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where.”
    “We could ask him where. He says he’s staying in the area.”
    “You can contact him?”
    “I have his cell phone number.”
    Kate gasps.
    “The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor in Washington State just gave you his cell phone number?”
    “Er … yes.”
    “Ana! He likes you. No doubt about it.” Her tone is emphatic.
    “Kate, he’s just trying to be nice.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true—Christian Grey doesn’t do
nice
. He does polite, maybe. And a small, quiet voice whispers,
Perhaps Kate is right
. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Kate didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me. Kate brings me back to the now.
    “I don’t know who we’ll get to do the shoot. Levi, our regular photographer, can’t. He’s home in Idaho Falls for the weekend. He’ll be pissed that he blew an opportunity to photograph one of America’s leading entrepreneurs.”
    “Hmm … What about José?”
    “Great idea! You ask him—he’ll do anything for you. Then call Grey and find out where he wants us.” Kate is irritatingly cavalier about José.
    “I think you should call him.”
    “Who, José?” Kate scoffs.
    “No, Grey.”
    “Ana, you’re the one with the relationship.”
    “Relationship?” I squeak at her, my voice rising several octaves. “I barely know the guy.”
    “At least you’ve met him,” she says bitterly. “And it looks like he wants to know you better. Ana, just call him,” she snaps and hangs up. She is so bossy sometimes. I frown at my cell, sticking my tongue out at it.
    I’m just leaving a message for José when Paul enters the stockroom looking for sandpaper.
    “We’re kind of busy out there, Ana,” he says without acrimony.
    “Yeah, um, sorry,” I mutter, turning to leave.
    “So, how come you know Christian Grey?” Paul’s voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.
    “I had to interview him for our student newspaper. Kate wasn’t well.” I shrug, trying to sound casual and doing no better than him.
    “Christian Grey in Clayton’s. Go figure,” Paul snorts, amazed. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, want to grab a drink or something this evening?”
    Whenever he’s home he asks me on a date, and I always say no. It’s a ritual. I’ve never considered it a good idea to date the boss’s brother, and besides, Paul is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he’s no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination.
Is Grey?
my subconscious asks me, her eyebrow figuratively raised. I slap her down.
    “Don’t you have a family dinner or something for your brother?”
    “That’s tomorrow.”
    “Maybe some other time, Paul. I need to study tonight. I have my finals next week.”
    “Ana, one of these days you’ll say yes.” He smiles as I escape to the store floor.
    “BUT I DO PLACES , Ana, not people,” José groans.
    “José, please?” I beg. I pace the living room of our apartment, clutching my cell and staring out the window at the fading evening light.
    “Give me that phone.” Kate grabs the handset from me, tossing her silken reddish-blond hair over her shoulder.
    “Listen here, José Rodriguez, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you’ll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?” Kate can be awesomely tough. “Good. Ana will call back with the location and the call time. We’ll see you tomorrow.” She snaps my cell phone off.
    “Sorted. All we need to do now is decide where and when. Call him.” She holds the phone out to me. My stomach twists. “Call Grey, now!”
    I scowl at her and reach into my back pocket for his business card. I take a deep, steadying breath, and with shaking fingers, I dial the number.
    He answers on the second ring. His tone is clipped, calm, and