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had a hard time answering a direct question, the opposite of Garrett.
    But the biggest ache she felt was about Garrett and the connection they shared. If he was dead, surely she would know.
    Wouldn’t she?
    W hen he was alone, Donovan Cross picked up the phone and made a call. On the second ring, his call was answered by a familiar voice. Forgoing any customary greeting, he simply said, “I gave her the news, and she just left.”
    â€œDo you think she believed you?”
    Cross leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling before he answered.
    â€œActually . . . I have no idea.”
    â€œAssign someone to tail her. If she finds out what’s going on, she’ll interfere, and we can’t afford that. Not now.”
    â€œAgreed. And already done.”
    He ended the call and stared at the door Alexa had closed after leaving the room. The woman intrigued him. He suspected that she and Garrett had shared a special bond.
    And he had no doubt Alexa Marlowe would be trouble.
    Downtown Chicago
    After Harper had parked his vehicle in underground resident parking, he showed Jessie to an elevator, and they rode up to his floor. His developer friend hadn’t missed a trick. He’d built another urban retreat in the trendy heart of downtown Chicago, with a view of Lake Michigan and close to shops, restaurants, and bars.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind, but I made us dinner. Nothing fancy.”
    â€œYou’ve never really cooked for me.” She smiled. “You know I’m a sure thing, right?”
    When Harper grinned, his face turned red. Blotches colored his cheeks as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
    â€œI hope you like my place,” he said. “I mean, it’s not finished, you know. It’s a work in progress.”
    â€œI think you’ve forgotten where I used to live. I’m sure your closet is bigger than my old dump. The trick is, always have low expectations, Harper. You’ll never be disappointed.”
    Jessie found his shyness completely disarming. Innocent charisma came naturally for Harper. His physical beauty never ceased to amaze her, but he never seemed aware of his looks. And he never had to work at it. Harper was an original, always.
    Driving from the airport, he had rambled about lots of stuff. He told her the latest on his dad. And he had funny stories about Tony Salvatore helping him find his new place. She’d never seen him so chatty, except when he talked about RAMs and gigabytes. In Harperworld, she usually needed subtitles, but not tonight.
    His nonstop stream of consciousness meant only one thing. Harper was nervous.
    When they got to his floor, Seth unlocked his front door. Still looking a little on edge, he let her walk in first. And her jaw dropped when she saw what he’d done.
    â€œOh, Seth. This is . . . beautiful,” she gasped.
    Harper had his place lit with white candles, flickering romance wherever she looked. And she smelled fresh flowers. He’d placed bundles of colorful lilies and roses throughout his loft. Wine had been poured. Music was playing softly in the background. And a silver tray of appetizers was on a bar near the kitchen.
    Seth had staged everything.
    â€œThat call you made at the airport. Your roommate lit all these candles, didn’t he? Either that, or you didn’t pay your light bill.”
    â€œSomeone else did it. My roommate isn’t much of a romantic.” He grinned. “So, you like it?”
    â€œLike it? Harper, I love it.” Jessie walked into the loft with her mouth open. “You did all this . . . for me?”
    Everywhere she looked, he’d done something special. He’d enlarged photos of them in New York and placed them on shelves. And he’d framed striking black-and-white images of her favorite spots in Chicago and hung them on the walls, places she’d told him about. Even the music he had playing was more to her taste than