Sophie Claire, are you listening to me?”
Sophie switched her cell phone to her other ear as she threw yet another rejected shirt on the bed. Her entire wardrobe was office-ready, but not even remotely first-date-ready. When had that happened?
“Sorry, Mom, what?”
Phone conversations with her mother were trying on the best of days, and painful when her mother was attempting to coax Sophie into yet another “self-improvement plan.”
Marnie let out the smallest of dignified sighs. “I was saying that Blair has an opening this weekend and is willing to take you on as a client. Don’t you think a little change to your look would be nice? I’m thinking darkening the blonde to something more natural. Maybe getting rid of the length? You’re not sixteen anymore, you know…”
“Brynn’s hair is the same length as mine,” Sophie said as she held up a green dress in the mirror. She made a face and tossed that in the reject pile. Mint green only looked good when she had a bit of a tan. Not something she could claim at the moment.
“Hmm, is it?” her mother was musing. “I suppose so, but Brynn wears hers straight, so it’s more age-appropriate.”
“Well, Brynn is older than me,” Sophie said with sham cheerfulness, “so when I’m her age, then we can have this chat, okay?”
“So what should I tell Blair?”
Tell him to take a flying leap. Or her. Sophie had no idea what gender her mother’s beloved hairstylist was, and she really didn’t care.
“Mom, I’ve got to go. I have another call coming in.”
“You do not. Who is it?”
“Good-bye, Mother. I’ll see you Sunday,” Sophie said, hanging up before her mother could attempt to launch her next campaign for Sophie’s betterment.
She tapped her phone against her chin as she surveyed her bedroom. There were now more clothes discarded on her bed than there were clothes in the closet, and she still didn’t know what to wear. For that matter, she didn’t even know what this date entailed.
Michael seemed like a decent enough guy. He was one of Will’s friends from college who’d just moved to the area, and Will wouldn’t set her up with a creep.
And yet, she hadn’t heard from him once since he’d first called to ask her out, despite his promise that he’d call with more details. He’d probably forgotten, since, being a guy, he had about three wardrobe options to choose from instead of a thousand.
She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. She had two hours until he was supposed to pick her up. Would it scream “high-maintenance” if she called and asked where they were going? A restaurant was a restaurant, but what if he was one of those creative types who had planned a picnic? She certainly wouldn’t be able to think about getting romantic if she had the Seattle spring breeze blowing up her cute skirt.
Screw it. Finding his number in her phone’s address book, she took the plunge.
The creaky voice that picked up was so unlike the masculine voice she remembered that she had to double-check that she’d called the right number.
“Michael?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Sophie Dalton.”
A pause.
“Oh shit.”
Sophie closed her eyes. “You’re sick, huh?”
“More like half-dead. I haven’t moved in two days. I completely forgot about our date.”
Sophie began hanging up dozens of shirts. The only thing she’d be wearing tonight was her sweats. “No worries,” she said. “You can’t help being sick.”
“Still, I should have called,” he said with a nasty cough.
“Please. You sound like a tuberculosis patient. I’m sure you had other things on your mind.”
Like dying.
“I’ll call you later this week for a reschedule?”
“Absolutely,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “I hope you feel better.”
Sophie tossed her phone into the pile of clothes and sat on the edge of her bed. She waited for the expected rush of disappointment.
It didn’t come.
If anything, she was bummed that it was the first sunny Saturday of the year and she had no plans. But she was oddly indifferent to being dateless. Michael was probably a nice enough guy, but if she was honest with herself, she’d only agreed to go out with him for one reason.
To forget The Kiss.
It had been almost two weeks since she’d nearly jumped Gray’s bones in the office, and the two of them had been circling each other like wary cats. He’d retreated behind a mask of ice, and Sophie had responded like a petulant four-year-old, needling him in every way that she could.
But neither one had mentioned what happened that night. Just like they hadn’t mentioned the dinner at his house, or the emergency room visit that had followed. It was like two eighth graders who couldn’t have a straight conversation and needed a mutual friend to pass notes.
Except there was no mutual friend in this case. And they weren’t immature eighth graders. They were scarred, wounded, emotionally crippled adults.
Who could not be more wrong for each other.
Sophie’s phone began to vibrate, and she groaned as she dug it out of the pile of halter tops and miniskirts. Probably her mother calling to remind her not to swear on the first date. Or any date.
Finally finding her phone, Sophie stared down at the name and number.
Definitely not her mother.
“Hello?” she asked. This had to be a pocket-dial.
“Sophie.”
Not a question. He’d called her intentionally.
“Gray,” she replied, relieved that her voice sounded calm. “I am not coming into the office on a Saturday, I don’t care how far behind you are on your plan of taking over the world.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh,” she said, flopping back on the bed. “Finally got up the courage to use my call-girl service, then, huh? I’ll have you know, I’m not cheap—”
“Would you like to come to a dinner party tonight?”
All of Sophie’s snark flew out the window and she sat up in confusion. “You mean like a date?”
He cleared his throat nervously. “Well, I mean, there’d be other people there. My friend Ian and his wife. Maybe their son, although I think he might be off at a birthday party or something.”
Sophie stared at the generic flower print hanging above her dresser in disbelief. “You want me to come with you to your friend’s house? For dinner?”
“That’s what a dinner party usually means.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it briefly. “This is sort of out of nowhere for someone who had his tongue down my throat and then didn’t talk to me for two weeks.”
“You didn’t talk to me either, Sophie. And don’t think I don’t know you swapped my coffee for decaf and pulled all the cheese off my sandwich before giving it to me. Very mature.”
Yeah…not her best moves. She’d been desperate to provoke him.
“All right, I’ll go,” she said simply.
“You will? You don’t have plans?”
“No,” she said on a sigh. “I was supposed to have a date tonight, but he got sick.”
“You were going on a date?”
There was something low and menacing in his voice, and Sophie couldn’t hide a smile. Maybe the man wasn’t so indifferent after all. “Yes, Grayson. A date. But he has consumption, so I’m free now.”
“What?”
“Never mind. What time?”
“Is an hour too soon for me to pick you up?”
“Gee, I’m glad I wasn’t a last resort or anything.”
He was silent for several seconds. “It took me this long to work up the courage.”
“Oh.” The admission melted her annoyance slightly. Okay, it melted it completely. She was practically mush. “I can be ready in an hour.”
“Great,” he said, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. “Bring a sweater or something. Ashley is insisting we sit outside even though it’s barely sixty degrees out.”
“Honey, in Seattle, this is practically beach weather,” Sophie said, pulling out a pair of blue capris, a white tank, and a yellow cardigan she’d stolen from Brynn. “Now go away. I need some time to don my hooker gear.”
“Don’t forget the boots,” he said before hanging up in her ear.
Sophie did a ridiculous little happy dance when she hung up the phone, before taking a deep breath and telling herself to pull it together. It was just a dinner party. With chaperones. Not a marriage proposal.
But it was the first time that Gray had been the one to initiate spending time together. And for a man whose emotions needed a wheelchair, that had to mean something.
* * *
“Holy crap,” Sophie said as she took in the treelined drive of Ian’s house. “Is it a requirement that all of your friends be fellow CEOs or pirates?”
Gray gave her a sidelong glance before parking next to an enormous fountain. Yes, an honest-to-God fountain. At someone’s house. Sophie was suddenly relieved that she’d had the foresight to be waiting on her front porch when Gray had picked her up. No way was he going to see the inside of her studio apartment now. His best friend probably had showers bigger than her entire home.
“Ian’s an attorney,” Gray said as they climbed out of his car. “He owns his own practice.”
“Jeez, no wonder my parents didn’t want me to drop out of law school. Do these people have their own stable? A carriage house?”
Sophie didn’t know much about real estate, but Ian’s address alone screamed “money.” Medina was one of Seattle’s richest suburbs, with many of its homes located near the water. It was minutes from downtown, and yet far enough away to have a view of downtown.
In other words, rich-people heaven.
Not her scene.
“Quit being a snob,” Gray said, as he led her along the walkway toward the front porch.
“I’m not,” Sophie said, trying not to squirm when he briefly set his hand on the small of her back. She wished she better understood what this was. A dinner party at his college friend’s could hardly be considered a date. But he’d invited her. Not Brynn, not some perfect potential girlfriend.
That had to mean something. Damned if she knew what. He’d barely spoken to her on the ride over. An open book he was not.
“I’m not a snob,” she said again, resisting the urge to see if the perfect hedges were fake. “It’s just intimidating, you know?”
“You weren’t intimidated at my place.”
“Well, sure, but your place, while nice, is hardly on par with this,” she said, gesturing to the enormous grounds and slice of waterfront view poking around the right side of the enormous white house. “No offense.”
“I don’t have need for all this space,” Gray said distractedly. “Not for one person.”
Sophie paused and stared at the back of his gray polo shirt. “Are you telling me you could afford this? If you wanted to?”
Gray glanced back and gave her an exasperated look. “What is with you? I’ve seen your parents’ house. It’s nearly as big as this. I’m guessing you hardly grew up on food stamps.”
“That’s my parents’ money,” she said defensively. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but cocktail waitresses can’t exactly afford Bentleys. And it’s not like Brayburn’s paying me all that much. Perhaps we should discuss a raise.”
Gray grabbed her hand and pulled her none too gently up the brick steps to their front door. “Just behave. Please.” He gave the door an impatient knock.
Sophie ran a finger over the door frame. “White. How is this possible? How can they have a perfectly white front door without a single scuff or speck of dirt?”
The pristine white door in question swung open, and Sophie’s first thought was that Gray was right. She had been a prejudging, stereotyping snob.
Ashley Porter was wearing cuffed jean capris, a plain white T-shirt, and those boat shoes that Sophie thought only people in the Hamptons wore. But the shoes were well worn, and the T-shirt had some sort of red stain near the hem. Hardly the immaculately groomed housewife that Sophie had been fearing.
The woman herself was beautiful in a completely unintimidating sort of way, her dark brown hair worn in a short pixie cut that only woman with perfect features could pull off. She had clever, friendly brown eyes and a wide mouth completely devoid of lipstick.
“Took you guys long enough,” she said as she ushered them in. “We were wondering how long you were going to stand in our driveway arguing.”
Sophie blushed, but the other woman’s voice held no accusation.
Ian wandered into the foyer with a beer in hand and gave Sophie a friendly hug as though they were old friends instead of total strangers. “Good to see you, Sophie. I see you’ve met Ash, my nagging shrew of a wife.”
Ashley shook Sophie’s hand before giving Gray an enormous hug, looking a bit like a friendly fairy cuddling up to a grumpy bear. Then Sophie glanced at Gray’s face and almost stumbled. Not only was he enduring the hug, he was actually smiling. And the relaxed affection was unlike anything she’d seen on his face before. She felt a sudden liking for these people she barely knew for being people he could relax around.
“You have a beautiful home,” Sophie said as she followed them into the kitchen. The inside was even more stunning than the outside. Ashley’s decorating taste ran toward soothing neutrals, which perfectly accentuated the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stunning view of Lake Washington.
“Thanks,” Ashley said with genuine pride. “I wish I could say it’s always this clean, but the truth is I took advantage of Ryan’s slumber party today to get everything back in order. Gray mentioned we have a six-year-old son?”
Sophie nodded.
“We lucked out and got a calm one, but that doesn’t mean my life doesn’t revolve around tripping on soccer balls and pulling action figures out of the sofa cushions.”
Her voice lacked any real irritation, and Sophie felt a spurt of jealousy. Ashley seemed to have it all. Handsome, successful husband, great kid, beautiful home. And even in her casual clothes, she had an air of confidence that Sophie had spent years trying to fake.
“Ian, did you fix the grill yet?” Ashley asked distractedly as she wrestled with a corkscrew.
Ian caught Sophie’s eye and shook his head before turning back to his wife. “I certainly did. Gray, come admire my skills. I just need a quick detour to the garage to grab my tools.”
“Ian!” Ashley said. “You said you’d have it fixed by the time they got here.”
“Ash, I’m thinking maybe the grill isn’t meant to work until Memorial Day. It’s a sign that we should be eating indoors.”
“We’re eating outside,” Ashley said as she poured two liberal glasses of white wine for herself and Sophie. “That’s why we have the heaters. Which are working, right?”
But Ian had already disappeared into the garage. Gray shot Sophie a glance. “You okay if I go help Ian?”
“Don’t worry, I promised Ian I wouldn’t interrogate her,” Ashley said, handing Sophie a glass.
“Just like he promised to fix the grill?” Gray said with a rare grin.
Ashley pointed to the French doors leading out to an enormous patio. “Go. I need girl time.”
“Don’t scare Sophie off,” Gray said with a small smile.
Sophie blinked in surprise. He was talking about her as though they were together. Which they weren’t. But he was out the door before she could figure out what he’d meant.
“He likes you,” Ashley said as she patted a bar stool at the center island. “It took him forever to admit it, even to Ian. But he wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise.”
“He hasn’t brought over women before?” Sophie was trying for casual curiosity, but it came out as insecure prying.
Ashley shrugged. “Not since Jessica. He’s mentioned he was engaged once?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t exactly liberal with the details, though.”
“Shocker.”
Sophie smiled. “You know him well.”
The other woman tilted her head. “So do you, apparently.”
“We work together. It’s my job to read him.”
“On weekends too?”
Sophie took a long sip of her wine and shifted in her seat. “I don’t really know what this is. I thought he was just bringing me along to make the situation more comfortable, but I’ve never seen him as comfortable as he is with you guys, so obviously that’s not it…”
Ashley shook her head. “He comes over every couple weeks or so. No buffer needed.”
Sophie was more confused than ever.
“It’s like I said,” Ashley said gently. “He likes you.”
A sharp rapping at the glass had them both looking up to see Ian staring in the kitchen window, miming shoving something in his mouth and pointing at the fridge.
“Oh crap, I forgot all about the bruschetta,” Ashley said. “I kind of wanted nothing to do with it after a tomato exploded all over my shirt. Sorry, I meant to change first, but I’m comfy.”
Sophie smiled. “Believe me, I like it better this way. I was picturing someone like my mother. Frosty hair, ever-present pearls, and designer slacks.”
Ashley snorted. “Not my thing. Grab that wine while I get the appetizers. Let’s go feed the menfolk.”
By the time the four of them were sitting around the outdoor table to a delicious dinner of barbecue chicken, grilled corn, and all-American potato salad, Sophie was feeling like part of their little dinner-party family.
The way Gray had his arm around the back of her chair and kept toying with the ends of her hair didn’t hurt either. She was starting to get the warm, glowing feeling that Ashley might be right.
Perhaps he did like her.
She grabbed her wineglass and leaned toward him just slightly, relishing the warmth from the wine, the toasty outdoor heaters, and the horribly attractive man by her side.
“So, Sophie,” Ian said, taking a long pull of his beer, “how’s your sister dealing with you stealing her boyfriend?”
Sophie choked on her wine and gave Gray a panicked look. He merely stared back with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, Gray and I aren’t…We’re not…I didn’t steal anybody,” Sophie said, feeling suddenly sweaty. These damn heaters. Damn wine. Damn man.
Ashley and Ian exchanged a conspiratorial look, but Ashley apparently took pity on her and changed the subject. “So, Gray, do you talk to Mary often?” Ashley asked.
Ian gave them a bland look. “No.”
“Who’s Mary?” Sophie asked.
“His old assistant,” Ashley explained. “He tried to bring her out to Seattle with him, but she didn’t want to move. But I’m betting he never spent time with her outside of the office.”
“Ash,” Gray said mildly. “You’re going to make Sophie uncomfortable.”
Sophie’s mind was reeling. What was going on here? Since when was Gray the one to make a situation more comfortable? That was supposed to be her job. And why was he not refuting them?
“Gray, you’re going to give them the wrong idea,” she murmured softly, even as she kicked him not so softly under the table.
“What idea is that?” he replied just as softly, giving her a private smile.
“That we’re…you know…a thing.”
He shrugged. “I can’t control what they think.”
“It’s true,” Ian said unapologetically. “We’ll make our own assumptions regardless of your excuses.”
Sophie hated that she was blushing, and Ashley gave her a sympathetic look before she stood and began gathering dishes. “Soph, would you mind grabbing that platter? We need more room on the table for dessert.”
“Absolutely!” Sophie said, shooting to her feet. She’d grabbed the plate and was in the kitchen before Ashley had stacked more than two plates.
“Sorry about that,” Ashley said, as she came into the kitchen. “The three of us have always been open with one another. It’s unfair to expect you to spill your guts when you’ve just met us.”
“It’s not that,” Sophie said, fiddling with a piece of paper towel. “I actually have chronic verbal diarrhea. Spilling my guts is kind of my thing. It’s just…I don’t know what Gray is after. And I can’t afford to be wrong, you know?”
“Yeah. I get it,” Ashley said, giving her a sympathetic glance.
Needing some space, Sophie threw the paper towel aside. “Is the bathroom down the hall?” she asked.
“Second door on the left.”
The hallway was covered in mismatched picture frames, most of them containing photos of a child whom she assumed to be Ryan. There had to be at least two dozen pictures of a darling blond boy from babyhood to Little League.
At the far end of the hall was Ian and Ashley’s wedding picture, and she couldn’t help but grin at their elated young faces. Her eyes fell on the best man and she did a double take.
Gray. The short dark haircut hadn’t changed a bit over the years, and he had the same fit, lean build. But the gray eyes were less guarded than the ones she saw on a daily basis. And younger Gray was actually smiling.
“Cute, weren’t we?” Ashley said coming up beside her.
“You still are,” Sophie said truthfully. “I had no idea Gray had so many teeth.”
Something sad flashed across Ashley’s pixie-like features. “Yeah, well. He’s always been quiet and reserved, but back then he wasn’t quite so…”
“Emotionally handicapped?” Sophie supplied with a smile.
She expected Ashley to smile back, but she gave a small shake of her head. “I was going to say ‘wounded.’”
Sophie’s smile faded, and she stared again at the picture of Gray. She was so used to seeing his lack of social charms as a character flaw. What if it was an emotional scab that she kept picking at?
“What happened? The fiancée?” she asked Ashley.
The other woman gave a short nod. “It was a rough one.”
For some reason, Sophie had a hard time picturing Gray being hurt by a woman. He seemed the type to let the messy emotional stuff roll right off of him.
Ashley seemed to be studying Sophie for a minute before directing Sophie’s attention to another picture. “That’s Jessica.”
The picture seemed to be at a celebration of some sort. Gray had his arm around a blonde woman, and Sophie leaned in for a closer look.
And felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach.
“She looks just like me.”
Ashley nodded. “This picture doesn’t even do your similarities justice. The facial features are uncanny. Ian mentioned that Gray thought there was a resemblance, but seeing you on the front porch took my breath away. It was like déjà vu.”
“Wow, no wonder he’s had such a hard time liking me,” Sophie muttered. “What happened exactly?”
Ashley looked away guiltily. “It’s not really my story to tell. I shouldn’t even have shown you this picture. I just thought you should know. She’s the reason he insists he’ll never get married.”
There was another kick in the stomach. Much harder this time.
It doesn’t matter.
Why should it matter? One kiss and an arm around the back of her chair did not a soul mate make.
“Really?” Sophie asked, grateful that her voice didn’t croak. “I didn’t know. I mean…we’ve obviously never had that kind of discussion.”
Ashley gave her a knowing look. “I’m not trying to rush you to the altar, of course. But if you are looking for an eventual husband and father of your children, well…it’s always better to know sooner, isn’t it?”
“Thank you for telling me,” Sophie said, not really sure if she meant it. Navigating this weird thing happening with her boss was hard enough without knowing she was basically a ghost from his past.
As for the whole Gray will never get married thing, well…that just wasn’t her problem, now, was it?
After using the restroom, Sophie helped Ashley finish doing all the dishes, but her previously light, giddy mood had evaporated. Her eyes kept straying to Gray’s profile as he and Ian still sat at the outdoor table.
At Ashley’s request, Sophie took dessert out on the patio and began dishing up strawberry shortcake with more force than necessary.
“Here,” she snapped at Gray. She shoved the plate in his direction and sucked in a sharp breath when she felt his fingers brush deliberately against hers. And linger.
He stared up at her with hooded eyes, and Sophie jerked her hand back so quickly that she bobbled the plate, leaving Gray to make a quick grab for it with two hands.
“Sorry,” she muttered as a strawberry fell into his lap. The pink stain on his perfectly pressed khakis was immensely satisfying.
He gave her a questioning glance, which she ignored. She couldn’t help it—she was mad. Mad that he hadn’t trusted her enough to mention a rather significant detail about his past.
Really, he might have mentioned that she just happened to be the spitting image of a woman who’d spit on his heart.
And it wasn’t just anger rippling through her.
It was fear.
What if his apparent growing attraction had nothing to do with Sophie herself and everything to do with the fact that she resembled someone that he wasn’t over?
Was she just a stand-in for the real deal? First Brynn and now Jessica. Hell, she was apparently even second choice to Mary, his old office assistant.
It seemed that she couldn’t escape her role of backup plan in Gray’s life.
When everyone had been served dessert, Sophie reclaimed her seat next to Gray, but there was none of the casual intimacy of before. He must have sensed her mood, because there was no arm around the back of her chair, and no playful brushing of his knee against hers.
Sophie felt strangely like crying and she wasn’t even sure why.
Ian and Ashley kept the conversation easy and light, but the contentedness she’d felt during dinner had evaporated. By the time their hosts were showing them to the door, Gray and Sophie were like two strangers.
Ashley gave her a questioning look as she hugged her good-bye, and Sophie just shrugged. She didn’t know how to explain why she and Gray had gone from easy to enemy in the span of ten seconds. She only knew that it was something they seemed to be damn good at.
If dessert had been awkward, the ride home was downright painful.
Gray didn’t say a word, which was pretty much par for the course in their relationship. But for the first time since she’d met him…hell, the first time since she could remember, Sophie didn’t have the urge to fill the silence with happy, useless chatter.
The silence was uncomfortable, but stewing in it was oddly gratifying.
Gray pulled up in front of Sophie’s apartment building just as it started to rain. That too was satisfying.
Still, being sulky didn’t mean she had to be rude, and she couldn’t very well just climb out of the car and slam the door.
Especially when the man hadn’t actually done anything wrong.
Not directly.
“Thanks for the evening,” she said finally, as he put the car in park and turned toward her. “Ian and Ashley are really great.”
Gray gave a curt nod, and Sophie gave him several seconds to come up with a bland, polite response, but he remained silent.
Fine. Go ahead and be an emotionally closed-off hermit.
“Well, good night,” she said, giving up on him and reaching for the door handle.
He stopped her with the briefest of tentative touches on her arm. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” Sophie hoped playing dumb never went out of style, because it was damn handy.
“Something happened. You were there with me at dinner…and then dessert came out and you were…gone.”
She thought about not responding. Leaving him in the dark about what made her tick just like he did to her. But then she saw his eyes and the vulnerability there, and she couldn’t just leave it alone.
“Why didn’t you tell me that your ex-fiancée and I could have been twins?” she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as she could. She didn’t want a fight. Just answers.
Gray’s eyes closed. “Goddamn it, Ashley.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Sophie said, fudging slightly in defense of her new friend. “I saw a picture of you two on their wall. It was like looking in a mirror. I didn’t think it was possible for two unrelated people to look so alike except in the movies.”
“Me neither,” he said roughly. “Learning otherwise was not a pleasant surprise.”
“You should have mentioned it.”
“Why? I haven’t seen Jessica in over a year, and she has no part in my future. And I don’t owe you any explanations about past relationships.”
True, but…
“So you’re over her?”
“Completely. I was relieved when it was over.”
The shuttered pain in his eyes said otherwise. “Then why are you letting her determine your future?” Sophie asked, keeping her tone gentle.
“What are you talking about? I just told you that I don’t even want to see the woman again.”
Sophie turned to face him more fully. “Yeah, but you went from putting a ring on someone’s finger to never wanting to get married? That screams ‘emotional scarring.’”
She expected him to get defensive, or at the very least, angry at Ashley again about spilling the beans about his marriage phobia. Instead he looked confused. “What does the fact that I’ll never get married have to do with any of this?”
Sophie stared at him aghast. The man genuinely had no concept of why his refusal to ever marry would impact Sophie.
It was clear he’d never even come close to putting the two thoughts together.
And that made Sophie’s heart sink more than if he’d responded with anger. “So you really don’t want to get married? Ever?”
He shook his head. “No. I have nothing against marriage, it’s just not for me.”
“Why, because one woman stomped all over your icy little heart? Get over yourself.”
He flinched. “Jesus, Sophie.”
Her face flooded with the heat of remorse. She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t even mean it. “I’m sorry. This really isn’t my business, is it?”
“No, it’s really not.”
And that told her all she needed to know. But she had to check…
“So the kiss at the office, and everything that happened tonight…the touching, and letting the Porters think we were something…that was just…what?”
Gray leaned his head back on the headrest and stared through the windshield, which was now completely blurry with raindrops. “Look, Sophie…about tonight…I shouldn’t…I didn’t mean…I’m not good at this.”
“You’re joking.”
Her sarcasm earned the tiniest of smiles, although it was gone almost immediately.
“Look, Gray…you haven’t really spared my feelings in the past. Why start now? Just let me have whatever you’re stuttering over.”
He swallowed and turned to look at her. “I know the impression I gave you tonight. And that night in the office. And, hell, however many other times. But I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship.”
“With me, or with anyone? Because you seemed to be doing fine with Brynn.”
“How do you figure? We broke up after a month, and the relationship went nowhere.”
Hmm. A good point.
She moved on.
“If you don’t want a relationship, why invite me along tonight? Why play with my hair? Is this a game?” Her voice broke slightly, but she was beyond caring.
He had the decency to look guilty, but Sophie was hardly mollified. She’d been a gooey, contented mess, and he’d been playing with her?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…You make me forget sometimes.”
She blinked in confusion. “Forget what?”
“That women like you are all wrong for me.”
“Women like me? Or women like Jessica?”
“Same thing,” he muttered.
Sophie resisted the urge to slam her head on the dashboard. “I knew it! You’re shoving me off because I remind you of your bitch of an ex. That’s junior high territory, Gray. Really ridiculous.”
His expression turned fierce and he turned on her with blazing eyes. “You want the whole story? Here it is…Your crack a minute ago about someone stomping all over my icy little heart was dead-on. Except it wasn’t icy then. And it hurt. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not anxious for a repeat.”
I wouldn’t break your heart, she wanted to beg. But she knew that look. And there was no room for negotiation. She wanted to fight. To insist that he give her a chance. But she couldn’t risk it.
Because he could break her heart too.
“So what now?” she asked, trying to sound calm and mature.
There would be an Oreo-involved breakdown once she got upstairs, but for now she had to hold it together. She didn’t want her messy emotions to get all over his pristine car.
“What do you mean?” he asked warily.
“Well, I mean…I work for you. It’s not like I can just conveniently disappear like any other failed first date. Do I look for another job? Or do we try to pretend this whole thing never happened?”
To her surprise, he gently reached out and took her hand. A jolt of electricity seemed to rip up her arm and, more inconveniently, to all of her lady parts. Sophie bit her lip to keep from throwing herself into his arms and begging him to at least let her be a one-night stand.
Casual sex is not part of your self-respect project, she reminded herself. You deserve to be more than a booty call.
“I’d like it if we could be friends,” Gray said, jolting Sophie out of her horny pep-talk.
Wait, what?
“What?” she asked.
The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “I know, it’s the oldest line in the book. And not one that I’ve uttered. Ever.”
Sophie let out a horrified laugh. “It’s a really horrible line. And it never works out.”
“It did for you and Will.”
“That was different…”
“How?”
I never wanted to keep Will chained up in my bedroom as a plaything. I never wanted to devote my life to making him smile the way I do with you.
“We were kids when we dated. And it was barely dating,” she said.
“Please, Sophie. You know this isn’t easy for me.”
“Define ‘friends,’” she said warily.
He looked completely confused, and she melted. He probably didn’t know how to define it. Other than Ian, she wasn’t sure he really had any friends.
“I don’t really know,” he said looking embarrassed. “I just was hoping…You make me smile. I don’t want to lose that.”
It was like an arrow to her heart. If she made him smile, why wouldn’t he give her the chance to be more than a friend? And yet she couldn’t refuse him. Not when he was staring at her with confused gray eyes.
He doesn’t even know what he wants, she thought. This is what I get for falling for someone who’s an emotional vault.
“Okay. Friends it is,” she said reluctantly.
His relieved smile reassured her that she’d made the right decision. Somewhere along the line she’d learned to care for this complex man.
She couldn’t just walk away. Even though staying would break her heart.