The following Thursday was a dark and stormy night and Rossi’s was half empty. Patrons examined the windows, predicting the first snow of the season. The venetian blinds were half closed and the muted lights of the interior gave a soft glow, belying the wind and rain blowing through downtown.

Kira mechanically went through the motions of her job while thoughts raged through her mind about the previous Friday night.

Caleb had stolen her great-grandmother’s necklace. How dare he? The nerve. And yet, he didn’t know it was an antique heirloom. He’d tried to give it back. Intended to return it, but fear had overcome his nerve to admit what he’d done. And life had intervened to prevent him from finding her.

For hours, she wrote up tickets, took orders, delivered dinner plates, and made polite small talk, but occasionally Jan would shoot her looks of consternation, brow rising in question. Kira just shook her head and kept on walking.

Caleb had kept the necklace in a slip of tissue in a secret pocket of his wallet all these years. He’d preserved it. The necklace looked exactly as she remembered it. In fact, he’d taken the time and expense to replace the broken clasp and it matched the rest of the necklace’s strand of chain perfectly.

Each morning Kira put it on, and marveled that it was back. It wasn’t lost for good as she’d feared all these years. In some ways, it was like a miracle. She’d stare into the bathroom mirror with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“That’s a gorgeous necklace,” a woman’s voice said, interrupting her thoughts.

Kira glanced down at an older couple she was serving prime rib platters to. She set the au jus on the table, refilled their water glasses and made sure they still had plenty of red wine. “Thank you,” she said.

“I’ve been noticing how you keep touching it.”

“Do I?” Kira gave a self-conscious laugh.

“Is it a gift from someone special?” the woman asked, a twinkle in her eyes. Her frosted white hair glowed under the candlelight on the table. Her husband was busy slicing up his beef, but watched his wife and Kira with deep brown eyes folded into wrinkles.

“Yes, it was a gift from my grandmother before she died. It belonged to her mother.”

“I thought you were going to tell me it came from a handsome admirer.”

That was ironic, considering what had happened to it the last decade. “Actually,” Kira admitted. “It was lost for a long time and recently found.”

The customer gave a nod. “That explains why your hand keeps going to it.”

“I’m a little shocked it’s back, I guess,” Kira said ruefully. Caleb’s words from the night of the high school reunion reverberated in her mind. You were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.

The way he spoke reminded her of Jane Austen’s Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice. Bingley was besotted with Elizabeth’s older sister but Jane was so reserved in returning any sign of her interest in him that she almost lost him forever.

Elizabeth Bennett, on the other hand, despised Mr. Darcy who was a painfully stoic man without a sense of humor. They spent the entire book misunderstanding each other.

Caleb Davenport reminded her of both Bingley and Darcy, and at the moment she didn’t want anything to do with him. He had caused her heart so much anguish for ten years. At the same time, Caleb was an enigma. A bundle of contradictions. A nobody in high school and now boasting a multi-billion-dollar enterprise to his name. With such handsome looks that made every woman swoon—or stop in their track to stare.

Not her. She was not going to swoon.

“So why am I still thinking about him?” Kira muttered when she strode across the restaurant to her next table.

Because he’d been calling and texting her—and so far, she’d ignored all of them.

She was ignoring him at the moment because she had felt that rush of tingles up her stomach when he danced with her. The admiration in his eyes when he looked at her from across the table made her heart go crazy. The warmth of his hands on her back, or his fingers slipping through hers when he held her hand was enough to turn her entire body into a puddle of longing.

Kira couldn’t get him out of her mind, but how could she reconcile his actions?

A group of teenagers swooped into the restaurant, laughing and chatting. Kira checked the time. It was past the dinner hour, and later than she thought. Perhaps they were here for dessert. A few of the boys wore letterman jackets. Probably coming from the football game. Pretty girls with shiny hair hung on their boyfriend’s arms, teasing, bumping into each other in a youthful courtship dance. They looked so young it made Kira feel old and wistful. She had never been a part of that scene.

A moment of sympathy came over her for the seventeen-year-old Caleb Davenport. He’d been an outsider, too. Looking on from a position of loneliness outside the circle, like an outcast.

Kira laid out dessert menus to the group of kids who barely glanced in her direction. She set out ice water and Cokes. Someone wanted hot chocolate with whipped cream.

So what had Caleb done with his life? He’d created an app called DREAMS. Built an empire to help fulfill other people’s dreams. He’d followed his aspirations and made an incredible life for himself. He certainly wasn’t working at the local gas station for minimum wage.

But what had she done? She’d poured her heart and soul into music, her passion for the piano giving her dreams and goals, but when life crashed down around her she gave up.

On her way home that night, Kira scrolled through Caleb’s text messages and voicemails asking to see her, to let him explain, to apologize and beg her forgiveness. It had been almost a week and she hadn’t responded to a single one yet. She’d been too upset. It wasn’t like her to ignore somebody so completely for so long, but a streak of stubbornness had taken over.

At first, the invitations were for dinner. Tickets to a showing of the Broadway musical, 42^nd Street, at the theater. A Broncos Game if she loved football. An indie movie at the plush sixteen screen movie-house. Then it became:

How about meeting for coffee? I won’t take much of your time, I promise.

Later, it was:

How about just a drink after dinner? I’ll come to Rossi’s at the end of your shift if that’s easier.

Interspersed with the invitations were apologies, very sweet apologies actually.

As another week passed with more messages from Caleb, Kira could feel herself softening, but then she’d hold the necklace in her cupped hand at night when she took it off and shake her head, no.

Caleb’s messages had moved from more than just apologizes and invitations. He was telling her silly jokes and blaming them on Troy.

How does an elephant hide in a cherry tree? Paints its toenails red. Brilliant, huh?

The next day:

How do you catch a ‘unique elephant’? U-Neak up on it.

A few minutes passed and then another text:

Gotcha with that one. I know I did!

Kira rolled her eyes while she groaned out loud. The man did not know how to give up!

Perhaps that’s what made him so successful at his business.

Then, finally, an invitation struck a nerve.

Hey, I got tickets to see Celeste Delorios, the world-renowned pianist from Italy, in concert with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra. I’d be honored if you were my guest for the evening.

Caleb sounded so formal. It was kind of charming, actually. Caleb was a great combination of both Darcy and Bingley, stiff and formal one moment, gregarious the next.

But Celeste Delorios! Several months ago, Kira had heard she was on a U.S. tour and coming to Denver. What a dream that would be.

Six months ago, she would have given her eye-teeth to see the woman live on stage. Now . . . she feared it would only make her eve more sad to have been away from the piano for so long. Not that her father didn’t beg for a piece or two—but she hadn’t played seriously, and Kira knew she was losing her technique.

She saw herself slipping further away from the abilities she’d developed over the past decade. Soon, she’d only be good enough to play hymns at church for the congregational singing.

Hours passed while Kira did her grocery shopping, got her hair trimmed, paid her bills, and cleaned the house. Caleb texted again that evening.

Come on, Kira, it’s Celeste Delorios! Please say yes. I’d be honored. I’ll merely be a polite, gentlemanly escort so you don’t have to sit alone. I won’t say a word. I’d hate for you to miss out on such a performance.

Her mind whirled—yes, no, yes, no—while Kira unpacked frozen pizza into the freezer and shoved the carton of milk into the empty spot in the fridge.

She popped open a Diet Coke and filled a glass with ice, switching on the TV. Time to do her nails. The polish was badly chipped and they needed to look nice while serving customers. Even her fingernails were longer than she usually kept them when she was actively playing the piano several hours a day.

The weight of what she had lost was often a stone on her chest.

Shoving a cushion behind her head, she sprawled against the couch and tucked her legs underneath her. Miss Pixie came out of hiding, purring as she plopped herself down on Kira’s bare toes.

Kira petted her while a tear dribbled down her nose. The TV blared with a Velveeta cheese commercial.

This is what her life amounted to now. Every day she served beautiful food to beautiful people, visited her needy parents, and cleaned a dumpy apartment. She was only twenty-eight! How pathetic her life had become.

She was even envious of the young mothers wrangling their screaming children in the Albertson’s produce department. At least those frazzled mothers had a purpose, an important job, including a life-time of hugs and kisses watching their children grow into adulthood.

Her phone buzzed again. She snatched it up, curious to see what Caleb had written next.

I’m sure I’m driving you crazy. Maybe you threw your phone into a snow bank, changed your number, and I’m texting into the empty universe.

Kira pictured a smashed, forlorn cell phone lying in a snow bank. Then she pictured Caleb sitting at a computer with the DREAMS logo staring back at him. The guy was full of dreams. At least, he didn’t take no for an answer. He didn’t give up. He kept going for his dream.

Caleb Davenport put her to shame. He’d had an easier life than she’d had. He probably also had wealthy parents. Obviously good genes had turned him from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan. Even if she dated him, he’d probably dump her when he began to realize that he could have any gorgeous model in the world. Exotic women probably fell all over him. He could snap his fingers and they’d drape their bodies along his and promise him the moon.

After all, he was a billionaire. What did he want with plain, boring Kira Bancroft?

A fresh text pinged her phone.

Listen, I won’t even attend. We can do a drop-off of your ticket at a location full of people. You can go to the piano concert by yourself. I just hate for you to miss it and want you to have the opportunity.

“Aha,” she said out loud, startling Miss Pixie who was now kneading at her stomach with her paws while sand-papering the inside of Kira’s wrist with her tongue. “I knew it! After ignoring your messages for almost two weeks, you decided I could have the tickets while you went out with the billionaire sheik’s daughter on his thirty-foot yacht in the Arabian Ocean. I’m on to you, Caleb Davenport. You are a fraud.”

Kira’s fingers hovered over the letters on her phone, giggling at her own nonsense while Miss Pixie gazed at her quizzically.

Kira: Okay, I’ll take the ticket. Drop it off at Rossi’s. What do I owe you?

Caleb: Absolutely nothing. Enjoy the show.

Kira: That’s it?

Caleb: That’s it.

Kira: Goodbye, then.

Caleb: If that’s what you want, your wish is my command.

Kira: That was easy.

Caleb: It’s not easy for me, but I’ll respect your wishes.

Kira: Quit being such a gentleman and yell at me for being a jerk to you.

Caleb: I’d never even dream of yelling at you.

Kira: There you go “dream”-ing again.

Caleb: It’s in my job description.

Kira: Or do you mean your genes?

Caleb: Is there a difference?

Kira burst out loud, laughing so hard she almost fell of the couch. She flopped backward, startling her cat. The feline gave a low growl in her throat, then jumped down with great dignity and went off into the corner to lick her ruffled tail.

Kira’s heart was racing, pounding as fast as the lightning speed of their text messages. Caleb was funny, and he possessed a quirky sense of humor.

He wasn’t supposed to be charming and handsome and rich. He was too good to be true. “Amiable” was the word the women of the 1820s used to describe the men they liked. Caleb might be amiable—a synonym for charming—but he had taken her necklace. No, he’d stolen it. He was a lazy thief. She’d cut him off at the knees.

Kira: Have a nice life.

Caleb: That was cold.

Kira: Better you find out now, than later.

Caleb: Let me have the experience first.

Kira: It’ll be painful.

Caleb: At least I’d feel something. Being with you is worth any amount of delayed pain.

Kira: Okay, you can stop now, Mister Dramatic.

Caleb: I always wanted to be in Drama, but I was chained to the computer lab.

Kira: Wow, so the rumor is true that Mr. Jennings tied the students to their chairs?? I always heard he was a tyrant.

Caleb: Yeah, that guy was such an ogre. Every Friday he had pizza delivered after school for the students working on extra projects. We were such code monkeys.

Kira: Is that what you call a programmer nerd?

Caleb: Code was our best friend. Maybe I should say IS our best friend.

Kira: Hey, don’t you have Troy, Brandon, Ryan and—and Adam to keep you company?

Caleb: Male buddies are only good for bar hopping and watching football. Friends only go so far, and I’m never interested in the women one can find at a bar.

Kira: Describe the woman of your dreams.

She knew she was only torturing herself by asking, but she was curious what Caleb would say.

Caleb: That’s easy. She’s gorgeous. Every male in the room stops to drop their collective jaws.

“Yeah, right,” Kira said to the phone. “I’ve never noticed anyone staring at me when I come into a room.”

Caleb: She’s statuesque, like a model. With thick, dark hair that feels like spun silk—although I’ve never had the pleasure of touching it.

Kira: So how would you know it feels like spun silk? You’re extrapolating.

Caleb: I have a good imagination.

Kira: Hm. Okay. As the guy who created the DREAMS app, I might give you that.

Caleb: Aha! So, you have done research on me . . .

Kira: A little. *grudgingly*

Caleb: Can you tell I’m smiling?

Kira: Wipe that silly grin off your face.

Caleb: Moving right along . . . my dream girl is also incredibly intelligent, talented, hard-working, and selfless.

Kira: You can stop now.

Caleb: You said that once already . . .

Kira: I mean it this time.

Caleb: Do I detect your face is red from blushing at the way I described you?

Kira: Who said I’m your dream girl? You could be describing lots of women out there.

Caleb: But only one stole all my senses almost fifteen years ago.

Kira: You sound like a sappy romance novel.

Caleb: I’ll attempt to write one just for you. But it might be written in bytes. Just warning you.

Kira: You can stop now.

Caleb: That was #3.

Kira: The man can add!

Caleb: You’re not letting me get away with anything.

Kira: Nope. Um, I have the breakfast shift tomorrow.

Caleb: I’m sorry to keep you up late. It was a pleasure talking to you.

Kira: This wasn’t talking. It was texting.

Caleb: I look forward to our next real-time, in real-life conversation, then. It’s already been two weeks since I’ve seen you.

Kira: I’m still angry.

Caleb: I figured. But you’re pretty funny when you’re mad.

Kira: I am not funny.

Caleb: Amusing. Humorous. Clever. Add that to my list above of traits that intrigue me.

Kira: You’re lucky I don’t hang up on you.

Caleb: It’s difficult to hang up on text messaging.

Kira: Very funny.

Caleb: Yes, I’ve been told that before, but not in a good way. More like funny-looking. Weird-funny. Get-out-of-my-sight-funny.

Kira’s heart tightened in her chest. He was self-deprecating, but there was something else behind his words. Even by text. There was more to Caleb Davenport, something mysterious, elusive. Did she want to find out? Yes, because she was curious now, although she wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, least of all him.

Was the man behind DREAMS still a nerd, or was he a player and feeding her lines? Was he the Mr. Darcy Elizabeth Bennett met that first night at the dance—the one that was a stuffed shirt, full of himself and a jerk—or was he a Bingley who buttered up Jane and then disappeared when she kept the love she felt for him hidden inside her heart?

Kira didn’t intend to let Caleb Davenport hurt her any more than he already had.

She had no idea if he was an honest man at all. Not after stealing her necklace and hoarding it for more than a decade.

She hadn’t even shown it to her mother yet. Her parents wouldn’t believe it. That some guy she hadn’t even known existed in high school had taken it and never returned it.

Her father would be furious, and despite Kira’s own indignant fury, she wasn’t ready to tell the world Mr. Davenport, CEO of DREAMS was a villainous thief.