Love Irresistibly (FBI/US Attorney #4)(56)

“Um . . . no.” Brooke mused this over. “Do you think you’ll be invited to their wedding?”

Cade blinked. Well, shit. “I hadn’t even thought about that.” He cocked his head. “I wonder if they make a card that says ‘Congratulations and best wishes. So glad we’ve all gotten past the time I called one of you a terrorist in open court.’”

“Sure. I saw two of those at Hallmark last week.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

Cade drained his champagne glass and set it down on the coffee table. Then he reached over and stole a cookie from the bag she held. “What can I say? You met me at a very interesting time in my life.”

The words slipped out before he’d thought about them.

“Yeah? What else is going on in your life these days?” Her tone was casual, the words said between nibbles of her cookie, but her bright green eyes were keen as she studied him.

Cade actually debated for a split second.

I found out that I have a brother.

Then he thought, Nah. They were having a good time; he didn’t want to ruin the mood by dumping his baggage on Brooke.

Luckily, he was saved by the proverbial bell when her cell phone rang.

She frowned, presumably anticipating some sort of work emergency. But when she grabbed her phone off the coffee table and checked the caller ID, her face relaxed.

She answered. “Hey, you.”

Cade had a pretty good idea who the “you” was, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the guy calling at ten o’clock on a Friday night. He reached over and poured himself another glass of champagne, as if paying no attention to their conversation.

But he was listening, all right.

“Good,” she said next. Her gaze shifted to Cade in response to whatever the caller said next. “Yes.”

She smiled as the conversation continued.

“No.”

“Don’t know.”

“Next question.”

“Next question.”

“Still, with that?”

“I’m going into the office tomorrow. How about lunch at The Shore at noon?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. What are you up to tonight?”

“Is that the blonde who sounds like a goat when she orgasms, or the chick who makes you talk dirty in a Scottish accent?” She chuckled. “Good luck with that one. See you tomorrow.”

She hung up and set the phone aside before turning back to Cade. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll go out on a limb here. Ford?”

She nodded, turning back to her cookie. “Yep.”

Cade waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you two aren’t—”

“Positive.”

“And all this time, you never—”

“Not once.” She waved casually at him. “You should understand. You just told me that you’re friends with that Rylann woman. I assume you’re not sleeping with her?”

“That Rylann woman doesn’t call me at ten o’clock on a Friday night.”

“Are you getting ornery again?”

“If I say yes, do I get another blow job?”

She laughed at that, blushing a little. “Nice try.”

Cade found that blush even cuter than the pink pajamas and Chips Ahoy! cookies. “Had to give it a shot.”

She smiled, and then went quiet for a moment. “Ford and I lived in the same neighborhood growing up. He . . . didn’t like being at home very much, so my parents took him in whenever he wanted. He’s basically like family.”

Her expression said there was a lot more to that story, but since she didn’t offer anything further, Cade didn’t ask.

She cocked her head, clearly looking to change the subject. “Do you really want to spend the whole night talking about Ford?”

“Not really.” And based on what she’d just said, he already felt more comfortable with their relationship, anyway. Not that he had any claim on Brooke or anything. Pfft.

“Good.” Brooke set down the bag of cookies and climbed over to straddle Cade’s lap. Her voice was throaty and coy. “Maybe we can find something else to occupy our time, then.”

“Scrabble?”

With a smile, she lowered her head and kissed him.

This was how it should be, Cade thought, sliding his hands under her tank top and caressing the bare skin of her lower back. Two people, having a good time and keeping everything right at the surface.

No need to go diving down into the deeper, murkier waters below.

Twenty

ON TUESDAY, IAN dropped by Brooke’s office after she’d gotten back from the day’s EEO training session. He appeared extremely pleased.

“I got your message about the meeting with Curt Emery.” He gave her an approving nod. “Nice job.”

“I wouldn’t get too excited yet. It’s a long shot,” Brooke cautioned him. Although, yes, she was kicking ass and taking names these days. In addition to finalizing all the employment and service agreements for the Staples Center, and overseeing the anti-harassment training sessions at the restaurants, she had, in her few free minutes, taken it upon herself to call Curt Emery, the director of food service of the Chicago Bears, and left a message asking for the opportunity to meet with him to talk about Sterling Restaurants’ sports and entertainment division.