Love Irresistibly

  Cade nodded. “Thank you.”

  The three men headed over to the waiting area, where Huxley and Vaughn took seats in adjacent cream leather chairs. Cade remained standing, hands tucked casually in his pants pockets. Catching sight of a row of framed photographs on the wall, he moved closer and saw that they were interior shots of Sterling’s eight restaurants.

  His eyes skimmed over the photographs until he found the one taken at Sogna, Sterling’s flagship five-star restaurant located in the very building in which Cade stood, just one floor below the company’s offices. Assuming all went according to plan, it was at that restaurant that he would get the last of the evidence he needed to nail a dirty politician’s ass to the wall.

  Last winter, the FBI had received a tip that Illinois State Senator Alec Sanderson had been accepting bribes in exchange for political favors. Given the politically sensitive nature of the allegations, the FBI had brought the matter to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, and Cade had been assigned as lead prosecutor.

  During a five-month investigation, Cade and the FBI had determined that the informant had indeed been correct. They’d gathered evidence that Senator Sanderson had accepted over six hundred thousand dollars in bribes, which he’d hidden via a shell company, in exchange for a virtual buffet of corrupt services: sponsoring or supporting legislation that would benefit various businesses, directing state monies to advance the interests of certain lobbyists, and lobbying other state senators and officials.

  Cade was all set to bring the case to the grand jury—as soon as he and the FBI locked down one final piece of the investigation.

  Via the wiretap the FBI had placed on Sanderson’s phones, they’d learned that the senator had been in discussions with Charles Torino, CEO of Parkpoint Hospital on the west side of the city, who was extremely concerned that Parkpoint was on a short list of medical facilities that potentially were about to be closed by the state. During their discussions, Torino had suggested that the senator find a possible alternative to the hospital’s closure, something that could “mutually benefit” them both. Then, last night, the FBI had intercepted another call between Torino and Sanderson, during which Torino had offered to take the senator to dinner on Sunday at Sogna restaurant to discuss the details of their “potential arrangement” in person.

  Cade had a feeling he knew exactly what “potential arrangement” the senator and hospital CEO were going to discuss during that dinner. And he wanted in on that conversation.

  One person—Brooke Parker—could help him with that.

  Vaughn got up and moved to Cade’s side to examine the interior photograph of Sogna. “Nice restaurant. A place like that is going to have security cameras.” He kept his voice low so the receptionist didn’t overhear them.

  Cade was in synch with the agent’s line of thought. “It’d be great if we could get the meeting on video.” Even the smoothest-talking politicians couldn’t talk their way out of a conviction when they’d been caught accepting bribes on camera.

  Vaughn thought about that. “Depends on where the cameras are. We’ll have to ask the GC.”

  “Assuming she ever shows up.” Cade checked his watch and saw that Brooke Parker had kept them waiting for ten minutes. Fortunately for her, he’d planned to lay on the nice-guy routine real thick; otherwise he’d tell Vaughn to start flashing his FBI badge to get things moving.

  Just then, he heard Vaughn speak under his breath.

  “Oh, man . . . if we’re doing good cop/bad cop as part of this, I so want to be the good cop this time.”

  Hearing his friend’s appreciative tone, Cade turned around and got his first look at Brooke Parker.

  Hmm.

  Wearing a slim-cut gray skirt, cream silk shirt, and knockout black heels, she strode confidently past the reception desk. Her hair, which she wore in a sophisticated knot, was the color of deep, burnished gold, and her stunning light green eyes were fixed directly on Cade as she walked toward him.

  “Mr. Morgan,” she said warmly as she held out her hand. “I could’ve saved you the trip over. I just wrapped up a three-hour conference call, and you were the next item on my agenda.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Cade replied, just as smoothly, as his hand clasped hers. “It’s actually better that we meet in person.” He gestured to Vaughn and Huxley, both of whom had stepped forward, seemingly very eager to make the acquaintance of Ms. Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants and the Gorgeous Green Eyes. “This is Special Agent Roberts and Special Agent Huxley with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If this is a good time, we’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. In private.”

  She shook hands with both agents, without so much as batting an eye over the request. “Of course. If you gentlemen will follow me, we can talk in my office.”

  She led them past the reception desk, down the hallway to a corner office. Brooke stood by the door and gestured for the three men to step inside. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

  Cade walked in and immediately was struck by office envy. A large, rich mahogany executive desk stood in the center of the office, flanked by matching bookshelves. Being a corner office, there were floor-to-ceiling windows along two walls that overlooked Michigan Avenue and, beyond that, the sparkling blue water of Lake Michigan.

  “Nice view,” he said, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Brooke’s desk. Vaughn slid a chair over from the small marble table in the corner of the room and sat on Cade’s right while Huxley took the chair on Cade’s left.

  “Thank you.” Brooke shut the office door and sat across from the three men, behind her impressive mahogany desk.

  She folded her hands. “So, Mr. Morgan, now that it’s just the four of us, let’s dispense with the formalities. You clearly wanted to make a statement by showing up at my office with two FBI agents in tow. Whatever this is about, I’m guessing it’s urgent.” She got right to the point. “Is Sterling Restaurants in some kind of trouble?”

  Hell, Cade had barely gotten comfortable in his chair before she opened with that salvo. Not that he denied her accusation—yes, he had wanted to make a statement. He could’ve asked only one of the agents to join him in this meeting, but had thought that bringing both along would help underscore the exigency, one might say, of the situation.

  Or, one might also say, he was making a power move.

  The clock was ticking on this sting operation, and Cade wasn’t afraid to flex a little U.S. Attorney’s Office muscle to make things move faster. He answered Brooke’s question with a similarly straightforward answer. “Sterling Restaurants isn’t in any trouble.”

  A flicker of relief crossed her face. “Okay. Good.” Then she cocked her head, as if something had just occurred to her. “Am I in trouble?”

  Something about the way she had blown in like a storm with her knockout heels and take-charge attitude made Cade unable to resist one small joke. “I don’t know,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell us, Ms. Parker?”

  She glared at him.

  Perhaps he should’ve tried a little harder to resist.

  “It’s been a long day, Mr. Morgan,” she said. “Maybe we could fast-forward through the prosecutorial banter portion of this meeting?”

  “But that’s my favorite part.”

  She sighed. “So much for that suggestion.”

  Cade fought back a smile. He decided to skip the rest of the pleasantries—which weren’t really going over so well, anyway—and cut to the chase. “We’re here because we need your help.”

  This surprised her. “My help?” As the knowledge sunk in that no one from Sterling was about to be hauled out of the office in handcuffs, she relaxed a bit. “All right,” she said, still maintaining a slightly cautious tone. “Tell me how I can I help you.”

  “There are two men who will be having dinner at Sogna this Sunday evening,” Cade said. “We’re anticipating that their conversation will be relevant to an ongoing investigation. With you
r assistance, we’d like to listen in.”

  Brooke looked confused. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

  “We want to bug their table,” Cade said simply.

  “Oh.” Her lips curved at the edges in amusement. “I thought you guys only did that kind of stuff on TV.”

  “We’re the FBI, Ms. Parker,” Vaughn interjected. “We have all sorts of tricks up our sleeves.”

  “Of course. And how would this particular trick work, should I choose to assist you?”

  Vaughn, along with Huxley, was in charge of the technical aspects of the sting operation. But when it came to dealing with lawyers, as the AUSA handling the case, Cade generally called the shots. Thus, the agent shot him a quick look, looking for the go-ahead signal before he proceeded.

  Cade nodded.

  Vaughn leaned forward in his chair as he explained. “You would need to give us access to the restaurant during a time when it’s closed. We’ll set up the bugs underneath the table, nothing that would ever be noticed by any of your servers or patrons. Then on Sunday evening, you’ll just have to make sure that the targets are seated there.”

  “In addition, we’d like to station two undercover FBI agents at a nearby table, who will be there simply to make sure that everything proceeds smoothly,” Huxley added. “I’ll handle that, along with a female agent. We’ll look like an ordinary couple out on a date—no one will ever be the wiser.”

  Brooke stared at them for a moment. “You’re actually serious about this.”

  “Dead serious,” Vaughn said.

  “As part of some mysterious investigation, you want to bug one of the tables at Sogna, arguably the most exclusive restaurant in Chicago, and then you want me, the general counsel of the company, to make sure that these ‘targets’—who I’m guessing are up to some very shady stuff—are seated there.”

  Cade, Vaughn, and Huxley looked at each other. Yep, that pretty much covered it.

  Huxley held up a finger. “Oh, one other thing. You need to make sure that the female undercover agent and myself are seated nearby.”

  “Right. Wouldn’t want to forget that part.”

  “The trickiest part will be getting the party to the table that’s bugged,” Vaughn said. “You should tell the hostess where to seat them, but without letting her know why. This operation has to be kept confidential. You tell the wrong person what’s going on, and our whole cover could be blown.”

  Brooke leaned back in her chair, saying nothing for a long moment. “This is a lot to ask someone at—” she checked her watch—“four thirty on a Friday, don’t you think?”

  Cade sensed that it was time for him to jump back into the conversation. “We apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Parker. We just learned of this opportunity last night. Although I do note that I tried to contact you earlier this afternoon.”

  Her gaze turned to him, and from the savvy gleam in her eyes, Cade knew that Huxley and Vaughn’s part in this discussion was over. From this point on, he and Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants would have to lawyer it out.

  Game on.

  Three

  “DO YOU HAVE a court order to do this?” Brooke asked.

  “No.” Seated across the desk from her, flanked by the two FBI agents, Cade appeared unconcerned with such pesky details. “But I can get one, if necessary.”

  From his self-assured tone, Brooke had a feeling that Assistant U.S. Attorney Cade Morgan was a man who was used to getting his way. He certainly looked the part, with his strong jaw, dark brown hair, athletic build, and cobalt blue eyes. He was remarkably good-looking—she would have to be a fool not to notice that—and had no doubt that this played very well for him both inside and outside the courtroom.

  “You probably could get an emergency judge to grant you an order allowing you to plant a few bugs in the restaurant,” she conceded. “But you would still need someone on the inside to make sure your target sits at the right table.”

  “True,” he acknowledged. “It would be very difficult for us to pull this off without your help.”

  At least he could admit that much. “Before I’d even consider agreeing to this, I’d need to know who the target is and what that person or persons are being investigated for.”

  Cade shook his head. “I’m afraid the nature of the investigation is confidential. As for the identity of the target, after we have your agreement to cooperate, we’ll provide you with that information at the appropriate time so that you know who to seat at the bugged table.”

  For Brooke, however, this point was not up for debate. “I have a responsibility to protect Sterling’s interests, Mr. Morgan, and that includes the safety of its employees and customers. For all I know, the person you’re after is an organized crime boss, a drug kingpin, or some other sort of dangerous criminal. What if these two men discover that the table is bugged? What if they identify Agent Huxley and his fake date as undercover agents and pull out guns and start shooting people? Can you imagine the liability I’d be exposing the company to if someone got hurt and I’d had advance notice that there was a potentially dangerous sting operation going down in one of our restaurants during regular business hours?”

  Cade considered this point. “I can’t reveal the nature of our investigation,” he finally said. “But I can assure you that neither of the two men who will be at Sogna on Sunday night are considered dangerous. Nobody’s pulling out guns and causing a shoot-out in the middle of your restaurant. This isn’t the O.K. Corral.”

  “I’d still like the names.”

  His blue eyes held hers boldly. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Parker.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t.”

  “Hmm.” He stretched out in the chair, looking effortlessly handsome and every inch the successful trial lawyer in his tailored navy pinstripe suit. “Now, normally, this would be the point when I’d have to give you the tough-guy speech about how, if you were to reveal to anyone the confidential nature of the information I’m about to give you, you could be charged with obstruction of justice and face a possible felony conviction and imprisonment.” He flashed her a dashing grin. “Luckily, though, since you’re a lawyer and obviously know that already, we can skip over the tough-guy stuff. Which is nice, because that part of the conversation can get really awkward.”

  Maybe it was the fact that Brooke, admittedly, was having a bad day. She’d been dumped by the Hot OB, had just spent three hours on the phone haggling with the Staples Center lawyers over every tiny, miniscule part of their food service contract, and had done it all on two measly bites of a chicken taco and a melted strawberry-mango smoothie. She was tired, hungry, and, up until ten minutes ago, had been looking forward to the first Sunday in a long time when she did not have to work. So, yes—she was, perhaps, feeling extra-cranky because of circumstances that had nothing to do with anyone sitting in that office right then.

  But Cade Morgan was seriously beginning to piss her off.

  He’d come here, to her office, to ask for her help. Now he was threatening her with obstruction of justice charges—and most annoyingly, he was doing it with a smile.

  So she returned the favor. “That is nice, Mr. Morgan. Because in response to your tough-guy speech, I, in turn, would’ve had to give you my tough-girl speech, about where, exactly, federal prosecutors who come to my office looking for assistance can stick their obstruction of justice threats.” She smiled ever so charmingly. “So I’m glad we were able to sidestep that whole ugly business. Whew.”

  Although her attention was focused on Cade, out of the corner of her eye, Brooke could see Agents Huxley and Roberts looking at the wall and ceiling, seemingly trying to hide their smiles.

  Cade looked momentarily caught off guard, the first time since he’d waltzed into her office, then his eyes flashed with something else entirely. Amusement, perhaps.

  That annoyed her even more.

  “Point taken, Ms. Parker.” Then he clapped his hands, moving on. “All right. Here’
s what I can tell you. The reservation is for seven thirty, under the name Charles Torino.”

  Charles Torino.

  Nope, Brooke had no clue who that was.

  “I’ll save you the Google search,” Cade said, as if reading her mind. “He’s the CEO of a hospital here in Chicago.”

  “And the other man?”

  “State Senator Alec Sanderson.”

  Ah. Now Brooke was beginning to see what all the fuss was about. Based on the bits and pieces of information she had—the special agents from the white-collar crime division, the fact that Cade had previously prosecuted several high-profile corruption cases—Brooke would hazard a guess that the state of Illinois had yet another dirty politician on its hands.

  Only one thing to say in response to that.

  “I can get you into Sogna at seven A.M. on Sunday morning,” she told them. “I realize that’s early, but some of the kitchen staff will be arriving at ten o’clock, when deliveries for the dinner service start coming in. You’ll obviously want to be done before then.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Vaughn said, appearing pleased with this arrangement. “After working for the FBI for seven years, a seven A.M. start feels like sleeping in.”

  “I think you can stop telling her that you work for the FBI, Roberts,” Huxley muttered under his breath. “She’s got it.”

  Brooke was trying to hold back a smile, thinking she rather liked these two special agents, when Mr. Obstruction of Justice had to chime back in.

  “What about the other part of the deal?” Cade asked.

  Brooke looked over. “Getting Torino, Sanderson, and the undercover agents to the right tables, you mean?” She shrugged. “I’ll make it clear to the hostess where I want those two parties seated. I’m sure she’ll be suspicious, but she won’t say anything.”

  “You seem awfully certain of that.”