She was good to go.

It was a gorgeous evening, perfect for the five-block walk to her high-rise. She strolled along Michigan Avenue, thinking about her elevator ride with Cade the other night—and more important, that kiss at her front door.

Perhaps, per the rules, she should add in an eighty percent naked clause to his dinner offer. She smiled, thinking that certainly would make for an interesting evening.

As Brooke entered her building, she nodded hello to the lobby security guard before stepping into the elevator with five other people. Seeing that they had three stops to make before her floor, she pulled out her cell phone to check her e-mail.

She had fifty-two new messages to her personal e-mail account.

That was odd. Especially since every message was a notification that someone had posted a comment on her Facebook wall.

Quickly, Brooke began clicking through the messages. All from men.

I’M GAME IF YOU ARE, BABE!

LIKE! LIKE! LIKE!

TEN RULES EVERY WOMAN SHOULD LIVE BY!

PICK ME!!!!!!!!

Brooke’s stomach hit the floor of the elevator.

Oh. My. God. She clicked over to her Facebook profile and saw the link right there in black-and-white on her wall, generously shared with all five hundred and twenty-nine of her closest “friends.”

She’d favorited the damn “Ten Rules of Casual Sex.”

Thirteen

FORD HAD ACTUAL tears in his eyes.

He was laughing so hard, he could barely get the words out. “‘Brooke Parker shared a link. Ten Rules of Casual Sex,’” he said, repeating the update that he had received on his Facebook home page last night, along with her five hundred and twenty-eight other “friends.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s soooo funny.”

“I should thank you for the advice,” he said. “Because all along I’d only been spending seventy percent of my time naked when hooking up. Sounds like I need to start bare-assing it more often around the ladies.”

Brooke gestured with a French fry. “Just so I know, how long can I expect the comedy routine to go on?” They were halfway through their lunch already and there’d been no sign that things were letting up anytime soon.

“Oh, you’ll be hearing about this until we’re old and gray.” Ford went right back to it. “Brooke Parker wants everyone to know that you should never take a bath with a man unless you’re ready to take his last name. Showers only, girls!”

“That’s clever. Take a bath, take his name. I like how you strung that all together.” Brooke spread more mustard on her club sandwich. “You know, I didn’t actually write the stupid rules.”

“No, you just recommended them to everyone and their mother.”

Yes, she was painfully aware of that. “I told you already, I hit ‘cancel.’”

“All that means is that you posted the link without leaving a comment,” he informed her, most belatedly. “But you still needed to go in and delete it if you wanted to remove it from your wall.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tech Support. I realize that now.” Last night, as soon as she’d gotten out of the elevator, she’d taken down the article. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been soon enough, and her Facebook account had been hopping all night and morning. “Do you realize that I’ve gotten two hundred and thirty-seven friend requests since last night? All from men.” Because the lascivious schmoes on her page had naturally “liked” her status, which meant that all of their other lascivious schmoe friends could see her original link and wanted in on the action. “I’ve been asked out on more dates in the last eighteen hours than I have in the last eighteen years.”

“I can’t fathom why.”

She threw Ford a look when he started laughing again. “It really isn’t funny.”

“It really is.” He smiled at her glare. “If I break out a few bare-chested pictures of Ryan Gosling on my phone, will that help take the sting off?”

Brooke thought that over. “It might.”

“That was supposed to be sarcastic.” Ford picked up his cheeseburger. “Why were you reading about the rules of casual sex, anyway?”

“I’d planned to ask you for some advice, but when you didn’t pick up your cell I decided to kill some time on the Internet before a conference call.”

“Advice on what?” Ford gave her a sly look, putting it together. “Wait a second . . . Brooke Parker, are you having sex with somebody?”

“A little louder, Ford. I’m not sure the people all the way in the back of the bar heard you.” Luckily, the place was crowded and noisy, and half of the people there were already tipsy in advance of the big game. She lowered her voice. “And no, I’m not having sex with anyone.”

“Ah. But there’s someone you want to be having sex with.”

“Let’s say that I’m entertaining the possibility.”

“Really?” Ford appeared intrigued. “Tell me more. Who’s the guy?”

“Someone I met through work,” Brooke said. “He asked me to have dinner with him tonight. I haven’t said yes. Yet.”

“But you’re going to?”

She smiled coyly at that. “Perhaps. After making him wait another”—she checked her watch—“two hours and six minutes.”

Ford looked confused. “Why two hours and six minutes? I don’t get it.”

“Sorry. Just an inside joke.”

Brooke paused in surprise as soon as the words came out. Ford raised an eyebrow. For twenty years, he had been the guy she had inside jokes with.

“Interesting,” he said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Brooke said quickly. “It’s just dinner.”

“Got it.” Ford took a sip of his Diet Coke. He set it down, giving her a knowing look.

“Really, Ford. Just dinner.” She watched as he simply nodded, still with the smug look. “I don’t like you sometimes.”

He laughed that off, having heard it for years. “I love you, too, Parker.”

* * *

“SOMEWHERE ELSE YOU need to be?”

Cade glanced over at Vaughn, who’d caught him checking his watch. “Just debating whether I want to grab another beer now or wait until the next inning.”

“Nice excuse. Except that’s the second time you’ve checked your watch since we got here.”

Huxley chimed in from the seat on Vaughn’s left. “The third time. He also checked when you were flagging down the hot-dog vendor.”

Cade grumbled under his breath. Damn FBI agents—they didn’t miss a trick. “It must be so exhausting for you two to have these amazing powers of perception that you can never turn off,” he said sarcastically.

Vaughn grinned. “Yes. But it also makes us unbelievably cool.”

“I’m okay with it, too,” Huxley agreed matter-of-factly.

More grumbling ensued.

Admittedly, Cade was already a little on the prickly side. In just twenty minutes—not that he was counting—his dinner offer to Brooke would expire and he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from her. Was she really not interested? He didn’t buy it. Beneath all the quips, there was chemistry between them—he felt it, and she did, too.

Time would soon tell just how right he was about that.

Their professional relationship was over. The Sanderson case, the hacker at Sterling she’d asked him to track down—all of that had been resolved. They had no reason to see each other again unless, simply, they wanted to. He’d made his interest clear and now the ball was in her court.

Cade noticed Huxley and Vaughn looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “I’ve got an offer on the table that expires soon. Just waiting to hear back from the other side,” he said by way of explanation.

Vaughn seemed satisfied with that answer. Underneath the jokes, he was as committed to his job as Cade was to his. “Guess there’s not much else you can do except sit back and enjoy the game, then.” He gestured to the lush green outfield that stretched out before them, flanked by Wrigley Field’s distinctive ivy-covered walls. Eighty degrees and clear blue skies made it the perfect day for baseball—although for today, the day that pitted Chicago brother against brother, the stadium would’ve been packed even in inclement weather.

Cade had scored tickets to the Cubs/Sox game months ago, and Vaughn was right—he needed to forget about Brooke and enjoy the afternoon. They had good-quality man stuff going on: baseball on a sunny day, cold beers, and hot dogs. With that thought, he flagged down a beer vendor and bought another round for all three of them. Huxley and Vaughn were off duty and unarmed that day—FBI policy prohibited agents from consuming alcohol while carrying—which meant they all could relax and bask in the pure, feel-good fun of America’s pastime.

The inning was an exciting one, first with a base hit and then a two-run homer that made the crowd go wild. Cade was on his feet amidst the screaming and cheering, beer in one hand and high-fiving Vaughn and Huxley and the perfect strangers sitting in the row in front of them, when his cell phone vibrated in the front pocket of his shorts.

He pulled out the phone and saw he had a new text message from Brooke Parker. One word.

YES.

Cade noticed the time of the message and realized she’d conveniently accepted his dinner invitation one minute before it expired. He couldn’t decide if that made him want to laugh out loud or throttle his cell phone—perhaps both—but he did know one thing.

This woman drove him crazy.

Standing beside him, Vaughn tapped him on the shoulder. “So?” He raised his voice over the crowd’s roar and gestured to Cade’s phone. “Good news?”