Page 32 of Sinful Abandon

Shrugging my shoulders, I reach over to the door, preparing to close it. “Sushi.”

Ryan places his body in between me and the open door, halting me from closing it. He bends his body, so he’s looking into the cab. “You hate sushi.”

He’s correct. “What’s your point?”

The cab driver turns around. “I don’t have all day, guys.”

If we keep this up, Ryan and I will have our photos placed in every taxi depot in the city with a note that reads, Do not pick up this fare. They won’t let you leave the curb.

“Run the meter,” Ryan commands. He watches as the driver does so. Then, he turns back to me and says, “Come with me.”

I look down at my tea-stained shirt and my milky skirt. “I don’t have time for this. I still have to go home and change and meet Jarrod—”

“Cancel.” His stance is stern, powerful.

His words force me to look up at him, and I’m damned for doing so. His cobalt blues are staring at me in earnest. He is a man set on a mission and won’t back down until he gets what he wants. What he needs.

“Why would I do that?” I ask, afraid of how he might answer. Afraid of how my heart will react.

“Because you want to,” he says. “Take a chance on me. Just for tonight. One last time, and then I swear, you will never have to see me again. You’ll marry one of the wealthiest bachelors in Chicago and live happily ever after. But at least you’ll know that, for one night, just once, you had a great time with a guy who only has eighty bucks in his pocket, fulfilling his dream of taking a beautiful girl dancing in Chicago.”

My heart stops beating at the sound of the most incredible proposal I’ve ever heard.

When I don’t immediately answer, Ryan adds, “Besides, you think I have a great personality.”

I fall back in the seat and raise a brow. “When did I ever say you had a great personality?”

“It’s known. That, and the fact that I have a great ass. I’ve seen you checking it out.” He flashes that award-winning Midwestern smile. “Despite what you think, I’m a sought-after bachelor myself. In ten years, you are going to be kicking yourself if you don’t let me take you out just one last time.”

“I will, will I?”

“Yep,” he says. He scoots me over in the seat. He doesn’t even give me a chance to say yes before he closes the door.

I can’t believe he is hijacking my evening.

“I can’t go anywhere like this.” I point to my ensemble.

Ryan looks down at my blouse and skirt, clearly noticing my disaster of an outfit for the first time. “You look perfect,” he says in a sweet, seductive tone. “But, if it makes you feel better, then you can change.” He turns to the driver and says, “LSD.”

I raise a brow. Ryan laughs.

“Lake Shore Drive,” he says. “We’ll make a Chicagoan out of you soon enough.”

Just like that, I am canceling my plans and going out for one last hurrah with Ryan Pierson.

We take a train into a working-class neighborhood that is a far cry from the bright lights and big buildings of Chicago. Ranch homes, close together, some with shared driveways, line the streets. A city park with a baseball field is at the nearest intersection.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking around at the kids playing ball in the street.

The sun is still bright, as it is in the summer evenings, making me happy I changed into shorts and sandals.

Ryan waited outside my building while I got dressed. When he saw the orchid-colored high-waist pleated shorts that look like a skirt and the matching tank I slipped on—paired together, they look like a dress—his face lit up all too appreciatively.

We turn a corner. Lush trees of green line the streets, stretching to the other side and connecting to one another like lovers.

“Since you got to change, so do I.” He stops in front of a modest house with blue siding and a white door.

“This is your house?”