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arking garage when her phone dinged.

Reagan: Good morning . . . just woke up thinking of you. How’d you sleep? Me? I slept horribly without you. Thx for asking.

All the progress she’d made disappeared with a single text. Her heart raced and her stomach knotted. She was both too empty and too full in the same moment. Before she could compose a text that sounded the right amount of interested without being desperate, Reagan texted again.

Reagan: It’s so cold without you.

A photo followed of Reagan laying on the right side of the bed. Her messy hair covered part of her face as she pouted

and pointed to the other side. The empty side Libby had been sleeping on.

“God, you look so cute in the morning,” she whined, wishing she was under her sheets and buried in the warm nape of her neck. Late autumn was proving to be so much colder than she was used to, or maybe she’d become dependent on Reagan’s body heat.

Libby: I miss you too.

She sent the text before she could overthink it. Reagan had found the wherewithal to be open and vulnerable with her, the least she could do was reciprocate.

Reagan: I’m sure there’s a rule, but when can I see you again?

Is lunch too soon?

Libby laughed too hard, earning a questioning glance from one of the first-floor bankers who’d parked next to her.

Instead of being embarrassed, she waved at him, only increasing his confusion. People talked a lot about New Yorkers being rude. Those people have never been to Miami.

Friendliness between strangers was usually a sign that someone was going to try and pull something shady.

Libby: I have meetings all day, but how about dinner?

Reagan: Done. Do you want to meet somewhere? Or I can go to your place? I can make you a frozen pizza this time. lol.

Libby: Or I can pick something up from that little French place?

Bring it over?

Reagan: You and Coq au Vin??? Count me in! I’ll get us a bottle of that red blend you liked.

Libby: Okay, but after dinner we have to talk about the fundraiser. I’m going to have some things to show you later.

Reagan: I sure do hope you have some things to show me. It’s already been too long since I’ve seen them.

Grinning, Libby’s face turned hot. She was going to have to limit herself to one glass of wine or their relationship was going to take a massive leap forward tonight.

Libby: Don’t be terrible! I’ll be there at 9. XOXO

Still blushing, Libby tossed some things in her bag and started for the elevator. After ascending all the way to the top floor, her phone buzzed again. She couldn’t help hoping it was another picture of Reagan in bed, but it wasn’t.

Jennifer Borgmann: Hi Libby, I’m sorry to reach you like this. I just tried calling but it went to voicemail. I need to tell you ASAP

that I quit the matchmaking program. I guess text is better since the terms of service indicate I should give my notice in writing.

Libby made it as far as the waiting room before she dropped into one of the white leather chairs. Anxiety ripped through her system. Jennifer and Gale had hit it o so well.

Against her advice, they’d even taken a trip for the holiday.

In a panic, Libby pulled up a web browser on her phone and searched for her name. What new theory had surfaced about her? Or worse. What new truth?

As she scrolled through page after page, she didn’t find anything new. Even the negative press she’d gotten a few months ago was buried behind her popular videos, blog posts, and TV appearances.