“Gonna send a card to Jack?” Joy asked in a coy voice after a music-filled spell of writing. They all snickered, and I felt myself blush.

I snorted. “Sure, that’ll be the day.”

“You totally should, Grace. It could double as a thank-you card.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re out of your minds.”

“Oh, come on,” Missy coaxed, “what if he’s up there in LA, thinking about how much he likes you, and how he wishes he could have some sign that you like him too?” She was really getting into it. “And then this card arrives—the sign he’s been waiting for! And he drives down here in a limo and sweeps you off your feet, and you fly to Bali to get married. All because you sent him a simple little note.”

I was snickering in spite of myself. “Missy, you’re leaking melodrama all over my clean carpet; knock it off.”

“So … gonna do it?”

“Sure,” I said sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll write him one right now. What should I say?”

Joy jumped into the action. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you gorgeous hunk, you, thanks for coming to my rescue, your devoted Grace.” She blink-blinked innocently, and we all dissolved into laughter.

“Oh, please’,” I groaned. “You guys are awful.”

“Well, if you write the card we’ll leave you alone.” Missy smiled sweetly over the top of her mug of hot chocolate.

“Forget it, ladies. I’m not gonna do it.”

Missy sighed and shrugged. “Big mistake, but okay.”

We went back to our cards, and I marveled silently at how out of hand the other girls were getting with this whole thing. It was all just a bizarre fluke, something I’d get to brag about for the rest of my life, the closest I’d ever get to living a storybook romance—but that was all. I had no expectation of ever meeting up with Jack Harrington again.

JACK

SHOOTING WAS FINALLY COMPLETED on Destiny Awaits, and I was savoring the ability to sleep late and lounge around in bed as long as I wanted. But when I saw the clock change to 11:00 a.m., I reluctantly got up, figuring I ought to do something more productive than lie in bed all day. As I ate a brunch of leftover Chinese, I flipped around on TV and ran across the film, Grace of My Heart. Seeing the name in the small yellow box on the bottom of the screen instantly reminded me of Grace, and suddenly the dream I’d been in the middle of when I had awakened was clear as day in my head.

I’d been dropping off the car at Grace’s apartment again, but this time I’d gone in and sat at her kitchen table. She’d taken the keys from me, then sat down and started laughing. “What?” I’d asked.