Bewitching You(50)

“Thanks.” Sofia grabbed the cup and turned to head out the door. But ran into a broad, hard chest instead. The lid of her drink popped off and spilled onto the man’s white shirt. “Shoot. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you—”

“Sofia, it’s me.”

Gray. Startled by his voice, she dropped the entire cup on the floor. Liquid bounced back and splashed onto his jeans. Slowly, she forced her gaze up to his face. His gorgeous face.

He was smiling at her so large she thought he might start laughing. His hair was a little bit longer, and his face was unshaven, a few days growth at least. He looked happy.

“Hi,” she squeaked out. Oh, geez. Here she was seeing him for the first time thousands of miles away from home and she’d gone and spilled a cold drink on him. Nice going, Sofe.

“Hi.” He picked up the cup and threw it in the trash beside him.

“I’m sorry.” She grabbed a napkin and patted at his t-shirt that fit nicely against his chest. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I guess I freaked out. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. They’re just clothes.”

She continued to pat, partly to get off the whipped cream, mostly to feel him in the flesh. To just feel him. It had been so long.

“Sofia,” he said, and took the napkin from her. “It’s not a big deal, trust me.” He nodded to the brunette barista who was staring up at him. “Can she get another one of these? I’ll pay for it.”

“Gray, you don’t have—”

“So, what are you doing all the way out here?”

Her mind went blank. Why was she here again? Oh yeah. “I’m a student at the art school. It’s right across the street.” She pointed absently out the coffee shop window.

“That’s great, Sofia,” he said, but his smile dimmed. “I’m curious. What made you decide to go to this one?” He stood close enough she could smell him. His natural, mesmerizing scent with a splash of whipped topping and caramel.

“Oh, fate, maybe. One of their people saw my paintings in a gallery opening. And…um, what are you doing here?”

Please say you flew out here to find me and sweep me off my feet.

“I live in this building. Do you remember when I told you I owned a place out here?”

“That’s right. I do remember. I, uh, went to your condo back home to invite you to the gallery opening, but you’d already moved.”

“I’m sorry, Sofia.” He skimmed a couple of fingers up her arm.

Her entire body warmed. Did he realize the effect he still had on her?

“I should’ve called to tell you. But after—” He shook his head. “Listen. None of that matters. Can you come upstairs with me so I can change, and we can continue talking?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Yes?”

“I mean, no. I can’t right now. I’m running late for my first day.” Sofia wondered if she were visibly shaking or if it was all in her head. Her mind was racing with questions. What did he want from her? Was it pity or amusement in his eyes?

“What about later? I’ll make you dinner. I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?”

He nodded and handed her the new drink from off the counter. “Will you come over? It’s the fifth floor. Number 501. Around seven? Will that work?”

“I think so.” I think so? Come on, Sofe. Get it together. “Er. That’ll be fine. Number 501 at seven o’clock?”

“Yeah.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Good luck on your first day. I’ll see you later.”

Her feet started moving before her mind did, and she was out the door before she let out a breath. Shoot. She hadn’t even said goodbye. But she couldn’t go back. She was late and she’d look like a dork rushing back in there. She’d just have to wait.

She headed across the busy street as a thought dawned on her, settling in her belly like a cement brick. Did he want her to come to dinner so he could be with her, or officially break it off?

What other reason could he have for disappearing and not calling?

Just get through the day, Sofe.

~ * ~

The day couldn’t have gone better, Sofia thought as she pushed the number five button on the elevator wall. She’d made new friends. The classes were interesting and thought provoking. Steven Burns had offered her a job in the admissions office, so she didn’t have to take that barmaid position.

It was everything she could’ve hoped for and more. Her life was finally on the right path. But as she walked through the elevator doors and ascended floor after floor after floor, the nerves in her body launched an all-out attack on her stomach, making her wonder if she just might die. Or throw up.

Ding. The doors opened, and right in front of her was the number 501 tacked onto a black paneled door. His door. He was right behind it, probably making her dinner.

Because he’d practiced.

Why? Did he want to be even more perfect before he dumped her? Before he told her, “It was fun while it lasted but…” Before her heart leaped up into her head and made an escape route out through her ears, because what heart would want to spend any more time in her pathetic, loveless, sexless body?

Get a grip, Sofe. Maybe he got sick of eating burned eggs.

She stepped out into the hardwood hallway. A black and white checkered rug ran from one end to the other. All she needed was some red and black checkers and she’d have a very good reason not to ring that doorbell.

Her finger thought otherwise. It pushed the little gold button, sending a buzzing noise into the other side. She heard a man’s laugh and then the doorknob turned. A man, a stranger, held a beer bottle as he stood at the threshold.

Maybe this was her lucky day?

Sofia checked the apartment number again. “I’m sorry. I guess I have the wrong—”

“Are you Sofia?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice making it sound more like a question than an answer.

“Don’t worry. This is Gray’s place. I was just making sure he doesn’t burn down the building, especially since I live one floor below him.”

“Oh. Okay.” Darn.

“Come in, Sofia,” Gray called. “I’m in the kitchen.”

The man gestured for her to enter, and she slipped by him. The layout of the loft looked like a mini version of his condo, except for the stairs that led up to a second story.

Gray stood at the island, opening a bottle of wine. He was clean-shaven but his hair still sat shaggy against his ears and forehead. Sofia liked the new carefree look, maybe a little too much.

Her gaze wandered down to the blue, thin knit sweater that emphasized his every muscle. Behind him, steam rose from a pot. A lemony aroma filled the air.

He set the corkscrew down and walked around to greet her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

High cheek, far away from the lips.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “This is my friend, Nick. He was just leaving.”

Nick held out a hand for her to shake. “Yep, I’m leaving. Actually, Gray wanted me to leave an hour ago, but I wanted to meet the famous Sofia.”

Sofia shook his hand lightly, afraid her palm was clammy. She couldn’t recall when she’d ever been this nervous. Was there a spell that got rid of the urge to vomit?

No. No more spells for personal use. Look at the mess it had gotten her into already.

“Famous?” she asked, the word finally registering.

“Yeah.” Nick winked. “Gray was telling me about your adventures together.”

Gray patted his friend’s back, giving him a slight shove. “See you tomorrow, Nick.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll take the not-so-subtle hint. You two have fun catching up.”

Nick left, leaving Sofia alone with Gray.

“I didn’t tell him the private details.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you sit while I check on our dinner?”

~ * ~

Gray poured her a glass of wine as she settled onto one of the barstools. She was damn sexy in her little flowered dress that curved at all the right places. When he’d kissed her cheek, he’d inhaled her scent, remembering the vanilla. Remembering everything. How could he forget?

He turned to dump the pasta into the colander.

Please, God, do not let me screw up the dinner. Any part of it.

He poured the sauce in with the chicken, but her stare bore into him, penetrated through to his marrow. She was being too quiet, but what did he expect? He’d moved across the country without telling her. She probably thought he was an *. Again.

Hopefully, she’d believe his reasoning.

“So,” he began, without looking back, “how was your first day of school?”

“Good. It went well.” Her voice was unsteady.