“I don’t know if I’d say hopping, exactly.”

He threw her a look. “Please. You know you love it.”

“This coming from a man who brags about having the Secret Service on speed dial.”

“Don’t forget the FBI, DEA, ATF, and IRS, too.” He grinned before taking a bite of pizza.

“I rest my case.” Brooke chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually it’s gotten better when I drop by the restaurants. In the beginning, I think everyone hated me. I was the first GC Ian had ever hired, so when I came on board people didn’t know what to expect. It took me about a year to convince them that I wasn’t looking for problems—that my job is to help them when problems do arise.”

Cade played with his glass, thinking this over. “I’ve been wondering something. Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Never in the history of humankind has a man ever managed to not say something offensive after that lead-in, but if you want to take your chances, Morgan, be my guest.”

The corners of his mouth curved in a smile. “Why are you single?”

Well, then.

Brooke reached for her wineglass and took a sip, making him wait before she answered. “Who says I’m single?”

“Vaughn. He deduced it from the fact that there aren’t any pictures of a guy or kids in your office.”

“You were talking about me with Agents Huxley and Roberts?”

“You may or may not have come up.”

“I see. And what else did you three scamps say when you were gossiping in your little knitting circle?”

His eyes danced with amusement, but his gaze remained trained on hers. A prosecutor intent on getting his answer. “You didn’t answer my question.”

No, she hadn’t. And while part of Brooke was tempted to move this conversation along to a different topic, there was another part of her that, admittedly, was a little curious herself.

She sat back in the booth, holding her wineglass with one hand as she faced off against him. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll answer that question if you will.”

“How do you know that I’m single?”

“Because no man would ever ask a single woman that kind of quasi-flirtatious question if he was already seeing somebody. At least, not somebody he respected.” Brooke took a sip of her wine. “So you’re either disrespectful to women, or single.”

The corners of his mouth curved. Touché. “I’m single.” With that admission, he waited for her answer.

Brooke tried to appear nonchalant. “Apparently, I work too hard. According to the Hot OB, that means I’m not a ‘big picture kind of girl.’” She saw Cade’s jaw tense, but he said nothing as she continued. “Oh, and dating me is like being in a relationship with a guy, because I don’t complain about not being taken out enough.”

“No offense, but the Hot OB sounds like an ass**le.”

“He wasn’t the first guy with that list of grievances.” Brooke bit her lip, not having meant to admit that last part. Must’ve been the wine. “All right. Now it’s your turn.”

Cade took a sip of his bourbon. “I’m emotionally unavailable.”

Brooke fought back a smile at the matter-of-fact way he said it. “Is that right?”

“According to my ex-girlfriends, yes. And I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism.”

Brooke pointed to herself. “What do you know? Me, too.”

Cade tipped his glass at her. “So if you and I got together, we could probably go our entire relationship without ever saying anything meaningful at all.”

“Yes, although you and I would never get together since we don’t even like each other.”

“True.” Cade gazed at her across the candlelit table. “Good thing we got that straight.”

Brooke felt a few flutters in her stomach at the way he was looking at her right then. “It sure is.”

* * *

WHEN THEY LEFT the restaurant an hour after that, Brooke was pretty sure they were both feeling warm and good. After the pizza, they’d had one last round of drinks while sharing lawyer war stories and, not surprisingly, trying to outdo one another with the funniest anecdotes.

At some point as he walked her home, Brooke realized that her non-date with Cade had been the most datelike evening she’d had in a long time. Granted, she’d met him for work purposes, but she felt more relaxed and at ease with him than she had since . . . she couldn’t remember when. She hadn’t been worrying about where things between them were going, or any of that other relationship rigmarole, nor had she been trying to impress him. And, given Cade’s seemingly endless ability to irritate her, it was pretty safe to say he felt the same way. They’d just been two people, having drinks and sharing good stories and a pizza on a Friday night.

“Lucky you, being able to walk to work from home,” Cade said in the elevator, heading up to her floor.

“Where do you live?”

“Lakeview.”

“My first apartment in the city was in Lakeview. I still miss—” Brooke stopped, suddenly realizing something. “Wait. Why are you in this elevator?”

“Because . . . it’s the one going up to your apartment?”

“And why are you going up to my apartment?” They’d been so busy talking when they’d walked into her lobby, she hadn’t paid any attention to the fact that he’d come up with her instead of saying good-bye downstairs.