The city slipped past our windows, and as the skyscrapers came into view, I veered right toward the hotel valet. A giant sign for the Fish House hung above us as we got out of the truck, the red and blue neon reflecting off Alyson’s faded jeans and beat-up leather jacket.

She looked stunning dressed casually tonight, so different from when I first saw her in the jail. The jacket covered a white T-shirt, and layered necklaces wrapped around her neck, mingling with her long hair that was loose and blowing in the breeze. She was so real, and I was such a shell of nothing. I wanted to warn her, tell her to run away fast, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Throwing caution to the wind, I slung my arm around her and guided her into the hotel, tossing the keys to the valet. I came here often, usually by myself, but now as I walked into the lobby with Aly by my side, I regretted the few times I’d brought other women.

Aly’s mouth dropped open as we entered the fancy lobby. “Wow.” The single word came out hushed and breathless.

“You’ve never been inside here?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s stunning.”

“I like it okay. Food’s good. Hotel’s a client of my brother’s, so they treat me right.”

Aly stopped walking and took a moment to take it all in, spinning around, her eyes wide and her expression enraptured. Glass ceilings soared high overhead, and a cascading waterfall trickled through the middle of the lobby.

Her reaction surprised me. “Where you been hiding, girl? You were this cocky, brazen lawyer in jail. Is that the only place you go?”

I regretted the words the minute they left my mouth, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t understand. She’d sat across the table from me in jail, all formidable and full of herself, and now she was timid and intimidated, as if she’d never been anywhere before. What the fuck? I felt like shit. Obviously I was missing something.

Aly deflated in front of me, the awe she’d been enjoying now gone. “I grew up poor,” she said in a low voice, not meeting my eyes. “I assumed it was fairly obvious, and now that I have some money, I don’t really spend it.”

Relief flooded through me. This I could handle.

“Well, good thing I don’t believe in going dutch or ladies paying, so let’s go eat and enjoy, Aly Road.” Snatching her hand, I led her toward the sushi joint with a smile playing on my face for the first time in . . . a long time. I was already doing good for someone else.

Me, Jake Wrigley, who only had ever done wrong, was spreading a little happiness.

Aly

Jake took me to the hotel attached to the convention center, the big fancy one I always stared at while I waited for the bus. It wasn’t the stuffy William Penn where I ran into Jake at the Tap Room. This place was chic and oozed modern opulence. I’d never even stepped inside, and now I was letting all my innocence and poor upbringing hang out with my awestruck stare and eyes as big as Bambi. Jake acted like it didn’t bother him before he snatched my hand with his, leading us to the sushi place.

My body sizzled everywhere he touched me, my shoulder on fire from when he tucked me into his side. Now my hand felt as if it was scorching, heat fizzling between our palms. I wanted to squeeze his hand tightly and never let go, which was a rarity for me.

“How are you this evening, Mr. Wrigley?” the manager asked as soon as we entered the dimly lit restaurant.

I looked around, noting the sushi bar lining the back wall and the busy bar with high-top tables at the front of the restaurant. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, I took in the main dining room. Pale pink tablecloths and bud vases were on each table, and classic Tom Jones’s “She’s a Lady” piped through the speakers. The place was packed. Chairs and bar stools were full of yuppies out for the night, older married couples having an intimate dinner, and a few singles, presumably travelers.

“Great, Blake. You got a table for two?”

When Jake let go of my fingers to accept the manager’s outstretched hand, a chill immediately washed over me until he brought me back into his side. This was ridiculous. I was an independent young woman who didn’t get all melty over a guy.

“Not really, but for you . . . always. How’s your brother? I saw him for a minute when he was here signing up the new guy coming to town. Kimpton is trying to make a go of it here in the ’burgh, and they’re salivating over what Lane does for us and the guys down the street.”

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, his software’s all over the place. You know Lane and his big, bad domination. He’s traveling less now that he has the wife and kid up in the country, and yet he’s still doing as much business. But enough about him. This is Alyson. Aly, this is Blake.” He squeezed me tighter each time he said my name.

“Nice to meet you, Alyson.” Blake held out his hand and I accepted it, giving him my firm work handshake. I didn’t want to be known as a wet noodle, even if I’d never been inside the Fish House before.

“But if it makes you feel better, Blake, don’t say I said it, but I know your place is Lane’s favorite joint to eat,” Jake said with a wink.

Blake grinned and shook his head. “Except for the Tap Room.”

“He does love his drinks at the Tap Room. Now, what about our table?”

“Sure, how about one next to the window?”

And just like that, we were led to what I assumed was a primo table with an impressive view of the city and an over-attentive waiter.

“All good?” Jake asked me as he sat across from me, giving me a big smile that made small crinkles form next to his blue eyes.

“This really wasn’t necessary.” It was too much for a girl like me.

“Oh, stop. Let it go, and let’s have fun, okay? We’re here, we have a great table, and I’m starving and sharing a table with a beautiful woman.”

Heat licked its way up my neck, not stopping until it settled in my cheeks. Certain I was pinker than the tablecloths, I focused on the menu in front of me. I was so out of my league, only having had sushi a few times before at the food court with the girls from the office.

“You feel like wine, beer, or sake?” Jake asked, pulling me from my perusal of the menu.

“Wine would be great. You?”

“Why don’t we get a bottle? Do you like red or white?”

“Both. I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to wine.” And I was, thankfully, because I really needed a little drink, although I was certain this wine was going to be nothing like the bargain bottles I grabbed at the grocery store.

The waiter was already back after filling our water glasses as soon as we sat. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked.

Jake eyed the wine list, scanning the pages while biting his lower lip. For the briefest of moments, he looked unsure of himself, a little nervous and out of place, and I wanted to reach across the table and run my fingers along his forearm. His uncertainty made me want to be a better woman, a caring soul, a girl who allowed herself to fall in love.

“Let’s go with the Double T,” he said, tossing a quick glance at the waiter before bringing his eyes back to me. “And how about an order of crispy rock shrimp and the spicy edamame?” He raised an eyebrow and asked, “That sound good?”

“Definitely.” Just like that, I began to relax. Inside the big brute of a flirt across from me was a gentle soul, and I felt at ease, more so than I had in a long time. I took a sip of my water and asked, “So your brother likes this place?”

“Yeah, he’s the real deal, pretty big-time. During college, he worked on this software project helping hotels gather data and analyze it in a million different ways. I was busy drinking and playing ball and fighting and generally fucking up, and he made a name for himself. He’s the more impressive of us, and it certainly shows.” A small hint of sadness filtered through the brotherly pride in his voice before he cleared his throat and added, “But he’s not here, so let’s talk about you and me.” With a tiny flick of some unknown switch, Mr. Cocky was back in the room.