Love Irresistibly

Thirty-one



FRIDAY MORNING, CADE met with Cameron and Nick McCall, the special agent in charge of the FBI’s Chicago office, to get him up to speed on the status of all open FBI investigations. It was the last agency they needed to cover—after this, Cade would be fully briefed and ready to take over as acting U.S. attorney.

They’d been going for over an hour when Cameron stood up from her desk. She took a deep breath and put her hands on her lower back, which parted her suit jacket over her very pregnant stomach.

Cade and Nick exchanged looks, speaking in silent man-code, as was necessary in such circumstances.

You’ve got this, right, if she goes into labor here?

You’re asking me? No, I don’t have this.

“You boys can stop staring at me like I’m a ticking bomb about to explode.”

Busted.

“I just need to stand for a few minutes.” Cameron marched on, turning to a Medicare fraud investigation into a large suburban home health care agency. “Next matter: Evergreen Healthcare. How are we looking there?”

“My agents tell me that we’re set to make all ten arrests late next week,” Nick said.

Cameron looked at Cade. “If I’m gone when that happens, make sure you keep SAC Lamont Johnson over at the Department of Health and Human Services in the loop.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

“And with that said . . .” Cameron checked the list on her desk, “I think that’s it. You are officially up to speed.” She smiled, as if relieved to have that out of the way, and then checked her watch. “Just in time for lunch, too. Jack and Sam are meeting with Rylann about the Arroyo homicide investigation. Maybe I’ll pop in and see if he’s almost done.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nick said. “I can give Wilkins a ride back to the office.”

As the three of them walked down the hallway, a young male paralegal saw Cameron coming with her power suit, heels, and stomach. His eyes widened and he quickly ducked into a cubicle, giving her a wide berth.

Cameron shook her head after they walked by, speaking under her breath. “You saw that, right? That’s been happening for a week now. Whenever I walk down the hallway, people literally leap to get out of my way.” She glanced at Nick and Cade. “I’m not that big, am I?”

“That’s not it,” Cade said with a laugh.

“What else would it be?”

“You might want to ask your husband about that,” Nick said.

Cameron stopped in the hallway, nearly causing both men to run into her.

“What did Jack do now?” She gave them both her best don’t-mess-with-the-U.S.-attorney look.

“He meant it as a joke,” Nick assured her. Then he thought about that. “At least, I think he did. Sometimes, you can’t tell with Jack.”

“What was the joke?” When Nick hesitated, Cameron looked at Cade and raised an eyebrow. “Morgan?”

“I wasn’t there. Inadmissible hearsay.”

She glared at him, and then turned back to Nick.

The special agent in charge finally caved. “Jack was a little worried—you know, with the way you kind of storm through the hallways in your heels—that someone might bump into you and knock you over.”

Cameron waited. “And?”

“He maybe, possibly, said that if he got word of anyone getting in your way, they’d find out whether there was any truth to that rumor about him knowing how to kill a man with paper clips.”

“I see.” With that, Cameron turned on her heel and began walking down the hallway again.

“He’s toast,” Nick whispered to Cade.

“Definitely.”

They followed Cameron to Rylann’s office, just in time to see two FBI agents leaving. The taller, dark-haired agent stopped in the hallway and watched with an unmistakably warm look in his eyes as Cameron approached.

“Madame U.S. Attorney,” he drawled.

“Special Agent Pallas. Just the man I was looking for.” Cameron went to fold her arms across her chest, then seemed to realize—nope, no room there. “What is this I hear about someone saying that my employees need to stay out of my way or risk an untimely death by paper clip?”

Next to Jack, Agent Sam Wilkins looked up at the ceiling, speaking under his breath. “I told you that would not go over well . . .”

Jack held up his hands. “It was a joke.”

“A joke.” Cameron’s gaze went to Sam. “Agent Wilkins. Was Agent Pallas scowling or smiling at the time of this alleged joke?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“A paralegal practically dove headfirst into a cubicle to get out of my way, Jack. So no more jokes. Oh.” Cameron suddenly put her hands on her stomach, and then peered up at him. “I think I’m having my first contraction.”

Jack’s eyes widened, then he moved closer to Cameron and put his hand on her stomach. “Does it hurt?”

She covered his hand with hers. “I’d say it’s only about a point two.”

Jack smiled, tenderly touching her cheek. “I knew, when we were on that rooftop, that we’d be here someday.”

Cade had no clue what a “point two” meant, and from the way Jack and Cameron were looking at each other, he wasn’t supposed to. Clearly, an inside joke.

He headed back to his office, not wanting to intrude on the private moment, and also because he didn’t want to be thinking about cute inside jokes—because that made him think about a certain green-eyed general counsel, and for the last two weeks his mission had been to not think about said certain green-eyed general counsel.

He shouldn’t be hung up on this.

They’d both known it wasn’t a long-term deal when they’d gotten together, they’d had a mutual parting of ways, and with Brooke likely now moving to Charlotte it had been the perfect time to say good-bye.

This was exactly how these things were supposed to end. No one was angry, they’d had fun while it had lasted, they still liked and respected each other. Hell, he could even envision having coffee with her sometime when she breezed into Chicago to visit Ford and her parents. It was all good.

Except . . . it didn’t feel all good.

Rather, the thought of Brooke leaving, of him merely being some guy she’d once slept with, felt more like a punch to the gut.

Which was precisely the reason he was not thinking about her.

Once inside his office, Cade took a seat at his desk and resolved, as he had many times over the last two weeks, to focus on work. He managed to do a decent job of that, putting himself on autopilot until the end of the day, when a knock on his office door interrupted him.

Vaughn stood in the doorway. “Thought I’d see if you want to grab a drink at O’Malley’s.”

Cade rubbed his face, realizing that he’d been reading audio transcripts for hours. “Sure.” He blinked, and then cocked his head. “I didn’t realize you had any meetings here today.”

“I didn’t.”

Huh. “Then why are you here?”

Vaughn shrugged. “I just figured you might, you know, need a drink.”

Cade frowned. “Why would you th—” Then it dawned on him. “Oh, no. You and I are not doing this. We are not having this conversation.” The idea of him and Vaughn having some sort of best friend heart-to-heart about his relationship troubles was laughable at best.

“You’ve been brooding for two weeks, Morgan. So yes, we are having this conversation.”

“I appreciate it, Vaughn. Really. But no offense—you suck at this stuff as much as I do.”

Vaughn tucked his hands into his pants pockets, not looking offended in the slightest. “Yep. And that’s why God made whiskey.”


* * *


THEY WENT TO a bar a few blocks from the federal building and grabbed a table in the back. After the waitress brought their drinks, Vaughn led in.

“I’ll take a wild guess. This new emo mood of yours has something to do with the fact that you’re not seeing Brooke anymore.”

Cade had shared that information last week, in a terse and abbreviated conversation, after Vaughn apparently had used his FBI powers of super-perception to notice that he was not checking his phone all night. He could sense that tonight, however, he wasn’t getting out of the conversation without giving the agent something more.

So he thought about how to best describe the situation. Things had started out just fine between him and Brooke, but somewhere along the way the hookups and the cute text messages had turned into something more—at least on his end. Something that involved emotions, and him oddly feeling the need to share childhood stories, and him making dinner for her after a crappy day at work.

Which meant, basically, one thing.

“I pulled out too late with her,” he said simply.

Vaughn nearly dropped his glass. “Oh, f*ck. Brooke’s pregnant?”

“Whoa, there. No. Nobody’s pregnant. I meant that I pulled out of the relationship too late.”

“Oh.” Vaughn paused. “You know, you really might want to add that clarification next time.”

“Thanks. And here I’d been worried we were going to suck at this,” Cade said dryly.

Vaughn grinned. “Well, I would’ve brought Huxley along to handle the more sensitive parts of the conversation, but he’s having dinner with Addison tonight.” He gestured with his whiskey, getting back on point. “So. You think you ended things too late with Brooke. You mean . . . because you’re totally crazy about her?”

When Cade shot him a glare, Vaughn gestured between them with his free hand. “Oh, are we still pretending that’s not the deal? ’Cuz I can always wait two more drinks if you need time to ease into, you know, the truth.”

“That’s funny. Is this the good cop or bad cop routine?”

“A little combination I like to think of as the Agent Roberts special.”

Cade shook his head. Just one non-FBI friend. That’s all he was asking for. “The truth doesn’t matter now, anyway. I’m pretty sure Brooke is moving to Charlotte.”

Vaughn’s expression turned serious. “Charlotte? What brought that on?”

“One of Sterling’s competitors offered her some big executive VP position. It sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Wow. What did you say when she told you about it?”

“I said, ‘Congratulations’ and told her to knock ’em dead in Charlotte.” He saw Vaughn frown. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t go?’ You’ve seen her in action; you know how good she is. If she wants this, she should take it.”

Vaughn nodded. “You’re right. She should.”

Cade pulled back. That was . . . it? Granted, he was no pro at the heart-to-hearts, but he’d expected maybe a little bit more. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Absolutely. You and I—we are in total agreement.” Vaughn leaned back in the bar stool. “Now if Huxley were here, he, on the other hand, would probably have an entirely different take on the matter.”

When Vaughn said nothing further, Cade took the bait. “And what would Huxley’s take on the matter be?”

“Probably something about how you should tell Brooke how you feel, regardless of whether she’s moving to Charlotte. You know how Huxley’s all into being honest and open like that.” Then Vaughn met Cade’s gaze straight on. “And after that, he’d probably tell you that if he ever finds a girl who fits him as perfectly as Brooke fits you, that he hopes you’re a good enough friend to say, ‘Dude, get over your shit, get off your ass, and go talk to her.”

Cade blinked. This. . . from Vaughn. “Huxley sure has a lot to say.”

“Yeah, he’s always been a know-it-all like that.”

That, at least, got a grin out of Cade. “Well, I will take Huxley’s advice into consideration.”

A comfortable silence fell between them.

“And, Vaughn?” Cade looked at his friend, speaking in all earnestness. “Thanks.”

Vaughn tipped his glass in acknowledgement. “Anytime, Morgan.”