see.”

We left our bikes at the kiosk and continued strolling through Millennium Park toward the Art Institute. “Have you ever been to Europe?” I asked.

“A few times,” he said.

“I haven’t. I’ve always wanted to, though. I want to see the Louvre and the Sistine Chapel. I want to stand there and feel the power of what those men left behind because it’s important and it’s enduring and—” I cut myself off with a shake of my head.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

He reached for my hand and gave me a little tug.

“Nothing, really. Just random stupid thoughts.”

“Those are the best kind for a Sunday afternoon stroll.”

“Fine,” I said, shaking my head in mock exasperation. “I was thinking about my dad. I love him, I do. But there’s no passion in politics. There never has been for me. I did the work and I earned the degree, but it never got inside me, you know? Because it’s not creation, it’s consumption. Politics is all about taking what others created and divvying it up.”

“And yet you’re leaving for Washington.”

I looked away, shrugging. “It’s an excellent opportunity.”

“It is,” he said.

My eyes snapped to him. “But?”

“I just wonder if it’s an excellent opportunity for you.”

I didn’t answer. I’d told Evan once that he truly saw me, but only now did I realize what that meant, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. It was one thing for him to know what I wanted in bed. It was something else entirely for him to see so clearly inside of me.

At the time, I’d made a point of brushing his words away like so many gnats. Trivial and meaningless. No big deal at all.

And, because I didn’t want to talk about art or politics or anything that even hinted at what I might want to do with my life, I suggested that we forget about the museum and take a cab to the Lincoln Park Zoo. It had been the perfect solution. We’d left the subject of my work and passions behind and spent the rest of the day walking hand in hand, buying soft-serve ice cream and soda to ward off the heat, then snapping pictures of the animals with our phones and texting them to one another.

It was silly. It was fun. It was just what I’d needed.

And after a dinner al fresco at a small Italian restaurant, we’d returned to the condo. During the drive, I’d fantasized about wild sexual escapades. About bound wrists and spanking and all sorts of new delights forged in Evan’s erotic imagination. The thought had fired me, making me tingly with anticipation. But when we’d reached the apartment, the remainder of the evening didn’t go as I’d planned at all. Instead, we’d made love lazily in the shower, then taken a bottle of wine up to the patio. We’d sat on the love seat, my head on his lap, his fingers stroking my hair, and talked about our day and our lives and everything and nothing.

It was, I think, the most romantic and sensual day of my life. And though I’d originally been drawn to Evan’s wild side, I couldn’t help but fear that somehow, someway, this sweet romanticism was the part of him that was truly dangerous to me.

Now I stood in my tiny cubicle with the memory clutched tight around me. I didn’t want to let it go, much less share it with Esther, for fear that talking about it would lessen its vibrancy in my mind.

Instead, I just smiled, told her I was refreshed, and asked where she wanted to begin. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I’m guessing things have been piling up?”

“Now you’re just being silly. Jahn needed you, and we’ve managed to muddle on.” She pulled out my chair and sat in it, leaving me to lean against the desktop. “To be honest, things slowed down while he was sick. As callous as it sounds, we wanted to keep a low profile. Too much exposure might remind people, and then investors might get nervous.”

“And now it’s time to regroup,” I said, essentially telling her that I understood. Howard Jahn Holdings & Acquisitions was in the business of buying and selling businesses, and although Jahn had hired some of the best and the brightest to go out in the world and evaluate all sorts of opportunities, Jahn was still the face of the company. His death was going to change things—no doubt about that. And I didn’t fault the PR department for wanting to publicly downplay his infirmity. Now that he’d passed on, though, there was no avoiding reality.

“It is,” she said. “But I think we’re well covered. I actually wanted to talk to you about shifting your job responsibilities over to the foundation. Things are heating up over there.”

“Because of the transfers?”

She nodded, then settled in to explain more fully. “Our goal is to grow the assets and income of the Jahn Foundation,” Esther said, “and use that increased revenue to start a consistent program of distributions. Education, preservation, and restoration. Your uncle’s interests centered on youth, art, and history. There are too many children who don’t have access to the education they deserve, and too many exceptional documents and canvases that won’t survive the decade much less another millennium.”

“I agree,” I said, though I’m sure I sounded wary. If I was hearing her right, she was asking me to work for the foundation. And that, frankly, would be my dream job.

And then reality hit me. So hard, in fact, that I actually stumbled a bit, and was grateful that I was leaning up against the counter. “Esther,” I said dully. “I’m sure whatever you have in mind would be wonderful. But I’m moving. I’m going to Washington,” I explained, even as she gaped at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I’m going to work on the Hill.”

“Oh.” For a moment, she looked blank. Then her face bloomed. “But, sweetie, that’s wonderful! Your uncle would be so proud of you.”

“Would he?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

If she noticed anything odd in my tone, she didn’t call me out on it. “My goodness, yes. He adored his brother as much as he admired him. To know that you’re following your dad into politics would have thrilled him.”

“I’m glad of that,” I said sincerely.

“Of course, I’d hoped—but never mind. I’m just chattering on. And this isn’t about me. I’m very proud of you, Angelina.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, this changes things.” She flipped open her folio on my workspace and started sorting through papers. “We’ll just plan to keep you in PR for the rest of your tenure. So why don’t we head into the conference room and we can brainstorm a bit about consumer confidence.”

I followed her, and we spent the next two hours talking about ways to keep HJH&A at the forefront of shareholders’ minds, without freaking anyone out with the unavoidable fact that Howard Jahn would not be returning to the helm. Honestly, I’m not sure of the details we discussed; I was too busy thinking about lost opportunities.

I only fully tuned in, for that matter, when Esther sighed, closed her folio, and said, “I think that’s enough for today. Though there is one more thing I’d like to ask you to do. It involves the foundation, though, so if you want to decline, I understand. But since you’ve had social contact with so many of Mr. Jahn’s friends …”

“What is it?”

She explained that the one official act of the foundation since Jahn’s death was to announce an upcoming fund-raiser and kick-off party. “We want to start this new phase in the life of the foundation with a bang. Tie it in a tasteful way to Jahn’s passing. It is, after all, his legacy.”

“How can I help?”

“We need to find a venue in which to host the function. To be honest, we’ve already been contacted by several local businesses and philanthropists interested in participating. It’s going to be tricky. As soon as we pick one to host, we risk insulting the ones we decline—”

“—and losing their future charitable contributions,” I said. “I get it.”

“It’s a job that requires diplomacy,” Esther said, with a barely suppressed grin. “It seems to me a young woman with a burgeoning political career would be able to negotiate those land mines brilliantly.”

“Or fail miserably and then escape to Washington?”

She laughed. “That, too.”

I had to laugh as well. At least she was honest. And, frankly, the politics of society notwithstanding, it sounded like more fun than writing upbeat press releases for investors.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m in.”

“Excellent.” She gathered her papers as my cell phone began to ring. “I’m going to get out of here so you can get that. And,” she added, pointing a red lacquered nail at me, “so that I’m long gone by the time you change your mind.”

I rolled my eyes and snatched up my phone, my heart doing a little butterfly flutter when I saw that it was from the number that Evan had given me over the weekend. “Hey,” I said. “You called at the perfect time.”

“I planned it that way, of course.”

“Would I sound too desperate if I told you that anytime would be the perfect time?”

“If it’s me that you’re desperate for, I have no objections.”

I giggled—god help me, I actually giggled. “Well, then. You’ve found me out. What’s up?”

“Tonight. My place. Seven.”

“All right,” I said. “But I don’t have a clue where you live.”

“I’ll send a car. To the condo or to your office?”

“Condo,” I said. “A woman needs to freshen up before a date.”

“Does she? Well then, I look forward to enjoying the results of her efforts.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I bet you do.”

When I hung up, I was smiling. Maybe I was leaving town for a job I didn’t really want, but at least for right now, I had it pretty damn good.