“Better?” I asked.

“Much,” Evan said.

“And you’re not going to even give me a clue?”

“Not even,” he said.

“I know this area pretty well. I could probably count stops and turns. I’ve watched enough espionage thrillers to know how that works.”

He laughed. “Good point.” He sat silent for a moment, and then I felt him drape something across my lap. “You look a little cold,” he said. “Let me warm you up.”

I started to tell him that my legs weren’t cold, but in that same instant I felt his hand upon my thigh. I realized as he gently stroked my skin—easing his fingers higher and higher toward the mid-thigh hemline of my dress—that he hadn’t put the jacket there to keep me warm, but to give us privacy.

He eased the hem higher, and it was all I could do not to whimper. I felt on fire, my thighs craving more of his touch, my sex so sensitive that even the slight rubbing of my panties against my flesh in time with the movement of the car was making me hot. And, so help me, the fact that I was blindfolded and we were in the back of a taxi, not four feet away from some anonymous driver made the whole thing that much more arousing.

“Evan,” I said, because we should stop even though I didn’t want to. Even though I wanted this rush. This heat.

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Distracting you so you can’t count turns,” he said, even as his finger slipped under the tiny strip of material that made up the thong part of my teeny-tiny panties.

“Oh.” My breath was a gasp, the word forced out even as he slid his finger inside me. “Oh, well, um, okay.”

He chuckled. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’re close.”

“Yes,” I said, because he was right. I was close, so damn close, but he was keeping me on the edge, slipping his finger in and out, making me wetter and wetter, playing and teasing and trailing a soft fingertip all over my sex, between my legs, on the soft skin between my cunt and my thighs. But though his touch fired my senses and made me crave more, it was more that he denied me.

He was deliberately avoiding my clit, and I had no way of complaining. I couldn’t say a word—I couldn’t even shift my hips and writhe in silent demand—unless I wanted to advertise what was going on to the driver. And, yeah, he might already be clued in, but since I was blindfolded I was happy to live in the fantasy that he was completely oblivious.

Which meant I had to sit there, perfectly still, as Evan’s fingertips played me as skillfully as an instrument. As my body warmed. As every inch of my skin became so sensitive that every tiny hair seemed to send sparks shooting through me.

By the time the taxi finally pulled up in front of our mystery destination, I was taut and ready and totally primed.

I didn’t know where we were going, but I really hoped that getting naked was next on the agenda.

“I don’t think he bought your excuse about the cold,” I said, as I stood blindfolded on what I assumed was a sidewalk. “It’s in the seventies this morning and he didn’t even have the AC on.”

Evan’s arm held on to my elbow as he guided me forward. “You may be right. But I wanted what I wanted, and that was you.”

“Hmm,” I said, adding a hint of censure to my tone.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

I frowned. “I take the Fifth.”

He burst out laughing. “Fair enough. But I know the truth. You told me, remember? You’re a woman who likes to let go. Who likes the rush. Who needs it.”

I wanted desperately to peel the blindfold off and look at him. “I do,” I said. “But it also scares me.”

“That was the point, Lina. You were with me. You can do anything with me.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Anything. Because I will always be there. I will always catch you if you fall.”

I didn’t know what to say. He’d managed to twist the moment around completely. From a casual sexual encounter in a taxi, to a moment of pure intimacy.

“Evan,” I said, turning blindly toward him and finding his face. I pulled him toward me for a kiss, deep and long and sweet.

When I pulled back, he gently stroked my cheek. “What was that for?”

“Wherever you’re taking me, whatever we’re doing, I know it’s going to be amazing. And just in case you have me so distracted later I forget to say it, I wanted to say thank you now.”

“You’re welcome.” He took my hand. “Are you ready to go inside?”

I nodded and let him lead the way.

“Distracted, huh?” he said as we entered a very air-conditioned room. “I can’t imagine how you think I might distract you.”

I grinned, absolutely delighted with the man, with the morning, with the whole damn world.

I knew better than to ask where we were. There was stone, not carpet, beneath my feet, and the space had an echo when we walked. It felt empty, too, and I assumed it was some sort of lobby. My assumption was confirmed when I heard the ding of an elevator. A moment later, we stepped onto one. And ascended, higher and higher and higher still.

“About that flying thing,” I said. “If you’re thinking about hang gliding off the roof of one of the sky-rises, then I think I’m going to have to exercise my veto power.”

“That’s tomorrow’s agenda,” he says. “Today’s Sunday. I figured something less active would be appropriate.”

I wanted to scream with frustration because I had absolutely no idea what he had up his sleeve, but I also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. So I stayed calm, cool, and collected. And kept my curiosity soundly buried.

Finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. The doors opened, and I heard a few people moving around, but not too many. I heard the clattering of dishes and—happily—I caught the scent of coffee.

“Know where we are?”

“One of the clubs? A breakfast buffet?” Uncle Jahn belonged to the Metropolitan Club and had taken me and Flynn there for drinks and appetizers to celebrate Flynn’s first trip as a flight attendant.

“Not a bad guess,” he said. “But no.”

“Well, I give up.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have long to wait now.”

I’d been walking carefully, his hand on my elbow, and now he had me turn just slightly. The floor beneath us changed texture, and I heard the scrape of a chair.

“Here you go,” he said, helping me sit. He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He bent over, and his breath rippled my hair as he asked, so very gently, “Are you ready?”

“I think so.” I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to be ready for, and he clearly expected me to be astounded. For a moment I feared that my reaction would disappoint him, but the fear faded quickly. If anyone knew how to overwhelm, it was Evan. “Yes,” I said more firmly. “I’m ready.”

“Close your eyes.”

I did, effectively blocking out the tiny bits of light that had crept in under the mask. His fingers brushed my hair as he gripped the elastic and pulled the mask up and off my face. “All right,” he said softly. “Open.”

I did, and then gasped in awe and wonder. “Evan—oh my god.”

I have no memory of moving, but I must have, because now I was standing, and all of Chicago was spread out beneath and around me, and my heart was pounding because we were suspended above the city and all I could think was that there was no place more perfect that he could have brought me. “It’s the Skydeck,” I said. “You brought me to the Ledge.”

“I did,” he said, moving to stand beside me. I’d gone to the edge, and now my hands were pressed to the glass, but I wasn’t looking out, I was looking down, watching the world falling away beneath our feet as we stood in this clear box that hung from the side of the Willis Tower.

“Are you ready for breakfast?”

“What?” I asked foolishly.

He took my shoulder and gently turned me around. I saw the chair where I’d originally been sitting next to a white cloth-covered table topped with dishes and a shiny silver coffeepot.

For a moment I frowned. “Breakfast? I’ve wanted to come here for breakfast since I learned they served, but I thought it was closed on Sundays.”

“It is,” Evan said. “I arranged catering for a private party.”

“A party?” I asked, lifting a brow.

“A very small party,” he said. “Will you join me for breakfast on this lovely Sunday morning, Ms. Raine?” he asked, holding out his hand and drawing me toward him.

“Yes, Mr. Black. I’d be delighted.”

He held my chair out, and as I sat, I looked down at the city again. The world seemed to swirl around me, making me both dizzy and excited, making my heart swell and soar. But no matter what, I knew that I wouldn’t go crashing down to earth. I was safe here. Safe on this ledge, and safe with Evan.

“Thank you,” I said. “This is incredible. More than incredible, in fact. It’s perfect.”

“I told you I’d make you fly,” he said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “You did.”

Esther Martin swooped into my cubicle, her smile as wide as her eyes were sad. She crossed the small space in one stride, arms outstretched, and folded me into the kind of genuinely emotional hug that most women of Esther’s money and breeding usually eschewed.

“We’ve missed you,” she said, releasing me. “Are you doing okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I miss him. But I’m doing okay.”

“Oh, honey. We all miss him.” She stood back so that she could look me up and down. “You look good. You got some sun.”

I nodded. “I spent most of yesterday outside.” I shrugged a little. “It was nice.”

Nice, in fact, was an understatement. After a breakfast among the clouds, Evan and I spent the day like petals on the wind, soft and lazy and with no purpose other than to move and to explore the city. After breakfast on the Ledge, we’d walked from the Willis Tower all the way down the Magnificent Mile to the Oak Street Beach. I’d expected him to balk when I’d suggested it, because most people don’t share my love of simply walking around big cities, soaking up the vibe and absorbing the energy. But Evan didn’t complain, despite the fact that we walked about three miles even before our adventure truly started.