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appeared with the cake knife and plates Lena had requested when she first arrived.
    â€œSherry, look what my baby girl brought me,” Cleveland bragged to the smiling woman. “Am I the luckiest man in the world or what?”
    â€œYou sure are, Mr. Morrison. Spoiled rotten, too,” Sherry teased, winking at Lena.
    She laughed, cutting into the cake. “I’m just returning the favor. Poppa gave me and my sister everything we wanted when we were growing up. He could never say no, and we took full advantage of that.”
    Cleveland guffawed at the notion of being manipulated in any way by the two granddaughters he and his wife had raised following their mother’s death. Because their biological father had been nothing more than a sperm donor, Cleveland was the only father Lena and her younger sister, Morgan, had ever known. They owed him everything.
    After Lena had cut slices of cake for herself, Cleveland and Sherry, her grandfather sent the woman back inside to share the rest of the dessert with the other residents. Since Lena frequently brought him goodies, he didn’t mind sharing—on most days anyway.
    By the time Lena reached for her fork, he’d already devoured half of his piece. She enjoyed watching himeat, because she knew how hard he’d worked in rehab to regain the ability to feed himself after the stroke. His ultimate goal was to walk again, grim prognosis be damned.
    â€œI sure do love it when you make your grandma’s German chocolate cake. It always tastes just like hers, God rest her sainted soul.”
    Lena smiled softly. “All those years of watching her in the kitchen definitely paid off.”
    Cleveland grinned. “As I always say, baby girl, you’re gonna make some lucky man an excellent wife one day.”
    Inexplicably, Lena thought of Roderick Brand. Of course, thinking about him only forced her to remember what they’d done the night before, which was the last thing she needed to be thinking about while sitting across from her eighty-year-old grandfather, who probably believed she was still a virgin.
    As her face heated with renewed shame, she averted her gaze to stare out across the wide expanse of lawn that sloped down to the lake. The bright afternoon sun lit a shimmering path across the water. Lena could use a good, cold swim right about now.
    â€œHow’s work?” her grandfather asked.
    Lena cut into her cake. “Work’s good.”
    By day she was a grant writer for a private liberal arts college in Evanston. Her grandfather had no idea that she moonlighted as an escort, and she intended to keep it that way.
    â€œGot any major projects in the works?”
    â€œSure do.” Lena told him about the million-dollar grant proposal she’d recently submitted on behalf ofthe college’s performing arts center. “This could be the largest grant we’ve ever received,” she explained.
    â€œReally?” Cleveland arched two snowy eyebrows. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot riding on your shoulders.”
    â€œYou could say that. Ever since the economy tanked, endowments at colleges and universities across the country have practically dried up. We really need the research funds. Not to mention that securing this grant will make me a shoo-in for a promotion.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful, sweetheart,” Cleveland said warmly. “As hard as you work, you definitely deserve a promotion. But I’m just wondering…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful as he scratched his jaw.
    Lena ate a bite of cake. “Wondering what?”
    â€œTruth be told, baby girl, I’ve been a little worried about you.”
    â€œYou have?” Uh-oh. “Why?”
    â€œWell, you already work such long hours. If you get a promotion, that means even more responsibility and longer hours. Am I right?”
    â€œMore than likely,” Lena admitted.
    Cleveland frowned. “Doesn’t seem