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.”