The Rules Regarding Gray Read Free

back. “Blondes? How superficial and oh-so very cliché,” she remarked.
    She let her hands mindlessly scrub the veggies as her brain wandered to images of Jasper’s cool hazel gaze. He’d watched her passively as she’d walked toward them in the studio theater, and she’d instantly felt something like cold heat coursing through the pit of her stomach. It was the eyes. “What’s his heritage? Is he Samoan, or…?”
    “Partly. White too. Why?”
    She froze for a moment, and then she turned around, holding a red pepper in her hand casually to hide her nerves. This was odd territory if nothing else—discussing another man’s look with one’s boyfriend. “No reason. He just has an … interesting look.”
    He was striking, actually. He was tall and strong, and his skin was a beautiful olive color. But that wasn’t the most striking part of his composition. It was the eyes. They were a light hazel that completely diverged with his subtle Pacific Island Samoan look, and that’s where the cool, yet searing, heat had come from. He wore his dark hair just shy of his shoulders in a layered casual cut that looked thoughtless, not something she usually fancied on men. But his hair was wavy, glossy, and shined enviably. His goatee and five o’clock shadow made him look dangerous in a way, but his pink lips were oddly and sweetly supple, and she’d struggled not to look at them when she’d met him.
    He’d been wearing worn, but fitted, jeans and an old eclectic T-shirt. She shouldn’t be surprised at his casual appearance given what she knew of him, but it was such a stark contrast to Ian who epitomized and perfected the straight laced white collar persona. Ian, in contrast, might have dark hair too, but it was far shorter and always perfectly styled. He looked out of place in pretty much anything but a suit, and he kept his face completely shaved smooth. He was a handsome man as well, and he gave power suit its power. But what a difference. To think they were best friends was almost laughable.
    “He does have an interesting look—one women seem to find very appealing. You too, if I’m not mistaken.”
    She shook her head. “No. That’s not what I meant—”
    But Ian just smiled as he lounged against the kitchen counter across from her. “Calm down. We may be competitive on occasion, but Jas and I don’t do jealousy. Never have. So you needn’t worry about offending me. He’s a good looking man. I don’t care if you think so.”
    “Well, I don’t think so. He can keep his cliché blondes. I like my man in a suit.” She turned back to the sink, hiding the heat in her cheeks.
    As she cut vegetables, he drank a glass of wine and watched her. He never once lifted a hand to help, and by the time she’d cut zucchini, onion, peppers, mushrooms, and tomatoes, she was starting to fume. She supposed it was no different than her own father was with her mother, but she was tired, and having his attention follow her around the kitchen as she cut, rinsed her knife, scraped the cutting board into the sauté pan, seasoned, warmed the tortillas, all left her blood boiling.
    He sat at the table and waited for her to finish, and when she finally sank into the chair across from him, she sighed and she glared. “You could have helped, you know,” she chastised as she started filling a tortilla with the vegetables.
    He snorted. “You said you’d cook dinner if I came over.” He snatched a tortilla from the plate, and then he peered into the pan. “No meat?”
    She just stared at him for a moment, but then she stood, walked to the fridge, grabbed a package of deli turkey, and threw it at him over the kitchen counter to the table. She smirked then, sticking her tongue out at him, and he chuckled.
    “Will you rub my feet for me?” she asked sweetly, forcing her smile to be appeasing.
    “If you rub mine first.” He scowled at the vegetables he was scooping into his tortilla.
    “I’ll rub yours first when you spend