After kissing Sophie and Regan on the cheek, he turned his full attention to Cordie. He kissed her on her cheek before wrapping her in a bear hug.
“When are you going to realize how good we’d be together?” he asked, his voice crooning like a seventies blues singer’s.
“I don’t want to ruin what we have,” she told him, smiling. “You’re a tease, Zahner.”
He pressed in on her, leaned down, and whispered, “Let me take you home and show you—”
“What the hell? Get off her, Zahner.” Aiden gave the order from the doorway. He strode over, fully intending to pull Zahner away from Cordelia, but the detective was in the mood to cooperate. He stepped back, winked at her, then frowned at Aiden.
Aiden wasn’t through acting possessive. “Cordelia, don’t encourage him,” he snapped.
Regan and Sophie were looking at Aiden as though they thought he’d lost his mind.
“What’s the matter with you?” Regan asked.
Aiden didn’t answer. To be honest, he didn’t know why he’d gotten so angry when he’d seen Zahner draped all over Cordelia. Maybe he was being more protective of her because she was so vulnerable since her father’s death. She was all alone and needed someone to watch over her. Kissing her had absolutely nothing to do with his reaction. That’s what he told himself, anyway.
“You sound like a jealous husband,” Zahner remarked.
Ignoring the comment, Aiden said, “Are you playing the next hand, or are you out of money?”
“I’m playing,” Zahner replied. “My luck’s bound to change. I figure I’m due for a win.” He grabbed the bowl the bartender had refilled with cashews, turned to Cordie, said, “See you later, sweetheart,” and strolled back into the poker room. Aiden followed and pulled the door closed behind him.
“What was that all about?” Sophie asked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Aiden was jealous.”
“No,” Regan said. “It’s just Aiden being Aiden.”
“He’s never going to change,” Cordie said.
“Who wants to go to the ladies’ room?” Sophie asked.
Regan raised her hand. “Me.”
“Go ahead, I’ll order the beers,” Cordie offered.
The second her friends were out of sight, Cordie sat down on a barstool and reached for her phone. She texted Alec and asked him for his brother Nick’s cell phone number. She could have gotten the number from Regan, but that would have led to twenty questions, and Cordie wasn’t ready to explain her plans for her future just yet.
The following morning she called Nick, negotiated the price, and purchased his town house in Boston.
SIX
Congressman Mitchell Ray Chambers’s poll numbers were abysmal, and it was all Aiden Madison’s fault. If he’d played ball and given the congressman what he wanted for the land, a Hamilton Hotel would be in the district’s future, but Madison got all bent out of shape because the congressman had given his word and then broken it. It was such a ridiculously stupid reason to walk away from a multimillion-dollar venture.
It was obvious that Spencer Madison was the one who really wanted the hotel. He was only following his brother’s lead when he walked out of the meeting, and Chambers was convinced that once Aiden was out of the picture, Spencer would be willing to negotiate and move forward on the project. It really was prime property, after all.
The hotel wouldn’t have been important to the congressman if it weren’t for the fact that the mayor of Fallsborough had gone after the Madisons and boasted to everyone in the district that the hotel would bring jobs and money. She’d also told them that their congressman, Chambers, had blown the deal and with it all their hopes and dreams for a better tomorrow. In public the mayor may have acted all distraught about the lost deal, but since she planned to run against him in the next primary, she privately had to be jumping for joy at the windfall that had just come her way.
Although he gave it his best shot, he couldn’t put a positive spin on what had happened. The only solution he could come up with to charm the voters back into his pocket was to find a way around Aiden Madison.
SEVEN
Cordie called Sophie and Regan and asked them to meet her at the Palms for lunch. She explained that she had something important to tell them.
Cordie was early, Regan was on time, and Sophie was fifteen minutes late as usual. Cordie had asked for a booth near the back so they would have a little privacy. The three friends met often at this restaurant, one of their favorites, especially when there was news to share. They knew the waitstaff by name and didn’t need to place their drink orders after they were seated. Adam, their waiter, immediately appeared with three iced teas and recited the specials. They all agreed on a spinach salad with chicken, strawberries, and feta.
The moment Adam stepped away, Sophie turned to Cordie. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“You look beat. Aren’t you sleeping?” Regan asked, her concern evident in her expression.
“I was up most of the night on the Internet doing research,” Cordie said. “I’ll explain why in a minute.” She was suddenly feeling tongue-tied as she stared across the table at the two dearest friends she could ever have.
“Tell us what’s wrong,” Sophie said. “You’re worrying me.”
“Regan, have you talked to your brother-in-law today?” Cordie asked.
“Which brother-in-law?”
“Nick.”
“No, why?”
“I called him and bought his town house. I’m going to move to Boston.”
There were at least twenty seconds of stunned silence, then an explosion of emotion.
“No way,” Sophie came close to shouting. “You can’t leave Chicago. We’re all staying here, remember?”
“No, you and your husbands are staying here. I need a change,” Cordie explained. “I need to shake up my life . . . try new things . . . take risks . . . and move.”
“You love Chicago,” Regan reminded her.
“Yes, I do. I love Boston, too.”
Regan became teary-eyed. “No, this is wrong,” she said. “After the death of a loved one, you shouldn’t be making any rash decisions for at least a year. I read that somewhere.”
“I think that might apply to widows,” Cordie said. “And this isn’t a rash decision. I’ve always loved your brother-in-law’s town house, and I’m ready for a change.”
A long minute passed. Regan was digging through her purse looking for a tissue.
“Please don’t cry,” Cordie begged.
“I’m trying not to,” Regan said. “Why not mull this over for a couple of months? Then decide on any changes.”
Cordie shook her head. “I need your support on this. Boston isn’t that far away. It’s a direct flight. You can come see me all the time.”
Sophie and Regan continued to argue with her for another fifteen minutes. When they finally realized their protests were getting nowhere, they relented. “I know you love Boston,” Regan said. “But what will you do for work?”
“Like she has to work. She’s a multi-multimillionaire,” Sophie reminded her.
“Yes, I do need to work,” Cordie said. “I’m going to put some feelers out. I’ll find something I like.”
“Teaching again?”