Love Irresistibly (FBI/US Attorney #4)(40)
“How many innings do we have to stay before grabbing that dinner?” he asked.
She felt sparks of excitement in her stomach at the husky tone to his voice. “Leave the Crosstown Classic early?” she said teasingly. “Never.”
“So that’s how it’s going to be tonight, is it?” His eyes held hers boldly. “Good.”
Fifteen
“I REALIZED SOMETHING,” Brooke said, in between bites of the chocolate chip cookie she’d snagged off the dessert cart. “I’ve seen you play football.”
After the game had ended, they’d hung out in the skybox with the other guys while waiting for the crowd to dissipate. Cade had suggested the two of them walk to a casual sushi lounge just around the corner from his apartment—a restaurant not owned by Sterling where, as he put it, “no one would be hopping around like jackrabbits on crack trying to keep Brooke Parker happy.”
She thought that sounded perfect.
It was a warm July evening, the air filled with the scent of backyard barbeques. Reveling in the Cubs’ victory over the Sox—a bigger cause for celebration on the north side of the city than the Fourth of July—people sat outside on front porches, balconies, and back decks, and played cornhole on the sidewalks and in the alleys while drinking wine, beer, and mixed drinks from plastic cups.
A far cry from the Gold Coast neighborhood she lived in. Brooke smiled, thinking about the likelihood of her Prada-clad neighbors ever getting together to drink beer and a play a round of cornhole on the rooftop deck of their high-rise building. Although, in fairness, they probably thought the exact same thing about her.
“Must’ve been a televised game,” Cade said. “Since we never played the University of Chicago.”
During their dinner at Bar Nessuno, Brooke had mentioned where she’d gone to undergrad and law school. “Nope. I saw you live and in the flesh. I was at that Northwestern/Illinois game Tucker mentioned earlier. Ford had invited me down that weekend for the homecoming festivities.”
Cade flashed her a confident grin. “And of course you now remember how impressed you were with my utterly brilliant performance.”
“Actually, I barely looked at the field. I was too busy flirting with this hot guy in Ford’s fraternity.” She smiled innocently when Cade’s grin turned to a frown. “You asked.”
They maneuvered their way through a crowd of people waiting on the sidewalk in front of an ice-cream shop. “I take it you’ve known Ford for a long time, then?” he asked.
“Since the fourth grade. We were neighbors,” Brooke said.
“Where did you grow up?”
She paused momentarily. “Glenwood.”
“I see.”
Brooke had heard that tone before, and knew exactly what Cade meant by that. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Glenwood was an extremely affluent suburb. In fact, Forbes had recently rated her hometown the ninth-richest neighborhood in the United States, something that had been repeated ad nauseam in all the Chicagoland newspapers.
“I know what you think you see,” she told him, as they turned a corner onto a residential street.
“Really?” He regarded her mock-archly. “And what do I think I see, Ms. Parker?”
“You see the pricey U of C education, the high-rise apartment off of Michigan Avenue, and then you hear that I grew up in Glenwood—”
“—Don’t forget those fancy red high-heeled shoes. As long as we’re generalizing.”
“—and you think you see somebody who grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth.” She raised an eyebrow. “Am I right?”
He cocked his head in acknowledgement. “Okay, maybe I was thinking something along those lines. Tell me, then—what should I see instead?”
“Someone who has worked very hard to get where she’s at,” Brooke said, with no small amount of pride. That being all she needed to say about the subject, she kept walking, taking a few steps before she realized that Cade was no longer alongside her. She looked back and saw him waiting on the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”
“Just waiting for the rest of the story,” he said.
“The rest of what story?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re used to throwing out some tiny little nugget about yourself, one small comment about your background that you can use to get your point across before moving on, but that’s not going to cut it with me.” He folded his arms across his chest expectantly, looking every bit the prosecutor despite his gray T-shirt and cargo shorts. “Tell me more about what I should see.”
She gestured to their surroundings. “Right here?”
He shrugged. “You opened the door to this line of questioning.”
Darn litigators, she thought crankily. They acted like the whole world was their courtroom. And he wasn’t going to back down; she could tell.
Fine. Whatever. She could answer his question, no problem. “For starters, you should see somebody who grew up in the one part of Glenwood that Forbes magazine wasn’t talking about. Someone who never could’ve afforded to go to a school like U of C if her undergrad tuition hadn’t been covered almost entirely by merit scholarships and financial aid.”
She saw a flash of something in Cade’s eyes she couldn’t read. But he said nothing, just began taking steps toward her.