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talking. He eventually got the account information for the Center, but they just kept talking after that. Grady’s restlessness slowly faded away as he got lost in the conversation.

CHAPTER 3
    The million-dollar deposit was in the YCOA account the very next morning. In fact, it was deposited shortly after Emily arrived at work. She’d stared at the balance for the Center, stunned, for almost fifteen minutes before she logged out of the bank account. Grady had actually done it. He’d made a million-dollar donation.
    The package came in the afternoon, delivered by a teenager who actually worked at the local florist but had agreed to do an extra delivery for one of the town’s optometrists, Dr. Pope. The sandy-haired boy had winked at her when he delivered it, telling her cheekily that it was a delivery that had paid very well when she had started digging for money to tip him, which he’d refused.
    Turning the package over and over, Emily couldn’t figure out why she was getting a delivery, but her name was on it, and the delivery boy had been told specifically to deliver it to her personally.
    She tore open the large manila envelope and groped inside, pulling out the contents carefully and letting the items fall onto the surface of her desk. There were two cases, and she popped open the first one and froze for a moment, staring at a dainty pair of glasses in an adorably feminine frame. She’d actually tried them on in Dr. Pope’s office and rejected the choice, reasoning that they were too impractical, but the real reason she’d decided against them had been the cost. They were much fancier and definitely more expensive than something she would have chosen. What the hell? Yanking off her regular glasses, she slid the new pair onto her face, the world around her coming into much better focus. Her glasses were old, and they had surface scratches, but she’d lost one of her contact lenses a few months ago and was waiting until she could afford to get more. Snapping open the other case, she wasn’t particularly surprised to see that several pair of contacts were in the case, and she was positive they were exactly the right prescription. Dr. Pope knew exactly what she needed. She’d just had her eye exam a few months ago, and was waiting until she could afford what she required to correct her vision properly.
    Emily squealed loud enough to bring Randi running into her office, the brunette’s face panicked. “What happened?” she asked breathlessly.
    “I got new glasses. And contacts. I can’t believe my mom and dad did this for me. They live on a fixed income. They really can’t afford it.” Emily’s eyes started to tear at the thought of her parents sacrificing for her. She didn’t even remember telling them she had lost her old contacts. Usually she avoided bad news. Her parents were getting on in years, and she tried to keep to the happier stuff when she spoke with them because they worried.
    Randi came to the desk and sifted through the contents. “Um . . . Em . . . I don’t think it was from your parents.” Randi dangled a card from her fingertips before handing it to Emily.
    It was Dr. Pope’s card, but on the back, written in script, was Grady Sinclair’s name and the word Paid .
    “Grady? Why?” she whispered to herself, running her index finger over the card.
    Randi raised a brow, asking curiously, “Is there something you haven’t told me about your little visit with Grady Sinclair?”
    Emily had asked Randi earlier not to ever refer to Grady by anything other than his name. He’d saved her ass, asking for very little in return except her company for Christmas. And why he wanted that she still hadn’t figured out. “No. We talked. He made me drive his truck because he was worried about my bad tires. And I left.” Okay, she was omitting the tiny little detail that Grady had mistaken her for a woman who traded sex for money. And she wasn’t about to mention the fact that he’d