table that was flanked on one side by windows. “First, you need to make sure Torino and Sanderson sit here. They have reservations at seven thirty, which means that Agent Simms and I will be here at seven o’clock, just to be safe.” He moved two tables away from the one at which Sanderson and Torino would be seated, also in front of the windows. “The hostess should seat the two of us here.”
They ran through the rest of the plan, and agreed that Brooke would get to the restaurant at six o’clock. That gave her plenty of time to speak to the hostess who was scheduled to work that evening and with the manager on duty, so she could give him, too, a heads-up that she’d made special arrangements regarding the seating of some of their guests.
After they’d run through the routine for the evening, and then had run through it again, Vaughn pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Stand by to start the audio checks in five minutes.” He hung up the phone.
Huxley set his briefcase on top of the table he and Vaughn planned to bug. Both agents smiled at Brooke expectantly.
She didn’t get the hint.
Brooke looked at Cade. “Is somebody waiting for me to say something?”
He bent his head closer to hers. “This is the awkward part where I need to ask you to leave so that Huxley and Vaughn can do their secret-special-agent thing.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re kicking me out? This is my company’s restaurant.”
“I’m kicking you out.”
She considered this, likely contemplating several sassy retorts, and then—surprisingly—acquiesced. “Try not to look so pleased about it, Morgan. I’ll be in my office in case you need anything.” Then she turned in her heels and strode off in the direction of the stairs.
Cade caught himself watching her as she left.
So it was “Morgan” now.
Tough to say whether this was progress.
* * *
TO KILL TIME while she waited, Brooke took a seat at her desk and caught up on e-mail. She saw that she had a new message from Ian, saying that he needed to cancel their weekly Thursday lunch meeting because he had “highly important CEO business to tend to.”
In other words, he was playing golf.
She shot him back a quick response, updating him on the status of the Sanderson sting operation, which she’d informed him about on Friday, immediately after her meeting with Cade and Company.
She continued chugging through her messages, until roughly a half hour later, a knock at her door interrupted her. She looked up from her computer and saw Cade Morgan standing in her doorway, all cobalt blue eyes and thick dark hair and six-feet-plus of sophistication and lean-muscled confidence in a dark gray suit. She’d noticed earlier that he’d forgone a tie this morning, opting for a more casual look and leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone.
It wasn’t the worst look she’d ever seen on a man.
She cleared her throat.
“We’re finished,” Cade said.
Brooke checked the time on her computer. “That was fast.”
“These guys know what they’re doing.”
Indeed. And let’s hope you do, too, Parker . For the first time since the Mighty Morgan had shown up at her office on Friday, Brooke felt nervous. Everything was set and ready to go, which meant that she was next up at bat. Until now everything had seemed simple enough and, frankly, a little exciting and secret-agent-esque—make sure Senator Sanderson sits here, put Huxley and his fake date over there, trade a few barbs with Cade—but suddenly everything had become real. She, Brooke Parker, was about to participate in a federal sting operation that evening, and while she considered herself to be a savvy businesswoman and a great negotiator, this definitely was not her wheelhouse. And now several people—hell, basically every citizen of Illinois, all of whom deserved to be represented by honest politicians (she was still going with the corruption angle on this one despite Cade’s vagueness)—were
They ran through the rest of the plan, and agreed that Brooke would get to the restaurant at six o’clock. That gave her plenty of time to speak to the hostess who was scheduled to work that evening and with the manager on duty, so she could give him, too, a heads-up that she’d made special arrangements regarding the seating of some of their guests.
After they’d run through the routine for the evening, and then had run through it again, Vaughn pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Stand by to start the audio checks in five minutes.” He hung up the phone.
Huxley set his briefcase on top of the table he and Vaughn planned to bug. Both agents smiled at Brooke expectantly.
She didn’t get the hint.
Brooke looked at Cade. “Is somebody waiting for me to say something?”
He bent his head closer to hers. “This is the awkward part where I need to ask you to leave so that Huxley and Vaughn can do their secret-special-agent thing.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re kicking me out? This is my company’s restaurant.”
“I’m kicking you out.”
She considered this, likely contemplating several sassy retorts, and then—surprisingly—acquiesced. “Try not to look so pleased about it, Morgan. I’ll be in my office in case you need anything.” Then she turned in her heels and strode off in the direction of the stairs.
Cade caught himself watching her as she left.
So it was “Morgan” now.
Tough to say whether this was progress.
* * *
TO KILL TIME while she waited, Brooke took a seat at her desk and caught up on e-mail. She saw that she had a new message from Ian, saying that he needed to cancel their weekly Thursday lunch meeting because he had “highly important CEO business to tend to.”
In other words, he was playing golf.
She shot him back a quick response, updating him on the status of the Sanderson sting operation, which she’d informed him about on Friday, immediately after her meeting with Cade and Company.
She continued chugging through her messages, until roughly a half hour later, a knock at her door interrupted her. She looked up from her computer and saw Cade Morgan standing in her doorway, all cobalt blue eyes and thick dark hair and six-feet-plus of sophistication and lean-muscled confidence in a dark gray suit. She’d noticed earlier that he’d forgone a tie this morning, opting for a more casual look and leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone.
It wasn’t the worst look she’d ever seen on a man.
She cleared her throat.
“We’re finished,” Cade said.
Brooke checked the time on her computer. “That was fast.”
“These guys know what they’re doing.”
Indeed. And let’s hope you do, too, Parker . For the first time since the Mighty Morgan had shown up at her office on Friday, Brooke felt nervous. Everything was set and ready to go, which meant that she was next up at bat. Until now everything had seemed simple enough and, frankly, a little exciting and secret-agent-esque—make sure Senator Sanderson sits here, put Huxley and his fake date over there, trade a few barbs with Cade—but suddenly everything had become real. She, Brooke Parker, was about to participate in a federal sting operation that evening, and while she considered herself to be a savvy businesswoman and a great negotiator, this definitely was not her wheelhouse. And now several people—hell, basically every citizen of Illinois, all of whom deserved to be represented by honest politicians (she was still going with the corruption angle on this one despite Cade’s vagueness)—were
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