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  I glanced over at the table of guys. Were they all hockey players? I recognized Olaf Pilkvist because of his pale blond hair. The three other men there were harder to place this far away, and two had their backs to me.

  Cam Brickley was good-looking. Charming. A pro athlete with what appeared to be some personality. He’d be a perfect spokesperson for Move On Chicago. Kids would love it…boys, girls, all ages.

  “We need star power,” Noah reminded me.

  “Yeah.” I cast another glance at Cam Brickley.

  Move On Chicago had grown quickly, but lately things had stagnated. I was passionate about our mission—promoting the health and wellness of Chicago youth through organized running programs—but passion didn’t pay the bills or increase the programs we could offer. Or even keep the existing programs going, for that matter.

  Recently we’d gone after a big grant and had lost out on it, after months of working on the proposal. Our donations had dwindled the last two months in a row, and the big companies we’d approached about partnering with us hadn’t even bothered to respond.

  It would break my heart if we had to let down a bunch of kids who’d committed to doing something that would improve their lives.

  I nibbled my bottom lip.

  We’d talked about recruiting a celebrity who wasn’t a sports star, maybe even one of my family’s prominent business contacts, but an athlete fit so much better with our mission.

  Cam’s head didn’t move, but I felt him looking at me. Even at that distance, our gazes locked. Great. He caught me staring at him. Heat flashed over me. Maybe this was worth a shot. “Okay, let’s go join them.”

  Julia and Paisley started forward, but I grabbed Paisley’s arm. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s get drinks first. Otherwise they’ll think we want them to buy us drinks.”

  Paisley’s mouth twisted. “Okay. But I wouldn’t mind them buying me a drink. Just sayin’.”

  Noah scowled.

  “They could all be married,” I said, turning to the bar.

  “Ugh. Why would he hit on you if he’s married?” Paisley moved beside me.

  I gave her a look. “Because he’s a man?”

  “Not all men are cheaters.” Noah nudged my shoulder on the other side of me.

  “Mmm. Sure.”

  He shook his head, and we ordered another round of drinks. With glasses in hand, we moved through the tables to the one where Cam sat. The skyscrapers across the river sparkled in the darkness outside the big glass window. In the summer, this glass wall opened onto a big patio that overlooked the river.

  Cam looked up and saw us approach, and his smile reached down inside me. My belly fluttered in response. “Hey.”

  “Hi. We decided to take you up on your invitation to join you.”

  “Great. Let’s grab more chairs.”

  Chairs were in short supply, with every table full, which was why we’d been standing at the bar. But with a smile and a question to those sitting near us, he had two more chairs. Then he disappeared briefly and returned with a man in black pants, white shirt, and tie who was carrying two more chairs.

  We arranged ourselves and made introductions, and I sensed that Cam’s tablemates weren’t excited about us joining them. I mean, they were all polite and friendly, but they weren’t flirting. Not that they’d flirt with Noah. Although, who knew? Anyway. I recognized all the names…Chase Hartman, Eric Barclay, James Baumgartner, and, yes, Olaf Pilkvist. As for being single…everyone in the world knew that Chase was dating Jordyn Banks. The others I wasn’t sure about.

  Cam had ensured I was sitting next to him, and he leaned closer. “So, Olivia, besides being gorgeous, what do you do for a living?”

  One corner of my mouth lifted in response to his flirting. I wanted to roll my eyes, but resisted. “I run a nonprofit. Move On Chicago.”

  “Hmm. Haven’t heard of it.”

  “We’re still pretty small. But we’re growing.” I gestured at my friends. “We all work there. I’m the executive director. Julia is communications manager, Noah is deputy director, and Paisley’s the development manager.”

  “Cool. What’s your cause?”

  “We’re working to get kids moving. Running, mostly, because it’s cheap and easy. We work with a bunch of schools.”

  “Hey, that’s awesome.” His praise seemed sincere and his interest genuine. “Obviously, I think fitness is important.”

  “Obviously.” I picked up my daiquiri. “Since you’re a professional athlete.”

  I felt the others’ anticipation of me saying something, asking him to be involved. But I hesitated.

  I had experience being used for what I could do for people. Maybe it was time I toughened up and learned how to use that experience in ways that would benefit me.

  Although, benefiting Move On Chicago wasn’t really benefiting me. It was helping kids.

  The next band started their set, which made talking difficult, so we all turned our attention to the low stage. I was super aware of Cam beside me though, his big shoulder brushing mine when he reached for his beer, the smile he flashed me when we applauded a song.

  Gaaaawd, he was attractive.

  I would have dismissed him immediately on his ridiculous pickup line if he hadn’t had an indefinable something…a sort of golden glow of charisma. He wasn’t a creeper. In fact, it was the opposite…he made me feel lucky he was paying attention to me.

  Oh my God. That was ridiculous. I was reverting back to my painful teenage years when any attention from a boy made me feel flattered and then question why he was interested. My family had done a number on me, but these days I had more self-esteem than to fall for every good-looking guy who complimented me.

  And all that was beside the point. This man could help my organization. This wasn’t about sex appeal and hormones and biceps…I mean…

  I sighed and tossed back the last of my drink.

  Across the table, Noah’s face was set into unhappy lines, his eyebrows drawn down, the corners of his mouth tight. I followed his gaze to where Paisley was chatting with James, leaning in close to him because of the loud music.

  Huh. What was up with that?

  When the set ended, a server came by and Cam started to order another round of drinks, but his friends stopped him, saying they were leaving soon. He looked at my friends and me. We exchanged glances. Noah smiled and nodded his willingness to stay, and I couldn’t leave yet, not without getting up the nerve to ask him if he’d be interested in helping out Move On Chicago.

  It was probably a stupid idea. He was probably way too busy. Too big time for us.

  “Sure, one more would be okay,” Paisley said. The others agreed.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” I stood up and made my way through the bar and down the hall near the entrance.

  On my way back, I stopped at the bar to ask for a glass of water. Just as I picked it up, Cam appeared beside me. “That’s a good idea,” he said, catching the bartender’s attention and asking for one of his own. “Thanks for joining us.” He turned back to me. “Too bad the other guys left early. I think Chaser wanted to get home to his girlfriend.”

  “Ah.” I eyed him over my glass as I took a sip. “No wife or girlfriend for you?”

  His eyebrows sloped down, and he drew back as if insulted. “No. I’m not in the habit of asking out other women when I’m seeing someone.”

  I tilted my head. “You haven’t asked me out.”

  His smile returned. “Yet.”

  My lips twitched.

  “So…what’s your idea of a great date?” he asked.

  “Well. That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How many dates we’ve h
ad, for one thing. A good date when you’ve been seeing someone for a while is different than a first date. Or even a second or third.”

  “Ah. True.”

  “I think a first date should be a chance to get to know each other. So…not a movie, or something like that. Dinner’s good for talking, but it could be painful if there’s no connection and you sit there staring awkwardly at each other. Lunch or brunch is better. A drink or coffee. Or doing something fun, but where you can still talk.”

  “Mmm.”

  My attention was diverted by a scene playing out down the bar over Cam’s shoulder. A woman sat on a stool at the bar, and a man was talking to her. I could tell he was drunk, and he was bending into her space. She was trying to lean away from him and shook her head.

  I frowned.

  I watched her clearly say no to whatever he was proposing, and then the dickhead reached out and grabbed her arm to pull her closer. She resisted.

  Without thinking, and without a word to Cam, I moved around him and strutted up to the woman. “Jessica!” I threw open my arms in a hug. “There you are!”

  She shot me a startled glance, the guy dropped her arm and stepped back, and I leaned in to hug her. I whispered in her ear, “You don’t know me, but go with it.”

  Her eyes widened, but she pasted on a smile. “Hi! So good to see you!”

  Ignoring the dude, I placed myself between them. “Yes!”

  “Hey. You’re interrupting us.” The guy set his hand on my shoulder.

  I turned to him, shaking off his hand, and frowned. “No, I think you’re the one who’s in the way here. Come on, Jessica, we have a table over there.”

  I let the woman pick up her drink in a bit of a daze and started to lead her away from the bar.

  I was startled to see that Cam had followed me and stood frowning at the man, arms crossed over his impressive chest. The guy jerked his chin, turned with a pissed off sneer, and left.

  We paused next to our table. “Wow. Thanks for stepping in like that.” The woman shook her head.

  “No problem. I think he’s gone, but you can sit with us if you want.”

  “I think I’ll leave. But maybe I’ll just sit for a few minutes to make sure he’s gone.”

  “Sure. I’m Olivia, and these are my friends, Noah, Paisley, and Julia. And Cam.”

  “I’m Jessica.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “I’m kidding.” She grinned. “Rachel.”

  I laughed. “Good one.”

  “Wait. You don’t really know her?” Cam stared at me.

  “Uh, no. She looked like she needed some help though.”

  “Thank you again,” Rachel said. “That guy was starting to scare me, and I’m here by myself.” She sank into a chair vacated by one of Cam’s friends.

  “Uh, Olivia, can I talk to you for a moment?” Cam spoke beside me. “Outside.” His voice had an intense quality.

  “Uh…sure.”

  He set a hand on the small of my back and led me to the entrance of the restaurant. We didn’t go outside, stopping in the foyer. We were alone there.

  He faced me, his eyes blazing. “That was fucking magnificent.” He wrapped his hands around my upper arms.

  We stared at each other, our faces only inches apart. Heat pulsed between us and, transfixed, my lips parted. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and his eyes went heavy lidded. I sucked in a sharp breath, and a warm slide of lust pooled low in my belly.

  With a low, rough sound, his mouth crashed into mine. I loved it.

  He pulled me against him, crushing my breasts against his chest, his mouth hot and hard against mine. I opened for him instinctively, and his tongue slid inside. I whimpered into his mouth.

  He stepped me backward until I met the wall, his body pressing me against it, and oh my God, it felt so good. He released my arms and cupped my face with both hands. I wrapped my arms around him and held on as he kissed me. And kissed me. And kissed me.

  My body strained against his, my pelvis tilting, his erection rigid and insistent. He groaned, tilted my head, and went in for a deeper kiss. Our tongues tangled, my fingers dug into the muscles of his back, and I tried to rub myself against him, pinned between his big body and the wall.

  “Jesus.” He moved his mouth off mine, brushing it over my cheek, my jaw. One hand slid into my hair and fisted it, the tug on my scalp sending shivers cascading down my spine. He sucked gently on the side of my neck, and my knees turned liquid.

  But he held me up, his other hand sliding down to my waist, his hips pushing into me, and he found my mouth again with his in a lip-sliding, tongue-tangling, hot-as-hell kiss. And I kissed him back, because whoa…he was good at this…he smelled good. He tasted good. He felt so, so good…A moan climbed my throat and leaked into his mouth, and, panting, he drew back.

  He stared into my eyes. He swallowed. “Wow.”

  I licked my lips, blinking rapidly. “Yeah.”

  It struck me then, the ridiculousness…I’d just rescued a woman from unwanted attention, and now Cam and I were doing this, but wow, what a difference…because I wanted this.

  His eyes went heavy lidded as he watched my mouth. “Olivia.”

  “Yes.”

  “The way you rescued that woman…Jesus.”

  I twitched one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Sisters gotta look out for each other.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked. “Yeah.” He lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip. “Can I see you again?”

  “Mmm.” How was I supposed to say no to more of that? But wait. Never mind the panty-melting kisses and bone-dissolving touches. I had a better reason for seeing him again. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “I’m going out of town tomorrow. How about next Saturday afternoon?”

  I mentally reviewed my calendar. “Yes.”

  “Give me your number.” He stepped back and pulled his phone out. I gave him my number, and he entered it into his phone. “I texted you. You have my number too.”

  “Okay.” Still dazed, I straightened my dress. “We should get back in there.”

  “Yeah.” We started forward, then he stopped me. “Wait.”

  “What?” We faced each other again.

  “You never answered my question.”

  “What question?”

  “Do you think I’m cute?”

  I dropped my head forward, a laugh falling from my lips. Then I lifted my head and smiled at him. “Yeah. You’re cute.”

  He smiled too.

  I patted his chest. “Don’t let it go to your head, handsome. For all I know, that’s all you have going for you.”

  Chapter 3

  Olivia

  Saturday night I had a family dinner, which I was looking forward to about as much as my annual Pap test.

  We were celebrating my older sister’s promotion. Alexis was rapidly moving up the ranks at Lockwood Industries, and our parents couldn’t be prouder. Unlike me. I was the black sheep of the Lockwood family. Or maybe the white sheep, depending how you looked at it. Since I’d started Move On Chicago, my parents couldn’t understand why I put so much time and energy into something that wasn’t intended to make money.

  So tonight we were celebrating my sister’s achievements, while my achievement was teetering on the edge of going under.

  Yeah, this should this be a super fun evening.

  I took a taxi to the restaurant, scrolling through social media on my phone during the twenty-ish minute drive along Lake Shore from my condo to Choffard, which was on the fortieth floor of the Chicago Stock Exchange.

  Everyone else was already there, seated at a window table. The lights of the city glimmered and glowed below us in an incredible panorama. Insid
e, the atmosphere was warm and rich, with muted lighting, white tablecloths, and dark leather chairs.

  Everyone rose to welcome me with hugs, which took a good few minutes of shuffling around and greeting each other. I settled into the empty chair at the end of the table, giving me the best view out the window, which I guess made up for the fact that I was the only one there without a partner.

  “Great outfit,” Alexis said to me. “It’s so nice that you’re confident enough to wear something like that.”

  I swallowed a sigh and beamed her a smile. “Thank you.”

  My mom raised her eyebrows taking in my outfit but said nothing. This time. I wasn’t wearing anything revealing, just to be clear—but my dress was definitely body-con, hugging every curve and ending well above the knee.

  “You do look great,” my brother’s girlfriend, Elisha, said with a genuine smile. “Are you still running?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “That’s why you look so fantastic in an outfit like that. You have amazing legs.”

  “Thank you.” Her sincere compliment made up for my sister’s backhanded one.

  A server approached to take drink orders. “We have to have champagne,” Mom said. “What would you like, Alexis? Dom? Cristal?”

  “Oh, I love Cristal,” Alexis said. “Let’s have that.”

  I picked up a menu and looked it over while listening to Alexis talk about her promotion and how excited she was. Dad, Lucas, and Alexis all worked for the family business, Lockwood Industries, so the three of them were having a lively conversation.

  Ho hum.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t understand what they were talking about; I wasn’t stupid. I’d grown up listening to talk about Lockwood Industries, and I’d worked a couple of summers in the head office (which had convinced me I didn’t want to work there for the rest of my life), so I knew the business. My undergrad degree was in history, which had nothing to do with the various activities of the Lockwood conglomerate, but I’d also graduated from Stanford University business school’s Executive Program for Nonprofit Leaders. I didn’t have much to contribute to this conversation, however.