Probably not, but that didn’t stop him pacing outside Tiffany’s every night like a desperate, discarded lover. He glanced at the store and gave a humorless laugh. They probably thought he was casing the joint. He half expected to be arrested. Brett had assured him that he’d handed the note to her personally, but that didn’t mean she’d come. Midnight at Tiffany’s. He could have written her a note saying “call me at the office,” but he knew that would have intimidated her. She’d found the courage to speak to him when she’d desperately wanted to contact his brother, but did she have the courage to speak to him when the interaction was more personal? He hoped so. This was a place she knew and loved. He hoped she’d come. And then he felt a soft touch on his arm and heard a familiar voice. “Chase?” WHAT WAS SHE doing here? She’d watched him for at least five minutes before plucking up the courage to approach him. What was she even going to say? Where did they start?
