41
" You see Matt and Anthony every week. You see everyone every week.”
“Not everyone, Nick,” his mother said pointedly. Then her voice changed and turned warmer. “Well, except for this upcoming weekend.”
Nick paused at this. It could’ve been a trap. Perhaps his mother suspected something was up with her birthday and was fishing for information. Although it was surprising that she’d come to him—she usually went after Anthony, who had the secret-keeping skills of a four-year-old.
“Why? What’s happening this weekend?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Oh, nothing much. I just heard something about a sixtieth birthday party your father and you boys are planning for me.”
Fucking Anthony.
“And don’t go blaming Anthony,” his mother said, quick to protect her youngest. “I’d already heard about it from your aunt Donna before he slipped.”
Nick knew what her next question would be before the words left her mouth.
“So? Are you bringing a date?” she asked.
“Sorry, Ma. It’ll just be me.”
“There’s a surprise.”
He pulled into the driveway that led to the parking garage of his condo building. “Just a warning, I’m about to pull into the garage—I might lose you.”
“How convenient,” his mother said. “Because I had a really nice lecture planned for you.”
“Let me guess the highlights: it involved me needing to focus on something other than work, and you dying heartbroken and miserable without grandchildren. Am I close?”
“Not bad. But I’ll save the rest of the lecture for Sunday. There’s going to be a lot of gesturing on my part, and the phone doesn’t quite capture the spirit.”
Nick smiled. “Shockingly, I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you Sunday, Ma.”
Her voice softened. “I know how busy you are, Nick. It means a lot to me that you’re coming home.”
He knew it did. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
44
" The situation with Jordan was starting to seem too real for his comfort. This normally would be the point when he, sensing a possible attachment, would back away from the situation. But with her, he was trapped. Consequently, all he could do was carry on as usual, being that guy who didn’t let things become real, who was always handy with a quip but didn’t have feelings deeper than that.
Because he didn’t. Undercover agents didn’t allow themselves to become attached to a case or anyone involved with it.
He wasn’t complaining—he’d signed on for this. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and being the best undercover agent in the Chicago field office was a major accomplishment. It was his specialty, the thing that differentiated him from the other agents in the office. Without that distinction, he’d be just another guy with a badge, a gun, and cool facial scruff. Hell, he’d be Pallas.
That alone was more than enough motivation to get his head back in the game. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
46
" Melinda was still stuck on the 24 thing. “And I don’t see you grabbing the remote away from me when that countdown clock starts chiming,” she said to Pete. “Unless it’s to get a quick check of the scores on Monday nights.”
Nick’s ears perked up at the mention of scores. Sports. Now there was a topic upon which he could wax poetic. “Too bad Monday night football is over,” he lamented to Pete. “But there’s always basketball. Who are you eying for the Final Four?”
Pete looked mildly embarrassed as he gestured to Melinda. “She’s, um, referring to the scores on Dancing with the Stars.”
“He likes it when they do the paso doblé,” Melinda threw in.
“The dance symbolizes the drama, artistry, and passion of a bullfight. It’s quite masculine,” Pete said.
“Except for the sequins and spray tans,” Melinda added.
Pete clapped his hands together, ignoring this. “How about you, Nick? Are you a fan of the reality television performing arts? "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
47
" Kyle eased back in his chair, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “This is an interesting situation, Jordo . . . What’s it worth to you to keep this information under wraps? Because I’m going to need some income when I get out of this place, and I hear that wine business of yours is really taking off.”
“Get real. You owe me.”
Kyle sat up, indignant at that. “For what?”
Jordan folded her arms on the table. “Sophomore year. You took Mom’s car out of the garage in the middle of the night—without a license—to drive over to Amanda Carroll’s. Dad thought he heard a noise when you tried to sneak back in, so I distracted him by saying that I’d seen a strange person in the backyard. While he was looking out my bedroom window, you crept by and mouthed, ‘I owe you.’ Well, now I want to collect.”
“That was seventeen years ago,” Kyle said. “I’m pretty sure there’s a statute of limitations on IOUs.”
“I don’t recall hearing any disclaimers, expirations, or caveats at the time.”
“I was a minor. The contract’s not valid.”
“If you want to weasel your way out of this, I suppose that’s true.” Jordan waited, knowing she had him. Despite the impression one might get from the orange jumpsuit, her brother was quite honorable. And he always kept his word.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I finally get some dirt on you, Ms. Perfect, for the first time in thirty-three years, and it’s wasted.” He grinned. “Good thing that trip to Amanda Carroll’s was worth it, or I’d be pretty pissed about this.”
Jordan made a face. Way too much information. “I’m hardly perfect. I’m just a lot better at not getting caught than you.” She took in their surroundings. “Maybe I should’ve given you a few pointers.”
Kyle nodded approvingly. “Nice one. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
48
" She and her brother got their usual table, right in front of the grimy, bulletproof window covered with steel bars. Nothing but the best seat in the house when visiting Kyle Rhodes.
He laid into her the moment he sat down. “Who’s Tall, Dark, and Smoldering?”
Jordan’s mouth dropped open. “Shut up. You’ve been reading Scene and Heard?”
Kyle gestured to the bars. “What else am I supposed to do in this place?”
“Repent. Reflect on your wrongdoings. Rehabilitate your criminal mind.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
Yes, she was. Because her brother was number two on the list of people she really, really didn’t want to lie to, right after her father. “It’s no big deal. He’s just a guy I brought to Xander’s party.” Who, yes, happened to be tall, dark, and smoldering. Allegedly. And who occasionally made her smile, when he wasn’t busy getting under her skin. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Or a tick.
“For five thousand dollars a head, I doubt he’s ‘just a guy,’ ” Kyle said.
Suddenly, their friend Puchalski, the inmate with the black snake tattoo, was at their table. “So who’s this tall, dark, and smoldering jerk?” he asked Jordan, seemingly affronted.
Jordan held out her hands. “Seriously, does everyone read Scene and Heard in this place?”
Puchalski gestured to Kyle. “I snagged it from Sawyer here while he was reading the financial section. I’ve got to keep up with current events.” He winked. “I won’t be in this place forever, you know.”
“You will be if you don’t shut your yap and start following the rules, Puchalski,” a guard warned as he passed by.
The inmate scuttled off.
Kyle picked up where they’d left off. “So now the big secret’s out.”
Jordan glared at her brother, who apparently had decided to be more annoying than usual on this particular subject. “Yes, it’s true—I had a date. Ooh, shocking. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
51
" Kyle worked in technology; he knew it would only be a matter of time before the video of Daniela and the A-list actor went viral and spread everywhere. So he did what any pissed-off, red-blooded computer geek would do after catching his girlfriend giving an underwater blowjob to another man: he hacked into Twitter and deleted both the video and her earlier tweet from the site. Then, raging at the world that had devolved so much in civility that 140-character breakups had become acceptable, he shut down the entire network in a denial-of-service attack that lasted two days.
And so began the Great Twitter Outage of 2011.
The Earth nearly stopped on its axis.
Panic and mayhem ensued as Twitter unsuccessfully attempted to counteract what it deemed the most sophisticated hijacking they’d ever experienced. Meanwhile, the FBI waited for either a ransom demand or political statement from the so-called “Twitter Terrorist.” But neither was forthcoming, as the Twitter Terrorist had no political agenda, already was worth millions, and had most inconveniently taken off to Tijuana, Mexico to get shit-faced drunk on cheap tequila being served by an eight-fingered bartender named Esteban. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
52
" Is it as bad out there as they say it is?” he asked. “From my six-inch window, it looks like we got hit with one hell of a storm.”
“It took me nearly an hour to shovel the sidewalk this morning,” Jordan said.
Kyle brushed his neck-length dark blond hair off his face. “See? That’s one of the positives of being in prison. No shoveling.”
Her brother had long ago set the rules regarding their visits. Jokes about being in prison were expected and encouraged, sympathy was not. Which was good for both of them, considering her family had never done particularly well with the mushy and sentimental stuff.
“You live in a penthouse condo and haven’t shoveled snow for years,” she pointed out.
“A deliberate choice I made because of the trauma of my youth,” Kyle said. “Remember how Dad used to make me shovel the whole block every time it snowed? I was eight when he came up with that plan—barely taller than the shovel.”
“And I got to stay inside making hot chocolate with Mom.” Jordan waved off the retort she saw coming. “Hey, it was good for you—it built character.” She paused for a moment, taking in their steel-barred surroundings. “Maybe Dad should’ve made you shovel the next block over, too.”
“That’s cute.”
“I thought so. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
53
" His phone rang just as he was tucking it back into his coat. He saw that it was his brother, Matt, and answered. “I had a feeling you’d call.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a douchebag?”
Nick grinned at the inside joke. Back when he and his brothers were younger, they’d once gotten carried away and “accidentally” tossed three footballs through Tommy Angolini’s second-floor apartment windows after he’d claimed during recess that Scottish douchebags couldn’t throw for shit. Tommy had been wrong on two counts: first, in not knowing that they were only half-Scottish douchebags, and second, in doubting the athletic prowess of the McCall brothers.
Not surprisingly, that bit of good-natured fun had put an end to any trash talk from Tommy Angolini, but also had royally pissed off their father. A sergeant on the NYPD at the time, he had rounded up Nick and his brothers, brought them down to the Sixty-third Precinct, and locked them up in an empty jail cell.
For six hours.
Needless to say, after that the McCall brothers had all developed a healthy appreciation for the benefits of being lawabiding ten-, nine-, and seven-year-olds. The only person more traumatized by the lockup had been their mother, who’d spent the six hours crying, refusing to speak to their father, and making lasagna and cannoli—three helpings of which she’d practically force-fed each of her sons immediately upon their homecoming from the Big House "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
57
" Her cell phone buzzed loudly in her purse. She saw that it was Christian and answered.
“You couldn’t at least send me a metrosexual to work with?” he asked.
She grinned at that. “How did the shopping go with Nick?”
“We survived. That’s about all I can say. You should’ve seen his expression when he saw the colors of the ties I’d pulled to go with the suit. He told me that where he comes from, men don’t do boysenberry. I shudder to think such a place exists.”
“Boysenberry? You are lucky you survived. Thanks, Christian. I appreciate your help.” Jordan made a mental note to send him a bottle of wine from the store.
“Feel free to send me all the suit-buying customers you want. And I think you’ll be pleased with the results.” His tone turned sly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jordan. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one for you.”
Right, she thought as she hung up the phone. Because Nick was her date. And of course any woman spending Valentine’s Day with a date who looked like Nick was guaranteed a night of endless great sex.
Hot, scruffy-jawed, throw-me-down-on-the-table, mindblowing sex.
Probably with dirty words.
Perhaps not a horrible way to spend Valentine’s Day, she conceded. But it wasn’t in the cards for her "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
58
" She took a deep breath, ready to start by being honest with herself. “Kyle . . . I think I screwed up.” She held up a hand, qualifying this. “Partially. Tall, Dark, and Smoldering deserves a lot of the blame. At least half. Maybe two-thirds. Of course, he’s probably sulking right now, thinking that I’m the only one who’s wrong here. He’s kind of frustrating that way. He gets under your skin, like a tick, or a burr, or a thorn, or . . .” She looked to her brother for help. “What else gets under your skin?”
“Scabies?” he suggested.
“Scabies? This is what you come up with?”
Kyle stared at her as if she was losing it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jordo. But I’ll say this, if you think you screwed up, there’s only one question—the same one you asked me five months ago: Can you fix it?”
Jordan sighed. “I’m trying.”
Her brother’s gaze was firm. “Try harder.”
She glared at him. “Okay.” Then after a moment, she nodded in concession. “Okay. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
59
" You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you?”
“Definitely. In hindsight, that assistant comment probably wasn’t so slick. I should warn you—I may have these momentary Cro-Magnon lapses from time to time. Bygones.”
Jordan opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She threw her hands into the air. “How do you always do that? You tiptoe right to the edge of thoroughly pissing me off, then somehow you sweet-talk your way out of it.”
Nick grinned. “Aha. I told you when we met that you’d know if I was sweet-talking you.”
Jordan stared out the front windshield, shaking her head. “Seriously, I must’ve killed somebody’s prized goat or something in a former life. And this is my penance.”
He laughed. “Oh, admit it. You love it.”
“That’s the penance part. My slow descent into madness.”
Seeing the grin curling at the edges of her lips, Nick leaned forward in his seat to kiss her. “Aw, you say the sweetest things.” And he wouldn’t have it any other way. "
― Julie James , A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney, #2)
