In answer, she took his hand and placed it on her chest. Right over her heart. “You’re in, Cade Morgan. Only you.”

Yep, that pretty much made it official.

When it came to Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants, he was a goner.

Thirty-five

Three weeks later.


“SO, UNFORTUNATELY, THE concession stand did not have beef tenderloin, shrimp kabobs, or that fancy Sterling Restaurants dessert cart. But, fret not, because I was able to snag you . . .” With a flourish, Cade pulled two things out from behind his back. “This lukewarm, rubbery hot dog and this Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup—the twin pack. How’s that for fine dining?”

“Yes on the twin pack,” Brooke said. “No on the bun-wrapped trip to the emergency room to get my stomach pumped.”

“My, somebody’s quite a hot-dog snob.”

“An occupational hazard when one is part owner of a premiere restaurant company with a rapidly expanding and increasingly lucrative sports and entertainment division,” Brooke said, with a proud flick of her ponytail.

“Still subtly slipping that in there, I see.”

“You betcha.” She was in a particularly good mood tonight, seeing how, just this afternoon, she’d hired the in-house lawyer who would be taking on some of her responsibilities. He wouldn’t start at Sterling for another two weeks, but change was on the horizon. She’d left work at six o’clock on a Friday night—possibly with a few heart palpitations on her way out the door, but she’d persevered—and now she had the whole night free to spend with Cade.

Or, rather, with Cade plus five hundred rabid high school football fans dressed in maroon and gold.

Brooke’s eyes scanned the stands. “Wow. I didn’t expect it to be so packed.”

“Zach said that the team they’re playing tonight is his school’s rival,” Cade said.

They spotted Noah and his wife, Tracy, about halfway up the bleachers. Cade linked his fingers through Brooke’s and headed in that direction.

Over the last three weeks, Cade and his father had made progress in getting to know one another. The initial step had been the most difficult and awkward, with neither man knowing exactly how to make the first move. Fortunately, Zach had intervened once again, suggesting the three of them meet for dinner at a restaurant not far from the Garritys’ house—and then had remembered at the last minute that he had a “late practice,” and had suggested that Cade and Noah carry on without him.

“I like this kid’s style,” Brooke had said, chuckling, when Cade had told her about the obvious setup.

When Cade had finished grumbling, he’d admitted the dinner wasn’t “too terrible.”

“In some senses, it was easier not having Zach there,” he’d said. “We just talked about him the whole time.” He’d paused. “And about how Noah’s treatment is going.”

The bitter part of this bittersweet reunion, of course, was that it was finite in duration. Although Noah was currently asymptomatic, the doctors had explained that the radiation and steroid treatment was only buying them time and that, in the not-too-distant future, the tumor on Noah’s brain stem would grow and begin to impair his motor skills and respiratory functions. Nevertheless, Noah had laid down the law: people weren’t going to spend every moment dwelling on his cancer—they were going to enjoy the time they had left together, for as long as they could.

“Noah, Tracy, good to see you again,” Brooke said when they reached their row. She and Cade took the open seats next to them, and everyone made pleasant—even if still a little awkward—chitchat. Noah asked Cade about work, and Brooke saw the look of pride on his face when Cade talked about his new responsibilities as acting U.S. attorney, a transition that had taken effect earlier in the week when Cade’s boss, Cameron, had gone into labor in the middle of a Potbelly Sandwich Shop—and, nine hours later, had delivered a healthy baby boy named William “Will” James Pallas.

Not too long after Brooke and Cade had arrived, the game started. And from that moment on, all work chatter stopped, the outside world ceased to exist, and football became life itself.

As Brooke sat in those stands that night, she was reminded of something Ian had told her—while watching a game, we could hang out and yell and cheer and just be a father and son again. Cade and Noah might not have been at that point, but talking about football certainly helped bridge the gap between them. At times, in fact, they actually seemed to be having fun together.

And beyond that, wow, did she ever see a new side of Cade that night. He paced, he was on his feet nearly the entire time, and he had this really intense game face that was . . . kind of hot.

Late in the third quarter, Zach got tackled four yards behind the line of scrimmage, and apparently this was the last straw for Cade.

“A reverse on fourth and one? Come on!” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “The defense hasn’t stopped a single slant pass to Zach all night. Or if you’re going to run the ball, at least go up the middle.” He gestured to the field. “Hell, I could coach these kids better than that.”

“Maybe you should, then.”

The words came from Noah, sitting next to Cade.

Cade half-chuckled at that. “Yeah, right.” He looked over at Noah and then pulled back. “You’re being serious?”

Noah shrugged casually. “Just seems like you’re getting a little twitchy up here in these stands.”

“I’m just excited about the game, like everyone else here.” Cade threw Brooke a look. Can you believe this guy?

“Actually, you do seem a little twitchy,” she said.

He glared. “Et tu, Ms. Parker? I’m a prosecutor. I don’t have time to coach a football team.”

“Maybe not full-time,” Noah said. “But I’m sure that any Chicago public school would be more than happy to have a former Rose Bowl champ come in occasionally and talk to the team.”

Cade fell quiet at that, and Brooke could see the spark of interest in his eyes. She smiled to herself, thinking that Noah may have been onto something.

Perhaps it was time for Cade Morgan to get back on a football field.

* * *

AFTER THE GAME, Cade found a parking spot on a side street a few blocks from Brooke’s place. Hand in hand, they leisurely walked in the direction of her apartment.

She looked over at Cade, curious about something. “I saw you talking to Zach’s head coach in the parking lot. Congratulating him on his victory, I assume?”

He smiled, busted. “Okay, okay. Noah’s idea about coaching stuck with me. It’s no big deal—I’m just going to work with the quarterbacks for a couple of hours on Tuesday afternoons. Assuming there aren’t any emergencies I need to handle at work.”

“Will the kids have to call you ‘Coach Morgan’?”

“They will if they don’t want to run sprints and do bag drills the entire practice.”

Brooke chuckled at that. Then, out of the blue, she remembered something. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this. You’ll never guess what they served for breakfast on my flight out to Charlotte. A Denver omelette.”

Cade laughed. “Well, they are quite tasty.” He glanced at her sideways, his tone coy. “Now, did you ask if they always serve Denver omelettes, because that’s their thing, or if they tailor the breakfast to the specific passenger?”

“Ha, ha. You had that coming. Do I even want to know how many women before me enjoyed one of Cade Morgan’s Denver omelettes?”

“I can tell you who the last one will ever be.”

Brooke paused, quip raring to go, when the significance of those words hit her.

Oh.

Well, then.

She tugged Cade closer, then stood up on her toes and kissed him. “Nice save.”

They linked their fingers together, walking along Michigan Avenue, passing through the tree-lined courtyard adjacent to the historic Water Tower. It was a gorgeous late-summer night, with a warm breeze coming off the lake.

“Should we grab a late dinner?” Cade asked. “It’s Friday night, but I’m sure there’s some restaurant filled with over-caffeinated jackrabbits who would be more than happy to find a table for the illustrious Brooke Parker.”

“True. Although, it’s so nice outside tonight. Maybe instead we can find a wine bar with outdoor seating.”

“We could take my carriage there, Cinderella,” Cade joked, pointing in the direction of the horse-drawn carriages lined along the Water Tower courtyard, waiting with their tops down for passengers willing to shell out for a thirty-minute ride.

Brooke chuckled. Romantic, yes, but that was a little too touristy for their tastes.

Then it struck her.

“I just realized something,” she said. “We are one of those couples, walking hand in hand along Michigan Avenue, with no plans at all.” For two years she’d watched everyone else from her office window.

But now, here she was.

“So we are.” Cade let go of her hand and put his arm around her. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “How does it feel?”

She turned and peered up at him, having only one answer to that.

“Perfect.”