Love Irresistibly (FBI/US Attorney #4)(30)

She snapped her fingers. “Yes. That.”

“Your bully hacked into a Citibank database,” Cade said. “It’s not exactly a national security issue, but I’ll ask a Secret Service agent friend of mine to look into it. You said you have the IP address?”

“Yes, right here.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it over.

“Good.” Cade slid the piece of paper into his briefcase. “Give me a few days. You’ll be able to fire his ass soon. And the rest of him, too.”

Brooke smiled at that, pleasantly relieved—and a little surprised—that it had been that easy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Cade pointed, suddenly changing the subject. “You’ve finished your drink.”

“So have you.”

“Another round? My treat this time.”

As if sensing the nature of their conversation, or perhaps simply attuned to the fact that the—gasp—general counsel was sitting with an empty glass before her, the waitress stepped up to their table. “Can I get you both another drink?”

“We were just discussing that very question,” Cade said, still with his eyes on Brooke.

Just say no. Brooke had gotten what she’d come for that evening, and now it was time to grab her briefcase, get up out of that booth, and walk away.

And from the daring look in Cade’s eyes, she knew he was waiting for her to do just that.

Never one to back down from any challenge, at least not one coming from the mighty Cade Morgan, she turned to the waitress. “Another round would be great, thank you.”

Cade smiled slyly as the waitress hurried off. “You better pace yourself with that bourbon there.”

Brooke eased back in the booth, not the slightest bit concerned. “I wine and dine people for a living, Morgan. You just worry about yourself.”

* * *

OKAY, FINE. SHE may have been a little buzzed.

Just a smidge.

Clearly, that had to be the case, because she felt warm and good and—shockingly—was enjoying being around Cade.

They’d been at the restaurant for over an hour. A while back, the manager had come by to say hello to Brooke and had sent over a complimentary selection of antipasti. Brooke had ordered a glass of wine with that, and Cade had gone with another bourbon, and then somehow they’d just rolled into dinner—a hand-tossed pizza straight out of the restaurant’s wood-burning oven.

“I have to give credit where credit is due,” Cade said, helping himself to another slice. “You guys at Sterling know your way around food.”

She took another piece herself. No disagreement there. “There are far worse places to work than for a restaurant company.”

“Is this the way it is every time you eat at a Sterling restaurant?” Cade asked. “Everyone hopping around, making sure you’re happy?”

“I don’t know if I’d say hopping, exactly.”

He threw her a look. “Please. You know you love it.”

“This coming from a man who brags about having the Secret Service on speed dial.”

“Don’t forget the FBI, DEA, ATF, and IRS, too.” He grinned before taking a bite of pizza.

“I rest my case.” Brooke chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually it’s gotten better when I drop by the restaurants. In the beginning, I think everyone hated me. I was the first GC Ian had ever hired, so when I came on board people didn’t know what to expect. It took me about a year to convince them that I wasn’t looking for problems—that my job is to help them when problems do arise.”

Cade played with his glass, thinking this over. “I’ve been wondering something. Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Never in the history of humankind has a man ever managed to not say something offensive after that lead-in, but if you want to take your chances, Morgan, be my guest.”

The corners of his mouth curved in a smile. “Why are you single?”

Well, then.

Brooke reached for her wineglass and took a sip, making him wait before she answered. “Who says I’m single?”

“Vaughn. He deduced it from the fact that there aren’t any pictures of a guy or kids in your office.”

“You were talking about me with Agents Huxley and Roberts?”

“You may or may not have come up.”

“I see. And what else did you three scamps say when you were gossiping in your little knitting circle?”

His eyes danced with amusement, but his gaze remained trained on hers. A prosecutor intent on getting his answer. “You didn’t answer my question.”

No, she hadn’t. And while part of Brooke was tempted to move this conversation along to a different topic, there was another part of her that, admittedly, was a little curious herself.

She sat back in the booth, holding her wineglass with one hand as she faced off against him. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll answer that question if you will.”

“How do you know that I’m single?”

“Because no man would ever ask a single woman that kind of quasi-flirtatious question if he was already seeing somebody. At least, not somebody he respected.” Brooke took a sip of her wine. “So you’re either disrespectful to women, or single.”