Love Irresistibly
Page 10
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“I negotiate multimillion-dollar deals for a living,” she told him. “You may have your subpoena power and tough-guy speeches, but I’m not exactly a novice at the bargaining table. You got your bugged table at Sogna. All I wanted in exchange was an acknowledgement of the courtesies that Sterling Restaurants is extending the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
Cade crossed his arms across his chest, the jacket of his suit pulling tighter around his broad shoulders. “For the record, I don’t believe I actually agreed to this ‘favor’ you asked for.”
“Nor did you disagree. Implied consent.”
He gave her a long look. “I can’t decide if you’re irritatingly self-assured or just . . .” He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then shrugged. “Nope, I’ve got nothing else. ‘Irritating’ it is.”
Seeming to have settled this, he turned to go. “See you bright and early Sunday morning, Brooke Parker.”
Then he strode out of her office just as confidently as he’d come in.
Most annoyingly.
Four
“WELL, I THINK that was a very productive visit.”
Walking alongside Vaughn as the three men crossed the parking garage, Huxley concurred with his partner’s assessment. “Assuming Brooke can deliver on getting the hostess to seat everyone at the right tables, this should go off smoothly.”
Cade headed to the front passenger door of Huxley’s Range Rover. So it was “Brooke” now, apparently. Not surprising, seeing how she’d practically had both agents eating out of the palm of her hand.
They all climbed into the SUV. As Huxley started the car, Vaughn spoke from the backseat, continuing to sing the praises of Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants and the Sarcastic Quips.
“I liked when she offered to have the camera directed at Sanderson’s table. I would’ve suggested it regardless, but it’s great that she’s so willing to cooperate.”
Cade fought the urge to roll his eyes. Okay, so she was hot. Whatever. And pleasant enough to people who didn’t threaten her with obstruction of justice charges. Big deal.
“If only all lawyers were that agreeable to work with,” Huxley said. “It would make our jobs a hell of a lot easier.”
“So true,” Vaughn agreed.
A silence fell over the car.
“Although she didn’t seem to like you very much, Morgan,” Vaughn mused.
Yes, thank you, he’d caught that. “Somebody had to be the bad cop. Clearly, it wasn’t going to be either of you two.” And in fairness, that hadn’t been the role he’d expected the agents to play. Brooke Parker wasn’t a witness, or a suspect—they’d been approaching her in her capacity as legal counsel for Sterling. Which meant she was his responsibility.
But he had to give credit where credit was due: there were very few people who could essentially tell an assistant U.S. attorney to kiss her ass with quite that exact mix of sarcasm and charm. She’d even had Vaughn and Huxley cracking smiles with that one.
Traitors.
“Does that mean you won’t be asking for her phone number when this is all over?” Vaughn asked.
“Ah, no.” When Vaughn said nothing further, Cade turned around in his seat to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re actually being serious.”
“Well, somebody should ask for it. Smart, gorgeous, no wedding ring, no pictures of kids or a guy in her office. That is one very fine, very single woman.” Vaughn held out his hands when Cade threw him a get-real look. “What? Like I’m the only one who noticed those things?”
“I don’t think I’m comfortable discussing Brooke this way while she’s assisting us in an investigation,” Huxley lectured from the driver’s seat.
Cade stifled a smile and turned back around to face the road. Here we go again. Huxley was a good agent—a very thorough, organized, by-the-book special agent—who hailed from Harvard Law School and was never anything less than immaculately dressed in three-piece suits. A direct contrast to Vaughn, who was far less interested in playing by the rules, frequently sported a five o’clock shadow and a wrinkled suit, and often looked like he’d just rolled out of some strange woman’s bed. And probably had.
It was no secret that the two agents, partners for the last year, drove each other nuts. They bickered and bitched about each other like the Odd Couple of the FBI, yet Cade knew that deep down (perhaps deep, deep down) they respected each other’s methods in the field.
“Fine. We can talk about something else,” Vaughn said faux amiably. “Like your big date Sunday night, Hux. With Agent Simms.”
Cade watched as Huxley’s lips twitched in a slight smile at the mention of the redheaded female agent’s name. Still, Huxley refused to rise to the bait. “It’s an undercover op, Roberts. Not a date. Unlike you, I’m perfectly capable of having dinner with a woman without obsessing all night about getting in her pants.” He shot Cade a look, clearly seeking to change the subject. “And why is he asking you about getting Brooke’s phone number? Did something happen with Jessica?”
Crap. Leave it to Vaughn to bring that out into the open. Although Cade supposed the subject of the demise of his relationship would inevitably come up at some point. He and Huxley had gotten to know each other well over the last five months while working on the Sanderson investigation and were familiar with each other’s personal lives.
Cade crossed his arms across his chest, the jacket of his suit pulling tighter around his broad shoulders. “For the record, I don’t believe I actually agreed to this ‘favor’ you asked for.”
“Nor did you disagree. Implied consent.”
He gave her a long look. “I can’t decide if you’re irritatingly self-assured or just . . .” He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then shrugged. “Nope, I’ve got nothing else. ‘Irritating’ it is.”
Seeming to have settled this, he turned to go. “See you bright and early Sunday morning, Brooke Parker.”
Then he strode out of her office just as confidently as he’d come in.
Most annoyingly.
Four
“WELL, I THINK that was a very productive visit.”
Walking alongside Vaughn as the three men crossed the parking garage, Huxley concurred with his partner’s assessment. “Assuming Brooke can deliver on getting the hostess to seat everyone at the right tables, this should go off smoothly.”
Cade headed to the front passenger door of Huxley’s Range Rover. So it was “Brooke” now, apparently. Not surprising, seeing how she’d practically had both agents eating out of the palm of her hand.
They all climbed into the SUV. As Huxley started the car, Vaughn spoke from the backseat, continuing to sing the praises of Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants and the Sarcastic Quips.
“I liked when she offered to have the camera directed at Sanderson’s table. I would’ve suggested it regardless, but it’s great that she’s so willing to cooperate.”
Cade fought the urge to roll his eyes. Okay, so she was hot. Whatever. And pleasant enough to people who didn’t threaten her with obstruction of justice charges. Big deal.
“If only all lawyers were that agreeable to work with,” Huxley said. “It would make our jobs a hell of a lot easier.”
“So true,” Vaughn agreed.
A silence fell over the car.
“Although she didn’t seem to like you very much, Morgan,” Vaughn mused.
Yes, thank you, he’d caught that. “Somebody had to be the bad cop. Clearly, it wasn’t going to be either of you two.” And in fairness, that hadn’t been the role he’d expected the agents to play. Brooke Parker wasn’t a witness, or a suspect—they’d been approaching her in her capacity as legal counsel for Sterling. Which meant she was his responsibility.
But he had to give credit where credit was due: there were very few people who could essentially tell an assistant U.S. attorney to kiss her ass with quite that exact mix of sarcasm and charm. She’d even had Vaughn and Huxley cracking smiles with that one.
Traitors.
“Does that mean you won’t be asking for her phone number when this is all over?” Vaughn asked.
“Ah, no.” When Vaughn said nothing further, Cade turned around in his seat to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re actually being serious.”
“Well, somebody should ask for it. Smart, gorgeous, no wedding ring, no pictures of kids or a guy in her office. That is one very fine, very single woman.” Vaughn held out his hands when Cade threw him a get-real look. “What? Like I’m the only one who noticed those things?”
“I don’t think I’m comfortable discussing Brooke this way while she’s assisting us in an investigation,” Huxley lectured from the driver’s seat.
Cade stifled a smile and turned back around to face the road. Here we go again. Huxley was a good agent—a very thorough, organized, by-the-book special agent—who hailed from Harvard Law School and was never anything less than immaculately dressed in three-piece suits. A direct contrast to Vaughn, who was far less interested in playing by the rules, frequently sported a five o’clock shadow and a wrinkled suit, and often looked like he’d just rolled out of some strange woman’s bed. And probably had.
It was no secret that the two agents, partners for the last year, drove each other nuts. They bickered and bitched about each other like the Odd Couple of the FBI, yet Cade knew that deep down (perhaps deep, deep down) they respected each other’s methods in the field.
“Fine. We can talk about something else,” Vaughn said faux amiably. “Like your big date Sunday night, Hux. With Agent Simms.”
Cade watched as Huxley’s lips twitched in a slight smile at the mention of the redheaded female agent’s name. Still, Huxley refused to rise to the bait. “It’s an undercover op, Roberts. Not a date. Unlike you, I’m perfectly capable of having dinner with a woman without obsessing all night about getting in her pants.” He shot Cade a look, clearly seeking to change the subject. “And why is he asking you about getting Brooke’s phone number? Did something happen with Jessica?”
Crap. Leave it to Vaughn to bring that out into the open. Although Cade supposed the subject of the demise of his relationship would inevitably come up at some point. He and Huxley had gotten to know each other well over the last five months while working on the Sanderson investigation and were familiar with each other’s personal lives.
