“Too bad Navy Pier won’t be doing the fireworks in September. Then again that might be why we were able to fit you in.” Sonya smiles at me, and we both look out to the long entertainment Pier that juts out of Chicago’s shoreline.
“If I’d known this was the location I’d be holding it at, I would’ve planned for it to be earlier.”
“Then maybe you should change the date,” a deep voice from behind us interrupts our conversation.
I recognize it and I’m wondering immediately why my friends and co-workers didn’t warn me before he came up from behind me.
“Sonya,” he says, his arm winding behind her back and kissing her cheek.
“I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Sonya seems shocked to see him and displays a nervousness she didn’t have before.
“Court got out early.” He sets his gaze on me. “Lucky day I guess.”
“You’d think you’d be exhausted from screwing people over.”
He steps away from Sonya and closer to me, leaning in. “Nah, I never get tired of screwing, Hannah.” He purposely uses my name almost as a way of punishing me for my outspoken comment.
“How do you two know one another?” Sonya asks, her finger waving between us.
“I represented her ex-husband.” Roarke stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.
“That’s interesting. Is pulling strings for the venue an apology for screwing you over?” Sonya asks, humor laced in her voice.
“Oh, Mr. Baldwin wouldn’t—”
“Roarke,” he corrects me.
I side glance him. “Roarke,” I say his name with bitterness in my tone. “Wouldn’t do it for nothing. He demanded five favors in exchange.”
Her jaw slackens. “You didn’t?”
The way she’s so willing to question him makes me think they must have a close relationship.
“You know I have a black heart.” For some reason, he says this with some humor.
Sonya laughs like that’s the most absurd thought.
“Mr. Baldwin, so nice of you to get us this venue,” Chelsea says as she and Victoria join us on the patio.
“Chelsea, right?” he asks, extending his hand.
“Yes. Chelsea Walsh.”
He shakes her hand and then shifts his attention to Victoria. “Victoria?”
“You’re good with names,” she smiles, shaking his hand.
“I think I’ve seen you with your boyfriend. Reed Warner, right?”
A huge smile splits Victoria’s face. “Yes, how do you know him?”
“I run into him now and again at the courthouse. I think he lives out of his office.” Roarke laughs as does Victoria.
“I try to steal him away as much as I can.”
“Must be working because I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Victoria smiles up at him and I can tell he’s won her over. She’s too easy.
Chelsea digs around her purse, pulling out a bag of chips. Victoria elbows her.
“What? I’m eating for two here.” She opens it, having no shame and chomping down on a chip.
“You’re pregnant?” Sonya asks Chelsea. “I never would’ve never guessed. You look great.”
“She’s not too far along,” Victoria interjects. “Though she’ll probably be one of those belly-only women you can’t tell are pregnant from behind.”
“Oh I hated those women,” Sonya says and I whip my head in her direction.
“You’re a mother?” I ask.
She seems way too young.
She nods, her gaze veering over to Roarke for a beat. What am I missing here?
“Sweets were my weakness,” she says. “I almost killed for a chocolate cake once.”
Chelsea ventures over to Sonya, the two of them talking about pregnancy cravings and whether the whole pickle thing is actually true.
Victoria’s phone rings and she heads back inside the tent to answer.
“I guess that leaves us,” Roarke says stepping up alongside me.
“Unfortunately.”
He ignores my comment. “How do you like the place?”
“What’s not to like? It’s gorgeous. I have no idea how you got it, but I’m worried that young girl has a crush on you.”
He shakes his head, stepping up to the edge of the patio. “She’s doing me a favor that’s all. Before you get all single white female thinking I’m dating her, I’m not.”
“You’re so forthcoming.”
He turns around at the edge. I try to keep my gaze poised on the lake, but his eyes pull me in instead. “I’m many things, but a liar is not one of them, Hannah. I’ll always be straight with you.”
“Well, forgive me for not believing you. History, as they say, is usually the best teacher.”
He laughs, stepping forward, reaching out to push a stray hair behind my ear. I turn my head away from his touch and the loose strand from my sleek ponytail falls back down.
“When will I live that down?” His voice is low and tight. “We’ve been over this, he was my client. I did what I needed to do. That will never change.” He dips his head down to meet my eyes. “I thought we were moving forward after Sunday.”
“Because we shared a meal?” I scoff.
I pick my head up and meet his gaze head-on. I will not let this man intimidate me.
“Because you stayed. Because we laughed. Because we shared. Because I made the best opening statement of my entire career.”
“So arrogant.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Don’t act like you don’t love how arrogant I am. I’m arrogant because I can back it up. You find that quality sexy.” He steps even closer, his lips right at my ear. “Your shoulders straightened when I announced my arrival and you sucked in a breath. I guarantee that if I was to slip my fingers between your legs right now, I’d find your panties wet.”
My mouth drops open at his crassness. I really wish it didn’t turn me on.
“Wrong.” I let the one word fall from my lips. “You’d find the complete opposite.”
“If we were alone I might challenge you to prove it.”
“Well, we’re not alone.”
Come on Hannah, you can do so much better than this.
“If what you say is true then favor number three shouldn’t be a problem.”
My eyes lock with his. “Favor three? You’re really whizzing through them.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not at all. The faster we’re through them, the faster I’m done having to be in your company.” I give him a saccharine smile.
He leans in again and chuckles lightly in my ear. Although not even a fingertip touches me, my body anticipates it, is eager for it like Lucy is when I bring home a special bone from the pet store.
Oh my God, did I just compare myself to my dog salivating over a bone? What is happening to me?
“Let’s revisit that after all five favors are fulfilled.”
“What’s the next favor?” I ask, trying to move the conversation forward.
“I’m sorry to steal you for another weekend, but I need you to be my date for a wedding.”