Sure enough, Dante’s bold, masculine writing was scrawled across the small square of paper. All it said was:

These got mixed in with my stuff. —DD

Cleo crumpled the paper up in her fist and tossed it in the wastepaper basket. Lovely. Just when she’d resolved to never again think of their encounter in Japan, he had to bring it all back in graphic detail without even having to be physically present.

She sat down behind her desk after getting the fancy coffee machine up ...