Chapter 19
A week later
The Hancock Building was one place Mal could honestly say she’d never been before, and at this moment, it seemed a shame that she hadn’t. They were at the top of the building in the new 360 CHICAGO observation deck, and the surrounding Chicago skyline and scenery were breathtaking in the fading light of sunset. What was previously glorious had transformed into something magical when the night came and the city lights were all aglow. She’d never been that much of a city girl, but that view might have convinced her.
She had come early, as arranged, to get a fair number of pictures before the guests arrived and the room became overcrowded, and it was a good thing she had. There was so much to see that she barely got it done before the guests arrived. It would be impossible to take it all in, but she could try.
The room was gorgeous with its view alone, but the decorations tonight set it at a completely different level. The lights were tinged gold, and all the table decorations and place settings were gold themed in honor of pediatric cancer awareness. Elegant and tasteful floral arrangements were scattered about the room and on tables, and the whole place seemed to sparkle.
Jenna and Tom greeted her at once, looking as blissful and happy as the day they’d gotten married. Jenna was a vision in a royal-blue mermaid gown with a sweetheart bodice that was covered with a sheer and elaborately detailed neckline and cap sleeves. With her hair in a loose chignon and gold details and jewelry, she looked like a vibrant goddess or the queen of some spectacular imaginary kingdom far, far away. Mal told her as much.
Jenna laughed, kissed her cheek, and then winked. “Not entirely a goddess, sweetie,” she murmured and then turned to show her that the gown was backless. On some people, it would probably have been shocking, but on Jenna, it was perfect. She kept herself so fit that it almost made sense for her to show off her back.
Mal smiled and shook her head. “This is amazing,” she said, gesturing to the room around them.
Jenna’s smile would have lit the room on its own. “I’m so excited. I can’t believe how well it turned out. The room only sits about a hundred comfortably, so we had a donation battle, and only those who donated the most could come. It’s barbaric, I know, but everyone else is coming to a much bigger event at the Field Museum in a month. Come to that one too, won’t you?”
Mal grinned, which made Jenna take her hand and give her a teasing look.
“Come on, Mal,” she drawled playfully. “You know you want to.”
She laughed and gave her cousin a look. “Of course, I want to, Jenna. Let me know the dates and times, and I’ll check. I’m supposed to go to British Columbia next month to work a resort shoot.”
Jenna raised a brow slowly. “Travis Bradford’s place?”
Mal nodded, surprised. “How’d you know?”
“He’s the biggest name there. Gorgeous resort. You’ll love it. If there’s a conflict, let me know. Travis owes Tom a favor. We can switch him around if we need to.”
“Does everybody do what you want?” Mal asked her cousin with a laugh.
“Pretty much,” Tom said, appearing at Jenna’s side, looking dapper in a classic black tux. He kissed Jenna’s cheek, then did the same with Mal. “Hi, Mal. You look great!”
Mal laughed and looked down at herself briefly. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Taryn what she’d wear—white blouse, high-waisted black pencil skirt with a simply detailed ribbon belt at the top for emphasis, and her hair done up in a french twist, with diamond stud earrings and a silver heart necklace. Simple, elegant, but ultimately professional.
Particularly with the camera around her neck.
“Thanks, Tom,” she said with a wry grin. “Not black tie, but I’m working.”
Tom winked at her. “You look fantastic. And if you’ll look around the room, you’ll see that you look better than most of the women here. And with those shoes, kiddo, you’re almost average height!”
Mal rolled her eyes but smiled all the same.
“You’re wearing the Christian Louboutins!” Jenna squealed, turning Mal to see them better.
“Of course,” Mal said simply. “I have nowhere else to wear them, and they matched.”
Jenna gave her a look. “They’re black pumps, Mallory. They match just about everything.” She looked down at the shoes again. “I love those on you.”
“They were a very generous gift, Jenna,” Mal said, taking her hand again. “Particularly when I wasn’t in the wedding party.”
Jenna waved that off. “You’re my favorite; that means you get the presents too. I don’t care what the other girls said about your choice. I firmly believe every woman needs a sexy pair of black pumps. They do amazing things for your legs, and they are always in style.”
Mal smiled and sighed as more people filtered in. “I guess you guys better get to it. Host and hostess, after all.”
Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Guess so. I hope this works, you know? I want to make a difference here. After Emily . . .” Her throat worked, and she looked up at the ceiling to force the tears away.
Mal squeezed her hand tightly. “I know,” she murmured. “I was just thinking about her. I thought about that fantastic children’s choir at her funeral service, remember?”
Jenna smiled broadly. “Such cute kids. I think they still have that choir down in Memphis.” Her eyes suddenly brightened, and she turned to Tom. “Can we get them for the event next month at the museum? That would be amazing!”
Tom sighed and took Jenna’s arm. “We’ll talk about it, babe. Let’s do this one first, okay?” He looked back at Mal. “Brunch tomorrow, Mal. No excuses, no exceptions. We’ll call you.”
She smiled and waved as they left, then went back to her job.
A small group of musicians in one corner of the room started playing, and Mal’s heart leaped to her throat as they started playing light jazz. She listened to jazz almost all the time now, but hearing it live was something else entirely.
She swallowed hard and started taking photos, capturing what she could of the evening. The guests, the food, the decorations, the musicians—everything all wrapped together. It briefly occurred to her to wonder how much money was in this room with her, and that made her smile. A few couples started dancing near the musicians, and Mal moved in that direction to take pictures of them.
Jenna and Tom worked the room expertly, making a point to speak to everyone, which wasn’t hard, as everyone wanted to speak to them. They had grown even more popular after their wedding than they had been before, which was an accomplishment. True to form, they smiled and laughed the entire time, took a brief break in socializing to dance, and were never more than ten feet from each other all evening.
If anybody had thought their marriage was all for show and publicity, they wouldn’t think so if they saw them tonight. It was almost too intimate to watch, and Mal’s throat burned at the sight. She ventured out onto the walkway outside the building, and the night air felt wonderfully cool against her flushed skin. From inside, she could hear the jazz ensemble start playing “It Never Entered My Mind,” and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes as she remembered that dance. Had she ever felt that beautiful or loved?
No, of course she hadn’t.
No one had ever made her feel the way Hunter had.
She inhaled slowly, letting the fresh air fill her, and then went back inside, professional face on once more. Jenna and Tom introduced her to a number of people, never once bringing up their relationship, but overflowing with praise and referencing her work. She collected so many cards and promises to call that she couldn’t remember half of them. At this rate, next year would fill up quickly too.
For all her pride at wanting to make it on her own, there were some doors she wouldn’t have been able to get through without help from her family and their connections.
As the evening wore on, Mal grew more and more tired, the glow of the evening fading as she found herself missing someone who belonged there, who probably ought to have been there . . .
Someone who might have forgotten her thanks to her pride.
Insecurity was a crippling weakness, and stubbornness made recovering from it excruciating.
Maybe she should have called him back at least once. Maybe, if he were still calling her, she would have answered this time. If she still felt this way, maybe he—
She shook her head quickly, forcing the thought out. There was no use in maybes and what-ifs. What was done was done, and she was going to have to live with her stupidity.
She got Jenna’s and Tom’s attention and signaled that she was leaving, which earned her a wave and a blown kiss. She got her bag and coat from the bag check, situated her camera snugly, and started the long elevator ride down. She was staying at a hotel nearby, and she would have brunch with Tom and Jenna in the morning, get the details of their next event, and then head back to Denver.
There was a lot of work to do, and more to come. Life was good . . . or something.
She pushed open the door of the Hancock Building as a breeze came through, courtesy of the Windy City, and she smiled to herself as a troublesome lock of hair dislodged itself. She tucked it back, readjusted her coat, and started toward the street to get a cab.
She looked up and stopped dead in her tracks.
A cab was already in front of the building, but that wasn’t what stopped her.
It was the man leaning against the cab.
Hunter.
In a formal black tux, collar open, tie undone. He stared at her hungrily, as if she were dessert.
“Hunter,” she gasped, losing sensation in her lower extremities. She swallowed and tried to remember how to breathe. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
She almost threw herself at him right then and there, but there seemed to be a miscommunication between her brain and her legs. Hunter had that effect on her. He would always have that effect on her.
His voice, that low almost-rough timbre that had once scorched her lungs, set them aflame again. His eyes never moved from her face, and even with his casual pose against the cab, she could see a coiled tension that set her on edge.
She swallowed several times. “You’re wearing a tux,” she managed, blurting it out stupidly.
He nodded slowly. “Yep.”
“You hate tuxes,” she murmured, more controlled this time.
Again came the nod. “Yep.”
She smiled, the familiarity so natural, and his difficulty with taking the bait entertaining. “Why are you wearing a tux?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve just been to a gala,” he said, as if this were a simple conversation.
Mal’s breath caught. “You hate galas.”
There was a slight tilt to his head as he heard that catch, and somehow his gaze was more intense. “Yep. But I heard the photographer was amazing, and I had to come and see for myself. It was a black-tie thing, so . . .”
He’d been there. The whole time. She’d gone over the entire room. How could she have missed him?
He’d come for her. He wanted to see her.
“You look good,” she murmured, looking him over briefly, though she would much rather have spent a long time doing it.
He shook his head slightly, and something about his expression made her hurt. “Not as good as you.”
“Please,” she protested. “I’m a mess.” As if to emphasize that, her bangs dislodged again, and she shoved them back quickly.
“You’re beautiful,” Hunter said at once, his tone and eyes warm, and a quiet sigh escaped him. “I’ve missed you.”
Mal looked at him for a long moment, drinking in the sight of him, letting the warmth race through her. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered.
He shifted his weight, still leaning against the cab, that tightness in his body more pronounced. “Then why don’t you pick up when I call?” he asked, his chest heaving. “Why are you hiding from me?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I thought . . . ,” she tried, her voice more of a croak. She cleared her throat. “I thought we were done.”
“What in the world gave you that impression?” he demanded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not done with you. I’ll never be done with you.”
She staggered to the side, staring at him in shock. “What?”
“Did you not understand what I was saying at Lake Lure?” Hunter asked, shaking his head again. “That I’m in love with you? That it took less than a week for me to realize that what my life was missing was you?”
Mal’s tears started down her cheeks slowly. “I saw you with Emma,” she managed, her tone far less accusing than she thought it would be when she said these words. “You hugged her and . . .”
“Of course I did,” Hunter said, his tone gentler. “She and I have been friends since we were kids. She wanted to get back together, and I told her there would be no getting back together because I had found my one and only. She was sad, but she got it. She’s fine. And I’d be fine too if my one and only weren’t doing her best to avoid me.”
Mal had the most intense desire to cover her face with her hands, but she couldn’t feel them. “I was scared,” she admitted, swallowing back more tears and staring at him in agony. “I always knew that you belonged with someone like her, and that I was reaching for the stars. I knew I’d never be good enough for your world—”
“Shut up.”
“What?” she hiccupped, going suddenly cold.
“Shut up,” he said again. He shook his head, sighing heavily. “Don’t you get it? You are my world.” He swallowed, and she watched his throat work. “I love you. You are what I’ve always wanted, and I’m tired of trying to get you to see it. Tell me what I have to do, Mallory Hudson. Because I will do anything you say if it means I get you at the end of the day. That’s all I want. Just you.”
Something inside Mal burst like the grand finale fireworks at the Fourth of July. The saxophone solo from “Baker Street” was playing in her head, and she could suddenly breathe for the first time since she’d left Lake Lure. Her lungs expanded with freedom, and she dropped her bag, her feet moving at twice their usual pace to get to him.
She reached for his face and pulled his mouth to hers, nearly crying again at the relief of feeling his lips on hers. She kissed him as she had never kissed him before, with fervent abandon and reckless passion. She inhaled sharply when his arms seized around her waist and lifted her against him so that only her toes were touching the ground. His moan of satisfaction matched hers, and she broke contact briefly, running her lips along his breathlessly.
“I love you,” she breathed, her lower lip grazing the skin of his chin with her words.
Suddenly, her back was against the cab, and Hunter loomed over her, pressing her back against the metal frame, his mouth frenzied against hers. She slid one arm under his jacket while the other surged into his hair, earning her a rough growl of approval that she swallowed with delight.
He devoured her, slowly and steadily, his hands pulling at her waist and her hair, her fingers pressing into his back, tensing almost rhythmically against the taut muscle straining beneath his shirt.
There was no way of knowing how long they kissed, and she didn’t care. Even the cab driver seemed perfectly content to let them go as long as they wanted. There was no hurry. They had all the time in the world, and no one was going anywhere. Eventually, the deep kisses faded into the soft, breathless grazing of lips against each other and panted breaths on cheeks and throats.
“I’m so sorry, Hunter,” Mal whispered, stroking his cheek and jaw gently. “I’m so sorry.”
He kissed her again in response, infinitely tender, clearly in no rush to hear any apologies from her.
“The cab won’t wait,” Mal eventually stammered, taking at least four breaths to manage the effort.
Hunter chuckled and nuzzled her throat. “Sure it will. I paid the driver a lot to do whatever we wanted. He’s fine.”
He was missing the point. Mal didn’t want to stay here against the cab forever. She slid her hand from his hair to his throat and played with the open collar. “Fine,” she said with a defiant stare as she met his eyes, their noses almost touching. “I won’t wait.”
A slow grin crossed Hunter’s face. “Now that’s more like it.” He gave her an assessing look. “You didn’t eat all night. Hungry?”
“Starving,” she said bluntly, enjoying the double meaning.
He closed his eyes as if praying. “Mallory.”
“I love you,” she said again, reaching up to touch his face. “And I’d love a pizza.”
He kissed her quickly, as if relieved she had stopped teasing him. “I love you too. Pizza it is. Now get in the cab, woman. I have a lot of time to make up for.” He reached behind her, making her yelp as his hand brushed her hip, and opened the door.
She slid into the seat, reaching out her hand for him. Hunter grabbed her bag, shoved it into the space between the front seat and theirs, and slammed the door shut, taking her hand and lacing their fingers.
The cabbie was already grinning as he turned to look at them, thumbing his cap back. “Where to?” he asked in a not-at-all-innocent voice. “I thought I heard something about pizza, but . . .”
Hunter looked at Mal. She brought her finger to her mouth and ran it over her bottom lip softly. “One Mississippi . . . ,” she whispered slowly.
Hunter groaned and hauled her into his lap. “Oh, just drive around for a while. We’ll figure it out later.” And then his lips were on hers again, her hands clamped around the back of his head, and his latched around her hips and back.
The cabbie chuckled, pulled away from the curb, and slowly turned up the radio, his head absently moving along to the beat of a Barry White tune as they ventured off into the Chicago night.
And apparently, there were some acceptable excuses for missing brunch the next day.