But he had said compete, and something in her that had been asleep for two years opened one eye.
"What kind of competition?"
"A series," Graham said, warming to it. She could see him warming to it; the lawyer in him was drafting terms. "Events. Christmas events. Whoever loses an event has to tell the truth — the whole truth — about why they wanted that doll."
"How many events?"
He considered. "Ten."
"Ten. Like a decathlon."
"A Christmas decathlon."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Gina, and held out her hand across the table. "I'm in."