“I appreciate it, Vaughn. Really. But no offense—you suck at this stuff as much as I do.”

Vaughn tucked his hands into his pants pockets, not looking offended in the slightest. “Yep. And that’s why God made whiskey.”

* * *

THEY WENT TO a bar a few blocks from the federal building and grabbed a table in the back. After the waitress brought their drinks, Vaughn led in.

“I’ll take a wild guess. This new emo mood of yours has something to do with the fact that you’re not seeing Brooke anymore.”

Cade had shared that information last week, in a terse and abbreviated conversation, after Vaughn apparently had used his FBI powers of super-perception to notice that he was not checking his phone all night. He could sense that tonight, however, he wasn’t getting out of the conversation without giving the agent something more.

So he thought about how to best describe the situation. Things had started out just fine between him and Brooke, but somewhere along the way the hookups and the cute text messages had turned into something more—at least on his end. Something that involved emotions, and him oddly feeling the need to share childhood stories, and him making dinner for her after a crappy day at work.

Which meant, basically, one thing.

“I pulled out too late with her,” he said simply.

Vaughn nearly dropped his glass. “Oh, fuck. Brooke’s pregnant?”

“Whoa, there. No. Nobody’s pregnant. I meant that I pulled out of the relationship too late.”

“Oh.” Vaughn paused. “You know, you really might want to add that clarification next time.”

“Thanks. And here I’d been worried we were going to suck at this,” Cade said dryly.

Vaughn grinned. “Well, I would’ve brought Huxley along to handle the more sensitive parts of the conversation, but he’s having dinner with Addison tonight.” He gestured with his whiskey, getting back on point. “So. You think you ended things too late with Brooke. You mean . . . because you’re totally crazy about her?”

When Cade shot him a glare, Vaughn gestured between them with his free hand. “Oh, are we still pretending that’s not the deal? ’Cuz I can always wait two more drinks if you need time to ease into, you know, the truth.”

“That’s funny. Is this the good cop or bad cop routine?”

“A little combination I like to think of as the Agent Roberts special.”

Cade shook his head. Just one non-FBI friend. That’s all he was asking for. “The truth doesn’t matter now, anyway. I’m pretty sure Brooke is moving to Charlotte.”

Vaughn’s expression turned serious. “Charlotte? What brought that on?”

“One of Sterling’s competitors offered her some big executive VP position. It sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Wow. What did you say when she told you about it?”

“I said, ‘Congratulations’ and told her to knock ’em dead in Charlotte.” He saw Vaughn frown. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t go?’ You’ve seen her in action; you know how good she is. If she wants this, she should take it.”

Vaughn nodded. “You’re right. She should.”

Cade pulled back. That was . . . it? Granted, he was no pro at the heart-to-hearts, but he’d expected maybe a little bit more. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Absolutely. You and I—we are in total agreement.” Vaughn leaned back in the bar stool. “Now if Huxley were here, he, on the other hand, would probably have an entirely different take on the matter.”

When Vaughn said nothing further, Cade took the bait. “And what would Huxley’s take on the matter be?”

“Probably something about how you should tell Brooke how you feel, regardless of whether she’s moving to Charlotte. You know how Huxley’s all into being honest and open like that.” Then Vaughn met Cade’s gaze straight on. “And after that, he’d probably tell you that if he ever finds a girl who fits him as perfectly as Brooke fits you, that he hopes you’re a good enough friend to say, ‘Dude, get over your shit, get off your ass, and go talk to her.”

Cade blinked. This. . . from Vaughn. “Huxley sure has a lot to say.”

“Yeah, he’s always been a know-it-all like that.”

That, at least, got a grin out of Cade. “Well, I will take Huxley’s advice into consideration.”

A comfortable silence fell between them.

“And, Vaughn?” Cade looked at his friend, speaking in all earnestness. “Thanks.”

Vaughn tipped his glass in acknowledgement. “Anytime, Morgan.”

Thirty-two

BROOKE STOOD BEFORE her closed office door, taking a few deep breaths before stepping out into the hallway—and the unknown.

She had no idea how this meeting with Ian would go, but since coming back from Charlotte she’d thought a lot about what she wanted, both professionally and personally. And she knew, in her heart of hearts, that it was time for a change.

She steeled herself and opened her door. The office was quiet; she’d deliberately scheduled her meeting with Ian at the end of the day when most of the other employees had already left.

Ian’s door was open, and he sat at his desk reading the evening news on his computer. “Come on in.” He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I think I know what this is about. Curt Emery called you, right? He’s decided he wants us to take over at Soldier Field.”

Okay . . . this was going be a little awkward. “I haven’t spoken to Curt since our meeting a few weeks ago. But, actually, I need to tell you something about that meeting. When I got to Halas Hall, someone was waiting there: Palmer Green, CEO of Spectrum North America.”

Ian frowned, obviously recognizing the name. “Palmer Green? What did he want?”

“The meeting was just a setup, a way for Palmer to meet me.” Brooke looked Ian directly in the eyes. “So that he could offer me a job at Spectrum.”

Ian’s expression immediately turned somber. He exhaled, taking a moment. “What position?”

“Executive vice president of sales and business development.”

Ian ran his hand over his mouth. “How much?”

“Eight hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Including stock options and bonus.”

He cocked his head. “This last Friday. Your personal day.”

She nodded. “I flew out to Spectrum’s headquarters in Charlotte.”

Ian said nothing at first in response to that. Then he peered at her across his desk, with sadness in his eyes. “Are you leaving me, Brooke?”

The moment of truth. “Well . . . that depends on you, Ian.”

He sat forward in earnest. “Brooke, I would do anything I could to keep you. I hope you know that. But Sterling isn’t Spectrum North America. I can’t match that kind of package.”

“I know that. And I hope you know that in many ways, I consider Sterling Restaurants to be like family to me. Which is why I’m hoping, Ian, that you can give me something Spectrum can’t. Something that I’ve realized is more important than eight hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars a year.” Brooke paused. She’d practiced this at home, actually saying the words out loud. She could do this.

“I want more balance in my life.”

As soon as the words were out there, she felt . . . good.

Ian stared at her in surprise, as if waiting for another bomb to drop. When that didn’t happen, he nodded eagerly. “Okay. Yes. Absolutely. What can we do to make that happen?”

As a matter of fact, she’d been prepared for just that question. “Glad you asked. I have a few ideas on that front.” Brooke opened up the file folder she’d brought with her and pulled out the report she’d prepared.

“More charts and graphs?”

“Of course.” She handed Ian the report. “The first problem we have is that I’m basically doing two full-time jobs: general counsel and VP of sales. The other problem is that our legal department is still the same size as it was two years ago, before we built the sports and entertainment division. As a result, we’ve been farming out more and more matters to outside counsel—in fact, we paid them over four hundred thousand dollars last year. And as I’m sure you are aware, because I know you always read the monthly summaries and open matter reports I send you,”—she gave him a pointed look, they both knew he never even opened the darned things—“seventy percent of that four hundred thousand was related to employment matters.”

“I see that. Very colorfully illustrated on this pie chart here.”

“What this means, however, is that we could substantially cut back our legal expenses if we brought in an in-house labor and employment lawyer to handle the less complex matters. Do you realize that we pay a Gray & Dallas associate four hundred and fifty dollars an hour every time we need to respond to one of those ridiculously onerous IDHR charges?”

“I did not realize that,” Ian said indignantly. He held up a finger. “Question: what’s an IDHR charge?”

“Seriously, if you would just read the summaries I send you . . .” Moving on, Brooke gestured to the report. “Now turn to page two. From what I’ve estimated, bringing in an in-house employment lawyer will save us roughly ninety thousand dollars.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I would then like to apply that ninety thousand toward hiring a second in-house lawyer who will take on some of my responsibilities,” Brooke continued. “Routine matters like reviewing our lease agreements, drafting the vendor contracts, et cetera, which will obviously lessen my workload. Given what I expect we’ll have to pay to get two quality in-house counsel, this should cost Sterling, in total, about seventy thousand dollars more this year.”