He smiles and brushes his lips over mine. “Sorry. Hello. You look great.” His gaze rakes over me, and though I wear a simple outfit, a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and a casual black blazer with sleeves that easily push up on my arms, from the heat in his eyes, I may as well be naked.
“Thank you. And as for the bags, I’m a woman. Enough said.”
He chuckles and takes the luggage from my hand. “I didn’t have sisters. I wouldn’t know the drill.”
I’m not about to ask him about past girlfriends who’d made themselves at home in his apartment. I don’t want to know, but one thing is certain. After sharing a bathroom with me this weekend, he will definitely learn.
He hands the luggage to the driver, who loads the trunk, and we head to the airport. Hudson has splurged on first-class, and the trip to New York is as fast and easy as our conversation. He is interested in my job and what I do for my clients on a daily basis, and I am only too happy to fill him in on the details, omitting names where the stories and history aren’t public knowledge.
We sit side by side as we talk, and he can’t stop laughing at some of the shenanigans the guys got themselves into.
“But crises don’t occur every day, so mostly my job is to keep them in the spotlight in a positive way. I build their brand both inside and outside their sport and make sure community goodwill is a priority. Good press is always a bonus. And if they have an overall solid reputation, they can draw on that goodwill in times of trouble.” I hand my glass to a passing flight attendant and turn back to Hudson. “If a guy is an overall jerk and then goes on to do something stupid, nobody will cut him any slack, and the athlete won’t deserve any. Even if he is my client.”
“You love your job.” Hudson studies me with admiration and true attentiveness I rarely see in a man when it comes to my profession. Unless, of course, it provides an opening for something they need.
I shake those thoughts out of my mind and refocus on the man next to me. As much as he is curious about me, I want to know more about him.
“I do love it, and I know how lucky that makes me. Not everyone can get up in the morning and do something they enjoy.” I tip my head, leaning against the seat behind me. “What about you? Do you love your job? Or should I say jobs?”
“Hmm. Good question. I like the job with the Thunder. It moves fast on game day, and I get to watch a player from injury through to recovery, which makes it satisfying, though I haven’t been on board long enough to see anything substantial. And thank God for that.”
I nod in agreement. Nobody wants an injury to happen to any player in the game. “You said like, not love.”
“I loved what I did with Doctors Without Borders, though one stint really was enough for me. I’d rather be in the States and do a form of humanitarian work here. Which is why I chose the clinic. The pay from working for the Thunder lets me work for free at the health care center.”
This is the part of Hudson Northfield that draws me to him. Yes, the outside packaging is pure sex appeal, but the man inside is a kind, decent man who cares for others despite the fact that he could have gone into his family’s business and helped to make them more money.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
Our faces are close together as we speak, creating a bubble of intimacy and making it easier to be honest. “About how much I admire you. How you could be on the money train with your family in New York, but instead you’re all about giving back. I like that about you.” I study his expression and the look in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Something’s bothering you.”
“You’ve come to read me well in a very short time,” he says on a low chuckle. “I do have an issue to deal with while I’m home.”
I reach out and clasp our hands together. My palms feel better now that it has been a few days since I fell, and the bandages make it easier to do things. Like hold hands. “I’m a good listener… if you want to unload your problems.”
He hesitates, obviously weighing his words. “You know the plans for the clinic Braden mentioned the day he walked in on us?”
I nod. In the rush of my sudden trip, buying a dress, packing, and making sure my clients are covered by another PR person if I’m not reachable, I forgot to ask either man about it since.
“Braden and I want to renovate and remodel the clinic into a state-of-the-art place where people who don’t have access toinsurance or good care can still come in and get treated. As it stands now, the equipment is old, the building run-down, and it’s hard to entice professionals to come work there.”
“I love that idea!”
“Obviously so do I. Braden’s going to talk to Paul Dare about funding, and I need to have the same conversation with my father. My grandfather left me money in trust, but he also made my father the trustee, and it’s at his discretion whether or not to let me have money from the principal.”
I realize he’s begun tapping a foot against the floor, his knee bouncing up and down with every contact. “You’re really wound up about this, aren’t you?”
He nods. “My father, Martin, isn’t known for his altruism unless it makes him look good within his social or business circles. He’s not going to easily fund a clinic just because I ask him to. It would be so much easier if my grandfather had released that money when I hit a certain age.” He shakes his head and groans. “But he didn’t, and that’s that.”
“I’m sorry.” I can’t imagine what a hit to his pride it will be to have to ask his father for anything. “It sounds like you have a difficult relationship.” I bite down on my lip then ask, “Why is that?”
He groans. “Because I had no interest in the family business, and as long as Evan was alive, that didn’t matter. He let me to go medical school and live life on my terms because Evan was filling the requisite oldest-son role.” His hands squeeze tighter around mine. “Now he wants me to give up my life, come home, and pretend to be someone I’m not.”
Now I understand why asking his father about releasing funds on a new business venture that keeps Hudson in Florida and not in New York, where the man can pressure his son into doing his bidding, will be even more difficult.
The flight attendant’s voice sounds on the loudspeaker, letting us know to prepare for landing.
I check my seat belt and glance at Hudson. “At least I’ll be there for backup or a distraction,” I say with a cheeky grin, unsure of what else to do or say in the moment.
