Which meant she was going to meet people he worked with. That made her nervous. “I’m glad I dressed up.”

He reached over, grabbed her hand in his. “They’re a relaxed group. Down to earth.”

“I won’t dance on a table, don’t worry.”

His eyes traveled to hers. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Dameon had seen Grace in her life, her world. Now it was time to see what she looked like in his.

He drove up to the hotel where the event was taking place and pulled in line for the parking valet.

“There are a lot of limos.” Grace stared out the windshield.

“It’s flashier than the Prius the Uber driver uses.”

As they rounded the corner, Grace found something else to comment on. “Are those reporters?”

He laughed. “My guess is they call themselves that, but I’m guessing paparazzi is a better description. But don’t worry, they won’t take pictures of us. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“There are famous people going to this party?”

He shrugged. “I think so. Those kinds of things don’t impress me.”

“I haven’t met anyone famous. Don’t let me make a fool of myself.”

“I’ll let you know if you’re drooling.”

When their turn came, the valet opened the doors for them. The flashing bulbs and loud clicks of the camera went crazy. By the time Dameon rounded the car and took Grace’s hand in his, the paparazzi had aimed their cameras somewhere else. In his experience, only the new photographers bothered to take his picture, unsure of who he was. And that was how he liked it.

But Grace was smiling, and it was worth it for him to see the look on her face.

They were greeted at the door first by the hotel staff, and then by a woman in a black evening dress with a small microphone hanging from an earpiece.

He approached her and gave both his name and Grace’s.

Grace squeezed her fingers on the crook of his arm as they walked toward the bank of elevators that would take them to the party.

“This is a first,” Grace said as they walked through the hotel.

“If you get enough of that and want to leave . . .”

“I’ll let you know.”

Once they were in the main room on the top floor of the hotel, Dameon checked their coats and walked her through the sea of people. The men wore suits, some without ties, some in full-blown tuxedos. The women were a combination of flashy to classy. But it was Grace who managed both. The room was decorated in silver, white, and gold with tons of twinkling lights. A dance floor was set up, and a band filled the space with music. Each table was numbered for dinner seating.

“Champagne or martini?” Dameon asked.

Grace looked at the lights above their heads. “This screams champagne.”

When a waiter walked by with a tray of flute glasses, Dameon snagged two. Before Grace took a sip, he offered a toast. “To new beginnings,” he said.

She smiled and tapped her glass to his. “I like that.”

Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. “Have you ever been to New York?” he asked.

“No.”

“I want to see the lights of that city shine in your eyes.” He wanted to see the lights of every city in her eyes. Or maybe even the flickering stars in a moonless desert sky.

“Either I’m out of practice, or that’s a new pickup line,” she teased.

Dameon leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I’ve already picked you up, so it isn’t a line.” He kissed the side of her face before settling back on his heels.

He saw the warmth on her face and the ease of her smile.

“Excuse me, is this man bothering you?”

Dameon heard Omar’s voice before he turned to greet his friend. They shook hands and went in for a half hug. “Happy New Year,” Dameon said.

“Happy New Year to you, too. This must be Grace.”

Dameon set his glass down and introduced them. “Omar is my CFO and longtime friend.”

“Friends long before he was my boss,” Omar said as he shook Grace’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that right?” Grace glanced at Dameon. “I’ve heard nothing about you.”

Omar reached for his chest and winced. “I’m wounded.”

Dameon laughed. “If I talked about you, she would never have come tonight.”

The chest Omar was pretending pain with now puffed out like a peacock. “I’m a lady magnet, Grace. He’s just afraid you’ll find me more attractive.”

Grace visibly relaxed. “The one who struts the most has the least to brag about,” she told him.

Dameon pointed at his friend. “She’s got ya there.”

Omar narrowed his eyes. “I like this one.”

“How many of us are there?” Grace asked, her eyes shifting to Dameon.

“Let’s see, there’s Ally, Brandy, Connie, Darlene—”

Dameon nudged Omar away. “Don’t listen to him. He’s reading off his little black book, not mine.”

“I did like Darlene . . . she did this thing with her ton—”

“Enough with the details,” Dameon cut him off.

Grace was laughing, thank God.

“Have you met the rest of the staff?” Omar asked Grace.

“Not yet.” Dameon looked around the room, saw a few familiar faces at the silent auction table. “Let’s see what we can spend some money on.” He slid his hand along Grace’s waist and led her away.

“I see someone I want to say hello to,” Omar said before walking in the opposite direction.

“Omar doesn’t have an off button,” Dameon told Grace.

“You two are obviously good friends or he would have kept things polite,” she said.

“I’m glad you saw that. Because there isn’t a Brandy or Darla.”

“Darlene,” Grace corrected him.

“Her either. I date one woman at a time.”

Grace looked at him. “Really?”

“I have to juggle work. I refuse to do the same with women.”

For a minute, he wasn’t sure Grace believed him. But the slow smile that washed over her face told him his words hit home. “Okay, then.”

They approached the auction table, and Dameon placed both his hands on Grace’s waist while looking over her shoulder at the items being sold.

“A trip to someone’s summer home in Italy? Who does that?” Grace asked.

“Someone who doesn’t visit their second home and needs the write-off.”

“That’s nuts.”

They moved down the table filled with pricey trips and jewelry. There were studio audience tickets for talk shows based in LA. Spa baskets for her and eighteen holes on exclusive golf courses for him. Each item she looked at and passed over.

“See anything you like?” he asked.

She giggled and whispered, “It’s all out of my price range, but it’s fun to look at.”

“It’s not out of my price range,” he told her. Although he was fairly certain Grace knew that.

“Then what do you want? Do you play golf?” She pointed to the golf package.