Only with You (The Best Mistake 1)

“Hey, guys,” he said casually.

They broke off their conversation as he approached, and he pushed away the uncomfortable sensation that he was obviously an outsider in their party for two.

“Hey, boss,” Jeff said with his usual easy nature. “Great party you’ve got here.”

“It wasn’t really my idea,” he said honestly, his eyes settling briefly on Sophie, who was watching the festivities with a little smile on her face.

“Yeah, this has Sophie all over it,” Jeff said with a laugh. “She totally saved my butt last week when I was trying to plan a wine-tasting party for my staff. Couldn’t have done it without her.”

Gray didn’t miss the casual possessive note in Jeff’s voice and stifled a surge of resentment and the urge to snarl that Sophie was taken.

Especially since Sophie wasn’t looking at him. Gray couldn’t even accuse her of giving him the cold shoulder, she just seemed…disinterested.

Which was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Gray!” called an out-of-breath voice. He tore his eyes away from Sophie’s profile and looked to the source of the panting. Here was the stout Stan—now he remembered the man’s name—of the athlete’s foot, rushing toward him, Keri in tow. Gray stifled a groan.

“We just completed The Castle,” Stan said, panting slightly from his speed-walk across the park. “You’ve gotta try this thing!”

“The Castle?” Gray asked blankly.

Keri gestured toward the huge blow-up jungle-gym monstrosity on the far edge of the park. “Over there. It’s been the hit of the party. At first it was just the kids that were competing, but now the adults are going through. It’s a race to see who can get through it first.”

That sounded like…hell. Gray glanced toward Sophie with a raised eyebrow.

“The event coordinator highly recommended it,” Sophie said with a shrug. “Apparently it’s becoming quite the rage at corporate events, assuming employees don’t mind a little physical activity.”

What had happened to the days of cocktail parties? What was wrong with standing stationary and drinking a nice Scotch?

“That’s great,” Gray said awkwardly.

“Who won?” Jeff asked Stan and his wife.

Dammit. He should have asked that.

“I did,” Keri said proudly as Stan pouted.

“It was my socks,” Stan said defensively. “They’re new, and therefore very slippery. I’d recommend taking your socks off before going through, Gray.”

Gray didn’t know which disturbed him more: the athlete’s foot expert discussing going barefoot, or the fact that they apparently expected him to fumble his way through a blow-up tower in front of his entire company.

“Oh, I’m not really dressed for that,” he said noncommittally.

Sophie snickered. “Yeah, I’m sure your jeans and polo shirt are really going to hold you back. It’s not like you’re wearing a suit.”

He met her eyes. They both knew the only reason he wasn’t wearing a suit was because she’d called him that morning with a stern lecture on looking approachable and “not looking like a stiff.”

“Come on, Gray, the people will love it,” Jeff said, taking a sip of his beer. “The oh-so-proper CEO scooting through a plastic tube on his belly? It’ll be great for your reputation.”

Gray narrowed his eyes looking for an underlying insult, but Jeff’s face remained pleasant, and the sausage-making couple bobbed their heads in agreement. “I shouldn’t,” he said with sham regret. “I still have a ton of people to meet. But you should,” he said to Jeff. “You’re a vice president; it should have the same effect.”

“He can’t,” Sophie said. “Jeff’s got a bad ankle after his last tennis match.”

“Oh, and whose fault is that?” Jeff asked teasingly.

She shrugged innocently. “It’s not my fault you didn’t listen to my warning about my killer backhand.”

What the hell? They’re playing tennis now? Together? She’d never asked him to play tennis. Friends did that kind of thing, right?