Kyle took the pen from her. “I’ll come up with something for you.” He shooed her off. “Now go away. Sell some wine. I’ll call you if I need someone to push an on-off button.” He thought of one last thing. “By the way, when’s the last time you updated the firmware on your router? Okay, from your blank expression, I’ll mark that down as a big ‘never.’ “

Shortly after she left, his cell phone rang, and Kyle saw that it was Rylann. The two of them had been playing phone tag all afternoon—not that he particularly minded hearing her sexy, throaty voice on his voicemail.

He knew, from the press release the U.S. Attorney’s Office had issued last Friday morning, that the grand jury had indicted Adam Quinn. Since then, there’d been some local media interest in the case—a guard instigating the murder of a federal inmate was exactly the kind of juicy public corruption scandal that Chicago journalists loved to report about—but thankfully, none of the witnesses’ names had been revealed. He was more than happy to stay out of the spotlight as long as possible on this one.

“It appears congratulations are in order, Ms. Pierce,” he said when he answered his phone. “I see you got your indictment. I believe a certain somebody said something about calling me when that happened.”

“I’ve been waiting for a time when I had more than five seconds to talk.”

“Oh.” Kyle rocked back in the desk chair, liking the sound of that. “I’m flattered.”

“Because I also need a favor from you.”

Of course she did. “You know, counselor, I think that card you keep playing—the one that says, ‘Redeemable for old times’ sake’—has officially expired.”

“Uh-oh, I better check.” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Nope, May 2012. We’re still good.”

He fought back a grin at that one. “What do you need?”

“I have a few follow-up questions related to Quinn,” Rylann said. “It should only take twenty minutes. Thirty, tops. Is this a good time?”

As if on cue, Jordan stuck her head into her office. Seeing him on the phone, she pointed to her computer and whispered. “Is it fixed?”

Kyle shook his head. No. Go away.

He waited until Jordan left before answering Rylann. “Actually, I’m in the middle of something at my sister’s wine shop. Can I call you back?”

She hesitated. “How long do you think it’ll be?”

“Maybe a half hour.”

“I have plans later tonight, so I was going to leave work after I finished talking to you. You were the last item on my checklist,” she said. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow instead?”

“Unfortunately, I’m going out of town tomorrow morning and will be gone all week,” he told her. He was flying to Seattle, San Diego, and then to New York to talk to three potential candidates for a senior-level position in his start-up company. Given the whole Twitter debacle, it had taken some convincing even to get these guys to agree to meet with him.

“This was something I’d been hoping to wrap up in the next few days…” she mused out loud. “How about if I call you in a little while, after I get home? I live in Roscoe Village, so it should be about thirty minutes. Does that work?”

“Roscoe Village is right by my sister’s store. DeVine Cellars, on Belmont. Why don’t you just stop by here on your way home and we can talk in person?”

The words flew out of Kyle’s mouth before he could even think about them.

Apparently, Rylann was just as surprised by the offer as he was. “I, um…hadn’t considered that possibility.”

Neither had he, but the more he thought about it, the faster he was warming to it. If for no other reason, he was curious to check out today’s skirt suit selection. “Well, if you want to talk to me this week, counselor, I’d start considering it. That’s the only time I’m available for pesky assistant U.S. attorneys.”

“If I were to agree to this, it would be solely because—as it so happens—I’ve been wanting to check out your sister’s shop for a while now,” she said. “I hear she’s got the best wine selection in the city.”

Kyle grinned. “You keep telling yourself that, counselor. Maybe in thirty minutes, when you get here, you’ll actually believe it.”

A DEFIANT THIRTY-SEVEN minutes later, when Rylann walked into DeVine Cellars and felt the cool air of the shop hit her, she momentarily felt as if she were back in San Francisco. There had been a store just like this only a block from her old apartment that she’d frequented often—cozy yet sophisticated, highboy tables scatted throughout, and bin after bin filled with wine bottles.

Rylann scanned the store and saw customers at two of the tables but no sign of Kyle. She walked over to an empty table tucked into a corner against the wine bins, hung the strap of her briefcase on the back of one of the chairs, and took a seat.

She’d just begun to read the chalkboard over the main bar, which listed the wines the store had available by the glass, when she heard a friendly voice to her right.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

A slender, very pretty blond woman with blue eyes smiled as she approached the table. Even if Rylann hadn’t recognized Jordan Rhodes from the photos that had been in the media over the years, she would have known instantly that she was Kyle’s sister. Though nearly a foot shorter than Kyle, and with hair that was several shades lighter, those blue eyes gave it away.

Before Rylann could say anything, Jordan cocked her head with a look of recognition. “I know you. You’re the prosecutor who handled the motion to reduce my brother’s prison sentence.”

Rylann assumed Jordan had been in court that morning to support Kyle. Or maybe she’d seen the photo of the two of them that had done the media circuit. “You have a good memory. Actually, I’m meeting Kyle here tonight. Is he around?”

For whatever reason, Jordan appeared shocked by the question.

“You’re meeting my brother here?” she asked. “Are you sure about that?”

“Pretty sure. It was his suggestion, actually.”

Jordan stared at her. “Are we talking about the same Kyle Rhodes? Tall; freakishly lustrous, shampoo-commercial hair; has this weird thing about giving people nicknames?”

“I heard that, Jordo.” Kyle came around the wine bins, wearing jeans and a navy crewneck sweater. As he approached, Rylann noticed that he hadn’t shaved that day and that the scruff along his strong, angular jaw made him look very…beddable.

Witness, she reminded herself.

He stopped at Rylann’s table. “I see that you’ve had the non-pleasure of meeting my sister.” He gestured, making the introduction. “Jordo, this is Rylann Pierce.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow pointedly at Kyle.

He glared.

An entire dialogue seemed to pass between them.

Then Jordan extended her hand warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rylann. Please let me know if there’s anything I can get you.” She pointed to the chalkboard. “I’ve got a great cabernet open tonight.”

“I see that. Actually, I think all the Kuleto Estate cabs are great,” Rylann said. “The India Ink is probably in my top five wines.”

Jordan pulled back, impressed. “You speak wine, I see.” She nodded approvingly at Kyle. “I like her already.”

“Jordo…” he said warningly.

“What? That was a compliment.” She turned back to Rylann. “Question: you’re not secretly a money-grubbing skank, are you?”

Kyle looked pained. “My God, Jordan.”

“What? It’s a fair question given your past predilections.”

Rylann smiled at the dynamic between the two of them. “Your brother is safe with me. We’re not together, we’re just…” She paused, looking at Kyle and trying to decide how best to describe their situation, since she had no clue whether he’d mentioned to his family that he was working with the U.S. Attorney’s Office. “…old friends,” she finished.

Jordan raised a skeptical eyebrow at Kyle. “Old friends with the U.S. Attorney’s Office? Sure.”