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myself by thinking that it was a good thing Travis wasn’t there. He would have pointed out to Tomasz that the members of a self-made “family” didn’t qualify as tax-deductible dependents.
    Sometimes my financial advisor can be a little too literal. Travis is lovable, anyway, though. He’s always got my back.
    Especially if I need advice on derivative instruments.
    â€œHave you always been close at Cartorama?” I asked, tuning back into the conversation with another tasty sip of porter.
    â€œSure. For the most part. We were almost split up last year, though,” Tomasz confided, pulling a sad face. “A group of real-estate developers tried to buy out the property that all our food carts are parked on. They wanted to build one of those huge apartment complexes on our corner.” He aimed a grateful smile at Janel. “Janel led the effort to save us all.”
    She actually blushed. I couldn’t believe it. She got tongue-tied, too. “Well, maybe. I mean, okay, kind of,” Janel stammered. “I guess. But I couldn’t let our stupid landlord sell out and take away my only means to see Declan, could I?”
    I swear, my eyebrows reached my hairline. Janel noticed.
    â€œSettle down, dude. He’s on my mind today. Obviously, I meant my only means to get chocolate stuff at Cartorama.”
    She gave a derisive snort, then gulped down some shrub.
    I examined her a minute, then let it go. If she was obsessed with her ex-boyfriend, she wouldn’t be the only one. Oftentimes people have trouble letting go of lost relationships.
    I wasn’t immune myself. I’d hung onto Carissa all these years, hadn’t I?
    I wondered how she was doing. If her parents were with her.
    But we’d been apart for too long for me to be the one to lead the charge to her doorstep with a wreath of flowers and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. We weren’t that close anymore.
    â€œHow did you stop the developers?” I asked instead.
    â€œPetitions. Protests. Media pressure.” Tomasz ticked off those tactics on his fingertips—his evocative, skilled-looking fingertips. “The usual. Oregonians have a history of battling unwanted developments and winning—if properly led, of course.”
    His affectionate glance at Janel was ambiguous at best. I still couldn’t tell if they were more than friends.
    â€œOur landlord was hard to get to—they’re a consortium called Common Grounds, not really a single person we could target. The whole thing dragged on awhile,” Janel told me. “We were all pretty nervous. Vendors rely on cheap rents for spaces to park their food carts. If they had to pay the full costs of running traditional restaurants, most of them wouldn’t make it.”
    Tomasz nodded, glancing somberly between the two of us.
    I was glad for them, but... “The land must be worth a lot more now than it used to be, though,” I pointed out, remembering all the construction I’d seen earlier. “I can’t believe your landlord didn’t decide to cash in. This area is booming.”
    â€œIt is,” Tomasz agreed. “But in the end, Common Grounds decided against any more negative publicity. And that was that.”
    I couldn’t let it go. “Are you sure that was that?”
    They both frowned at me. Quizzically.
    I thumbed my chocolate porter, turning it around on the table. I wiped away the condensation on the glass. “What if . . .”
    I trailed off, feeling ridiculous. Also, light-headed again.
    â€œYes?” Tomasz urged in a silky, sexy voice.
    â€œSpit it out,” Janel commanded. “Sheesh. If you’re this tentative when ‘chocolate whispering,’ I don’t know how you ever get anything done. Is your reputation all smoke and mirrors?”
    That did it. I couldn’t stand for having my reputation maligned. “What if Common Grounds—or the developers—