Love Irresistibly (7 page)

“Do you ever take a moment to look at that,” Ford pointed at the view, “and wonder how we got here?”

She smiled at that. “Not bad for two kids from the Quads.”

“Any regrets?” Ford asked her.

She could tell that he was being serious, so she gave some thought to his question. “Not a one.”

“Then screw all these guys,” Ford said. “If they don’t fit into
your
big picture, they’re not worth your time, anyway.”

Brooke looked over at her friend. Sometimes, penis and everything, he knew exactly the right thing to say. “Thank you.”

He winked. “Anytime, babe.”

Charlie opened the sliding door and poked his head out. “Is it safe yet for Tuck and me to come outside? We don’t want to interrupt if you two are still making out or whatever.”

Brooke and Ford shook their heads at each other. Make that five hundred and
one
times. They answered in unison.

“Still never gonna happen.”

Six

PROMPTLY AT SEVEN
A.M.
on Sunday morning, Cade, Vaughn, and Huxley rode the elevators that would take them to the entrance of Sogna. A hostess desk, made of dark mahogany wood, stood empty before a set of wide etched glass doors—doors that were open.

“I guess that’s our invitation,” Cade said. He led the way inside Sogna and looked around curiously. He’d heard great things about the restaurant, but had never dined here himself. Sogna’s signature, eight-course $210 prix fixe menu made it a “special occasion” kind of place for a man on a government salary, and none of his recent relationships had quite made it to the “special occasion” level.

The lights inside the restaurant were off, but the natural light coming in from the windows revealed a modern décor, with dark mahogany tables and booths offset by chairs covered in ivory fabric. A staircase made of glass and steel snaked its way to the second floor of the split-level dining room, which Cade knew, from the online research he’d done the night before, could accommodate nearly two hundred seats between the two levels. Striking floor-to-ceiling windows looked out at Michigan Avenue, the Drake Hotel, and Lake Michigan—the same view, on a much larger scale, as the one from Brooke’s office.

Suddenly, the lights came on, instantly brightening the space and making it feel less empty. A moment later, Brooke Parker of the Gorgeous Green Eyes, Sarcastic Quips, and Yep, More Hot Shoes stepped out from a hallway behind the bar. Her golden blond hair was pulled up in a knot again, and she was dressed in a red skirt, crisp black shirt, and kick-ass red heels. She carried a Starbucks cup in one hand, looking every bit as sophisticated and professional as she had the last time Cade had seen her.

He wondered if she slept in her high heels and tailored clothes, too. “Good morning, Ms. Parker,” he said in greeting.

“Mr. Morgan,” she said with a nod. “Sorry if I kept you waiting. It took me a few minutes to figure out where the light switches are,” she said with an easy smile.

Polite as ever, Cade noted. Despite the slight . . . friction between them, they were both professionals who knew how this worked. Business was business, and this morning they had a job to do. “No problem. We just got here ourselves.”

Brooke gestured to the restaurant with her coffee cup. “So where do we start?”

“I think the first step should be to pick the table we want Sanderson and Torino to sit at.” Cade looked at Vaughn and Huxley for confirmation. “Yes?”

With a nod of agreement, the two agents began walking around the restaurant to survey the scene. Huxley explained to Brooke the kind of table they were looking for in terms of maximizing the audio quality of the bugs: one that allowed for semiprivacy, so that Senator Sanderson and Torino felt comfortable speaking openly, and one that also was located away from any particularly noisy places like the bar or kitchen.

“Upstairs will be quieter, since it’s farther away from both of those spots,” she said. “And the tables along the window are considered the best seats in the house. I could always tell the hostess that I heard the senator was dining with us this evening and wanted to be sure we put him at a table with a nice view,” she offered.

Huxley nodded. “We were going to suggest something along those lines. And Agent Simms and myself—we’ll be dining under the name ‘Carson’ tonight—will take a window table, too. If anyone asks any questions, just tell them that I’m an old friend planning a special night for my date, and that I called you and asked if I could have a table with a romantic view.”

“I’ve got it—maybe you’re proposing tonight, Hux,” Vaughn suggested. “We could get you a fake engagement ring and everything. Agent Simms can’t say no, it’ll blow your cover. This could be your one chance.”

Huxley shot him a glare, but otherwise refused to rise to the bait. He turned to Brooke. “Do you feel comfortable with all that?”

Brooke nodded. “Carson. Old friend. Special occasion.”

All four of them headed up the staircase to the second level. Huxley and Vaughn conferred among themselves, choosing the two tables they wanted to use that night. Brooke and Cade followed a few feet behind.

“So what’s your role in all this?” Brooke asked him conversationally.

“Tonight I’m just an observer,” Cade said. “I’ll be in the van outside with Vaughn and the tech guys, listening in on Sanderson’s conversation with Torino.”

She studied him curiously. “Are prosecutors typically this hands-on at the investigatory stage of a case?”

“It varies,” Cade said. “Some cases come to me after the investigation is complete and there’s already been an arrest. But being in the special prosecutions division, it’s not uncommon for me to get involved at the earlier stages. The investigations tend to involve more complex legal issues than, say, a simple drug bust or a bank robbery—and thus tend to be more of a collaborative process between the agents and myself. Oh, that reminds me.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a folded document.

He handed it over to Brooke. “One subpoena, per your request.”

“Thank you.” She took the subpoena with her free hand, the one not holding her coffee, and flicked it open. She took her sweet time reading it, looking every bit the dutiful contract lawyer right then.

Cade waited patiently for her to finish. Then waited some more.

This woman seemed to enjoy keeping him waiting.

He looked her over as she reviewed the subpoena and couldn’t help but notice that she looked rather . . . cute with her brow furrowed in concentration.

His tone was suddenly teasing again. Weird, how that kept happening around her. “Perhaps there’s something you’d like me to explain, Ms. Parker?”

Two green eyes glared at him over the top of the subpoena.

“Or maybe I should just let you do your thing.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

Fighting back a smile at her dry tone, Cade eased against a nearby table and folded his arms across his chest, waiting as Brooke turned the page over and continued reading. Then she flipped back to the front side and started all over again.

Come on
. Cade held out his hands. “You can’t be serious.” The damn thing was only two pages long.

“Patience, Mr. Morgan.” With a slight smile, she folded up the subpoena and tucked it under her arm. “It’s fine.”

She’d been messing with him again, Cade realized. Something else she seemed to enjoy. The lawyer in him thought back to his
irritatingly self-assured
comment on Friday.

The man in him was slightly more intrigued.

Good thing, then, that the man in him had no say in the matter. This morning was all about business.

As a reminder of that fact, Huxley called over right then. “Brooke, if you’re ready, we’ve got the tables picked out for tonight.”

She turned her gaze. “Absolutely. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Here’s how this will work.” Huxley set his hand on a back-corner table that was flanked on one side by windows. “First, you need to make sure Torino and Sanderson sit here. They have reservations at seven thirty, which means that Agent Simms and I will be here at seven o’clock, just to be safe.” He moved two tables away from the one at which Sanderson and Torino would be seated, also in front of the windows. “The hostess should seat the two of us here.”

They ran through the rest of the plan, and agreed that Brooke would get to the restaurant at six o’clock. That gave her plenty of time to speak to the hostess who was scheduled to work that evening and with the manager on duty, so she could give him, too, a heads-up that she’d made special arrangements regarding the seating of some of their guests.

After they’d run through the routine for the evening, and then had run through it again, Vaughn pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Stand by to start the audio checks in five minutes.” He hung up the phone.

Huxley set his briefcase on top of the table he and Vaughn planned to bug. Both agents smiled at Brooke expectantly.

She didn’t get the hint.

Brooke looked at Cade. “Is somebody waiting for me to say something?”

He bent his head closer to hers. “This is the awkward part where I need to ask you to leave so that Huxley and Vaughn can do their secret-special-agent thing.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re kicking me out? This is
my
company’s restaurant.”

“I’m kicking you out.”

She considered this, likely contemplating several sassy retorts, and then—surprisingly—acquiesced. “Try not to look so pleased about it, Morgan. I’ll be in my office in case you need anything.” Then she turned in her heels and strode off in the direction of the stairs.

Cade caught himself watching her as she left.

So it was “Morgan” now.

Tough to say whether this was progress.

* * *

TO KILL TIME
while she waited, Brooke took a seat at her desk and caught up on e-mail. She saw that she had a new message from Ian, saying that he needed to cancel their weekly Thursday lunch meeting because he had “highly important CEO business to tend to.”

In other words, he was playing golf.

She shot him back a quick response, updating him on the status of the Sanderson sting operation, which she’d informed him about on Friday, immediately after her meeting with Cade and Company.

She continued chugging through her messages, until roughly a half hour later, a knock at her door interrupted her. She looked up from her computer and saw Cade Morgan standing in her doorway, all cobalt blue eyes and thick dark hair and six-feet-plus of sophistication and lean-muscled confidence in a dark gray suit. She’d noticed earlier that he’d forgone a tie this morning, opting for a more casual look and leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

It wasn’t the
worst
look she’d ever seen on a man.

She cleared her throat.

“We’re finished,” Cade said.

Brooke checked the time on her computer. “That was fast.”

“These guys know what they’re doing.”

Indeed.
And let’s hope you do, too, Parker
. For the first time since the Mighty Morgan had shown up at her office on Friday, Brooke felt nervous. Everything was set and ready to go, which meant that she was next up at bat. Until now everything had seemed simple enough and, frankly, a little exciting and secret-agent-esque—make sure Senator Sanderson sits here, put Huxley and his fake date over there, trade a few barbs with Cade—but suddenly everything had become real. She, Brooke Parker, was about to participate in a federal sting operation that evening, and while she considered herself to be a savvy businesswoman and a great negotiator, this definitely was not her wheelhouse. And now several people—hell, basically every citizen of Illinois, all of whom deserved to be represented by honest politicians (she was still going with the corruption angle on this one despite Cade’s vagueness)—were counting on her to get this right.

No pressure there.

“Okay, then,” she said in a bright tone. Nervous or not, she’d be damned if she betrayed that in front of him. For Cade Morgan, prosecutor extraordinaire, this kind of intrigue and high-stakes drama was probably an everyday occurrence. “I’ll just grab my stuff.”

She packed up her briefcase, trying to ignore the fact that he was watching her. “Shoot,” she said, remembering something. “I need to lock up the office and the restaurant.” She turned back to her desk, holding her briefcase while she rummaged around with her free hand. “Keys, keys, I just saw those keys . . .” She’d borrowed a spare set to Sogna from their VP of security and had last seen them . . . somewhere.

She felt Cade at her side and looked up.

He reached for her hand. “These keys?” His blue eyes danced as he jingled something in her fingers.

She’d had the keys looped around her finger the entire time.

Crap.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” she said, making a mental note to give herself a good, solid head-thunk as soon as she was alone.

He cocked his head, studying her. “You’re nervous about tonight.” A statement, not a question.

She shook her head. “No.” She glared at his knowing expression. “Fine, maybe a little. If I threw you into a complex multimillion-dollar restaurant deal on less than forty-eight hours’ notice, how well do you think you’d do?”

“I’d kick ass.”

Truly, she wanted to
shake
him at times. “I swear, Morgan, you may be the most infuriating lawyer I’ve ever—” She stopped and collected herself. Rule Number One of any business arrangement: never let the other side see you rattled. “I’m locking up now.” She gestured to the door. “That means you—
go
.”

He seemed to be fighting back another of his aren’t-you-a-funny-one grins. “I’ll walk you out.”

Wonderful.
“If you insist.”

They walked side-by-side through the empty office, no conversation, just the same aggravating, pestering agitation that had been present since the moment they’d first met. Once outside, she locked the door to Sterling’s offices and turned around. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I can take care of locking up the restaurant by myself.”