Gray mentally added yet another item to his list of Rules to Live By:
Never agree to another man’s business meetings.
Martin Brayburn hadn’t asked Gray for much upon his departure. The older man had bowed out graciously, leaving Gray to run the company as he saw fit.
Except for one solitary request: a meeting with Peter Blackwell and his son.
It should have been harmless. It could have even been lucrative. The Blackwells owned a chain of small boutique hotels on Maui. Nothing fancy, but the real estate was prime. And even better, they were looking to sell.
But that wasn’t why Martin had requested Gray take the meeting. Peter Blackwell was Martin Brayburn’s oldest friend, and his son, Alistair, was Martin’s godson.
Martin’s request had been personal, and Gray had agreed without a second thought. Something he was now regretting.
The meeting was a complete nightmare, starting with its participants. The younger man across the desk was probably close to Gray’s own age of midthirties, but the bloated frat-boy appearance and ill-fitting navy suit made him look like a pimpled intern.
Gray was willing to bet that Alistair Blackwell had no business experience beyond a childhood lemonade stand.
His father, Peter Blackwell, was at least respectable on paper, but instead of being the expected polished businessman ready to talk numbers, Peter had turned out to be an aging, sentimental entrepreneur with an elevated estimate of his company’s worth. Gray was dismayed to hear a constant chorus of loyalty, family, and nostalgia, and not one solid reference to profit.
If the Blackwells thought Gray was going to buy their outdated line of Maui resorts based on some touchy-feely bullshit, they clearly hadn’t done their homework. Maybe Martin Brayburn would have fostered such crap out of sentimentality, but Gray had no tolerance for it.
“…as I’m sure big Pops here will tell you,” Alistair was saying in a faintly out-of-breath voice, “you can’t be expecting us to roll over and play dead like a couple of happy pups, you know? Just because we’re from the islands doesn’t mean we don’t know a thing or two about big business!”
Gray resisted the urge to stand up and walk out. After all, this was his office and he needed this deal.
“Mr. Blackwell,” Gray said, putting an end to Alistair’s rambling, “I’m sure you can understand the position that Brayburn Luxuries is in. We’re very interested in the location of your properties, but all of our research has shown that the hotels themselves are quaint at best. Your asking price isn’t realistic for a franchise that barely warrants a three-star rating.”
Peter’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and Alistair began another babble session. “Just because our bathrooms aren’t marble, doesn’t mean we’re not located on the best little stretch of Hawaiian paradise—”
Peter held up a wrinkled, tanned hand. “Alistair, I’m sure Mr. Wyatt knows all about the waves and the state of our guest rooms. I think what he’s telling us is that, regardless, Brayburn Luxuries isn’t going to pay us what we want for our property.”
Gray resisted the urge to plow his fingers through his hair. This wasn’t going well. What he’d fully expected to be a slam-dunk negotiation was turning into a bloody war. Peter Blackwell was supposed to be a competent businessman who, after Gray’s logical explanation, would understand that the hotel chain he’d launched decades ago was not worth his asking price.
And Alistair shouldn’t even be here. Gray wished he could hand the younger man a twenty-dollar bill and tell him to go check out the Space Needle while the adults did the thinking. But judging from the way Peter gazed at his son in blind, fatherly affection whenever Alistair spouted his verbal diarrhea, Gray knew he had to tread carefully.
Problem was…he wasn’t entirely sure how to do that.
Gray wasn’t about to pay double the properties’ worth just to appease an older man’s ego. But neither was he willing to give up the deal. He needed a way to read these people quickly and determine their weak point. Trouble was, he didn’t have the faintest clue how.
He tried once again to reach them with logic. “Mr. Blackwell, I’d like to reiterate that Brayburn is, of course, still interested, but we have to be realistic—”
“Who is that?” Alistair interrupted.
Gray stifled his annoyance and followed Alistair’s gaze through the glass wall of his office.
Ah. Sophie.
Leave it to his little pain-in-the-ass assistant to distract his most pivotal, prospective clients at the most inopportune time. Not that she meant to, of course. But then, that seemed to be Sophie’s MO. Making a mess of his life just by breathing.
Alistair was gaping, and even Peter seemed a little dazzled. Gray narrowed his eyes and tried to view Sophie objectively. As if she hadn’t made it her life’s purpose to get under his skin.
He scowled. Her long blonde hair fell in loose waves down her back, reminding him uncomfortably of the sex-kitten look she’d been sporting in Las Vegas. The memory of how her hair had smelled when he’d practically groped her during the ladder debacle made him even more uncomfortable.
He shifted in his seat.
Jesus.
Whether it was in an elevator, or her parents’ bathroom or his own damn office, he couldn’t seem to keep his damn hands off her.
Sophie Dalton is not for you, he reminded himself for the hundredth time.
Sure, she sent him a couple hot gazes and let her voice go all breathy when he got too close. But that’s what women like Sophie did. They teased. They played.
And then they left.
He gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the Blackwells, but they were still captivated by the little blonde in the other room.
“That would be my assistant,” Gray said, in delayed response to Alistair’s question.
Peter reluctantly drew his eyes back to Gray, but Alistair continued to stare at Sophie’s backside, all but salivating. Gray’s annoyance with the man skyrocketed. “I’m assuming we can get back to business, unless there was something you needed, Mr. Blackwell?”
Alistair jumped, and Gray suspected that his father had just delivered a quick kick to his shin.
Gray tried to pick up where they left off. “So, as I was saying, while I can appreciate the value of the land, the value of the resorts themselves is unfortunately not up to Brayburn standards—”
Once again, he’d lost the attention of the two men he was trying so hard to impress.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wyatt?”
Shit. Sophie stood in the doorway and the effect of tumbling golden hair, ocean-blue eyes, and matching little outfit was even more distracting close-up than it had been from through the glass wall.
The Blackwells were enchanted.
Gray gave in to a sigh. “Yes, Ms. Dalton?”
“I just wanted to see if I could get you gentlemen a coffee-and-pastry tray, sir, if you haven’t already eaten.”
Gray had already had coffee and his usual breakfast of spinach and egg-white omelet at home, but he supposed there was no way he’d regain the men’s attention until they’d had a close-up view. God, he missed his old assistant. Mary had been short, stout, and irritable. Gray wouldn’t have had to deal with her distracting his most important clients.
“Thank you, Ms. Dalton, some coffee would be great.”
“Coming right up. I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner. I didn’t realize you had a meeting this morning.”
Of course she didn’t. Probably because he intentionally hadn’t put it on the calendar she had access to. He’d hoped to spare the Blackwells the experience of Early Morning Sophie. The woman was pure menace before ten a.m. And after ten, for that matter.
So pretty much she was a nightmare around the clock. Always singing, smiling, dancing.
Yesterday she’d actually tried to sign him up for a book club.
Book club.
Today, however, her special brand of Sophie charm was working in his favor. The Blackwells couldn’t get enough. Hell, neither could he.
Three pairs of male eyes watched as she trotted out of his office to fetch coffee, tight butt practically begging for male attention.
Twenty minutes later, Gray was no closer to making headway on the acquisition on this increasingly unappealing resort chain when Sophie returned with a carefully prepared tray. She must have sensed the importance of the meeting, because the tray looked like it belonged in Versailles, circa 1683.
“I thought I said ‘coffee,’” he muttered. The tray was overflowing with croissants, mini quiches, doughnuts, bagels, and a large pile of fruit.
She balanced the tray on the corner of Gray’s desk and ignored him completely, saving all her smiles for the Blackwells. “How would you like your coffee, gentlemen?” she asked. “Mr. Wyatt here takes his black, but I’ve brought cream and sugar, as well as a variety of flavored sweeteners.”
Sophie shoved a mug in Gray’s direction without looking at him, and he nearly smiled. She’d added cream.
“Just a pinch of sugar and a splash of regular old cream for me, dear,” Peter was saying, suddenly taking on the persona of a kindly grandfather. This gentle old man sounded absolutely nothing like the stubborn hard-ass Gray had been dealing with five minutes prior.
“How do you like your coffee?” Alistair asked Sophie while unsubtly fingering his greasy comb-over.
She likes it with sugar. Lots of it, Gray thought.
“Mr. Blackwell, surely a confident man like you doesn’t need someone like me to determine your coffee preparation.”
Gray thought he heard traces of disdainful sarcasm in Sophie’s tone, but Alistair ate up the compliment. “I’ll try that hazelnut-flavored creamer there; I like things sweet.”
Smiling serenely, Sophie prepared the coffee and handed it over to Alistair, their fingers brushing. Sophie flushed, and Alistair all but licked his lips.
“Sophie, how’s your boyfriend?” Gray snapped abruptly. Cue the awkward moment of silence. A Grayson Wyatt specialty.
What the hell am I doing? Gray thought. He never blurted, he didn’t call his assistants by their first name, and he certainly didn’t ask about their personal lives.
She looked startled, but recovered quickly. “Oh, you mean Will? He’s just a childhood friend who still hangs around. We’re not together.”
He stared hard at her. That was certainly not the impression she’d given him that night at her parents’ house. She’d called Will her date. He should have figured she wouldn’t stick with anyone long term. Will was probably just another of her playthings.
In an effort to break the awkward tension, Sophie glanced at the Blackwells and rolled her eyes. “In case you can’t tell, Mr. Wyatt’s a little overprotective of his employees. It’s one of the reasons we all love working for him so much.”
Gray cleared his throat in warning, but the other men seemed oblivious to her sarcasm.
“I could tell that straightaway about your boss here,” said Peter. “His dedication to his people and his company is one of the main reasons I’m considering Brayburn Luxuries to acquire my company.”
“How interesting, what kind of company?” Sophie asked, settling herself on the corner of Gray’s desk like they were discussing favorite movies. Her hip was inches from Gray’s hand, which he snatched back so quickly he nearly knocked over his coffee cup.
Get a grip, Grayson.
“Oh, just a little set of Hawaiian resorts I started a few years back,” Peter was saying. “I’m getting too old to deal with all the maintenance and taxes. I’d hoped Alistair here would be taking over, but he’s focused on his own career goals.”
Like what, selling hemp bracelets on the beach? Gray wondered.
“I love Hawaii,” Sophie gushed. “What island?”
“Just the prettiest little strip of Maui you’ve ever seen.”
“It must be so hard to part with it,” Sophie said to Peter, laying a hand on his arm.
The move should have seemed calculating and phony, but Gray had to give her credit: She was good. She made it seem genuine.
Peter blushed. “Oh, it’s just business, I guess. The important thing in life is family,” he said with an adoring look at his insipid son.
“Well, you couldn’t choose better hands to leave your business in,” Sophie said as she began assembling plates of food. “I haven’t had the pleasure of working with Mr. Wyatt for very long, but he has the best reputation and is so smart with money.”
Gray stifled the hollow stab of disappointment. He had a fleeting wish that she’d compliment his person. Not his accomplishments or his brains or his résumé. Just him. Just Gray. When was the last time anyone had looked beyond the suit?
And why did he even care?
Lost in thought, Gray barely noticed that Sophie was neatly concluding his meeting for him. In the span of fifteen minutes, she had sweetly trapped Peter into a second meeting next month to further discuss the offer.
She’d been equally adept at evading a dinner date with Alistair, which Gray was grateful for. The last thing he needed was his assistant dating his star client. Even if this particular client had as much use as a third nipple.
Gray shook the hands of both men, amazed at the difference in their mood after Sophie had worked her magic. They were all smiles and agreeability. Sophie showed them to the elevator with promises that she absolutely would check out their resort website, and of course she would read Alistair’s blog.
He knew he should thank her for her interference, but he couldn’t quite find the words. He felt an irritating combination of resentment and appreciation for the ease with which she managed people. And to give credit where it was due, Gray couldn’t deny that she’d very likely saved an important business deal using nothing but perky breasts and fake smiles.
Was he annoyed or grateful? Or aroused? Shit.
She’d also surprised him by being savvy. And he hated surprises.
He sat down in the ugly orange chair she’d ordered for him and tried to get back to work. Only to realize that he couldn’t focus on work. Instead he was thinking about life. His life. And how it suddenly seemed like nothing but a long series of workdays and lonely dinners.
It was a routine that hadn’t bothered him before.
But now something felt off.
Gray knew exactly who to blame for his discontent, and she was currently tapping away on her computer, no doubt humming a Disney song or making a billion new friends on Facebook.
His eyes kept returning to her desk. Damn this glass wall. What had Martin Brayburn been thinking building an office with glass walls? There was no privacy. No peace of mind.
On his fifth glance, he did a double take.
She was no longer on her computer. She was smiling prettily up at a visitor. Of the male variety.
Gray’s eyes narrowed when he saw that the visitor was Jeff Andrews. The observation shouldn’t have upset him. Jeff was one of his best employees, and Gray himself had requested that Sophie work directly with Jeff on the Landers deal. It made sense that they’d be familiar with each other.
But the way Jeff’s eyes kept dropping to Sophie’s chest was a bit too familiar. He knew Jeff was married, but he seemed to remember Sophie mentioning something about Jeff and his wife going to counseling.
Gray scowled and forced his eyes to his computer screen, but they kept drifting back to Sophie and Jeff. As far as his employees went, Jeff was actually one of Gray’s favorites. Friendly, easygoing, smart…
But he wasn’t feeling so friendly toward his colleague now. Why was Jeff looking at Sophie like that?
And why was Sophie leaning toward him?
Surely she wasn’t actually attracted to the man. Gray tried to observe Jeff from a woman’s perspective. The other man wasn’t tall. Definitely shy of six foot. Didn’t women like tall men? Then again, he supposed there were probably women that valued humor over height, and Jeff was one of those obnoxious joke-a-minute kind of guys. Sophie must go for the clown routine, because she was looking at Jeff in a way she never looked at him.
Gray waited impatiently for Jeff to come into his office and talk about whatever it was he’d come up to this floor to discuss. But when he looked up five minutes later and saw no sign of Jeff, his suspicions were confirmed. His vice president of sales hadn’t come up to discuss business with the CEO.
He’d come up to flirt with the CEO’s secretary.
Gray’s mood officially moved from irritable to downright ornery, and he had the irrational urge to bring Sophie’s mood down with him. This was a workplace, not a carnival. She should at least try to show some signs of being professional.
In a rare moment of pique, Gray wanted to get under her skin. To show her that life wasn’t all about bunnies and rainbows and that she couldn’t manipulate everything to go her way.
“Ms. Dalton, can you come in here for a moment?” he called.
She appeared at his doorway. “Sure, what’s up?”
He noticed she didn’t correct him and tell him to call her Sophie. Perhaps she didn’t care anymore.
“When you’ve finished pulling last week’s numbers, I was hoping you could do a quick personal favor for me. I’d do it myself but I’m slammed with phone calls over the next couple hours.”
“Definitely, what do you need?” she asked. Her words were all acquiescence, but her expression had turned guarded.
“I need you to send some flowers.”
“Flowers?”
“Yes, flowers,” he said, feeling suddenly invigorated. “The biggest arrangement you can find.”
“And to whom am I sending this blatantly cliché arrangement?”
“Whom do you think?” He smiled thinly. “Your sister.”
It was a lousy thing to do. He’d had no inclination of pursuing things with Brynn, and now she’d probably get the wrong idea about his interest level.
And the stricken look on Sophie’s face was supposed to make him feel satisfied. Instead he felt…petty.
What am I doing?
Gray had spent the past few weeks making a concentrated effort to separate his personal life from his professional life and now he here he was deliberately entangling the two.
He just hoped he could untangle them before he got in over his head.
Gray watched Sophie walk slowly back to her desk, noting the slight hunch in her shoulders. Something in his chest seemed to tighten at the sight.
Shit.
He was already in over his head.
* * *
Brynn was putting on her well-rehearsed big-sister-knows-best routine, but Sophie wasn’t buying it.
“There’s absolutely no way, Brynn. Why would I want to go on a double date with you and Gray? Hell, why would anybody?”
Brynn carefully folded her hands and placed them in her lap. “You’re always saying how you and Grayson don’t get along. I think spending some time together out of the office would do you both good. Allow you to see each other’s nonwork side.”
I’ve seen his nonwork side. And that charming side of him assumed I was a hooker.
Sophie buried her face in her gin and tonic. “But a double date? What are we going to do, hang out with the high school kids at the ice-cream parlor?”
Will returned from the bar with refills on their drinks and took the seat beside Sophie. “What are we talking about?”
Sophie nodded toward Brynn. “She’s still at it.”
Will snorted and took a sip of Brynn’s drink. “Get off it, Dalton. Only desperate couples go on double dates. If you’re still begging, things with the iceberg must be a mess.”
“My relationship is not a mess,” Brynn said, grabbing her champagne glass out of Will’s hand. “Well, actually, it’s not quite a relationship. But we’re…working at it.”
Will gave her a derisive look. “I thought that nonrelationship was over. What’s the point in giving it a second shot if you’re already describing it as work?”
Brynn fiddled with the small napkin beneath her glass. “Yeah, I kind of thought we’d agreed that it wasn’t going anywhere too,” she said in a small voice. “But then he sent these really beautiful flowers…”
“I sent the flowers,” Sophie said grumpily.
“Because Grayson told you to,” Brynn said pointedly.
Sophie took another sip of her drink, trying to wash away the sting of the memory. She didn’t even know why Gray’s request bothered her. It wasn’t like she thought Gray would actually be interested in her. They might have enough sexual tension to burn down their entire office building, but he didn’t even pretend to like her as a person. She’d forever be the slut in the elevator.
So of course she’d known that he wouldn’t choose her.
But did he have to choose Brynn? They had about as much chemistry as two ice cubes. She thought that dull nonrelationship was over.
On the plus side, whatever dopey affection Gray apparently felt toward Brynn didn’t seem to be mutual. Sophie had been watching her sister carefully all night.
It was tricky to spot the differences between Happy Brynn and Worried Brynn. They both wore the same smile, never frowned, and never rose their voices. But unbeknownst to Brynn, she had a tell. She chewed her right ring fingernail when she was worried about something.
And right now, said fingernail was a mangled mess.
Trouble in boring land, Sophie thought with a little thrill of glee.
Still, denying Brynn such a simple favor felt…wrong. Spending an evening with Gray and Brynn together would be painful, but it wouldn’t kill her.
Heck, it might even help dissolve whatever weird pull the man had on her.
And she and Will had pretended to be a couple plenty of times in the past for family parties and work events.
She could do this.
“So if we do this,” Sophie said slowly, “what and where are we talking about? Just like dinner or drinks, right?”
Will groaned. “Don’t cave, Soph. This entire conversation feels like something out of a teen movie.”
Brynn gestured toward a group of leggy brunettes in the corner. “Speaking of teens, that little group of chlamydia carriers over there is making come-hither glances at you.”
Will turned to look at the girls in question before giving a slow smile. “Very nice,” he said with an appreciative second glance.
“Don’t let us keep you,” Brynn said with a wave. “In fact, since you’ve been such a good friend to Sophie all these years, I’ll even give you a five-minute start before calling the cops and letting them know that there’s a child predator buying appletinis for high school sophomores.”
“To be fair, I think they must at least be juniors,” Sophie mused. “Look at the one on the end; she has boobs.”
“Damn fine ones too,” Will said with a wink as he stood. “Much as I’m enjoying this riveting talk about that piece of granite you two call ‘lover’ and ‘boss,’ I’m sensing far more beneficial company over in that corner.”
“That’s disgusting,” Brynn muttered as Will grabbed his beer and wandered away.
“Oh, come on,” Sophie chided. “They’re not really teenagers. They can’t be much younger than us.”
Sophie frowned when Brynn didn’t respond. “Everything okay?” Sophie asked, noticing that her sister’s eyes had gone from murderous to sad.
“I guess,” Brynn said, not taking her eyes off her glass. “Just a little headache.”
Sophie eyed Brynn’s champagne. Alcohol surely wasn’t going to help a headache, but she didn’t say anything. Bossy, judgmental comments were Brynn’s territory, not Sophie’s.
“Are you sure you really want to date Gray?” Sophie asked, trying to keep her voice gentle.
Brynn nodded enthusiastically, but her eyes looked a little…numb.
Good lord, it’s like she’s a Stepford girlfriend, Sophie realized in horror.
“I think things could be great!” Brynn said woodenly. “Did he tell you I bought him a tie? He said he wore it today.”
Sophie’s heart twisted, but she pasted a smile on her face. Maybe things were more serious than she’d realized. Then again, Gray hadn’t mentioned it, and Sophie certainly hadn’t noticed anything special about today’s tie.
She seemed to vaguely recall monochromatic stripes that looked like every other tie he owned.
This is your sister, she reminded herself firmly. Be supportive.
“Totally. It was just Gray’s style,” she said, patting Brynn’s hand reassuringly.
“What was just my style?”
Sophie’s head snapped up as she stared at her boss in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
Both he and Sophie glanced at Brynn, who was suddenly extremely preoccupied with her phone.
“You didn’t tell them?” Gray asked, looking unbearably awkward.
Oh, Brynny, what did you do?
“No, no, of course we were expecting you!” Sophie lied, taking pity on him and patting the chair between herself and Brynn.
Gray sat, looking stiff as usual. Despite the fact that they were in a grubby little pub, he hadn’t bothered to change out of his suit and looked painfully out of place.
“Look, if the double-date thing is uncomfortable, we can call it off,” Gray said, glancing at Sophie.
“No, no. Not at all. It’ll be nice to get to know each other better,” she said lamely.
He looked vaguely queasy at the notion. “I’ll need a drink,” Gray said, glancing desperately at the bar.
He walked away and Sophie dug her nails into her sister’s arm. “You seem to have neglected to mention that the double date was tonight.”
Brynn’s pale blue eyes pleaded with her. “A tiny omission, and only because I knew you’d say no. Please? I just thought that maybe he might loosen up a bit more around you and Will. When it’s just the two of us, he’s always so…guarded.”
Sophie didn’t have the heart to tell Brynn that “guarded” was simply who Gray was. Barbara Walters could take a shot at him and he wouldn’t crack.
“Where’s Will?” Gray asked, returning to the table with a beer.
“Oh, you know…he’s over there,” Sophie said, waving her hand over her shoulder.
She winced as Gray’s eyes found her “date.” She didn’t have to turn around to know that her best friend probably had his hand on some twenty-year-old’s thigh.
“I probably should have told you that Sophie and Will aren’t exactly together,” Brynn said hurriedly.
“I know. Sophie already told me.”
Brynn’s head snapped back slightly and her forehead showed the briefest ripple before resuming its usual smooth perfection.
Sophie felt a wince of sympathy for her sister. Gray was a workaholic, which meant that no matter how many flowers Brynn received, Sophie was still the one who would be spending more time with him. Not a fact that control-freak Brynn would take kindly to.
Still, Sophie’s sympathy had limits. After all, this entire mess was Brynn’s own fault. If she hadn’t gone meddling in Sophie’s unemployment status, then they wouldn’t be in this awkward situation.
Sophie noticed that Brynn had barely touched her second glass of champagne, and was pressing her fingers into her temple. Apparently her little headache wasn’t so little.
“Are you all right?” Gray asked, putting a hand gently on Brynn’s shoulder.
Brynn gave a pathetic excuse for a smile and shook her head. “Just a sinus headache or something. I’m thinking maybe you all were right. This wasn’t my best idea.”
“You think?” Sophie said under her breath.
“I’m sorry about this,” Brynn said weakly. “Maybe we should call it a night?”
Sophie glanced at her almost-full gin and tonic. “You guys go ahead. I’ll stay and finish my drink. Plus I’ll need to be Will’s second if one of those girls’ daddies comes after him with a shotgun.”
“Let’s get you into a cab,” Gray said to Brynn, helping her to her feet. “You shouldn’t be driving if your headache’s that bad.”
“You don’t have your car?” she asked.
Gray shook his head. “I walked. I only live two blocks away.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Brynn murmured before shooting a nervous glance at Sophie.
Sophie pretended fascination with the football game on TV, trying not to react to what Brynn had just given away.
Brynn doesn’t know where he lives. She’s never been to his house. Never been in his bed…
Still, it didn’t necessarily mean what Sophie hoped it meant. Could be that they’d only done the nasty at Brynn’s town house.
Brynn’s eyes fell on Gray’s untouched drink. “You know, why don’t you stay?” she said in her bossiest voice. “You haven’t even had a chance to drink your beer.”
“At least let me get you into the cab,” he said stiffly.
Will materialized out of nowhere. “I’ll drive her home.”
Brynn sneered. “If you think I’m going to climb into your little identity crisis of a car, you’re insane. I’ll probably get an STD just from touching the seat belt.”
“Yeah, because a cab is such a better option to avoid nasty diseases,” Will said as he plucked Brynn’s coat from the back of her chair. “C’mon, it’ll give you a chance to critique my driving, and I know how turned on you get by nagging.”
Brynn bit her lip, looking unsure of herself. She glanced at Gray, but as usual, his expression was a blank mask.
“Take Will up on it,” Sophie urged. “It’s pouring out, so you’ll have a hard time finding a cab anyway.”
“Fine,” Brynn conceded. “But I get to pick the radio station, and we are not talking.”
“Which sucks because I was so hoping to hear all about your Valentine’s Day plans,” Will snapped. “Let’s go, I wanna get out of here before the Barbies over there realize I’m not going over to their place to play strip darts.”
Sophie looked away as Gray and Brynn said good-bye. She thought she saw a tepid cheek-kiss out of the corner of her eye, but couldn’t be sure. She waved after Brynn and Will, and watched as Gray resumed his seat and grabbed his beer.
“We can do separate tables if you want,” Sophie said. “I didn’t mean to trap you into spending more time with me than you have to.”
He lifted a shoulder, but didn’t seem to be anxiously glancing around for an escape route. She waited for her own compulsion to put distance between them to kick in, but the urge never came. Sophie almost smiled. Who would have thought that merely tolerating sitting at the same table with another person could be described as “progress”?
“So,” she said, taking a sip of her drink, “things between you and Brynn, they seem…you know…well, how are they?”
He gave her a look. “Don’t push it. No chatter.”
Sophie mimed zipping her lips. “Got it. Brynn talk is strictly off-limits…So your sister called the office today. Jenna? She seems nice. You never mentioned what she—”
“Sophie,” Gray interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“When we were trapped in that elevator, I asked you if we could be quiet and not talk. You said no.”
She nodded. “Right. Because I am not a mime.”
“Well, the thing is…” He looked at her, then looked away. “I’m asking you again. Can we sit here and not talk? Maybe catch this football game? People-watch?”
Sophie set her glass down with a sharp clink. “If you want me to leave, you can just say so.”
This time he met her eyes. “That’s the thing. I don’t want you to leave. I want…company. But, you know, quiet company. Can you do that?”
Caught off guard, she looked at him more closely, taking in the strained creases around his eyes and the atypical wrinkles in his suit jacket. But it was the soft expression in his eyes that got to her. She felt something kind of warm and melty rush through her belly. Must be the gin.
But what if it wasn’t the gin?
Oh dear.
Feeling off-balance, she found herself nodding. “Okay. Quiet company it is.”
Gray didn’t bother to hide the relief that flickered across his tense features. He shrugged off his suit jacket, and Sophie did her best to stare at the TV screen instead of his exposed forearms as he rolled his shirt up to his elbows. The more-casual Gray unnerved her.
Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed nervously. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t even know what she was going to say, she had to fill the silence. “So, have you ever wondered—”
Gray learned forward slightly, setting a finger gently across her lips to stop her words. He looked surprised by his own action, and then gave the smallest shake of his head.
“Okay,” she whispered, unable to look away from his stare. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. Sophie began to sweat. When had it become so freaking hot in the pub?
Then he turned slightly, and the moment was over. Gray put all of his attention on the TV screen, and Sophie let out a breath and tried to do the same.
She didn’t know how long they sat there in companionable silence, but it got easier the longer they did. He wordlessly fetched them another round of drinks, and instead of feeling bored and panicked, she felt…content.
This is weird, she thought. I’m playing the silent game with my boss.
But then she found herself smiling.
Because it was also kind of nice.