The building downtown was forty stories of dark blue glass, glinting in the sunlight. I didn’t much like coming here—traffic was usually bad, parking was expensive, and it always seemed to take half a day. But since my dad’s death, it had become a necessary evil. Dorset Financial was located here, and they handled the details of my inheritance.

My dad had known Arthur Horace, who worked at Dorset, for thirty years, and he’d entrusted the management of the financial portion of his estate to him. I’d kept Arthur on, hiring him to manage the accounts I now owned, mostly because of my dad’s trust in him. Also because I had no idea what to do with the money I’d inherited.

I’d always known my dad had been financially secure. Growing up, we hadn’t lived extravagantly, but we’d been comfortable. He hadn’t seemed to worry about money. He’d paid for my college, all the way through my PhD program. I’d wondered how he could afford it, but he’d always assured me it was no problem. He’d been a practical man, so I’d assumed he’d simply been good at saving.

When he’d gotten sick, he’d given me access to his bank accounts so I could handle his bills and medical expenses. After his death, however, I’d discovered that there were accounts I hadn’t known about. And those contained almost ten million dollars. Apparently, he’d made smart investments as a much younger man, including buying stock in some now-prominent software companies. And he’d never told me.

Since finding out about the money, I’d wondered many times why he’d kept it a secret. He’d had the money for decades. There was no explanation in his will. No letter he’d written that I’d been meant to read after he passed. I suspected it was because he’d felt the same way I did now—bewildered at the idea of being wealthy.

I went up to the twentieth floor. My meeting with Arthur was brief. He had some changes to go over, and as usual, I adhered to his advice. There were a few forms to sign, and he once again asked if I’d like to take a more substantial distribution. And again, I declined. He didn’t seem surprised.

Waiting outside the elevator, I adjusted my handbag. It was a bit after three, but I didn’t have any classes this afternoon. I wondered if I should go back to my office or head home for the day.

“Ivy. It’s nice to see you again.”

I turned at the voice. Blake Callahan stood next to me, dressed in a dark suit. He was handsome in a classic sort of way, with slicked-back hair and a chiseled jaw.

My mind immediately went to what Jessica had said, and I made eye contact. “Hi. Blake, right?”

He smiled. “I’m flattered you remember. You must have had a meeting with Arthur.”

“I did.” I thought about saying more, but I had a feeling if I kept talking, I’d somehow wind up quoting Tolstoy.

The elevator opened, and he gestured for me to get in. I did, and he followed me inside.

“Lobby or parking?” he asked.

“Parking, please,” I said.

He pushed both the L and P buttons, then put his hands in his pockets. In the close confines of the elevator, I could smell his cologne. It was something classic, clean with a faint spiciness to it. It was nice.

But clearly, he wasn’t interested. He’d only said hello to be polite.

“Forgive me if this is forward, but do you have plans this afternoon?” he asked out of the blue. “I was thinking of taking the rest of the day off. If you’re free, maybe you’d like to join me?”

My brain scrambled to keep up. Was he asking me out? I was supposed to say yes if he did. I felt so flustered. “Oh, um… are you allowed to go out with a client?”

“Not if you were my client,” he said. “But I’m in a different department.”

Calm down, Ivy. Remember what Jessica said. Relax. Smile a little. “Then, yes, that sounds nice. Do you have something in mind?”

“I don’t know—this is very spontaneous. What if we get some coffee and walk on the Bainbridge ferry? It’s a beautiful day.” The elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened. He gestured for me to go first. “Shall we?”

“Okay, sure,” I said.

We walked side-by-side through the lobby, my heels clicking on the floor. Blake held the door and we stepped out onto the street.

“Do you mind walking?” he asked. “It’s not far. But if you’d prefer, I can get my car.”

The sun was warm, and the sky blue. “No, I don’t mind walking.”

I paused to get my sunglasses out of my bag. A short distance up the street, a man caught my eye. I did a double take, and sure enough, it was Mr. Amazing from Café Lit. He leaned against the building, like he might be waiting for someone. Those piercing blue eyes were fixed on me.

What was he doing here? Could it be a coincidence? But what were the chances of seeing him twice, in two completely different places?

I didn’t have time to contemplate the odds. Blake slipped on a pair of sunglasses and gestured for me to walk next to him. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder, but Mr. Amazing stayed where he was. His arms were crossed, and although he didn’t take his eyes off me, he didn’t follow, either.

It was disconcerting, but at the same time, I didn’t feel threatened. Something about his eyes were so disarming. It was strange to see him here—and stranger still that he’d been openly staring. But instead of being alarmed, I was intrigued all over again.

Blake hadn’t seemed to notice him at all, so maybe he hadn’t been looking at me. He could have been facing my direction and watching for someone else.

I was probably imagining things. I walked with Blake down toward the waterfront. We stopped for coffee and took our drinks to the ferry dock. The sun was shining, the light glinting off the water. It was a gorgeous day, and for the first time in too long, I was on a date. Jessica was going to be thrilled.

But I still looked over my shoulder more than once, wondering if Mr. Amazing was following me.