Something About You

  Very odd, Cameron thought. More intrigued than ever, she cut across the waiting area and through the corridor on the opposite side. When she got to Silas’s former office, she saw a tall, well-built man standing outside the door. He nodded as she approached.

  “You can go right in, Ms. Lynde.”

  Keeping an eye out, Cameron cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. A stout man with neatly trimmed silver hair and an expensive suit stood before the window, looking out at the view of Lake Michigan. When she walked in, he turned around and smiled at her with a genteel air.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Lynde. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

  Cameron shut the door behind her. “Senator Hodges,” she said with surprise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. What . . . brings you to our office today?” Despite their bizarre connection, and the fact that she knew far more about the senator’s personal life than she had ever wanted to, they’d actually never met or spoken to each other.

  Hodges crossed the room. “I think we both know this visit is overdue, Cameron. Is it okay if I call you Cameron?” He sat down in one of the two leather chairs in front of Silas’s old desk. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Cameron nodded. “Certainly.”

  In light of everything that had happened that night at the Peninsula, it felt weird sitting in Silas’s former office with Hodges. Really, though, it would’ve felt weird sitting with him anywhere.

  “I’m greatly indebted to you, Cameron, and I wanted to thank you in person,” Hodges said. “From what Special Agent Davis tells me, you single-handedly kept me from being arrested and undoubtedly saved my senate seat. Innocent or not, I never would’ve survived the scandal of being implicated in a murder. Let alone my . . . connections to Ms. Robards.”

  “I appreciate that, Senator. But honestly, the FBI team assigned to the case deserves all the credit. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You were nearly killed for being in that place at that time,” Hodges said. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. How sorry I am for a lot of things, actually. I was a foolish man and my mistakes hurt others. In some cases, gravely so.” His eyes clouded with sadness.

  Cameron nodded, unsure how to respond. Talking to Hodges was sobering. Despite the fact that Mandy Robards’s intentions toward the senator had been less than honorable—as Jack had confirmed now that Lombard had told him all about the blackmail scheme—the whole incident remained a sad testament to the lengths some people would go to for money. Or out of desperation.

  “I’ve upset you,” Hodges said.

  “I’m fine. I’m just relieved it’s all over.”

  “Actually, it’s not quite all over,” Hodges said. “Silas Briggs’s resignation means I have an important task ahead. As the senior senator from Illinois, it’s my duty to make a recommendation to the president regarding the person who should be named the new U.S. attorney. And I think I might know of just the right candidate.” He paused deliberately.

  Cameron pulled back in surprise. “Me?”

  Hodges nodded. “You.”

  Cameron tried to decide how best to respond. “I appreciate the consideration, Senator. Truly, I do. But if I can be blunt, I don’t expect you to offer me the job out of gratitude. Nor do I want you to.”

  Hodges smiled at this, as if he approved of her answer. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. So let me assure you that this has nothing to do with gratitude. After the allegations being brought against Silas, the last thing I would do right now is risk further potential scandal by naming a candidate who isn’t fully qualified for the job. If anything, your connection to me counted against you.”

  Cameron remained skeptical.

  Hodges laughed. “Do I need to convince you further?”

  “If you’re serious about this, then yes, you do.”

  “Good God, they weren’t kidding when they said you were a tough nut to crack,” Hodges muttered. “Fine—I’ll give you the highlights, the facts that most convinced me when my vetting team came up with your name. You have the best trial record among all the assistant U.S. attorneys in this district. The judges—yes, we do talk to judges—say you’re fearless and tenacious in the courtroom. After Briggs, frankly, that’s what this office needs. You look good on paper: you come from a blue-collar background, you put yourself through law school, your father died heroically as an officer of the law, and the media already thinks you’ve got balls made of brass for surviving the ordeal with Lombard. But what most convinced me, Cameron—and I know you’re being very humble and low-key about this—is that, per the request of the attorney general himself, you’ve been temporarily running this office since Silas’s departure. Seeing how you haven’t burned down the place yet, I thought I’d give you a real shot at the job. That is . . . unless you don’t want it.”

  Cameron got butterflies in her stomach. Holy shit, this was really going to happen. No need to convince her further. “I would be honored, Senator, to be your nominee for the position.”

  Hodges looked relieved. “Good. Whew. I have to be honest with you—we didn’t have much of a backup plan. I’m actually sweating a little under my jacket here.”

  Cameron laughed. “I’ll try to be less difficult in the future.”

  Hodges smiled warmly as he shook her hand. “You do things exactly the way you see fit, Cameron.”

  They rose from their chairs and walked to the door together. “Funny you should mention that, Senator . . . because I hope you understand that, unlike Silas, I don’t plan to be merely a figurehead in this position. I intend to keep trying cases.”

  “With your record, you try all the cases you want. Just make sure you win them.” With a wink, Hodges opened the door and nodded to his guard outside.

  Cameron watched them leave. She stood alone in Silas’s office, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that there was a good chance it was going to be her office in the not-too-distant future.

  U.S. Attorney Cameron Lynde.

  That had a nice ring to it.

  With a grin, she headed back to her soon-to-be-former office as fast as dignity and her three-and-a-half-inch heels allowed her. Once there, she shut the door for privacy, then sat down at her desk and picked up the phone.

  He was her first call, of course, and she told him everything. When she had finished sharing her news, she could tell by his voice that he was smiling on the other end of the line.

  “Congratulations, counselor,” Jack said. “You deserve it.”

  She could tell from his tone that he was hiding something. “You knew already, didn’t you?”

  Jack laughed. “Okay, I knew. Davis let it slip that two agents in our office had been assigned your background check. I’ve had reservations every night this week at Spiaggia, waiting for Hodges to tell you. I figured you should finally get your dinner there, and this was the perfect reason.”

  Impossible man—being all sweet and everything. “I’m still trying to decide how I feel about the fact that you knew about this before I did.”

  “Don’t be disappointed,” Jack said. “The fact that I’ve been ridiculously proud of you for days doesn’t change how excited you should be about this. Besides, I pretty much know everything. You should probably just start getting used to it.”

  “And on that note, I’m hanging up,” Cameron said.

  “Rushing me off so you can call Collin next?” Jack teased.

  “No,” she said emphatically.

  Damn, he really did know everything.

  AND TWO WEEKS later, they had another occasion to celebrate. Albeit, one Jack was a little less enthused about.

  “Happy birthday, Jack,” Cameron said as they sat down at one of the bar tables to wait. She’d brought him to Socca restaurant that evening, a neighborhood bistro just a few blocks from her house. “Thirty-five. I think that merits a present or two.”

  Jack frowned. “Cameron, I told you not to get me anything.
”

  “Well, I figured that was one of your seemingly endless supply of orders that I plan to ignore.” She pulled two envelopes out of her purse and set them on the table in front of him. One was large and about an inch thick, the other small but with some sort of object in it. “Choose.”

  Jack picked up the larger envelope.

  “Good choice,” she said.

  Jack opened the envelope and found a thick, multiple-page document. He slid it out and flipped it over. The names on the caption jumped out at him:

  UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  v.

  ROBERTO MARTINO, et al

  It was a criminal indictment, signed by the U.S. attorney herself, charging thirty-four members of Martino’s organization, including Roberto Martino, with over a hundred counts of federal and state law violations. It included everything from racketeering, drug, and firearm charges, to aggravated assault, attempted murder, and murder.

  Jack paged silently through the indictment. When he was about halfway through, he slowed and read carefully through the counts pertaining to the murder of the DEA agent he had tried to warn, and his own torture at the hands of Martino’s men. All of which was laid out, paragraph by paragraph, in graphic detail.

  “I don’t care if I don’t get them on anything else. I’ll hang them for that alone,” Cameron promised quietly. “I’m going to file it next week. I thought I might as well kick off my new position with a bang.”

  Jack slid the indictment back into the envelope. It would be a bang, all right. He reached over and laced his fingers through hers. She knew what the indictment meant to him, but he needed to be certain she wasn’t doing it for the wrong reasons. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Definitely. I’ve wanted to try this case for three years.”

  “Things could get crazy,” Jack warned her. “You need to be careful how you handle this. Lombard and Silas are nothing in comparison to taking on Roberto Martino.”

  “I’ve given a lot of thought as to how we should proceed,” Cameron said. “I’d like to bring in all the agents from the Chicago office, ones from some of the other divisions as well, and execute the arrest warrants in a simultaneous strike. Grab Martino and his guys in one fell swoop so that they don’t have time for a counter-move. I’ll need someone I can count on to lead the task force. I was thinking that should be you. I also think you should be the one to arrest Martino himself.”

  Jack considered the implications of everything she had just said. Part of it had him slightly panicked.

  Cameron cocked her head, misinterpreting his expression. “I thought you’d want the honor of taking down Martino.”

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  “Then what’s with the look?”

  “It just occurred to me that as U.S. attorney, you’re now in a position of authority over me.”

  Cameron raised an eyebrow. “You’re right, Agent Pallas. There is a new sheriff in town.”

  “Cute. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

  She laughed. “About two weeks.” She pushed the second envelope in front of him. “Don’t forget about your other present.”

  Jack picked it up. “I’m thinking nothing can top my sworn enemy’s head on a platter.” He ripped open the envelope and slid out its contents.

  He’d been wrong.

  Keys and a garage door opener.

  Momentarily caught off guard—a rare event for him—Jack looked up at Cameron. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “I suppose that depends on what you think it means. If you think it means I’m asking you to move in with me, you’d be right.” Her expression turned more serious.

  “If you also think it means that I wake up every morning wondering what I did to deserve having you back in my life, well, you’d be right about that, too.”

  Jack sat there for a moment, just . . . stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to him.

  “Come here,” he said huskily. He grabbed her chair and pulled it toward his. He kissed her, softly at first, then his hand moved to her back and pushed her closer as his emotions got the better of him. He pulled back to hold her gaze. “I love you, Cameron. You know that, right?”

  She kissed him back, whispering the words in his ear. “I love you, too.”

  It took all of Jack’s strength not to haul her out of the restaurant and drag her home right then and there. The combination of everything she’d just said, not to mention the black sweater, slim-fit skirt, and heels she was wearing, was driving him crazy. He threw her a sneaky grin. “I hope you won’t mind skipping dessert tonight. I’ve got to get you alone. I’m dying here.”

  “My God, Jack—with a look like that, you two should just get a room. And try not to pick the one with a dead body next to it this time.”

  Hearing the familiar male voice, Jack swore under his breath. “Seriously, Cameron—your friends have the worst timing ever.” He turned around and saw Collin standing before him.

  “Happy birthday, buddy.” Collin grinned, slapping him on the back. Behind him, Jack could see Wilkins, Richard, Amy, and her husband.

  “I invited a few people to help celebrate your birthday,” Cameron said sheepishly. She threw up her hands. “Surprise.”

  “We sort of come with the package,” Collin explained. “Think of it as a collective gift from all of us to you: five bona fide annoying and overly intrusive new best friends.”

  “It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Wilkins said.

  Jack grinned. “I’m touched. Really. And since it appears I’m going to be moving in, let me be the first to say that all of you are always welcome at my and Cameron’s house. Subject to a minimum of forty-eight hours prior notification.”

  When the hostess came by to escort them to their table, Cameron held Jack back from the rest of the group. “You’re okay with this?” she asked.

  “Yes. It’s great.” He kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And in answer to your earlier question, I don’t mind skipping dessert. In fact, I already have a dessert planned for when we get home.”

  Jack liked the sound of that. “Can I have a hint?”

  “It involves me wearing your handcuffs.”

  Christ, full-mast. The thought of her naked and at his mercy threw his body into a tailspin. Jack pulled her into a corner where they were out of sight. “The hell with dinner—we’re leaving now,” he growled.

  Cameron shook her head coyly. “We can’t leave your party so early. That would be indecent.”

  In response to her teasing, Jack put his hands on the wall next to her, pinning her in. “So, Ms. Lynde . . . is that how it’s going to be with you?”

  Her eyes flashed devilishly.

  “Always.”

  Keep reading for a preview of

  Julie James’s next romance

  A Lot Like Love

  Coming Spring 2011 from Berkley Sensation!

  THE CHIME RANG on the front door of the wine store. Jordan Rhodes came out of the back room, where she’d been sneaking a quick bite for lunch. She smiled. “You again.”

  It was the guy from last week, the one who’d looked skeptical when she’d recommended a cabernet from South Africa that—gasp—had a screw top.

  “So? How’d you like the Excelsior?” she asked.

  “Good memory,” he said, impressed. “You were right. It’s good. Particularly at that price point.”

  “It’s good at any price point,” Jordan said. “The fact that it sells for less than ten dollars makes it a steal.”

  The man’s blue eyes lit up as he grinned. He was dressed in a navy car coat and jeans, and wore expensive leather Italian loafers—probably too expensive for the six to eight inches of snow they were expected to get that evening. His dark blond hair was mussed from the wind outside.

  “You’ve convinced me. Put me down for a case. I’m having a dinner party in two weeks and the Excelsior will be perfect.” He pull
ed off his leather gloves and set them on the long ebony wood counter that doubled as a bar when Jordan hosted events in the shop. “I’m thinking I’ll pair it with leg of lamb, maybe seasoned with black pepper and mustard seed. Rosemary potatoes.”

  Jordan raised an eyebrow. The man knew his food. And the Excelsior would certainly complement the menu, although she personally subscribed to the more relaxed “drink what you want” philosophy of wine rather than putting the emphasis on finding the perfect food pairing—a fact that constantly scandalized her assistant store manager, Martin. He was a certified level three sommelier, and thus had a certain view on things; while she, on the other hand, was the owner of the store and thus believed in making wine approachable to the customer. Sure, she loved the romance of wine—that was one of the main reasons she had opened her store, DeVine Vintages. But for her, wine was also a business.

  “Sounds delicious. I take it you like to cook,” she said to the man with the great smile. Great hair, too. Nicely styled, on the longer side. He wore a gray scarf wrapped loosely around his neck that gave him an air of casual sophistication.

  He shrugged. “It comes with the job.”

  “Let me guess—you’re a chef.”

  “Food critic. With the Tribune.”

  Jordan cocked her head, suddenly realizing. “You’re Cal Kittredge.”

  He seemed pleased by her recognition. “You read my reviews.”

  “Religiously. With so many restaurants in this city to choose from, it’s nice to have an expert’s opinion.”

  Cal leaned against the counter. “An expert, huh . . . I’m flattered, Jordan.”

  So, he knew her name.

  Unfortunately, a lot of people knew her name. Between her father’s wealth and her brother’s recent infamy, rare was the person, at least in Chicago, who wasn’t familiar with the Rhodes family.

  Jordan headed behind the counter and opened the laptop she kept there. “A case of the Excelsior—you’ve got it.” She pulled up her distributor’s delivery schedule. “I can have it in the store by early next week.”