It was like thinking his name had summoned him. Jaya took a glass of punch from a waiter, turned slowly to survey everyone, and found him gazing directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat. He had one hand in his pocket, the other circled loosely around a glass of his own. He’d left his hair shaggy, hanging on his forehead. The open collar of his shirt hinted at his broad, nicely defined chest, and the well-cut suit jacket hugged his muscular frame. Those were all lovely details, aesthetically pleasing things meant for others—like that group of students in the corner, who were not-very-surreptitiously watching him and making not-so-subtle innuendos. (Jaya noticed everything. It was a gift and a curse.) But his eyes… his eyes were locked on Jaya.

She stood still, watching as he made his way toward her through the crowd, a head taller than everyone else, his bright sapphire gaze locked with hers. Her heart pounded. Why was he looking at her like that, like she was both the journey and the goal? Maybe her plan was working better than she thought. But this time, calling her plan to mind didn’t give her purpose and confidence, as it usually did. Jaya blinked and looked away, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear as she felt him draw closer.

“Hello,” Jaya said. She could smell his cologne: leather and pepper and woodsmoke.

Grey nodded, his intense gaze never leaving her face.

Jaya took a drink, not because she was thirsty, but because his eyes, those wild eyes, all storms and thunder and crashing waves, unnerved her. Normal people didn’t look at you like that.

She waited, but Grey didn’t rush to fill in the silence. He just continued watching her.

“So this is a St. Rosetta’s mixer,” Jaya said, in a voice that sounded about two octaves higher than her normal one. God, was she starting to sweat?

“It is,” Grey agreed. He was just standing so close because it was loud here, Jaya told herself. After a pause, he added, “You look…”

She waited, heart hammering.

“…nice,” he finished, and she felt a little thud of disappointment. Which, of course, was because she needed him to fall in love with her in order for her plan to work, and “nice” wasn’t exactly a sizzling proclamation of love.

“Thank you.” Jaya smiled her most charming smile, forced her eyes to shine like he’d called her this generation’s Mona Lisa. “You look really great in a suit.” He did, too; that was no lie.

Grey pulled on his cuffs and said disparagingly, “I’ve learned it’s a good idea to have at least three suits or tuxes on hand if you’re a male student at St. R’s. The administration likes to make us dress up so they can photograph us and convince our parents back home we’re following in their ‘civilized’ footsteps.”