He looked at her, and there it was again, the crinkle in his eyes. They’d never gone on a walk like this together, but they’d shared so many drives. She’d been baffled when Ted bought the Lexus and hired James. Who paid that much money for a car only to let someone else drive it? But soon she found reasons for James to drive her places.

They reached the top of the ridge and James stopped. From here they could see Santa Monica and Venice, the marina, and the calm blue line of the Pacific. Behind them, a tall fence traced the property line, preventing Phoebe from going any farther and taking her chances with the mountain lions roaming the national reserve. Down below, through the canopy of trees, she saw guests arriving and yellow figures rushing them, a mad skirmish to hydrate and intoxicate. And there, nibbling on a sycamore, a giraffe.

“Look at him,” she said, pointing at the giraffe. “So stately.”

“Yeah. But he can haul ass when he needs to. Thirty-five miles an hour, which is even more impressive when you think that giraffes only sleep for thirty minutes a day.”

“Stop it. Half an hour? That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Poor baby,” she said to the giraffe. “You need a nap.”

“A one-minute nap,” James said, and Phoebe laughed.

“James Washington, still ready with the fun facts.” Oh damn. She wished she could take it back. A frothy moment and she’d spoiled it. Silence fell over them like a mantle.

He’d regaled her with fun facts on the drive to her appointment with Jerry Silver, to keep her nerves at bay. Number one: Know what makes you unique. Maybe you collect pencil erasers or enjoy riding unicycles. Don’t be afraid to weave some fun facts into the conversation. Number two: Recite a tongue twister to keep you limber. And then he’d rattled off something almost unpronounceable about a woman named Betty who’d bought the wrong kind of butter. Number three: Before you go in the room, do ten push-ups. It will help you project confidence. Number four: Picture your audience naked. This was when she’d told James who she was going to meet.

“The man himself?” he’d asked, and when she confirmed it, James had whistled and told her he would only be calling her Ms. Lee, “like the above-the-line individual you are.”

Then Jerry’s assistant had called, interrupting their laughter, to move the appointment from the Silvertown offices to the Chateau Marmont. Phoebe had offered to reschedule but was told Jerry wouldn’t be available again for months. She couldn’t go home empty-handed to Ted and his magnanimous told-you-so’s, so she said yes.

“Everything all right?” James asked after she hung up, the tension in her voice during the phone call unmistakable.