by Julie James
“Why would she think that?”
“Because whenever I’m around her, I act like a dumb jock.” Zach threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can’t help it, she makes me nervous. She sat next to me last year in English class, and every time the teacher called on me I could see Paige watching, and I wanted to say something insightful or whatever. But I choked. Every time. And since participation was forty percent of our grade, and I could barely, like, string a sentence together, I got a C. I’ve never gotten a C before.”
Zach shook his head, continuing. “I thought I’d forget about Paige over the summer, especially with . . .” He hesitated, then gestured at Cade. “You know, me tracking you down and everything. But her dad owns the ice-cream shop in my neighborhood, and she works there over the summer, so I keep going in and buying all this ice cream and trying to think of something to say. But after twelve double-scoop cones, the most I’ve gotten out is ‘Hi, Paige.’” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s a mess, dude. I’m a mess.”
Cade sat across from his brother, the alleged mess, trying really hard to fight back a smile. In his entire life, he’d never felt so utterly smitten as Zach clearly was over Paige Chopra. He’d dated plenty of girls and women, but even as a teenager he’d been more guarded with his emotions.
Zach waited for him to say something. “You’re looking at me weird. It’s because I’m totally pathetic, right? I mean, you’re Cade Morgan. You probably never have to worry about girls, right?”
“You’re not pathetic. Actually, I envy you a little.”
“Because I’m a mess?” Zach asked dryly.
“No. Because you’re not afraid to be a mess.”
“It’s not exactly a conscious decision, you know. I’d much rather just be cool and get the girl.”
“You want to be cool? Try talking to her.”
Zach sighed. “Can’t I just text her?”
“No.” Cade pointed emphatically. “No texting. If two people like each other, they should be able to sit down and have an actual conversation, the way normal adults do when they want to get to know one another better.”
Zach raised an eyebrow. “Dude . . . it’s just texting.”
Right. “Regardless, you’re going to have to figure out some way to have a conversation with this girl. So if she makes you that nervous, you need a battle plan. Start off the conversation with something she likes. Something you know she’s interested in.”
Zach considered this. “I think she likes poetry. I once heard her talking to Ms. Stevens after class about how she’s written some poems herself.”
Cade clapped his hands. Bingo. “It’s perfect. If you have trouble talking to this girl, find another way to let her know how you feel. Maybe get her a book of poetry.”
“I’m a sixteen-year-old wide receiver. I know option routes and screen passes. I don’t do poems.”
“You will if you want Paige Chopra to like you. Sounds like you need to up your game for this one.” Cade grinned as Zach made a big show of rolling his eyes. “Just keep it simple, tough guy. Try T. S. Eliot.” He chuckled at Zach’s look of surprise. “Don’t look so shocked. I took a poetry class as an elective in college. I’d heard that the professor gave everyone who showed up an A.” And he’d also heard from a fellow football player that the poetry chicks were hot and arty and got big-time turned on whenever a guy showed his “sensitive side” by discussing poems—all of which he could confirm as very true—but that was an anecdote for a different day.
“I’ll think about it.” Zach took a sip of his shake. “What about you? I know you’re not married. Are you seeing anyone or anything?”
An image of Brooke sleeping in his bed popped into Cade’s head. Then a second image came to mind, of her giving him the “text me” speech at his front door. “Nothing serious.”
“Really? ’Cuz you paused there.”
If one more person commented on these damn alleged pauses . . . “Just eat your lunch,” Cade said.
With a grin, Zach threw Cade’s words back at him. “If you’re having trouble talking to some girl, maybe you need to find another way to tell her how you feel.”
“I know how to talk to her just fine.”
“Maybe you’re not saying the right things, then.”
“Can we change the subject?” Cade ran his hand through his hair. “You’re sixteen years old. Trust me, relationships get a lot more complicated when you’re an adult.”
“Is this a friends-with-benefits situation?”
“Aren’t you a little young to know about friends-with-benefits situations?”
“I didn’t say I was partaking in them myself,” Zach said. “But shockingly, yes, I have heard of scenarios in which adults engage in intercourse without riding off into the sunset together.”
Cade tried to decide how best to sum up the situation with Brooke. “There is a woman. We are friendly. There have been benefits.”
“Do you like her?”
Cade gestured with his burger. “Of course I like her. She’s, like, the smartest, wittiest, woman I’ve ever met. And hot, too.”
“Yeah, I can see why you’d be confused about that,” Zach said. “Smart, witty, and hot. Sounds like a real complicated situation to me.”
Okay, fine. To youthful, unjaded ears, it probably did sound odd. Cade tried a different way to explain. “She and I are on the same page. We’re just keeping it casual.”
“Hey, you’re an intelligent guy, you obviously know what you’re doing,” Zach said. “But casual or not, if this girl’s that great you probably need to follow your own advice.”
“What advice is that?”
“Up your game.” That said, Zach took a big bite of his cheeseburger.
Cade thought about that. Up his game? Pfft. If he had been thinking he might want to try to change Brooke’s mind about their just-having-fun situation—which obviously he did not, since no man of sound mind and body ever messed with a just-having-fun situation—maybe then he’d worry about upping his game.
He scoffed. “You’re a teenager. What do you know?”
“I’m wise beyond my years,” Zach said, his mouth full of burger.
Cade laughed, a warm feeling spreading across his chest. Asshole or not, Noah Garrity had managed to do one thing right by him.
He’d given him this.
* * *
BROOKE BLINKED, REALIZING that she’d been staring out her office window for several minutes.
She sat at her desk, pen in hand, allegedly with the purpose of reviewing the revised employment contracts that Sterling’s outside counsel had sent her. She still had six contracts to review, yet she’d been having trouble staying focused. Not usually a problem she faced.
It was just after noon, and outside her window she could see couples strolling hand in hand along Michigan Avenue, and women walking with oversized bags while enjoying a leisurely day of shopping. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one of those. Normally she was so busy, she targeted a specific store and got in and out as fast as possible.
Behind Michigan Avenue, she could see Oak Street Beach. The sandy lakeshore was packed with people, all enjoying the sunshine and the waves.
Maybe she’d rushed out of Cade’s apartment too quickly.
As quickly as the thought popped into her head, Brooke shoved it right back out. The contracts piled on her desk weren’t going to review themselves, after all. Besides, she and Cade were keeping things casual—that meant no hanging around his place “just because,” regardless of whether she had to work or not. They’d had sex—something lots of adults did. Sure, it had been hot sex, and there’d been a few laughs, too, but that didn’t mean she wanted to pick out curtains with the man. And given his well-practiced Denver omelette routine, it was safe to say she wasn’t the first woman to spend the night at Maison de Morgan. Nor would she be the last.
The thought made her feel a little . . . prickly.
Get over it, Parker.
&
nbsp; This was exactly the way she wanted it, she reminded herself. Just her and her work, together on a Sunday afternoon. Daydreaming about her and Cade while staring longingly at the beach was pointless.
Even if it would be fun to imagine him all tanned and shirtless.
Brooke mulled that over for a moment.
Aw, hell. One fantasy wouldn’t kill her.
She was lying on the beach, with no cell phone or laptop or iPad in sight—definitely a fantasy right there—listening to the sound of the waves breaking peacefully against the shore. Cade, of the aforementioned tanned shirtlessness, sat next to her while rubbing sunscreen on her back.
Brooke closed her eyes. She could practically feel his strong hands caressing her skin . . . then the light, teasing touch of his fingers brushing her hair off her shoulders as he leaned down, his voice husky and warm in her ear, and said—
“Brooke.”
Her eyes flew open. Okay . . . she really could hear him. Slowly, she turned around in her chair, and saw, unbelievably, Cade standing in her office doorway.
This was one heck of a vivid daydream.
“You might want to think about locking the main door to the office when you’re working here alone,” he said, no hello or anything, just bossing her around.
Definitely the real Cade.
She ignored his lecture for a moment, since there was a more pressing issue at hand. “What are you doing here?”
He shifted awkwardly in the doorway, as if he wasn’t sure of the answer to that himself. “If you have to work on a Sunday, the least you can do is eat more than an energy bar,” he said gruffly. He held up a white paper bag.
Brooke stared in surprise. “You brought me lunch?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
She checked out the label on the bag. “DMK is twenty minutes from here.”
“I was in that neighborhood, and now I’m here,” he said in exasperation. “Seriously, woman, you are impossible to feed.” He strode over and set the bag on her desk. “One cheeseburger with spicy chipotle ketchup and a side of sweet potato fries—chosen specifically for a certain spicy and sweet girl I know—and a green dill pickle for your eyes. So there.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Brooke studied him. “You seem very ornery right now.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he huffed. “Just . . . eat your Brooke Burger. Stop asking so many questions. Sometimes a guy just wants to buy a girl lunch. Any objections to that? Good. Enjoy your Sunday, Ms. Parker.”
He strode out of her office, gone as quickly as he’d appeared.
Brooke stared at the doorway and blinked.
No clue what that was all about.
Eighteen
A WEEK LATER, Cade sat across a conference table from Charles Torino and two of his defense attorneys. As the federal prosecutor who’d filed the charges against Senator Sanderson, Torino, and the other three defendants, Cade had made certain predictions to himself as to who the first defendant would be to approach him about a guilty plea. He’d gone with Torino, mostly because he’d guessed that a hospital CEO who lived in a four-million-dollar home would try to do anything to avoid serving time in a federal prison. And the fact that his lawyer had literally broken out in a sweat during the arraignment made Cade think that the Torino defense team wasn’t feeling all too confident about their case.
His suspicions were confirmed that Friday morning.
“We’d like to talk about the charges our client is facing,” said Owen Lockhart, the lead defense attorney for Charles Torino, who’d called Cade earlier in the week to request a meeting.
“Conspiracy to bribe a government official,” Cade said matter-of-factly. “And as I told you on the phone, Mr. Lockhart, I’m afraid there isn’t much for us to discuss.”
Lockhart gestured. “My client is considering changing his plea.”
“A wise idea, given the evidence,” Cade said. “We can call the clerk’s office and set up a change of plea hearing anytime you’d like.”
“But what am I going to get in exchange?” Torino blurted out, ignoring the looks of his attorneys.
Cade rested his arms on the table. “I apologize if this wasn’t made clear to you, Mr. Torino, but I’ve already told your lawyer that I don’t intend to cut any deals with respect to the charges against you.”
Torino’s other attorney, James Wheeler, was younger and seemingly more aggressive than Lockhart. “We know your primary target is the senator, Morgan. You seem to have a hard-on for politicians these days.”
“What I have a hard-on for, Mr. Wheeler, is making sure that justice is met against those individuals who willfully and flagrantly break the laws of the United States.”
Lockhart jumped back in, quick to appease. “What my colleague means to say is that Mr. Torino is a small fish in the very big pond that is this case. According to the FBI reports, you guys have been building your case against Senator Sanderson for months. Perhaps we can assist you in getting your big fish.”
Cade’s tone remained polite, but firm. “With all due respect, gentlemen, I already have everything I need from Mr. Torino.” He turned to address the hospital CEO directly. “I have recorded conversations between you and the senator, both on the phone and at Sogna. On top of that, we’ve got a video of the two of you at the restaurant, literally shaking hands as you agree to pay him two hundred thousand dollars in exchange for keeping Parkpoint Hospital open. That’s more than enough for the jury, regardless of whether or not you testify.”
Torino looked at the window and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe any of this was happening. After a few moments, he spoke in a subdued tone. “I made a mistake, Mr. Morgan. One mistake. I’ve already lost my job and a three-million-dollar severance package. But worst of all, I’ve lost my reputation. And now I’m facing twenty years in prison because of this.” He swallowed hard, seeming to struggle to maintain his composure. “I have two daughters. Seven and nine years old. Even if the judge only sentences me to half the maximum sentence, I’ll miss out on so much time with them.”
Despite the fact that Cade heard stories like this all the time, he wasn’t immune to them. And while he certainly felt sorry for Torino’s two daughters, he’d learned a long time ago not to think about the families of the defendants he prosecuted. He had a job to do, one that he believed in, and he remained focused on that. “I’m sure those are factors the judge will take into consideration at your sentencing hearing, Mr. Torino.” With an efficient nod, he stood up from the table. “I think, gentlemen, that we’ve covered everything we need to discuss.”
“Hold on, Morgan.” Lockhart glanced at Wheeler, then at Torino, who nodded.
Cade knew instantly that something was up.
“What would you say if I told you there was another big fish in the pond?” Lockhart asked. “One you haven’t hooked yet.”
“I’d say that you probably should stop using fishing metaphors if you want to keep me in this room.”
“I’ll put it a different way, then.” Lockhart folded his hands on the table. “In exchange for certain guarantees, Mr. Torino could tell you about other . . . arrangements, shall we say, that he had with another government official.”
“Arrangements I made solely to serve the interests of the hospital,” Torino added.
Lockhart and Wheeler shot him a look, and Torino quickly shut up.
Cade kept his face impassive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Another corrupt politician. Imagine that. “Another senator?”
Wheeler shook his head, no. “State representative.”
“How much are we talking about here?” Cade asked. This conversation wasn’t even worth pursuing if all they were talking about was Torino trying to schmooze some state representative by buying him a few steak dinners.
“Enough for you to be interested,” Lockhart said.
“Try me. I’m a finicky man.”<
br />
Lockhart paused. “About three hundred thousand dollars.”
Cade maintained his cool façade, but that was a heck of a big bribe. If this was good information, somebody in the Illinois House of Representatives was giving Senator Sanderson a run for his money in the sleazy-politician department.
Reluctantly, that meant that Cade wanted to hear more. Just as Torino’s lawyers knew he would.
“You understand, of course, that we’re telling you this solely in furtherance of plea discussions,” Lockhart added.
Yes, Cade knew that. Which meant, per the Federal Rules of Evidence, none of this conversation would be admissible at trial should Torino decide not to plead guilty. He leveled his gaze on Torino, seeing the hospital CEO in a very different light now that he knew the man had spent half a million dollars buying off not one, but two members of the Illinois General Assembly. “A onetime mistake, huh?” he asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.
Torino shrugged. “Figured I’d try the sob story first.”
Cade shook his head disgustedly as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his secretary.
“Can you book this conference room for me for the next hour?” he asked Demi. “I’m going to need more time than I’d anticipated. And get a hold of Greg Boran from the Federal Defender’s Office and let him know that I’ll have to push back our call to later this afternoon.”
After thanking Demi, he hung up and faced off against Torino and his lawyers.
“Does that mean we’re going to talk?” Lockhart asked.
“No.” Cade tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his suit jacket, and then retook his seat at the conference table. “But it means that I’m at least willing to listen.”
* * *
“I’LL GIVE THE guy this: he’d covered his bases with both branches of the Illinois General Assembly.”
Cade sat across from his boss, U.S. Attorney Cameron Lynde, and relayed the information he’d gleaned during his two-hour meeting with Torino. “He had Senator Sanderson in one pocket, and as we learned today, Representative Bill Fleiss in the other. Together, Torino paid them roughly five hundred thousand dollars in bribes. Of course, he’ll tell you that this was all for the public good. He claims that because Parkpoint Hospital serves one of the lowest-income neighborhoods in Chicago, he was just doing what he needed to do to ensure that, quote “poor people had access to quality health care, too.’”