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“She’s great.”

Jamie studied the small menu for a few moments. “Lesbian?”

“I’m not sure how she identifies, but she does date women. We went out a couple of times. Nothing came of it.” Was this weird? Leighton couldn’t tell. There was a strange energy bouncing between them, but Jamie did still have a smile on her face. That was something.

“Been there. There was no T-shirt.” She peeked out from behindthe menu. “That saying is a lie, by the way. There are never shirts to accompany a bad experience. There should be. Can you imagine? One would sayI ate bad shrimp last week. Another,My girlfriend likes to dance on vans.”

“Wait. What?” Leighton said, laughing. “That’s too specific to not be true.”

“It is. Status report. You dated elegant Helen over there, and my ex, Monique, was a party girl who liked to van dance. Now we know everything.” She sipped her wine. “This friendship continues to grow. Are we doing dessert? Please say,Yes, of course, Jamie.”

“One of my favorite things about you is your undying commitment to food and beverages. We’re alike in that way.”

“No. I think I win, but you can be a distant second.” Her eyes sparkled, and that made Leighton surrender. “I will give you that.”

They sipped in silence for a few moments before their server returned and took their order for the lemon cheesecake that came in the shape of two realistic-looking lemons. “We need a photo. This is too impressive.” Jamie held up the dish and indicated Leighton should slide closer. With cheesecake lemons in front of them, they smiled for Jamie’s phone. Like clockwork, Leighton felt the warm tingle that being close to Jamie always brought on. She bit her lip to correct her body’s reaction and signaled the server for the bill. There was one problem. She didn’t want the night to end. It had been the best she’d had in a while.

After they’d killed the wonderfully creative cheesecake, she took the leap. “My place is near here. Want to swing by and see the view? It’s breathtaking at night.”

Jamie turned her head and side-eyed Leighton. “Is this—”

“No. Nope. Not a come-on. A boring, everyday request to show off.”

Jamie handed her credit card to the server, upholding her promise to buy. “In that case, I’d love to see it.”

* * *

Jamie walked around Leighton’s twenty-second-story apartment with a view of Central Park on one side of the living space and a viewof the twinkling city lights on the other. “You shouldn’t get to have both. Now, that’s just not fair.” Jamie’d said it with a grin. “I only say that because I’m jealous.”

Leighton found them a couple of bottled waters from what looked to be a huge fridge. “You have an in with the owner. I bet she’d let you swing by now and then.”

Jamie made a point to light up, catching the water Leighton tossed her. “That’s right. I know a girl.” She walked the perimeter of the overly large apartment that only one person lived in. Surreal. She had a feeling three or four of her apartment could fit in this space. “You could set up a little jogging track in here. Have you ever considered that?” Leighton in spandex was an image she set aside. Peeling her out of it was, too.

“It’s only large by New York City standards.”

Jamie nearly choked on her water. “You have liquid gold coursing through your veins if you think that. Where is that silver spoon you were born with? Do you keep it in the kitchen or the bedroom?” She passed Leighton a sweet smile so she didn’t get tackled in a high-rise.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment regardless of how you meant it.” She made an exaggerated grandiose gesture. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Too good an offer. Don’t mind if I do. Gonna see how the other half lives. We should call Clarissa. This room would make for a fantastic sleepover.”

“Hmm. Maybe not tonight.”

“Fine.” Jamie took a seat on the softest leather couch she’d ever encountered. She was about to remark on it when a magazine open to an article featuring Logan Morrow caught her attention. She picked it up and gestured. “Are you related to the Congress guy? Just occurred to me that you have the same last name.” Maybe Leighton had a politician uncle in the city. She wouldn’t put it past her.

“He’s my father,” she said dully.

“Oh.” The playfulness evaporated from the room. Jamie turned around, absorbing. “Really? I had no idea. He’s pretty famous in this state.” She shook her head because the pieces didn’t fit. An uncle might have gone unmentioned, but not her father. She’d only ever said she didn’t know her dad.

Leighton leaned back on the granite countertop in the open concept kitchen. “Really.”

“You’ve talked about your mom. The Carringtons. Courtney. But you’ve never talked much about him.”

“Right.” She took a moment. “I’ve just never actually met the guy.”

“Wow.” Jamie went still. Her heart ached as she began to understand. “Okay. So he and your mom weren’t…”

“He had a wife and a family when they met at a campaign stop back in the day. The Carringtons were donors. He wanted nothing to do with her once he heard the news about me. I think he sent some money on occasion. Obviously, with Carrington stock, she didn’t need it. What she needed was a father for her kid.”