Since his date had ended far earlier than he’d planned, Cade found himself restless and more than a little irritated with his ham-fisted handling of the evening. He’d had big plans for his date with Sarah. Now he was out of sorts and left to his own devices, and it wasn’t even ten yet.

He hadn’t had a date end so early since . . . well, since ever.

He rubbed at his stomach as he walked the three blocks to the End Zone, the neighborhood watering hole owned by former NFL great, Nick Kelley. Cade had been a regular patron since the bar opened five years before, but he’d spent a fair amount of time there of late. Always a neighborhood favorite, the bar had become something of a family preoccupation now that his sister was engaged to Nick’s brother, Landon McGee.

And what a crazy thought that was. His little sister, engaged to be married.

The asshole inside he usually gave free rein kept insisting he needed to set McGee straight on how to treat his sister, but one look at the two of them and Cade actually felt embarrassed. He’d never seen anybody in love like that. They weren’t sappy, per se, but they loved each other in a way that showed.

They had each other’s backs. And there was no one he could imagine who would treat his baby sister any better than Landon McGee.

A wall of happy sound assaulted him as he walked through the door: the Friday night crowd was in high gear. An NFL preseason game blared from the various TVs while Brooklyn’s young and young-at-heart spilled over tables and spread out three deep at the bar.

“Yo, Cade!”

Cade turned at the deep voice and the big, scary face it boomed out of. “Hector. You keeping out of trouble?”

“Damn straight. Becky’s got me picking out shower curtains.”

Cade fist bumped the bar’s resident badass bouncer before slapping him on the arm. “It’s a small slide from shower curtains to doilies, my man.”

“Tell me about it.”

Cade might have, but Hector looked so damned merry about the mere idea of picking out doilies with his lady love that Cade had to admit he was at a loss for words. First his sister and McGee. McGee’s brother had also fallen hard this summer. And Hector, too. Was something in the water?

Or maybe Nick Kelley and his fiancée, Emma, were brewing it in the beer coming out of Emma’s family brewery, the Unity.

“No date for you tonight?” Hector’s question was casual, but the sharp eyes that missed nothing were behind the comment.

“Ended early and I didn’t feel like watching the ball game alone.”

“You came to the right place.”

Cade slapped him on the arm again before turning for the bar. The guy might look like the neighborhood menace, but on Hector, that look was deceiving. Not only was the guy a decent sort, but he’d helped out on a vice op Cade had run earlier in the summer, his eyes and ears more on point than half the guys in the precinct. Cade had been after Hector ever since to join up with the blue, but hadn’t gotten very far. Mutters of “not for me, but thanks” always came winging right back, and after Daphne read Cade the riot act for shoving his nose in other people’s business, he’d finally let it go.

Was he really that big a bastard?

He’d managed well over three decades of life feeling like he had things figured out, and then the damn rug got ripped out from beneath him a few months ago. He had his life figured out, and he was rolling through it all with ease.

Until that night.

And the asshole who’d targeted Jasmine.

* * *

“Tell me why I’m here again?” Jasmine glanced around the End Zone, the happy Saturday night excitement doing little to improve her mood.

“Because it’s not healthy to sit home pining about the sex you weren’t going to have anyway.”

It was sheer dint of will that had Jasmine keeping her jaw hinged instead of hitting the scarred wooden high-top where she sat across from her best friend and soul sister, Daphne Rossi. Landon had already disappeared with his brother, Fender, before Jasmine had arrived. Daphne’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, Emma, was at the bar, picking up refills on their margaritas and giving herself time to flirt with Nick. They were a veritable circus of people, and it was fun to see how easily they’d all fallen in with each other—and she along with them—since Daphne hooked up with Landon.

The man was amazing, part of a trio of adopted brothers who’d been raised by local legend, Louisa Mills. Jasmine had listened, fascinated, when Daphne had recounted the story of her soon-to-be mother-in-law. A focused career woman, Louisa had lost her position in the city after an ill-considered affair and had ended up meeting the boys the week she came back to the neighborhood. After realizing the difficult situation each child lived in, she’d arranged to foster and then adopt them all.

As someone who saw all too often how children could get stuck in the system, Jasmine found it gratifying to see a story that had a far happier ending.

Jasmine knew there was a bit more to it than that—and a collective history each man had to work through on his own—but all had truly ended well. As an added bonus to seeing her best friend the happiest of her life, Jasmine had added a pack of new people who’d accepted her into the fold as if they’d all always been friends.

She enjoyed this new dimension to her social life tremendously, but until that moment hadn’t realized just how much Daphne had begun to hold back with her typical tart responses when there were others around.

“I’m not pining,” Jasmine shot back at Daphne.

“Replace pining with something else. Worrying. Obsessing. Feeling guilty because you don’t want to rip Gardner Cross’s very fine clothing off of his very fine ass. Take your pick.”

Jasmine did a quick glance around, but no one nearby was paying any attention to their conversation, and Emma was still bellied up to the bar. From the smitten look on her face, she was happily flirting with her fiancé while waiting for the next round of margaritas, which only added to Daphne’s not-so-subtle poking.

“You know I’m right.” Daphne said, a cheese fry waving in her hand.

“There aren’t enough margaritas in the world for this discussion.”

“Booze isn’t your answer. Sadly.” Daphne shook her head before downing the last sips of her margarita—her first, thank God. When she finally came up for air, she finished her thought. “My brother’s penis is the answer.”

“Daphne!” Jasmine did glance around the bar this time, convinced she was about to become the laughingstock of Park Heights. Their nearby tables were still full of happy conversation and animated bar patrons, all blessedly oblivious to Daphne’s weird train of thought, which had obviously jumped the tracks.

Even if the image Daphne painted—one she absolutely did not need to paint—warmed Jasmine to the very depths of her toes and other far-less-innocent places.

“We’ve been over this too many times to count. Enough with the comments about your brother.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Just saying what?” The good humor she’d managed to carry through the conversation evaporated, but Jasmine refused to let the tears that tightened her throat have a place in their discussion. They’d had this conversation so many times she was sick of it.

Sick of hearing herself talk. And of hearing how Cade just needed to see reason. And worst of all, how they’d be perfect together if Cade would only open his eyes.

They weren’t perfect. And they sure as hell weren’t together.

“He’s ignorant. And he’s keeping you from taking things to the next level with Gardner.”

“He’s not doing anything of the sort. Gardner’s my business.”

Daphne’s dark gaze sharpened, her bullshit detector on high alert. “So that means you’re going to make him your business.”

“The time hasn’t been right.”

“The time’s never right for a big, crazy romance. They’re loud and messy and time consuming. But when it’s right, you dive in. The fact that your feet are firmly planted on the side of the pool screams how uninterested you are.”

“Aren’t you the one who a few short months ago was telling me I needed to date Gardner?”

“Yes.” Daphne mumbled as she reached for a fry.

“And weren’t you also the one who told me to date the guy and enjoy myself? No strings? No pressure?”

“Maybe.”

Jasmine kept on, the skills she’d honed in court serving her well. “So why the sudden change of heart? Why the push for strings and all this pressure? I thought he was the perfect summer fling.”

“Summer’s nearly over.”

“You’re impossible. And don’t rush it, we still have quite a few dog days to get through.”

“Pots and kettles.” Daphne softened the words with a smile before reaching across the table, linking their hands. “I want you to be happy.”

“And I appreciate it.”

“So be happy.”

Jasmine was prevented from saying anything else by the arrival of round two of foamy, frothy margaritas. Emma’s gaze narrowed when she caught sight of their linked hands, but instead of saying anything, she brightened her smile and set down the heavy, icy bowls full of the green nectar of the gods. “Nick made these himself.”

“The house specialty,” Daphne said as she reached for her glass.

“He’s especially proud of his Sazerac.” Emma’s gaze drifted toward the bar, a particularly sappy smile on her face.

“Someone’s smitten.” Daphne teased, her wide smile infectious.

“I think you’re all smitten,” Jasmine couldn’t resist adding, pleased when the thought left her with nothing but happiness. She’d felt like such an emotional downer lately and took some solace in the fact that feeling genuine happiness for others was a sign she was still the person she hoped to be.

Even if she wasn’t acting like the person she should be when it came to Gardner.

For all her protesting, Daphne’s arguments weren’t off the mark. Jasmine cared for Gardner and she enjoyed their evenings out, but it was more the sort of enjoyment one found with a friend. Not the raging excitement that quivered around Daphne and Emma when their gazes drifted toward the corners of the bar, looking for their men.

Jasmine took another sip of her margarita, allowing her gaze to slip toward the corners as well. Nick still managed the bar, his smile easy as he pulled beers while talking to patrons. She kept her gaze moving, making small observations as she watched the various groups who filled the bar. Fender and Landon reappeared from the direction of what she knew to be Nick’s office, Landon’s tall, lanky frame next to Fender’s solid musculature beneath his usual uniform of a black T-shirt.

Without conscious effort to do so, she mentally compared the physicality of each man against Cade. All were attractive men, physically in their prime without being overly macho about it. But to her irritatingly besotted eye, none could quite compare to the thick, rough-and-tumble frame of Cade Rossi.

The man had the look of a brawler. Tough. Hard. Unrepentant. Cade had been a solid kid, and he’d carried that heft into adulthood, with thick shoulders, impressive biceps, and a broad chest that narrowed down to slim hips.

She shouldn’t be attracted to that. Shouldn’t find the man’s ability to defend himself and anyone else in the near vicinity attractive. But she did. She always had. And it was increasingly looking like she was never going to work her way past it.

She’d nearly turned her morose gaze back to her margarita—determined to drink up and at least enjoy the rest of her evening engaged in girl talk and laughter with her newly expanded group of friends—when something almost psychic had her shifting her attention a bit farther, past Fender’s left shoulder.

Only to land on the deep, rich, coffee-colored gaze of Cade Rossi.

* * *

“This looks like trouble.”

Cade strolled up to the table of beautiful women, his focus on the only one who looked like she’d rather kick him out than welcome him to the party.

“Fancy seeing you here, big brother.” Daphne slid off her seat and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, the light scent of lime wafting off her lips. His sister was a moderate drinker, usually more than aware of her responsibilities to the NYPD, whether on or off duty, but she seemed unable to resist the lure of her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s margaritas. Especially when in the company of what Cade was coming to think of as her coven.

Cade dutifully kissed his sister’s cheek in return before bestowing his very best charm on Emma Bradley. Her bright smile and light giggle was a soothing balm for his battered-knight’s heart.

And then he turned to Jaz. He wasn’t sure how, but she looked even more beautiful in a simple tank top and jeans than she had in the printed wrap dress she’d worn at dinner. Her dark skin was shown off to perfection beneath the pretty peach color of her top and his gaze traveled over the toned lines of her biceps, which had fascinated him for years. How could someone so physically capable still retain every ounce of feminine beauty and softness?

“Jaz.”

“Cade.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, her skin soft beneath his lips. “I thought you were in for the night.”

She shrugged, the delicate expanse of her collarbone rising and falling with the motion. “I felt like going out.”

Since he’d felt the same he could hardly say anything, but for reasons he couldn’t fully identify, the pissy mood he’d walked in with roared back in full force.

His evening had sucked—he’d own that, as he’d had a deliberate hand in ruining it—but he had expected a bit of escape by coming into the End Zone. All he’d wanted was a bit of peace from the sudden, endless clamoring in his head. A private place to be miserable without anyone caring or noticing. At minimum, he’d expected a chance to drown his misery in a few beers, no questions asked.

So what the hell was Jasmine Shane doing here, laughing and drinking it up as part of his sister’s merry band of not-quite bachelorettes?

“Cade!” Landon slapped him on the back as Fender dragged over an extra chair from a nearby table. In moments they had him seated and the End Zone’s best barmaid, Patty, had a beer topped with fresh foam settled in front of him.

Conversation spun out easily, the topics tripping from the Mets to a bridal shop in Brooklyn Heights that had recently opened, to a new rib place in Greenpoint that was purported to have a two-hour wait to get in. Cade listened to it all, cataloguing the conversation and filing it away with the same clinical detachment he gave his job.

Addresses. Business names. All mapped in his mind like location pins dropping into place. He did it as naturally as breathing and wasn’t even aware he’d begun to zone out when Daphne elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re in a fine mood tonight.”

Patty’s arrival with another round of beers gave him a chance to lean over, his voice a fierce whisper. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You got here and haven’t said three words. Why go out?”

“I’m listening.”

“Oh yeah? What was said?”

With a triumphant smile Cade rattled back the evening’s Met’s score, the address of the bridal salon and the name of its new owner, and mentioned how hungry he was for ribs.

“Jerk,” came hissing back.

“Sore loser.”

He nearly laughed, his mood improving considerably at the battle with his sister. They’d been at it for years—much to his mother’s great frustration—and stumping her never got old. “I also think Nick spiked your margarita. You’re practically giddy.”

Daphne’s smile returned in full force, her laugher easy, their battle forgotten. “I’m in love. It’s far more potent than the finest tequila.”

“It’s something to see—” Cade broke off, his gaze alighting on Jasmine. Her brown eyes had gone wide, her shoulders hunching up in immediate defense.

“Jaz?”

Before she could say anything, something prickled at the back of his neck, and Cade was off his seat in a flash, instinct taking over.

“Cade!”

She called him back, her voice sharp over the heavy din of the bar, but he refused to turn around. He would not turn back.

Not when Jasmine’s tormentor stood on the other side of the bar, his stark gaze positioned square on their table.