Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

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 out to the store floor.
    “But I do places, Ana, not people,” José groans.
    “José, please?” I beg. Clutching my cell, I pace the living area of our apartment, staring out of the window at the fading evening light.
    “Give me that phone.” Kate grabs the handset from me, tossing her silken red-blonde 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 shut.
    “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 cold.
    “Grey.”
    “Err… Mr. Grey? It’s Anastasia Steele.” I don’t recognize my own voice, I’m so nervous. There’s a brief pause. Inside I’m quaking.
    “Miss Steele. How nice to hear from you.” His voice has changed. He’s surprised, I think, and he sounds so… warm – seductive even. My breath hitches, and I flush. I’m suddenly conscious that Katherine Kavanagh is staring at me, her mouth open, and I dart into the kitchen to avoid her unwanted scrutiny.
    “Err – we’d like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the article.” Breathe, Ana, breathe. My lungs drag in a hasty breath. “Tomorrow, if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?”
    I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone.
    “I’m staying at the Heathman in Portland. Shall we say, nine thirty tomorrow morning?”
    “Okay, we’ll see you there.” I am all gushing and breathy – like a child, not a grown woman who can vote and drink legally in the State of Washington.
    “I look forward to it, Miss Steele.” I visualize the wicked gleam in his gray eyes. How can he make seven little words hold so much tantalizing promise? I hang up. Kate is in the kitchen, and she’s staring at me with a look of complete and utter consternation on her face.
    “Anastasia Rose Steele. You like him! I’ve never seen or heard you so, so… affected by anyone before. You’re actually blushing.”
    “Oh Kate, you know I blush all the time. It’s an occupational hazard with me. Don’t be so ridiculous,” I snap. She blinks at me with surprise – I very rarely throw my toys out of the pram – and I briefly relent. “I just find him… intimidating, that’s all.”
    “Heathman, that figures,” mutters Kate. “I’ll give the manager a call and negotiate a space for the shoot.”
    “I’ll make supper. Then I need to study.” I cannot hide my irritation with her as I open one of cupboards to make supper.
    I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoky gray eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding. Oh, I’m going to look just great tomorrow with so little sleep, I scold myself. I punch my pillow and try to settle.
    The Heathman is nestled in the downtown heart of Portland. Its impressive brown stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s. José, Travis, and I are traveling in my Beetle, and Kate is in her CLK, since we can’t all fit in my