Grace bounced back to her feet. “Can you show me this clown?”

“Sure.” Lois knocked the towel she was folding off her lap as she stood. Backtracking the route Grace had taken to find Lois, they stopped in the living room, and Lois pointed to a recliner in the corner of the room. “He’s right there.”

Grace looked at the empty chair.

“Can you show me the cookies you were eating?”

Lois scowled. “Did Dameon tell you about the cookies?”

Grace nodded.

In the kitchen, Lois pulled out a cookie jar and a plastic bag inside. There wasn’t a label, just a handwritten note: Eat ¼ to sleep. Grace sniffed the bag. Oh yeah, it had been a while, but she knew that smell. A tiny sticker on the bottom of the bag said 120 mg each.

“Mrs. Locke. How much of this did you eat?”

“I had one of the four, just like it says.”

Grace turned the note to her. “It says take one quarter.”

“Oh. That’s dumb. Who eats only a quarter of a cookie?”

Grace tried hard not to laugh.

The doorbell rang and Lois rubbed her hands together. “That must be the pizza.”

The cab dropped Dameon off in front of his mom’s house at ten thirty that night. The porch light was on, and the flashing of light inside the front room suggested someone was watching TV.

He let himself in and walked around the corner.

Grace was curled up asleep on the couch under an afghan his mother had crocheted sometime in the seventies.

He took off his jacket and set his suitcase on the floor.

After a quick check in his mom’s bedroom to confirm she was there and asleep, Dameon went back in the living room and sat at Grace’s feet.

The motion on the couch woke her. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

She sat up, looked around. “I must have dozed off.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “How is she?”

Grace started to chuckle. “Your mom is a riot.”

Dameon ran his hand through his hair, surprised there was any left. “She was higher than a kite.”

“You have no idea. She took a hundred and twenty milligrams before Bozo showed up.” Grace pointed to his father’s recliner that had a sheet thrown over it. “She had to hide the clown.”

“You’re kidding.”

Grace rubbed her eyes and crossed her legs under her. “For a tiny woman, she sure can eat. Pizza, chips, popcorn, ice cream . . . it was like a twelve-year-old’s slumber party. She finally went to bed a couple of hours ago.”

“I’m going to kill my brother.”

Grace clasped on to his hands. “It’s okay. She didn’t read the instructions right.”

“Still gonna kill him.”

“Outside of a sliced-up clown sleeping in the chair, there wasn’t any real harm done.”

Dameon kissed her fingers. “Thanks for rushing over.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Your mom is adorable. She showed me every single picture she has of you growing up. Even the naked ones.”

He was too old to be embarrassed about naked baby pictures. “I owe you.”

Grace shook her head. “What are girlfriends for if not to rescue parents who ate too many edibles?”

Dameon laughed for the first time since the phone call. “It’s like Christmas all over again.”

“Only no raw turkey.”

He laughed at that.

“How did the meeting go?”

Dameon settled on the couch, toed off his shoes. “Good. I’m not sure if it’s the right fit, but they seemed interested.”

“What wasn’t right about them?”

“It’s not that it isn’t right. Just different locations. I can’t help but think a West Coast company would be best.”

“So you keep looking until you find the right partners.”

“I think I’m pressing my luck,” he said as he pulled her into the crook of his arm.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Finding the perfect business partner and the perfect woman in the same year seems impossible.”

“Ahh.” Grace looked at him with a smile. “We met last year.”

Dameon laughed again, then lowered his lips right above hers. “Yes, we did.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Grace found herself spending a lot of time at Dameon’s project house in the canyon.

He’d given her a key so she could be there even when he was stuck in the city. Not that she stayed the night without him, but she did use the house as a workstation. Even if the city wasn’t sanctioning her efforts, she didn’t think they would be in vain if she jump-started the project. If she left the city, the work she did could be used by whoever took over for her. And even if they didn’t, she knew what the city needed. Besides, it was the only way she knew to pay Dameon back for everything he was doing for her.

She coordinated the work with Tyler, and learned that Dameon had purposely pushed himself into the driver’s seat solely to get to know Grace better. According to Tyler, Dameon was determined to win her over from the moment they met.

As the project coordinator, Tyler really was the person to talk to.

A good week after the clown cookies came and went, Carson asked for her to come into his office. The city was requesting a meeting, but Grace needed to be prepared.

The law office was in Sherman Oaks, and Carson had already coordinated with Dameon’s schedule to be there.

She met Dameon in the lobby and kissed him hello. “You didn’t have to break out of your day to be here.”

“Carson asked me to come. Besides, if it affects you, it affects me.” They walked to the elevator together.

“And when did that happen?”

“What?” he asked.

“When did our individual lives become ours?”

In the elevator he turned and kissed her again. “I don’t know, but I like it.”

Considering the richness of the suit Carson had worn on their first and only meeting, Grace expected the office to be one of opulence and stature. But holy wow was this over the top. Sleek lines and rich woods. The kind that made the perfectionist in her sing. Whoever had designed the interior had spectacular taste.

Dameon told the receptionist who they were after they walked into the lobby. She didn’t delay as she led the two of them to Carson’s office.

“Thank you both for coming,” Carson said as he walked around his oversized desk to greet them.

The men shook hands before Carson turned to her to do the same. “You look good, more relaxed.”

“I’ve had some time to come to terms with what’s happening.”

“Good. It’s better to approach this stuff rationally.”

Grace took the seat Carson offered. “Easy for you to say when you’re on that end.”

He laughed. “Very true.”

With all of them seated, Carson opened a file on his desk. “The city contacted me yesterday. They said that Mr. Sokolov has officially filed a lawsuit against the city.”

“What ambulance-chasing lawyer agreed to that?” Dameon asked as he squeezed Grace’s hand.

“No one we know, so yes, it’s probably exactly that. But, since the suit has been filed and you’re named as the witness and representative of the city, you now have the obligation to answer the complaint.”