Cocky Suits Chicago: Books 1-3

by Alex Wolf

  “I’ve tried to refrain out of respect but this merger is a mistake.”

  “I don’t need this.” I push up from the chair and stalk out of my office.

  I go to the one spot where I feel like I can breathe and clear my head. The one place I can get away from everyone.

  I step out on the roof deck, and there she is. Her hair is down, and her curls blow with the breeze, wild and untamed just like her. Tate Reynolds is a damn force to be reckoned with and she knows it. I stand quietly and watch her as she stares out at the lake.

  I start to turn back. I don’t have the energy to spar with her right now but change my mind after the first step.

  No. This is my spot. This is my goddamn firm, at least until the papers are signed.

  Sensing my approach, she spins around and those passionate eyes of hers burn a hole in my chest.

  Not this time. I hold her gaze. “This is my spot. How’d you find it?”

  “Quinn showed it to me my first day. But you’re a big boy. Didn’t your parents teach you to share?”

  I take a seat in one of the deck chairs. I wave my hand for her to join me.

  Tate sits on another and reclines back.

  I lean back as well, closing my eyes as sunshine beams down on us. “I have three brothers. I’ve had to share my entire life.”

  I feel her eyes on me and glance over in her direction.

  “Everything?” She grins to insinuate we’re talking about her.

  “Almost everything.” I make the point clear, though I’m certain Dexter and Deacon have pulled the twin switcharoo on women in the past. That’s not my style.

  “They don’t like me much.”

  “It’s not you they don’t like. Well, the twins anyway. I hear you pissed off Donavan.” I lean up, because the conversation has switched to a serious tone.

  “He’s acting like an idiot, but I can handle him.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you can.” I sigh. “They don’t like change. They’re used to doing whatever they want and maybe that’s part of the problem. You intimidate them. And I’ve seen your work at The Hunter Group.”

  “Been reading up on me?”

  “What kind of attorney would I be if I didn’t? You’re not the only one who knows how to research.” I shoot her a playful grin. The more we talk the better I feel and the tension slips away.

  “I’m not sorry about last night. You had it coming.”

  Pushing my sleeve up, I check the time and know I need to get back downstairs. “I’d love to stay here and tell you all the reasons you’re wrong, but I have a meeting. Lunch, Friday?”

  “That depends… is it for business or pleasure?”

  “Pleasure.” The word comes out before I can stop it.

  “I’m not good enough to take to dinner?”

  She never gives an inch, and I think that’s what I enjoy most about her. I lick my lips, considering how to answer. “I have personal obligations in the evenings.”

  “Fucking hell, Decker. Don’t tell me you have a girlfriend.” She pushes up from the chair and turns her nose down at me. Her arms wrap around her waist and she looks away.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend. I just can’t do most nights and it’s not up for discussion. Just say yes.”

  “Fine. I’ll have lunch with you Friday.”

  “Good. I’ll send you the details after my meeting. I need my briefcase from your office. I left it in one of your chairs.”

  “I already sent it back with Quinn. I wouldn’t be stealing your assistant all the time if you’d find me one.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” With that, I stand up and leave.

  I have a date with Tate Reynolds. It’s exciting and scares the shit out of me at the same time.

  Tate

  I can’t believe I agreed to lunch with Decker. I promised myself after the other night I wouldn’t pursue my feelings any further, but he seemed so sincere when we were out on the roof deck I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I know I’m bordering on inappropriate for the office with the sexy red dress and heels I’m wearing today but it’s Friday and most places have casual Friday. I know I’m reaching for an excuse to wear it, but I want to look irresistible for him. I want the man to eat his heart out. I have a matching jacket over the top half, but come lunch that sucker is coming off.

  I know I’m playing with fire and there’s a possibility I could get burned but I’m going forward with our lunch date. It’s just two people sharing a meal together, nothing more. But sweet lord the things his voice does to me.

  Last night I thought about him while I touched myself in the shower.

  I fiddle with my lipstick and tuck the tube back in my clutch.

  Decker knocks on my door. “You ready? I made reservations.”

  “All set.” I log out of my computer and set my email to away, so we won’t be disturbed on our date by new messages coming through on my phone.

  I can’t help but notice Donavan glaring as we make our way out of the office. I flash him a smirk and keep walking. I should tell Decker about the bullshit suit and go straight over Donavan’s head, but I don’t want to ruin the lunch date. It’s going to come up sometime soon, but not today.

  I follow Decker into the elevator and the moment the door closes all the air pulls from my lungs. There’s an electric current, some kind of magnetism between us. He stares ahead as we come to a stop on another floor. The elevator begins to fill, pushing me so close I can smell his cologne. I press into his side, unable to escape.

  The elevator ride can’t end soon enough. I need some physical distance from him.

  We finally step through the door and I breathe a sigh of relief. After hailing a cab and a quick ride through downtown, we end up at a place called NoMi. The hostess seats us by a window overlooking Michigan Avenue. Decker’s wearing a dark blue Tom Ford paired with a baby blue shirt. It makes his eyes pop against his tan skin and dark hair.

  He does the honor of ordering for us while I freshen up in the ladies’ room. You can tell a lot about a man by how he feeds you. The restaurant is gorgeous and the food smells amazing as I return to the table. He stands and pulls my chair out for me like a true gentleman. It’s nice to see a northern city boy with some manners.

  I sip my water and our Caesar salads arrive.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what I ordered you?”

  “No. I want to be surprised.”

  “That surprises me.”

  I pause in the middle of stabbing my lettuce with my fork. “Why’s that?”

  “You seem to enjoy control.”

  “Any woman can be made submissive under the right circumstances.” I shove my food in my mouth and the white dressing drips down my chin.

  Decker stares right at my mouth, his eyes lingering on the sauce. I dab a napkin to my face, knowing what the image does to him after our conversation the other night.

  “Oops. I’m a little messy.”

  He clears his throat and takes a gulp of water. “You’re evil. You know that?”

  “I’ve been told.”

  “You know a little about me. Tell me about you.”

  “Hmm. Well I grew up in a little rural Texas town. When I’m not kicking ass in the courtroom, I take my nephews fishing.”

  His eyes roam my dress, all the way down to my shoes. “I still don’t believe you fish.”

  “I won the junior bass tournament two years in a row.”

  He looks skeptical and shovels a few more bites of salad into his mouth.

  “It’s true. I even have one of those singing fish plaques to prove it.”

  “Don’t tell me. It sings Take Me to the River.”

  “Liked The Sopranos, did you?” I grin.

  “Guilty. I used to watch it on the way to away games in my baseball days.”

  “Figured you’d be too busy trying to pick up adoring fans.”

  “That too.”

  The waiter clears our salad plates and replaces them with New Yor
k strips.

  I cut into the juicy meat. It’s red in the middle. My dad always told me a real man knows how a steak should be cooked, and if he doesn’t I should run for the hills. “Now I’m impressed.”

  “I didn’t take you for a soup and salad kind of woman.”

  “Got that right,” I say with a mouth full of steak.

  “How old are your nephews?”

  “Max is seven, Braxton is ten, and Camden’s thirteen and girl crazy.”

  “Most boys are.”

  “Are you? You don’t have a girlfriend… you say you don’t date but this is a date.”

  “Can’t give away all my secrets.” He grins as he deflects the question about his personal life.

  I want to push him further for more details, but he’s still closed off. There’s something he’s hiding. I don’t have any idea what it is, but it sets off all kinds of warning bells in my brain. I hope he doesn’t have a closet full of crazy girlfriends or former fuck buddies. He could be a dominant and into the BDSM scene, but I don’t see it. He’s alpha but there’s something I can’t put my finger on. It bugs me. I’ll have to spend more time feeling him out.

  Our meal goes quickly, and as we walk back, Decker points out the different buildings to me. The Willis Tower, Trump Tower… to name a few.

  I offer him a smile as we come to a stop outside the office building. “I had a good time.” I actually mean what I said. It was really nice.

  “Maybe we can do this again sometime?”

  “I’d like that.” I move to return to work when he grabs my hand, stopping me.

  He spins me around quickly and I feel dizzy, like I’m on a carnival ride. He gazes at my lips and I part them wondering if he’s finally going to kiss me. When his eyes meet mine, I can’t read him. I should push him away and get back inside to work, but I can’t. Because of one simple fact, despite how wrong it is and how much trouble I could get into—I want Decker Collins to kiss me. Right here in front of the office building, no matter who is watching, I want him to put his lips on mine and kiss me so hard my fingers and toes go numb.

  I’m not a girl who sits around and waits for men to make a move, though. “Decker, if you’re going to kiss me—just do it.”

  His smile broadens and he lets out a hoarse, “Fuck it.” He grabs my face and plants his mouth firmly on mine. Our lips collide, mouths opening, and I invite him in. His tongue tastes like wine as he thrusts into my mouth, licking and swirling.

  Finally, I pull away, breathless, and delirious. Decker Collins kissed me, and it was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

  His fingers grip mine and he tugs me away from the building. With his free hand he hails us a cab.

  My brows knit together. “What are you doing?”

  “Fuck work. It can wait.”

  My pulse races as my heart pounds against my rib cage.

  I get into the cab. Excitement courses through my veins.

  Is he taking me home with him?

  Tate

  The cab comes to a stop outside Wrigley Field.

  Not what I expected, but Decker looks giddy like a little boy in a candy store. We slide out of the cab and he slips the driver a few bills. At admission he hands over his season tickets and escorts me to a suite. I settle into my seat and kick my heels off, tucking my legs underneath me.

  Bringing my knuckles to his lips, he grazes them with a tender kiss. It’s an intimate and sweet action that sparks some kind of hope that he’s finally opening up to me. Maybe there really is more to him than just a cocky asshole who looks gorgeous in a suit.

  Dropping my hand, he says, “I love my family and the law. This is the only other thing that compares.” It seems as though he’s choosing his words carefully.

  That wall is still up, but I’ll tear it down. I feel like I’m already halfway there.

  “Baseball?”

  Decker nods. “I sneak out here every chance I get.” His face lights up as he stares out at the field below. These seats must cost him a fortune. We’re only a few spots away from the owner’s box. I don’t know a lot about baseball, my brothers were more into hunting and football in Texas. I played soccer myself.

  “You wanted to play here?”

  “That was the dream. I grew up watching the Cubs. Andre Dawson, Ryne Sandberg, Mark Grace.” He has this far off look in his eyes, and I wonder why he quit if he loved it so much. Everything I know about him says he should’ve ended up playing on the field we’re staring at.

  “What made you give it up?”

  He pauses and takes a deep breath, collecting himself. “Life. I had what it took, but I knew I couldn’t play forever and had to grow up sometime. The shelf-life of a baseball player isn’t very long. You’re always one injury away from having nothing.”

  His answer is a bullshit copout, but I don’t call him on it. Nobody gives up on a dream that easily. They all know the risks and don’t care. We’re getting along and I’m enjoying myself, though. I’m not about to ruin this with an unnecessary argument.

  He pulls out his phone and shoots a message to Quinn that we aren’t coming back to the office. I don’t know what she’ll think but I don’t really care.

  Right now, everything is perfect. This day with Decker is an unexpected but happy surprise. He’s nothing like I thought when I first met him on the sidewalk. He’s cocky but there’s a sweet layer to him I’m slowly discovering. Weston told me he was a great guy. Maybe I was wrong to judge him so soon.

  I put my shoes back on and excuse myself for a trip to the bathroom. When I return, he’s chatting with some other men in suits.

  “Tate.” He motions me over and hands me a cup of beer. “This is Mikey Sullivan and Horace Martinez. They’re clients at the firm and good friends.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I extend my free hand.

  “Tate’s a temporary transplant at the firm. She’s out of Dallas.”

  “I hope you keep her. I wouldn’t mind meeting someone so beautiful in the courtroom.”

  Decker locks an arm around my hip in a possessive manner, but manages to keep a cordial, joking tone. “Careful, Mikey, she’s lethal.”

  “I’d die happy.” The man is attractive, but the way he looks at me all hungry like a wolf does nothing for me when I’m here with Decker.

  On the inside, I’m rolling my eyes but, on the outside, I plaster on my beauty pageant smile and battle the urge to put him in his place. The last thing I want is to piss off one of Decker’s clients when we’re having a great time. “Excuse me, boys. I’m here to see asses in those tight baseball pants.”

  Decker releases my hip, and I move to the edge of the box to watch more of the game, away from the boys and their likely misogynistic conversation. I know how men in suits talk and it’s usually better for my career to just walk away.

  I can hear Decker’s conversation transpiring behind me. “Shit, you weren’t kidding. I might be in love with your friend.”

  “Get in line. The whole office is in love with her.”

  Everyone but your brothers.

  “You still owe me a round of drinks after I schooled you on the golf course,” one of the men says to Decker.

  “You promised me a rematch, but on my terms.”

  The man laughs. “No way am I getting on a baseball field with you.”

  Decker finally says, “I’ll have my assistant call yours and we’ll get those drinks. I need to get back.”

  They say their goodbyes and a moment later Decker’s strong arm slides around my shoulders. His lips are at my ear. “Enjoying the game?”

  I take a sip of stale Old Style beer. I think to myself only Cubs fans could enjoy this swill, but there’s something alluring about a stale beer and a baseball game. “Mhmm.”

  His fingers bite into my shoulder with possession. It’s sexy. I like seeing him in his element. He’s a fierce lawyer but this is where his heart lies. Decker belongs on that field.

  “Holy shit is that, Jose Balinger?�
�

  “Didn’t know you were a fan.” Decker leans back, a surprised look on his face. “Thought you weren’t really into baseball.”

  “I’m not.” I take another drink of my beer. “It’s my nephew. The girl-crazy one.”

  “I bet you’d be the best aunt in the world if you brought him an autographed ball.”

  “Shut up.” I smack his chest nearly spilling my beer in the process.

  He laughs and holds out a hand. “Come on, it’s almost the seventh inning stretch.”

  “I haven’t the slightest clue what that means but okay.”

  His hand wraps around mine after we discard our empty cups. As we walk down toward the dugout, his thumb strokes the inside of my wrist and every little touch leads me closer to temptation. His hands are magical and even a brush of his finger sends electricity shivering across my skin.

  Decker let’s go of my hand and cups his hands around his mouth leaning forward over the dugout. “Hey JoJo!”

  The player Camden is crazy about turns around and smiles at Decker. He jogs over and I can’t get past the fact the man my nephew worships is coming over to us. “Hey, Collins. What’s up?”

  “This is my friend, Tate. Think you could get her a ball signed for her nephew?”

  “No problemo.”

  “Thanks. Just give me a call and I’ll get it from you later.”

  I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know why I’m being so silly and starstruck, but I am.

  “It’s that easy for you, huh?”

  “We played together in college.”

  I wonder if it’s bittersweet for Decker, but he doesn’t seem sad about it.

  “I’d get him a ball right now, but they aren’t allowed to sign during the games. Some MLB rule. I’ll get it to you, though, so you can send it to your nephew.”

  “That’s just—thank you.” My face has to be pink. Camden is going to go insane.

  Decker gets us a couple of hotdogs and we drink another beer while we watch the rest of the game. We’re getting ready to leave the stadium when I remember I never turned my phone back on. The minute I power it on it lights up with notifications and a call comes through from Weston.