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Which was a gorgeous neighborhood down in Summerlin with lakes and canals, just far enough away that she doubted Aaron would head over there to investigate.

He seemed to accept the story, and gave a nod as he said, “I can see why this house might be a lot for one person. It practically screams ‘family home.’”

“That it does,” Delia replied, since her first impression of the place was that it was pure Brady Bunch — updated for the twenty-first century, of course.

“Well, I’ll take a look around,” Aaron told her next. “There are just a few things I’d like to get some extra photographs of.”

“Take your time,” she responded at once, although she hoped he wouldn’t dawdle too much. Officially, the open house was supposed to end at five-thirty, but she knew some people liked to linger, which was why she’d told Caleb she’d meet him for dinner at half past six rather than right on the hour.

Aaron sent her a friendly smile and then headed into the backyard, phone already out so he could get whatever supplemental photographs his client might need. While he was outside, several more brokers left, and she wondered if she was going to get stuck alone here with him.

A little chill went down her spine, and she told herself not to be such a baby. It wasn’t as if she’d never met the guy before, and besides, she couldn’t spend the rest of her life jumping at shadows.

Especially since neither she nor Caleb knew for sure whether the smudges he’d spotted on the back door had even belonged to a demon.

She supposed that was another annoying thing about the hellish creatures. Once you’d admitted the truth of their existence, it was almost impossible not to start seeing them everywhere.

Sort of like cockroaches.

But there was Marcy, coming by to snag the penultimate snickerdoodle.

“I probably shouldn’t,” she said, even as she placed the cookie on a napkin and broke off a piece. “But I didn’t have any lunch today, and I’m just famished!” After consuming the bite-sized morsel, she added, “Did you make them?”

“Oh, no,” Delia replied at once. “I’m not much of a baker. There’s a great bakery just a few blocks from my office — Short and Sweet. That’s where I get all of my goodies.”

“And you always have the tastiest treats,” Marcy said.

“I’ll have to check that out. I’ve been trying to make my own things for my open houses, but it’s just so much work that I think I’d be better off grabbing something from a bakery instead.

” Another bite, and she went on, “I have a buyer who I think will be perfect for this house. Is it all right if I bring them by tomorrow?”

For all her outward flightiness, Marcy was an excellent real estate agent and very good at matching houses to clients.

If she had someone she thought was a good fit for Caleb’s former home, then it might be a done deal.

And thank God for that. Delia had the feeling that the sooner they unloaded the place, the better.

“Whenever you like. I’ll be putting the lockbox on after the open house today. ”

“Then I’ll look up the code on the MLS sometime tomorrow. Thanks again for the cookies!”

And Marcy headed out, breaking off another piece of her snickerdoodle as she went.

Only one left — both in terms of the cookies and the agents who’d been looking at the house.

Delia was sorely tempted to wrap up that final cookie and put it in the bag from the bakery so she could take it home, but professional courtesy told her she needed to leave it on the platter while Aaron was still here.

If he didn’t scoop it up, then she could safely consider it hers.

He came back downstairs as she was straightening the flyers on the kitchen island, more out of a desire to look as if she was doing something than because they’d actually gotten shifted out of place.

“The upstairs bedrooms are really nice-sized,” he said as he approached her. “That was something I wanted to check on, since it’s one of the hardest things to tell when you’re just looking at a picture.”

“Your client has children?” Delia asked, knowing she needed to remain polite and professional, even though now it was almost a quarter to six and she just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Aaron nodded. “Two. And she works from home half the time, so being able to use the extra bedroom as an office is a real selling point.” His gaze moved from her to the one remaining cookie on the platter. “Mind if I take that?”

Delia repressed an inner sigh. “Not at all,” she replied, even as she told herself she didn’t need the calories, especially since she was meeting Caleb at Battista’s. “Saves me having to pack it up.”

It wasn’t as if she couldn’t order a cannoli after dinner if she needed to satisfy her sweet tooth.

“Thanks,” Aaron said, then picked up the cookie and a napkin. “Anyway,” he went on after he’d taken a large bite, “I have a feeling my client will probably want to see the house sometime tomorrow.”

“It’ll be ready,” Delia said. “Like I just told Marcy, I’m going to put on the lockbox as I’m leaving tonight, so the house will be available to be shown whenever you like.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Marcy, huh.”

His tone wasn’t too thrilled, and Delia could see why. Marcy Talbott had been selling houses in Las Vegas for a long time, and he had every reason to be concerned that she was going to beat him to the punch on this one.

Which was just the way it worked. Real estate was all about timing.

And location, and money, and a whole lot of other things, but if someone got ahead of you in the queue, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do about it.

“But I don’t know when she’s going to show the place,” Delia said, doing her best to sound cheerful and upbeat, and to give Aaron some hope that he hadn’t been outmaneuvered yet. “So maybe you’ll want to see if your client is available to come look at it during their lunch break.”

His expression brightened at once. “That’s a good idea,” he replied.

“I’ll text her and see what she thinks.” Another two bites, and the cookie was gone.

He wiped his hands on the napkin, then tossed it into the stainless steel trash can discreetly placed under the island’s overhang.

Now looking almost diffident, he said, “Any dinner plans?”

One of the more oblique ways of asking a person out, Delia supposed, but she still couldn’t view the question as anything other than an invitation to a date.

Luckily, she had the perfect excuse ready — and it wasn’t even a lie.

“Actually, yes,” she said. “I’m meeting a friend for dinner.” A glance at her watch, and she added, “And I need to start closing things up if I don’t want to be late.”

At least Aaron was perceptive enough to recognize her comment for what it was. “Of course,” he said quickly. “Then I’ll get out of your way. And I’ll let you know if I’m going to come by with my client tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

He headed out, and she emptied the crumbs off the wooden platter she’d used to serve the cookies before slipping it into the tote bag she’d brought it in.

With that taken care of — and after using a damp paper towel to wipe away the few crumbs that had escaped — she went upstairs to make sure nothing had been disturbed and no one had left anything behind.

However, everything looked just as neat and tidy as it had been when she opened up the house a few hours earlier, so she descended the stairs, performed the same visual survey of the lower floor, and had the place closed up and the lockbox installed about ten minutes after six o’clock.

That would give her barely enough time to get to the restaurant, but she wasn’t too worried.

If Caleb arrived before she did, she knew she could trust him to get a table — or put their name on the hostess list if it turned out there was a wait.

Hopefully not, though. It was still a little early for people to be going out to dinner, and even on weeknights, people tended to eat later unless they were seniors who wanted to get their buffet discounts and head home before Celebrity Jeopardy was on.

Traffic had probably died down a little from its peak right after five, but enough cars packed the roads that Delia guessed she’d be at least a couple of minutes late.

Not much she could do about it now; Caleb knew she was coming straight to the restaurant from her open house, and obviously, she couldn’t have left until everyone was gone.

Luckily, there were plenty of open spots in the parking lot, confirming her suspicion that most people wouldn’t be venturing out to dine until a little later.

When she came into the restaurant, she spied Caleb’s shaggy, dark blond head at one of the booths, so she murmured to the hostess that she was meeting someone and hurried over there.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, knowing she sounded breathless as she slid into the booth. “Traffic was worse than I thought it would be.”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “I just got here a couple of minutes ago.”

He looked cheerful and relaxed, wearing his usual black leather jacket over a dark green button-up shirt. Most of the time, he wore tees or henleys, so she guessed the dress shirt was a nod to the poker tournament.

“How’d it go?” she asked, although the expression he wore was a pretty good indication that his luck had held.

“I’m going on to the next round of eliminations tomorrow,” he said and paused, since a waitress had just approached them and asked if they wanted any appetizers.

They both declined and then picked up their menus after she’d departed, promising them the glass of chianti that came with all the meals here.

“Still no hanky-panky?” Delia asked, not quite suppressing a smile.

She’d expected him to grin back at her. Instead, his expression sobered abruptly.

“You didn’t,” she said, her tone flat, and at once he shook his head.

“I absolutely did not,” he returned. “But I’m kind of worried someone else did.”

For a moment, she only stared at him. “What?”