Chapter 2- Double encounters.

Thank you all those who wrote me reviews, I've taken your praise and criticism and I agree with you from now on the plot I will keep close to but there will be points at which I will divert, that I had already decided before posting this story, and regarding Genevieve coping Ana's lines I will change them. Thank you for your opinions, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

MY HEART FEELS like it's all the way up into my throat. The elevator arrives on the first floor, and I all but leap out as soon as the doors open, my jelly legs almost send me flying a couple times, but thankfully this time my hands and knees do not touch the sandstone floor. A shiver goes down my spine, and the image of Mr. Grey sat at his desk watching me in the security footage on his laptop. As I race for the wide glass doors, flashes through my mind for some reason.

I break through the threshold, and I'm free, back out into the outside world. Revealing in the crisp, damp air of Seattle. Lifting my face to the bloated looking sky, I welcome the cool, refreshing rain. I close my eyes and take a deep steadying breath, trying to piece together what was left of my composure.

No man has ever affected me the way Christian Grey has, not even Cedric, Merlin bless his soul, and I can't for the life of me work out why? His arrogance? His civility? His stormy gray eyes? The way his oh so edible mouth quirks? I know it's not the allure of wealth, I'm stinking rich—and power I have enough hero worshippers to form a small army, so I don't understand the Irrational reaction and the way my magic reacted it's never quivered like that—it was almost a purr, very strange. Leaning against one of the steel pillars of the building, I try to calm my erratic thoughts. What was that? My heat beat eventually calms down, and when I can breath normally again I head for the car.

AS THE CIRY DISAPEARES behind me, the feeling of embarrassment and foolishness hits me full force as I replay the interview in my mind. I acted like a complete idiot. Okay so he's very good-looking, confident, commanding, comfortable in his own skin—but on the other hand, he's arrogant, an ego maniac, and for all his impeccable manners, he's autocratic and cold.

Well, on the surface. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He maybe arrogant, but then he has a right to—he's accomplished a lot for someone so young. He doesn't suffer fools gladly, but why should he? One again, I curse Kate for not giving me a brief biography.

While driving toward interstate 5, my mind drifts, and I wonder what makes someone so driven to succeed. Some of his answers were so cryptic—his words held an undertone I couldn't figure out, also most as if he had an hidden agenda. And then there was that question of Kate's—ugh! Bringing up his adoption and asking him if he was gay! I cringe I can't believe she was going to ask him that—I can't believe I asked him that! And his reaction, ground swallow me up whole! Now every time I see or hear the word 'gay' I'll be reminded of the most embarrassing moment of my life. Dame, you Katherine Kavanagh!

I glance at the speedometer. I'm diving a lot more carefully then I would on any other occasion. And I have a pretty good idea as to why—it had to do with a tall, copper haired Adonis with penetrating gray eyes telling me in a smooth but stern voice, to drive carefully. Shaking my head, he needs to live a little and stop acting like a man twice his age.

Drop it, me, I scold myself. I come to the conclusion that, today has been a very peculiar experience, and I decide not to dwell on it. Leave it alone. I tell myself, besides I never have to see him again. Immediately I feel my diminished dignity and pride sky-rocket, I switch on the stereo and turn the volume up loud, sit back and listen to the thumping indie rock music, as I press down on the accelerator. As I hit Interstate 5. Screw him I can go as fast as the law allows me to, he's not my boss.

WE LIVE IN A small community of duplex apartments close to Vancouver campus of WSU. I'm lucky—I met Ana and Kate, otherwise I would of found myself travelling a long way to get to Uni. The place was bought by Kate's parents for her, and she asked me and Ana to room with her not long after she met us. Kate and Ana split the rent between them and I pay all the utilities. It's been four years now. As I pull up outside, I know Kate and Ana are going to want a blow-by-blow account, and they can be tenacious. Well, at least Kate has the digital recorder. As I don't feel like elaborating too much about my embarrassing day.

"Jenny! You're back." Kate sits in our living area, surrounded by books. She's clearly been studying for finals—she's still in her pink flannel pyjamas decorated with cute little rabbits, the ones she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends , for assorted illnesses, and the a casual moody depression. Ana was sat on one of the arm chairs with her nose stuffed in a book, her deep chocolate brown hair falling in waves over her face like a curtain. Kate bounds up to me and hugs me hard.

"I was beginning to think you'd got lost, I thought you'd be back sooner"

"It took longer than I thought it would." I fan myself with the digital recorder, and smile at her.

"Jenny, thank you so much for this, I owe you, I know how was it? What was he like?" Oh no—here we go, the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition.

I find it hard to answer her question.

"I'm happy that it's over, and i'll never have to see him again. Believe it or not, he was rather intimidating." I shrug taking off my jacket and wedges. "He's very focused, intense even—and young. Really, really young, for someone that's accomplished so much." I give Kate an even stare as I say the last part. She gazes innocently at me, I send her a mock glare.

"Don't you look so innocent. Why didn't you give me a crash course in Christian Grey? He made me feel like I was completely inept for skimping on basic research—I admit, I probably was,-no wait that's not the point—the point is give me some background info next time okay."

Kate clamps a hand to her mouth. "Jeez, Jenny, I'm sorry—I didn't think."

I sigh.

"Why was he rude to you?" Ana asked looking up from her book.

"He was pretty polite, formal, a bit like an old man—like he's old before his time. He doesn't talk like a man of tweantysomthing. Wait, how old is he anyway?"

"Twenty-seven. Jenny I'm really sorry. But there wasn't much time and I was in such a panic. Let me have the recorder and I'll start transcribing the interview." Kate said.

"How are you feeling you look better than you did this morning. Did you eat your soup?" I ask her, trying to change the subject. The soup that I'd slipped a pepper up potion in, how brilliantly sly am I.

"Yeah was it was delish as usual. I'm feeling much better." She smiles at me in gratitude.

"So Ana, how was the date with Jose?" I ask her a smirk on my face.

"Oh yeah, spill!" Kate gushes.

"It wasn't a date, it was just coffee—well tea for me." She tries in vain to brush it off.

"Did he kiss you?"

Ana doesn't say anything but her blush gives her away.

"So was it good?" Kate presses.

"Yeah it was nice."

"What just nice, give me details!" Kate whines.

I tune out Kate and her prying for dirty details, and look down at my watch.

"I have to run. I can still make my shift at Clayton's." I tell them.

"Jenny, you'll be exhausted." Ana tells me.

"If I do today. I'll get Saturday off to study and relax," I tell them, while putting on my black converse. "I'll see you when I get back—bye."

I'VE WORKED AT CLAYTON'S since before I started at WSU and it was how I first met Ana, when she started to work here and it was a shock when we both found out we were in the same uni and taking the same subject. We met Kate not long after that and from that point on we were inseparable. Clayton's is the largest independent DIY shop in the Portland area, and over the five years I've worked here, I've know a little bit about everything we sell—that being said if anyone were to ask me if I could do DIY, I would reply with a modest, but blunt HELL YEAH! put a hammer and a few nails in my hand and I could build any shelf, cabinet, you name it—although I may receive a few sore thumbs but that's an occupational hazard.

I'M GLAD I CAN make my shift it keeps my mind off the charismatic Christian Grey. We're busy—It's the start of the summer season, the time people decide they want a new home without moving. Mrs. Clayton looks relived to see me.

"Jenny I thought you weren't going to make it today."

"My appointment didn't take as long as I thought. I can do a couple of hours."

"I'm really pleased to see you."

"By the way Mrs. Clayton, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to have this Saturday off, I'm behind in my studying and I have my final exams coming up soon."

"Yes that's fine honey, thank-you for letting me know a head of time." With that she sends me to the storeroom to start restocking shelves, and I'm soon absorbed in the task.

WHEN I ARRIVE HOME later, Katherine is wearing headphones and working on her laptop. Her nose is still pink, but she has her teeth into a story, so she's concentrating and typing furiously. I'm beat, exhausted by the long drive, by the embarrassing interview, and being swamped at Clayton's, I collapse onto the sofa, thinking about all the studying I've missed today because I was holed up with … him.

"You've got some good stuff here, Jenny. Well done. I can't believe you didn't take him up on your offer to show you around. He obviously wanted to spend more time with you." She gives me a fleeting quizzical look.

I feel my face heat up, and my heart starts pounding in my chest. That wasn't the reason—he probably just wanted to show off his immense power and after the gay comment, which no doubt dealt his pride a big blow, he probably wanted to sling his testosterone around. I realise I'm biting my lip. A nervous trait I share with Ana, and I hope Kate doesn't notice. Thankfully she's too absorbed in her transcription.

"I get what you mean when you said he was formal. Did you take any notes?" She asks.

"Oh … sorry no, I didn't"

"That's fine. I can still make a really fine article with this. I was talking to Ana earlier and she pointed out we don't have any original stills, shame. Good-looking son of a bitch isn't he?"

"Defiantly." The word leaves my mouth before I realise what I'm saying.

"Ooooh, see something you like Miss Potter?" She teases.

"I'm not blind Kate, he's very good-looking—very, but I also know he's out of my league. Besides I'm never going to see him again. So it doesn't matter." I tell her.

"You have more of a chance with him, than I do."

She scoffs, "I doubt that, Jenny. Come on—he practically offered you a job. Given that I shoved this on you at the last second, you did very well." She glances up at me speculatively. I make a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"So what else did you think of him—apart from he's good-looking?" Why can't she just let this go. I have to think of something—fast.

"He's very driven, controlling, bit of an ego maniac, really arrogant—scary, has charisma practically gushing from his pores. I defiantly understand the fascination." I answer truthfully, hoping this will quell the beast called Katherine Kavanagh's curiosity.

"Your fascinated by a man—you? Well I guess miracles do happen." She snorts.

I'm feeling a little peckish so I start gathering what I need for a sandwich so she can't see my face.

"Oh yeah so—why exactly did you want to know if he was gay? By the way it was the most embarrassing moment of my life, and he wasn't too happy to be asked either." I scowl at the memory.

"Whenever he's in the society pages, he never has a date."

"It was mortifying. The whole time I just wanted the ground to turn to mush and swallow me whole, It's a good job I don't have to see him again, I don't think my dignity could survive another blow."

"Oh, stop being a drama queen. It can't of been that bad. Right? Besides I think he sounds quite taken with you."

"You were, listening to the same interview—right, he was laughing at me, the whole time—when he wasn't pissed at me for brining his sexual orientation in to question. He was laughing."

"I bet he just found you cute. You know, sometimes your stubborn and headstrong and sometimes give off the aura that you know how the world works—but other times your like a small, naïve, defenceless animal. One, that from time-to-time does very amusing things." Kate tried to comfort.

"What, you mean like what—a bunny." I say, picking the first animal that comes to mind.

"No. Your more like a puppy."

"Did you just call me a dog." I glared playfully at her.

"So I did. What you gonna do about it bitch." She shot back with a smile.

"I'll tell you what I'm not going to do—I'm not going to make you a sandwich—that's what!" I tell her with a triumphant smirk on my face.

"You don't need to. I have one already." she says in a fake snobbish tone of voice.

"You do?"

"Yeah." And with that she leaned forward and plucked my sandwich from my plate, and took a big bite out of it.

"That's mine!" I yell.

"Yeah, and It's delicious as always."

I look at her and burst out laughing, she joins in. The door to Ana's room opens and she sticks her head out. "What's all the laughing about?" She asks.

"Nothing, Jenny's making Sandwiches if you want one." Kate offers on my behalf.

"Really."

"Yeah, what do you want." I admit defeat to Kate once again.

"I'll have what ever your having."

"Okay."

NOTHING MORE WAS said of Christian Grey that evening, thank Merlin. Once we'd all eaten, I'm able to sit at the dining table with Kate and Ana, while Kate works on her article, and me and Ana work on are essay on the Tess of the d'Urbervilles. We were up late in to the night discussing how the woman was at the wrong place and at the wrong time, in the wrong century. By the time we finish, It's already midnight, and Kate has long since abandoned ship in faver of her bed, to escape our heated discussion. I make my way to my room, throwing a 'good-night' over my shoulder at Ana, I'm exhausted, but satisfied with the amount of work I've got done despite it being such an eventful day—for a Monday, anyway.

I curl up into my powder pink coloured bed, and wrap the blanket Molly Weasley, made for me as a leaving present when I left England. Along with a basket full of treacle tarts and double choc chip fudge cookies—which have long since been devoured. That night for the first in quite a while I dreamed—I dreamed of dark places, cold white floors and deep stormy gray eyes.

FOR THE REST of the week, I dedicate myself to my studies and my job at Clayton's. Kate is busy too still working on her last edition of the student newspaper before she has 'Pass the torch' as the saying goes—to the new editor like the one before her, all the while cramming for her finals. Ana who's also being studying for her finals, has been out with Jose a few more times—I'm happy for her and he seems to worship the ground she walks on, so me and Kate don't have to sharpen our claws for the backlash that always follows when one goes ''fishing'' in other waters so to speak. It's pleasing to see that's he's just as interested in her as she in him.

By Wednesday Kate's feeling much better and me and Ana no longer have to endure the sight of her pink-flannel-with-too-many-rabbits Pjs, the are resealed—laying dormant, for the time in which they are called upon again—and believe me there will be many times to come. I decide to call Hermione in Bulgaria to see how her budding relationship with Viktor is going. The conversation is brief but she still manages to lecture me on how important it is to study vigorously as it will all pay off in the end, before wishing me good-luck on my final exams. If she senses that there's anything wrong, she doesn't bring it up. I silently thank her for it.

FRIDAY NIGHT, AND KATE, ANA AND I are debating what to do with our evening—were sick of studying, and from the student newspapers—when the door bell rings. I open the door to see our good friend and Ana's man Jose, clutching a bottle of champagne.

"Jose! Great to see you! Come in." I give him a quick hug, and as he walks through the door I shout, "Ana! Jose here to see you."

"Jose!" She exclaims happily running up and giving him a hug, they kiss and it slowly starts to heat up.

"Woah! Children, no PDA in the house please! Keep it PG 13, okay." I interrupt, they spring apart and Ana's face lights up like a Christmas tree. I smile at her and all three of us migrate into the living room where Kate waiting.

"What are you doing here?" Ana asks, so she didn't call him over.

"I have news." He grins, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh my god, don't tell me—you've actually gone another week without getting kicked out, Jose that's brilliant," I tease him. And he scowls playfully at me. Kate and Ana laugh.

"Ha. Ha, very funny—no. The Portland Place gallery is going to exhibit my photos next month." He's practically vibrating with excitement.

"That's amazing—congratulations!" Ana squeals in happiness, hugging and kissing him again. Me and Kate beam at him too.

"Way to go Jose! I should put this in the paper. Nothing like last-minute editorial changes on a Friday evening." Kate feigns annoyance.

"Let's celebrate. I want you to come to the opening." Jose looks intently at Ana, I watch her flush. "You two as well." He adds right at the end, glancing nervously at Kate and me.

Jose and Ana met for the first time in her first year at WSU, he was then introduced to both me and Kate and joined our merry band of—well I don't know how to finish that sentence—let's just leave it at that. And him and Ana have only grown closer, till the boy finally made a move, and it only took him four years—wow-that's what you call dedication right there. Because Ana can be quite oblivious, he must really have a soft spot for her.

It was just me and Kate that needed to get ourselves a man now. But honestly Kate, will likely be the one to bet a boyfriend first, I've told her that before, she just laughed and said the reason I haven't got a boyfriend is because I'm missing the need-a-boyfriend gene. But the fact of the matter is I just haven't met the one for me yet, and now you have. My subconscious, pipes up.

NO WAY! I get rid of that thought immediately. I'm not going down that road, now after that god awful interview. Are you gay Mr. Grey? The memory makes me want to bash my head against the wall, I'm already stuck dreaming about him every night, since then. But that's just my subconscious getting Christian Grey out of my system. Probably.

I watch Jose open the bottle of champagne. Jose is a tall man, and in his jeans and T-shirt, he's all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair and dark eyes. I would say Jose is good-looking, but he's not my type. The cork makes a loud pop, and Kate whoops.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON and I'm sat on the sofa studying, I'm wearing my hair in a messy bun, a dark purple baggy top and gray sweatpants. And my ugly round glasses, I've been meaning to buy new ones but I don't use them all that often, since I got laser eye surgery. When I went to get it done I feared that my magic was going to screw up the equipment, and that one of my eyes was going to end up all the way across the room—all in all it went well and I'm glad I had it done. The memory of my Irrational fear, still makes me laugh at myself. The down side is that I still get headaches from time to time caused by eye strain so that's why I kept them. So here I am with my fugly glasses on. Lounging. As I've named today as my officially my lazy day—no make-up, no primping. Just me in some baggy clothes eating junk food and relaxing. I look at Kate who's sitting at the kitchen, she huffed.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't find any good photos for the article, I must of gone through hundreds of photos and I don't like a single one of them." She groaned.

"Your just going to have to pick the best of the worst and use that." I tell her.

"I don't want to!" She shouts like a child and kicks her legs.

My phone suddenly goes off—I glace at the caller ID, it's Ana, I answer.

"Hello, Ana. What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, I was hoping—pretty please, if you could bring me my revision material, today's been quite slow, so I thought I could cram some studying in while there were no customers, I mean if that's okay?" she asks.

"Yeah sure I'll bring them, where are they?"

"Under the arm chair in the living room."

My eyes hit the floor and I can see the folder just peaking out from under the chair, "I'll be down soon, okay bye." I hang up the phone and turn to Kate.

"I'm going to go take Ana's stuff down to Clayton's, do you want me to get you anything on my way back?" I ask her.

"No, I'm good."

"Okay—what do you think, should I change." I glance at her and she looks over me.

"No that's fine your only going to Clayton's, its not like your going to bump into anyone."

"Thanks." I say, grateful for her opinion.

"Do you want to take my car?" Kate offers out her keys for me to take.

"No I feel like walking, thanks anyway." I stuff Ana's books into her backpack and shrug it on.

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

I SEE ANA at the counter, she's trying and failing to eat a bagel discreetly and I realise I haven't eaten lunch yet either.

"Ana." I call her, she jumps and her head snaps up.

"Oh your here, thank you. I know its your day off and everything-" She trails off. I set the backpack on the counter.

"No, its fine I left something here on my last shift so I might as well go get it." I said swiping the rest on her bagel.

"Hey!" Ana exclaimed.

"Call this my transporters fee!" I yell back, shoving what was left of the bagel in my mouth.

When I get back to the front on the store, the jacket that I left behind on my previous shift in my hand. I stop dead in my tracks, and I swear my heart stops beating—there talking to Ana is the man who's been haunting my dreams for the past week. Christian Grey stood in all his handsome goodness leaning slightly on the counter. I watch as Ana flounders, she catches my eye over his shoulder and the silent conversation of the eyes, begins between us. I can see that she's almost at her limit, after all a pheromone factory like Mr. Grey is too much for someone like Ana to handle—heck it's too much for me to handle.

Mr. Grey starts to turn around and I freeze—luckily our eye conversation portrays my panic to Ana and she reclaims his attention, giving me a little time to make myself presentable—well as presentable as one can be in a baggy top and sweats. I hurriedly brush my hands over my clothes smoothing out non-existent creases. I take my hair out of it's bun and take off my glasses and tuck them into the pocket of my jacket—just in time for the man himself to turn and sees me.

"Miss Potter. What a pleasant surprise." His gaze is unwavering and intense, I think I see a small frown on his face when he looks me up and down, but It's gone in a blink.

Why the hell is he here, looking all outdoorsy with his tousled copper hair and in his cream chuncky-knit sweater, jeans and walking boots? I think I here my mouth hit the floor. And my brain and voice seem to be MIA.

"Mr. Grey," I whisper, because that's about as much I can manage. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are a light with humour. It feels like there's butterflies in my stomach. It's as if he's enjoying some private joke—yeah he probably wants to laugh his ass off at what I'm wearing.

"I was in the area," he says answering the question that was probably written all over my face. "I need to stock up on a few things. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Potter. What brings you here shopping?" His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel … or something.

"Jenny works here, but It's her day off." Ana pipes up. What are you doing Ana.

"Is that so." He mused

"Yeah, she was just dropping off something for me. Oh I know why don't you show Mr. Grey around Jen." Why Ana, why. Is it because I took your bagel—I'm sorry. Or have the powers that be chose this moment of all moments to give you the ability to channel Kate.

"I wouldn't want to keep you, if you have plans for the day, Miss Potter." He says looking me up and down, his smile was dazzling, and my will to protest that smile was crumbling at the speed of light.

I shake my head, and try to gather the remainder of my still working brain cells together. My heart is pounding like a sledge hammer, and for some reason, I'm blushing like a fool under his steady scrutiny. Of all the times to run in to him it had to be at the time when I'm dressed like a slob—oh the horror. My composure is cracking at the sight of him standing before me. Although now that I look at him, I see that my fuzzy dreams don't do him any justice—now that I see him in HD. He's not just good looking but he's at the top of the food chain on the make beauty pyramid—breathtaking and he's here. In Clayton's a DIY store, him one of the richest men on the planet.-Go figure. Finally after my back up brain has finished loading, I'm reconnected with the rest of my body.

"Jenny—Um call me Jenny." I mutter. "I'm not doing anything sure I'll show you around Mr. Grey."

He smiles, and again I feel like I'm missing something obvious. What a frustrating man. I take a steadying breath, and put on my best I-am-pro-at-this face. I've got this.

"There are a few items I need. To start with, I'd like some cable ties." He murmurs, his expression cool and amused.

Cable ties?

"We stock all different lengths. This way." I mutter, my voice soft and wavering slightly. Hold your nerve, Potter.

I watch his face that mars into Grey's rather lovely brow. "Please. Lead the way, Miss Potter," he says. I try to act as natural as possible as I move away from the counter, Mr. Grey walking at my side. My insides feel like their knotting and my joints feel like they've been replaced with jelly. Inside I'm dying—I should of got changed, I should of put on a pair of jeans—a skirt—anything!

"They're with the electrical products, aisle eight." My voice cracks at the end. I look at him hoping he didn't notice. He smiles at me. Oh Merlin is he handsome.

"After you," he murmurs in that silky voice, gesturing with his long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand.

I take a quick look behind me to see Ana giving me the thumbs up—I make the cut throat motion with my hand as discreetly as I can. And the last thing I see before we walk down the aisle is Ana's huge cheeky grin.

With my heart in my throat—I head down one of the aisles leading to the electrical section, all the while my head is swamped with thoughts like—why is he here in Portland? And why Clayton's—why not just go looking for DIY supplies when he gets back to Seattle. And in a very deep part of my mind, my subconscious tires to tempt me with the words, he's here because you are here.I laugh in the face of my subconscious and shoo away the distracting thoughts. There's absolutely no way. Why would this beautifully sculptured, powerful, charismatic man want to see me? The idea is absolutely ludicrous, only in my dreams.

"Are you here on business?" I ask using conversation as a way to stop my wandering thoughts, my voice is a little too chipper. Keep your cool, Jen.

"I was visiting the WSU farming division. It's based in Vancouver. I'm currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science." He says matter of factly. I told you so! My subconscious sneers at me in a sing-song voice. I blush at my own idiocy. My subconscious needs to make up it's dame mind.

"All part of you feed-the-world plan?" I tease.

"Something like that," He acknowledges, and his lips quirk in to that gorgeous, half smile of his.

We finally get the the aisle with all the electrical goods. "Here we are." I say gesturing to the all the cable ties we have. Why on earth would he need cable ties. I picture him in jeans and a white wife beater, with a brown leather tool belt all grimy and sweaty- STOP! I bellow mentally. What a dangerous thought proses, don't go down that road Genevieve—don't go there.

His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and the image of builder Grey creeped back into my mind with a vengeance, I look away. He bends and selects a packet.

"These will do," he says that undecipherable smile of his.

"Is there anything else?"

"I'd like some masking tape."

Masking tape? An image of him binding my hands and covering my mouth, flashes through my mind and vanishes just as quick. Whoa, what the hall was that! Maybe I've been suckered into reading one too many of Ginny's erotic novels—yeah that's the reason.

"Are you redecorating?" I'm still reeling from the kinky image that invaded my brain, and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Why? Would he do it himself, when he could just hire people to do it for him.

"No, not redecorating." He says quickly, then smirks. And I can't help, but feel like he's laughing at me for some reason. Was my dirty thought right is he—No that cant be it. I tell myself. Yeah he's probably laughing at what your wearing—my subconscious cruelly reminds me.

Do I really look that bad? Then I remember what I'm wearing. Yeah I do.

"This way," I mutter, utterly embarrassed—both by my unattractive outfit and my over stimulated mind. "Masking tape is in the decorating aisle."

I glance behind me as he follows, my magic hums in contentment. What the hell is wrong with me today—scratch that this whole week. It's all his fault this all started when I met him—the thought that he could be a wizard runs through my mind, but I quickly veto that thought because. My magic might have reacted to him, but there was no follow up response, if he were a wizard his magic would have reacted back in some way. And I would have felt it, being out of the magical world for five years makes one hyper-sensitive to magical energy—no he defiantly isn't a wizard so why is my magical core reacting like it is?

I decide to drop the whole thing for now—maybe I'll ask Hermione about it if I can scrape together the nerve to tell her. She can be a bit over powering now and then.

I must have been must have been staring at him, because he gazes down at me, concentrating hard. "Have you worked here long?" His voice is low, I blush brightly. I feel like I'm a fourteen year old girl, again, with hormones flying everywhere, like wayward spells—god how pathetic. I look away from him.

"Five years," I mutter as we reach are goal, to distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.

"I'll take that one," Grey says softly, pointing to the wider tape, which I just pass to him. I wonder if he can feel the heat coming off me right now, I muse. Our fingers brush and my magic jolts, the current running from my finger tips—all the way down to my toes. A gasp escapes from my lips as the buzz from the current lingers a little longer all the way down somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. I squirm, desperate to recover my equilibrium.

"Anything else?" My voice is breathy and soft. His eyes widen slightly.

"Some rope, I think?" his voice is deep and husky, the buzzing in my belly goes up a notch.

"This way." I'm suddenly aware how close we've gravitated together, I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and move toward the aisle.

"What sort of rope did you have in mind? We have synthetic and natural filament rope … twine … cable cord …" I freeze at his expression, his gray eyes going three shades darker. Oh my. My breath hitches.

"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please."

I nod, because that's about as much as I can manage, and quickly as I can with clumsy fingers, I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, very aware of the good-looking man's hot, stormy gray eyes on my back. I then realise I don't have anything to cut the rope with, I still for a second before noticing an abandoned pencil tucked right at the back of the shelf next to the rope. Naturally as possible I reach for the pencil and with a twitch of my fingers and a silent spell—transfigure the pencil in to a Stanley knife.

"Good thing this is here, or we would have had to go back to the counter. I forgot I'm not working so I don't have mine." I turn and tell him, waving the still sheathed knife in my hand.

"That is lucky," he frowns and looks over at the self, my heart stops—did he see me transform the pencil, I was careful—how?

"That's pretty irresponsible, and dangerous of whoever it belongs to." He nods at the knife in my hand, the frown still on his face

"Yeah your right." I say quietly, my heart stutters and I almost collapse on the floor in relief—he didn't see me! My secrets still safe.

I turn back around, I cut the rope, I pop the knife into my pocket. Mr. Grey looks at me and I feel the need to explain.

"I don't want you to think of me as an irresponsible employee," I say smirking up at him. I coil and tie the rope into a slipknot.

"Were you a girl scout?" He asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement.

Don't look at his mouth!

"It's called Girl Guilds in England and no I wasn't. Organized group activities aren't really my thing Mr. Grey." That being said I would of liked the option as a child—like that was ever going to happen, not while I was with 'them' -–Stop! That part of my life is over—it's done—let it go. I scold myself.

"So, then. How did you learn to do it?" He looks genuinely interested.

"At school maybe I don't know, I can't really remember," I say, the last part a little offhandedly. I remember it was for a war, one I wanted no part in.

He arches a brow.

"Sorry," I quickly say, blushing softly.

"It's okay, so you said Girl scou—I mean Girl Guilds wasn't your thing—what is your thing then, Genevieve?" He asks, his voice soft, and his secret smile is back. I gaze at him, unable to express myself. Try to be cool, Jenny, my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.

"Books, and cooking." I whisper, but on the inside my subconscious is purring: Gray eyed hunks, are my thing. I smack it down, reeling that my screwed up psyche is having ideas way above It's station. Keep it in check. I tell myself.

"What kinds of books?" He cocks his head to the side. And the descriptive word that pops into my mind is 'Cute'.

But why is he so interested.

"Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly."

"What about cooking what do you like to cook?"

"Um—anything I feel like really, but just for friends and people I consider family."

"Are you a good cook." He asks.

"I wouldn't say I'm brilliant, but no one who's eaten anything I've mades complained to me-" apart from 'that' family, "—so yeah—um—." I trail off awkwardly. I watch, as he rubs his chin with his long index finger and thumb as he contemplates my answers. Or maybe he's getting bored of listening to my whittering.

"Anything else you need?" Time to move this show along the road—those fingers of his are hypnotising in the way that they move with beguiling grace.

"I don't know. What else would you recommend?"

It's hard to recommend something, when you don't know what the person who's asking you to recommend something is doing. I sass him in my head, too chicken to say it out loud.

"For-a-do-it-yourselfer?"

He nods, his eyes alive with wicked humour. I flush, I feel like I just talked dirty for some reason- I once again chalk that up to Ginny's influence, my gaze travels the full length of him , straying just a little longer on him snug jeans.

"Coveralls," is my immediate reply, and I know for a fact that the filter-to-mouth part of my brain has at some point since meeting him. Without me knowing, broken and I am no longer able to control what's coming out of my gob.

He raises an eyebrow, amused yet again.

"You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing." I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans, in a lame attempt to cover up my checking him out.

"I could always take them off." He smirks.

I swear in that moment, my jaw unhinges and hits the floor, "…Um …" Is the only thing I manage to say. I feel the colour in my cheeks sky-rocket again. I must be the colour of the Gryffindor common room. Stop talking. Stop talking NOW.

"I'll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing," he says dryly, taking pity on my poor over worked brain.

I try to dismiss the unwelcome image of him without jeans.

"Do you need anything else?" My voice cracks as I hand him the blue coveralls.

He ignores my inquiry.

"How's the article coming along?"

I can breath easily now- good an easy question, away from him and his innuendos and the confusing double-talking … a question I can answer without screwing up. I grasp at it tightly as if it was an oasis in the middle of the desert, and I go for honesty.

"I'm not the one writing it, Katherine is. Miss Kavanagh. One of my room-mates along with the girl Ana you met at the counter. Katharine's the editor of the newspaper, and she was devastated that she couldn't do the interview in person." I feel like I'm getting back my mental balance—at last, a normal topic of conversation. I remember what Kate said about wanting original photos, and decided to throw a line and see if it caught anything—I never expected it to. "Her only concern is that she doesn't have any original photographs of you."

"What sort of photographs does she want?"

Wow never expected to catch anything,.I shake my head, because I just don't know.

"Well, I'm around. Tomorrow, perhaps …"

"You'd really be willing to do a photo shoot?" my voice doesn't hide my amazement. Kate will be on cloud nine if I can pull this off. And he'll be there … and you'll be there … That dark place at the base of my brain whispers seductively at me. I banish the thought—of all the delusional, idiotic …

"Kate will be delighted—if we can find a photographer." I'm so happy, I smile at him broadly. His lips part, like he's taking a sharp intake of breath, and he blinks. For a fraction of a second, he looks somehow lost, and the earth seems to shift along as well, the tectonic plates sliding. I hear the proverbial click as they settle into their new position.

What a sight, the over confidant, arrogant, ego maniac Christian Grey's—lost look.

"Let me know about tomorrow." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet. "My card. It has my cell number on it. You'll need to call before ten in the morning."

"Okay sure." I grin up at him. Kate is going to be thrilled.

"Jenny!" My names called and I practically jump five feet in the air, and my heart tops for a moment. I seemed to have startled Mr. Grey as well because his arms whip out and he grasps the top of my arms. I look up at him to see him glaring daggers at someone over my shoulders. The quivering of my magic is back, he's so close and I can smell his deep musky scent, I almost lean forward to get a deeper sniff of his intoxicating scent. But he lets go of my arms and takes a step back before I can.

The other person called my name once again, and I turn around. A little pissed for some reason. The woman's fury bubbling inside me dissipates when I see that its Paul at the other end of the aisle. He's Mr. Clayton's youngest brother. I'd heard he was back from Princeton, but I didn't know he was back at work today.

"Er, I'll just be a moment, Mr. Grey." Grey frowns as I turn away from him. Paul has been a buddy of mine since I started five years ago, and at this moment in time I'm a little torn, one part of me is happy that he interrupted and the other part of me just wants he to go away and leave me with Mr. Grey—It's very confusing. Paul hugs me hard, taking me by surprise.

"Jenny, hi. I didn't know you were in today, I thought you got the day off.!" He gushes.

"Yeah I do but Ana needed me to bring something in for her, so here I am."

"It's good to see you anyway."

"Are you home for your brother's birthday?"

"Yep. Your looking well, Jenny. Really well." He grins as he examines me at arm's length. He then releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I suddenly feel really uncomfortable and embarrassed. It's good to see Paul, but he can be a little over familiar.

When I glance up at Christian Grey, he's watching us like a hawk, his eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard, impassive line. His whole persona has changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else—someone cold and distant. Is he angry at me, why?

"Paul, I'm helping a customer right now."

"Even though It's your day off?" He asks me.

"Yeah you should meet him." I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Grey's expression. I expertly shove Paul's arm off my shoulder and walk over to Mr. Grey—Paul following like a puppy behind me. The atmosphere is suddenly arctic. Maybe I shouldn't of brought Paul over to meet him? Too late now!

"Er, Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton. His brother own the place." I get the sudden feeling that I need to explain myself a little more.

"I've known Paul since I started working here, although he Isn't here most of the time. He's back from Princeton, where he's studying business administration-" I trail off when I start babbling … this is turning into a right train wreak!

"Mr. Clayton." Grey holds out his hand, his expression unreadable.

"Mr. Grey." Paul returns his handshake, oblivious to the rising tension Mr. Grey was giving off. "Wait up—not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprise Holdings?" Paul goes from surly to awestruck in and instant. Grey gives him a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Wow—is there anything I can get you?"

"Genevieve has it covered, Mr. Clayton. She's been very attentive." His expression is impassive, but his words … I felt like he was warning him for some reason. It's baffling.

"Cool," Paul responds. "Catch you later Jenny."

"Yeah see you later Paul." I watch him disappear towards the stockroom. "Do you need anything else Mr. Grey?"

"Just these items." His tone is clipped and cool … Did I do something? Taking a deep breath, I turn and head back toward the register where hopefully Ana was still sat. what's with the 180 mood swing?

Ana is still at the counter when we get there, she looks up and smiles.

"Oh, your back Jenny," she looked up at Grey. "Did you get everything your wanted?" she asked the smile still on her face.

"Yes." his tone was cold, and the smile fell off Ana's face she glanced at me before ringing up his rope, coveralls, masking tape, and the cable ties. While Ana is doing that, Grey was watching me closely, intently. It was getting pretty awkward—even Ana was blushing up a storm.

"That will be forty-three dollars, please. Would you like a bag?" Ana asks him. He hands her his credit card, and I take the chance to look at him without his intense eyes looking back.

"Please,Miss Steel." He answers—wait did I ever tell him Ana's full name, I then remember that he was talking to her before he saw me and come to the conclusion it must have been then.

"Genevieve," His tongue caresses my name, and my heat beats faster than the wings of the golden snitch, during a Quidditch game. I can hardly breathe. I answer him hurriedly.

"Yes." My voice is breathy.

"You'll call me if you want to do the photo shoot?" He's all business once more. I nod, rendered speechless yet again. Where did that cute playfulness of his go—I want it back! Ana hands him back his credit card.

"Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps." He turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh—and Genevieve, I'm glad Miss Kavanagh couldn't do the interview." He smiles. I feel like weight has been lifted off my chest at his revived smile. He turns and strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones—and Ana gob smacked. We spend several seconds staring at each other before I jump up and slide over the counter. Ana pulls the blinds to the window looking out over the the car park and we both watch him get into the passenger side of a car and continue watching as it drives out of view.

"Wow!" Ana breathes out.

"I know."

"That's Christian Grey?"

"Yeah."

"He's so intense?"

"Yeah."

Okay—I defiantly like him. There I've admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feeling—or Kate and Ana's prodding anymore. I've never felt like this before—not even with Cedric. I find Christian Grey attractive, very attractive. But it's a lost cause, and I sigh with bittersweet regret, even if he does like me, I'm way below his league. Besides our meeting was just a coincidence, I wasn't even supposed to be working to day, we just happened to cross paths. It's not like he'd somehow got hold of my regular work schedule and decided to pop into see me—he even said so his self he was here for the farming thing. But I can still admire him from afar, surely. No harm can come of that. And if we can get a photographer, I can do some serious admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip in anticipation and find myself grinning like a school girl. I need to phone Kate an organise a photo shoot.

I suddenly freeze and blanch, what's with the 'admire him from afar' I sound like some kind of stalker. I shudder.

"I'm going to get going." I tell Ana, she waves me bye and I leave Clayton's hardware store, buzzing in anticipation and a little scared.

Hope you liked the chapter.

This covers all chapter 2

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