Kiera snorted. “This is me, Gray. You don’t have to lie. I don’t care how much you do or don’t work. And I’ve seen those party pictures that pop up all over the magazine covers. You seem to have plenty of fun.”
Her comment stung on many levels. Okay, sure, he’d made it a point to cultivate a certain persona since he started his real job. He found that it came in handy if people believed he was a carefree, laid-back, rich guy who did as little work as possible. However, just the opposite was true, but Kiera wouldn’t know that.
“Thanks. I’m glad I know how you really feel.” He hoped his sarcastic tone masked the hurt her words caused.
Kiera’s teasing smile vanished. “I didn’t mean it like that, Gray. You know how I feel about you.”
Actually, no he didn’t. Which was the problem. He assumed she considered him a childhood friend. After all, that was how he’d thought of her for most of his life. Then he’d seen her again at Trent’s wedding, and, well, now he wondered if he couldn’t do now what he’d considered that summer so many years ago.
“But you do seem to travel a lot. And go to a lot of social events.”
Kiera’s voice pushed his wayward thoughts aside.
“Three of four months ago, I read in some magazine that you were spotted in London with some actress. Or maybe she’s a model. I don’t remember. And last month, you were in Mexico according to Trent.”
“That was all for work.”
She didn’t say the word liar, but her expression did.
“All my travel in the past year has been for work.” It just hadn’t all been for Sherbrooke Enterprises. In fact more than half of it had been for the Agency.
“If you say so.” She looked away then back at him again. “Who was the woman with you in London? It’s driving me nuts that I can’t remember her name. She’s a model, right?”
He didn’t want to discuss any of the women he’d been spotted with over the past year. “Neither. But she wants to get into acting. Her father is the new Russian Prime Minister, and her family owns several businesses, including numerous resorts and casinos around the world. We met at one of them. And for the record, Nadia asked me to the movie premier.”
“She’s beautiful.”
He saw no reason to comment on that statement. After all, she was right; Nadia Danilova was gorgeous. Just not his type.
“You’re the first woman I’ve asked out in a while.”
Kiera bit down on her lip, but her smile still escaped. “Too busy?”
“That’s part of it.”
He worked hard, but that didn’t mean he had no social life. Instead, it was more a case of not meeting anyone he cared to get to know better. In fact, the desire he’d experienced dancing Saturday—and again on Monday—had been the first he’d felt in a long time.
“What about you?” They’d discussed many things over lunch, but not once had she mentioned a boyfriend.
“My job isn’t all that conducive to an active social life. I dated someone in Paris for two years, but he didn’t want to move here with me. We’re still friends and text sometimes.”
No guy in her life; he shouldn’t like the sound of that, but he did. A lot.
“Since we both have no social life, do you mind if I hang out here for the afternoon and watch television? I’ll even buy pizza later.”
Both her grandfather and father might be gourmet chefs, but the girl he’d known all his life loved pizza. Especially pepperoni and mushroom.
“You, my friend, have yourself a deal.”
For what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon, Kiera shot a look at Gray, then looked back at the super heroes on her socks. Man, she wished he’d called rather than just show up. Then she wouldn’t be sitting there in jeans so old they could buy a ticket to a PG-13 movie and socks decorated with super heroes. Okay, maybe her jeans weren’t that old, but they had holes in both the knees and she’d had them since before she’d moved to Paris. Granted, she didn’t have to impress Gray, but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like a slob, either. Especially considering he looked great today as usual.
The jingle for a popular snack food company started up, and Kiera realized the television show had gone to another commercial.
“Does anyone watch commercials anymore?” She hit Fast-Forward.
“Someone in the marketing department could answer you better than me, but that commercial is making me hungry for cake. And someone in this room did promise they’d make me cupcakes if I wanted.”
She’d baked enough that she could whip up cupcakes in her sleep. “So I did. And you promised me pizza.” Kiera switched off the television. “I’ll get started on my end of the bargain if you handle yours.”