Well, there really wasn’t a word for Sophie Dalton.
When he’d seen her that night in Las Vegas, she’d just been so damn inappropriate. The hair, the sparkly eyelashes, the endless display of creamy skin. Those friggin’ thigh-high boots that practically begged to be wrapped around a man’s waist…
And the not-so-minor fact that she’d been the spitting image of the woman who’d broken his heart.
You stomped all over a stranger’s dignity because of a woman you haven’t seen in over a year. Well done, sir.
So Vegas had been a disaster.
And the train wreck that was the Dalton family dinner hadn’t been much better. Gray had already been annoyed at himself for letting himself get talked into joining Brynn at her parents’ house. He’d been having a brief wave of loneliness and she’d caught him at a bad time.
But he would have endured a lifetime of solitary evenings not to have to seen the horror on Sophie’s face when she’d walked into the room and seen him.
Hell, he should have been feeling horror as well. Instead he’d felt dismay.
Dismay that the Las Vegas showgirl he’d been fantasizing about for the past two weeks was really an all-American girl next door. And sister to the woman he was seeing.
Not that he and Brynn were serious. Not even close. Hell, when she’d called to invite him to dinner, he’d barely been able to picture her face.
But that didn’t mean he was okay with being attracted to her little sister. And he was definitely attracted.
There would be no more of that.
He’d learned the hard way that charming, manipulative women like Sophie were not for him.
Grayson Wyatt did not repeat mistakes.
“How’d you find her?” Ms. Jennings asked curiously. “Did she come recommended?”
Gray nearly snorted. The only person likely to recommend Sophie Dalton would be a gigolo or one of her patrons at that bar where she’d worked. Surely nobody in the professional world would want a piece of aimless fluff wandering around the office.
Then why did you offer her the job? his mind nagged.
He clenched his coffee mug in irritation at his own misstep. She wasn’t supposed to accept. In fact, he’d been certain that she wouldn’t. She’d made it perfectly clear that she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
And yet, he’d misread her. No surprise there, but it didn’t make the situation any less…dire. They’d barely been able to make it through dinner without suffocating each other with hostile tension. At least, he thought it was hostility. It was possible the tension was slightly more…sexual.
Either way, working in close proximity was a singularly bad idea.
Where is the wretched minx?
He glanced down at his watch with a scowl. “She’s supposed to start today.”
It had been nearly a week since the disastrous dinner at the Dalton household, but it had taken a few days for all the paperwork to go through. A few days in which he’d been certain she’d reconsider. A few days in which to order himself to grow some balls and back out of the arrangement.
But he hadn’t. Backing out before she’d even had a chance to start felt petty.
Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.
Gray’s office phone rang and he jumped at the chance to escape the awkward conversation.
“Ms. Jennings, would you excuse me?”
“Sure thing,” she said with a wave. “I’ll point Ms. Dalton to your office when she arrives.”
Just wonderful.
“Wyatt,” he barked into the phone.
“Ah, there’s my favorite ray of sunshine.”
Gray relaxed at the familiar voice. Ian Porter was his best friend from college and one of the few people besides his brother whom Gray knew in Seattle.
“How’d you get this number?” Gray asked.
“Sweet-talked the receptionist. She sounds cute.”
Gray grunted noncommittally. He didn’t know if Brayburn Luxuries’ main receptionist was cute or not. He hadn’t thought to look when he’d walked through the main reception lobby this morning. Hadn’t thought to notice any of the employees, for that matter. Perhaps he should go make nice on his lunch break.
“So, what’s up?” Gray asked curiously. Ian might be one of Gray’s few friends, but they rarely talked on the phone to chitchat.
“I’m on marital damage control. I was supposed to invite you over to dinner this past Sunday, but I completely forgot, and Ashley’s out for my blood. Come over this weekend and get her off my back?”
“I’d love to.” Gray was glad his friend couldn’t see his regretful wince at the belated invitation. If only Ian knew the hassle he could have saved Gray if he’d remembered to pass on his wife’s request the previous weekend. Gray could have spent Sunday evening with his best friend and godson. Instead he’d been struggling to survive in enemy camp with a pseudo-girlfriend he didn’t even want and her marriage-minded parents.
And Sophie. Ian could have saved Gray from Sophie.
Speaking of which…
Female laughter was disturbing the former quiet of the executive floor.
Familiar female laugher.