“If I told you that, you wouldn't stay.”
“You don't get to make that choice. I do. So, tell me. Who do you think you really are?”
He took a sip from his own glass and then studied me. “Why do you want to know so bad?”
“I don't like a puzzle. I guess you could call me a little bit of a control freak. I like to know everything about everyone before passing any judgments. But you want me to judge you before I know anything about you. It doesn't really seem fair.”
He set down his glass. “Fine.” He took a deep breath and looked right into my eyes, daring me to look away. But I wouldn’t cave so easily. “I don't think I have a single friend.”
“Why's that?” I took another bite of my sandwich, as I thought about all the guys he seemed to pal around with at the club. How could he not consider any one of them a friend of his?
“I used to have friends. I was the typical party boy when I was at boarding school. But then my father sat me down and told me that if I was going to amount to anything, I needed to become part of the business world, and stop all the fun and games. My friends were too young to understand and kept doing stupid things. Things that were illegal, but they had big fancy lawyers who could get them out of anything. Well, almost anything.” He paused for a moment, and I could feel his history haunting him. “I haven't really met anyone since then that really gets what I'm trying to do in the world.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Make something of myself. Money buys you happiness.”
“That's not necessarily true.”
He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. I'd never seen a guy looked so vulnerable in such a sultry way. His vulnerability turned me on. “Money bought me you.”
I smiled. “And do I make you happy?”
“You have no idea.” He put his glass back into the picnic basket, and wrapped his hands around my face, pulling me towards him. His lips crushed into mine, and he playfully bit on my lower lip. His hands moved back to the nape of my neck, and he rubbed back and forth. He held me against him so hard it felt like I couldn't breathe. But if I passed out right now, I'd be okay with it. I wanted Hudson James, all of him, all the time. His mere presence was intoxicating. When he pulled back, I felt like I had far more than one glass of wine.
He smiled at me. “So, since you asked me questions, I get to ask you something.”
“That’s fair. What do you want to know?”
“What happened with Judge Paxton?”
Boston Buyer’s Club Rule #4
Never Discuss Other Clients With Clients
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Come on, Calla. You can tell me anything. What really happened that night?”
I couldn't tell him. There wasn't anything to tell. “I hardly knew the man. A detective showed up, and told me he was dead. I don't know anything.”
“I heard his wife was in on it. That she wanted the insurance money. Do you think she did it?” Suddenly he appeared concerned. Was he worried about my safety?
“I don't know. I never met his wife. The only time I ever saw her was when she was talking on the news. Or when her lawyer was talking. And her poor kids… they all look so sad. But really, Hudson, I don't know anything about it. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He squinted his eyes at me. “You're sure? He didn't say anything…”
I took another bite of my sandwich, and shook my head. “Nothing. I don't want to talk about this anymore.”
I finished my sandwich, and started to look for my beach bag to put on my bathing suit and go to the water, where he couldn’t scrutinize me. I felt too exposed and I needed to get away.
“Are you going to join me this time?”
He shook his head. “I don't swim.”
“Why not? It's so freeing to be out there in the water. To be part of something that huge.”
“No I’ll just watch you.”