“Don’t rush on my account,” Allen said. Naturally he didn’t mean a word. Sophie could feel his impatience burning a hole in her profile. Outside, Carla and the others were watching, waiting, too.
“Grant just stopped by to deliver an estimate.”
The lie flew out before she could stop herself. Allen looked as though he expected an explanation and delivering an estimate sounded so much more appropriate. Silently, she looked to Grant for help, only to realize too late, the mistake she’d made. The shutters had slammed down over Grant’s eyes and what were once warm and expressive stared at her cold and hard.
“Delivering an estimate in person? Don’t see that kind of personal service much anymore.”
“What can I say,” Grant replied with an edge only Sophie would recognize. “I’m very hands-on. And Ms. Messina was a special case.”
Was? She didn’t think it possible for her stomach to drop further, but it did.
Grant’s eyes burned hotter than any stare of Allen’s. “Now that our business is over, I’ll get out of your hair. I know how important Ms. Messina considers her work to be.”
“Grant…” She wanted to grab his arm, ask him to stay so she could apologize. Explain herself. With Allen standing there, however, she could do little more than offer silent regret. “I’ll talk with you tonight,” she told him, “so we can sort everything out.”
“No rush. I think everything’s crystal clear.” After offering up a handshake to Allen, he tossed one last crisp nod in her direction and left. Sophie was forced to watch his back as he marched away.
“Now about those figures,” Allen said, voice clipped.
“Pulling them up on the screen now.” Sophie returned to business. She’d apologize to Grant tonight.
Hopefully, he’d listen.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE best laid plans will go wrong. Wasn’t that Murphy’s Law? If not, Murphy said something awfully close, and Sophie was pretty sure he’d been talking about her day. Management’s demands kept her at the office until well after ten.
Getting out of her taxi, she looked to the second floor and found Grant’s windows dark. Disappointment washed over her. The past few days, he’d kept them on for her. Then again, she’d come home much earlier. Chances are he was watching his game in the bedroom and simply turned out the front lights to look like he was asleep, but in case he did go to bed early, she’d wait and apologize in the morning. Dragging the man out of bed didn’t seem like the best way to mend fences. She’d apologize tomorrow morning when they got together for morning coffee. A good night’s sleep and he’d have cooled off, putting him in a better position to accept her apology. After all, surely once he thought things through he’d realize she didn’t mean to insult him.
Problem was, he didn’t show up. Sophie heard his boots on the stairs, but the steps continued straight out the front door, leaving her with two cups of coffee and a kernel of uneasiness rolling around in the pit of her stomach.
Fine. They’d talk when she got home. Just to be certain, she scribbled a quick note and slipped it under his door.
Grant was seated on the stairs when she arrived home, thirty minutes after the time she wrote on her note. Seeing him, her throat thickened and her chest grew tight. The door clicked thunderously behind her. “Hi.” The ache in her chest made the words a whisper. “You got my note.”
Grant looked up. Cool brown eyes threatened to bore straight through her, and the longing she felt seconds early turned to unease. “You’re late. You said five-thirty.”
So much for a good night’s sleep helping him cool off. “Allen dumped a project on us last minute. Took more time than I expected.”
“Of course it did.”
Doing her best to ignore the sarcasm, she smoothed her skirts and took a seat next to him. His peppermint soap teased her nostrils and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and inhale. Lord, but she’d missed him. She didn’t realize how much until she saw him again. Hopefully they could put this incident behind them soon so things could go back to the way they were.
“If you want to talk about your quote, you’re going to have to be quick. I’ve got to get to Long Island.”
Sophie flinched. “You’re still angry.”
“You think?” Up close his eyes were even colder, like winter in August. “You told your boss I was your contractor.”
“Well, you are doing my kitchen....”
“Really? Tell me then, what do you call what we’ve been doing the past few nights? Negotiating?”
“It was a joke.”
“I didn’t find it very funny.”
Obviously. Her dreams of a quick resolution faded away. “Look, I’m sorry I told Allen you were my contractor. It was a mistake.”
“No kidding.”
But she’d apologized. Surely that should be enough. “It’s just that Allen caught me off guard. Both of you did. What were you doing there anyway?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now.”
No, she supposed not. “Point is, had I known you were coming by I would have been better prepared. I could have—”
“Come up with a better cover story?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth.” He wasn’t being fair. “I admit I was wrong, but think about it for a second, Grant. What exactly was I supposed to say?”
“Gee, let me think.” He leaned his back against the railing, increasing the distance between them. “I know! How about the truth?”
Which was what? Hey, Allen, here’s the guy I’m sleeping with? Oh, yeah, that would have worked out really well.
Her thoughts must have played out on her face, because Grant suddenly sighed and shook his head. “You know, I really thought we were over this age difference thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re obviously embarrassed to be seen robbing the cradle.”
“Don’t be absurd. Just because I don’t want the office to know my business doesn’t mean I’m embarrassed.”
“Really? Sure could have fooled me.”
“Why, because I won’t shout our affair to the world? Excuse me for wanting to keep my professional life and my private life separate.”
“But you’re not embarrassed,” he muttered under his breath.
Dear God. If her hair wasn’t in a ponytail, she’d pull her hair out. Why was he being so difficult? She said she was sorry, for crying out loud. Besides, he should understand the circumstances. “For God’s sake, Grant, it’s not like we’re talking about some random coworker. This was Allen Breckinridge, the most senior managing director. The man literally holds my future in the palm of his hand.”
An undecipherable look clouded his eyes. “Allen holds your future,” he repeated flatly.
“Yes.” They’d discussed this. “He’s in charge of naming the new managing directors. I screw up with him, and I’ve screwed up my career. You know how important becoming managing director is to me.”
“Oh, I know. Do me a favor, and remind me not to stand in the way if you’re ever in the line for chairman of the board. Instead of throwing me under the bus, you might actually push me in front of one.”
“Stop being childish.”
“Childish?” He blinked. “I’m being childish? No way. I’m not the one too immature to realize there’s more to life than a freaking promotion.”
“Like what, burying your head in the sand? Excuse me, but not all of us have the luxury of h
iding out because we’re afraid of the future. Some of us need to keep working to make something of ourselves.”
It was a low blow. Grant’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She wasn’t in the mood to psychoanalyze his guilty conscience right now.
But Grant didn’t want to let go. “I’m not burying my head anywhere. You know damn well why I stepped off the fast track, Sophie.”
“Yeah, I know why. I also know you’ve been hell-bent on trying to convince me to jump off with you.”
“Excuse me for not wanting you to repeat my mistakes.”
“And excuse me for not wanting to throw away twenty years of hard work on a fling!”
She whipped the words at him so hard he visibly flinched. His shoulders dropped slightly, and the look from before, that unreadable, disturbing look, returned to his eyes. “That how you see this? As a fling?”
“How else am I supposed to see ‘this’?” she asked, her own voice dropping. “For all I know, we could fizzle out next week.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Isn’t that part of the risk in a relationship?”
Maybe. “I don’t take risks, remember?”
“I know. I’ve seen your pantry.”
“Then you should understand.”
“But what if I asked you to?” he asked suddenly, looking her straight in the eyes. “What if I asked you to tell Allen and your entire office that we are together?”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge. Tell Allen? It wasn’t that simple. Allen demanded his employees give their whole lives to the job.
She took too long to answer. Grant immediately shoved himself to his feet. “Forget I asked. You’ve obviously made your choice.”
“Grant—” There wasn’t a choice to be made. She’d worked too long and too hard to become the Sophie Messina the world knew. To ruin that reputation for a fling…
It was a fling, right? A relationship with no future? Because she hadn’t planned on… The hairs on her neck began to rise.
“Where are you going?” she called, seeing Grant heading for the front door.
“To Long Island. Nate’s waiting.”
“What about our conversation?”
He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “What about it? I asked you to tell Allen about us and you said no. There isn’t much more to say, is there?”
“Except, I didn’t say no.”
“No, you hesitated. For the second time,” he added.
“Because what you’re asking is complicated. After I’m promoted I’ll be glad to tell people.”
He shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
No, she got it. He was the one who didn’t understand. How hard she worked. How much she needed this promotion. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get to where I am? The demons I had to outrun?” He wasn’t the only one with a past they wanted to erase. “There’s a lot more at stake here than just your ego.”
* * *
Ego? Grant blinked. She thought this was about ego? Grant stared at the woman sitting on the stairs. Took every ounce of self-control not to grab her by the shoulders and shake sense into her. “You’re right,” he said, his jaw squeezed so tightly it hurt. “There was a lot more at stake.” And she blew it.
If he stayed in the foyer another second, he would lose his temper and do something stupid, so he spun on his heel and walked out the door, leaving Sophie sitting on the stairs. Alone. The way she apparently wanted it.
Allen holds my future in the palm of his hand. Allen. Her freaking boss! He wanted to punch something. He settled for punching the steering wheel.
God, but he was such a fool. He slammed the door of his truck so hard the glass rattled. Dammit all! He should have known better. Her past hurts ran too deep. She was too afraid of, he didn’t know what, being left without, that she made her choice.
And she called him afraid? Ha!
An emptiness like he hadn’t felt in years engulfed him, extinguishing his anger and replacing it with a giant hole. He’d thought she… That they… The emotion danced on the tip of his brain, too hesitant to reveal itself by name.
What did he do now? Go back to Sophie’s bed and settle for being second best? Pride wouldn’t let him. Then again, the idea of passing by her door every day, of being so close and yet not close enough held even less appeal.
There was, he realized, a third option. Absentmindedly, his fingers curled around his cell phone.
The opportunity of a lifetime.
Nate would want him to.
Sophie wouldn’t care.
Afraid, huh? He’d show her afraid. Opening the contacts folder, he scrolled down to S and dialed.
* * *
On Saturday, Sophie attacked her usual chores. They didn’t take nearly as long as usual. Probably because there was no banging to distract her. The building was quiet as a church.
Too quiet.
For what felt like the thousandth time, she replayed last night’s conversation with Grant. Her actions back at her office were wrong; she admitted as much. Why then couldn’t he accept her apology and move on? What did it matter when or if she told the world they were involved?
Was their relationship that important to him? She thought about the dark expression in his eyes when she referred to what they had going on as a fling. Thinking back, it had looked awful close to hurt or disappointment. An unreadable emotion of her own took flight in her stomach.
No, she thought, calming the flutters. They were just having a fling. A wonderful, intoxicating fling.
Or least they had been. The way Grant walked off last night felt a lot more final than what she wanted. She missed him. Fling or not, she wasn’t ready to give him up. Soon as she talked with David she’d head upstairs. See if she couldn’t smooth things over.
Spurred on by her plan, she called David and asked if he could come by earlier than scheduled. Sooner they talked, the sooner she could go see Grant. The lawyer’s amiable agreement made her conscience cringe. David had been the man she expected to spend her future with. When had her plans gotten so turned around?
An hour later, she heard the front doorbell ring. Immediately her nerves went into overdrive. “Relax,” she told herself. David was a reasonable man. He’d understand what happened even if she didn’t. After all, wasn’t that his best quality? His ability to understand.
David’s blue eyes widened when she opened the door. “Shorts?” he asked. “A little casual for Troika, don’t you think? Never mind, you look lovely anyway.” He leaned in to kiss her hello. Sophie tilted her head so his lips caught her cheek instead. “I missed you while I was in Chicago,” he said.
A noise sounded in the entranceway behind them. Anxiety gripped her. Sophie closed her eyes. Grant. His body was stiff, his expression cold. “Don’t let me interrupt the reunion.”
Sophie’s heart sank. She knew what he was thinking. Just knew. Catching his eye, she tried to let him know he was mistaken.
The message was ignored.
“Hello.” Oblivious to Sophie and Grant’s silent conversation, David extended a hand. “Sophie’s neighbor, right? The man with the bathtub. Got it inside I see.”
“Yes.” Though he shook David’s hand, Grant’s eyes stayed locked on hers. Narrow slits that burned into her skin. “Everything is right in place. Isn’t that so, Sophie?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. Two could play the cryptic g
ame. “Is it?”
“From my view, anyway.” He turned to David. “The two of you on your way out?”
“Yes, we’re having dinner at Troika, soon as Sophie changes.”
“Troika. Sounds special. I hope you don’t have to wait long. For Sophie to change, that is.”
“Oh, I don’t mind waiting. After all our months together, I’m used to being patient. Isn’t that right, Sophie?”
Sophie didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure who was annoying her more at the moment. Grant with his veiled remarks, or David who had suddenly decided to act possessive and drape his arm around her shoulder. As delicately as possible, she slipped out of his grasp. “We should probably go inside. I’ll fix you a drink while you wait.”
“Sounds great. You can tell me about your plans for renovating your kitchen. You’re going to be doing the work, aren’t you?” he asked Grant.
Was he trying to bury her?
“Hopefully you’ll be able to talk her into modernizing. Maybe if she hears from a contractor, she’ll listen. I’ve been telling her to gut the whole place and start from scratch, but she keeps dragging her feet.”
“Well, you know Sophie. She doesn’t do anything without a master plan.” The words, delivered with cool cordiality, sliced through her. But then he’d meant them to.
“Yes, she does tend to stick to her plans,” David agreed.
“Not necessarily,” Sophie replied. She looked at both of them, hoping they each got the intended message. “In fact, I hoped to talk with Grant later this evening about my plans.”
“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to be part of any plans,” Grant replied. “I’m leaving town. I’ve decided to take a job in Philadelphia.”
“You have?” His comment cut her at the knees. Philadelphia? “I didn’t know…” She had no clue there was a job to be taken.
“I only recently decided. I’m taking a job with St. Pierre Development.”
“Oh.” Grant was leaving. Going to Philadelphia. No more nights wrapped in his arms. No more early morning cajoling to stay under the covers. No more coffee in her homely, cramped kitchen.
Mr. Right, Next Door! Page 14
