Perfect for You (11 page)

The top layer had cooled with sunset but underneath it was still warm from the heat of the day. She dug her toes in, savoring the warmth.

"Be careful of glass," he said coming up behind her. He took her hand and led her along the water line. His hand was smooth, not soft but also not like a blue collar worker's hands. Or like Greg's, whose were not only wider and longer but also slightly calloused.

Why would a lawyer have calloused fingers?

Why should she care? Especially while she was out with a perfectly nice man.

They walked in silence. She tried to admire the way the moon shined on the waves, but she all she could think about was that it was all too placid.

Connor was being too placid. If Greg were there, they'd probably be arguing about something trivial—like the origin of the grunion. And all the while he'd try to grope her, but she'd feel alive.

Damn it—what was wrong with her? She shouldn't be thinking about Greg at all. He'd been her nemesis for months.

Now she didn't know what he was.

She frowned.

Connor moved them away from the water line and dropped down to sit on a sand dune, tugging on her hand. He put his arm around her, a silent encouragement to snuggle into his side. After a moment, she went with it and wiggled closer.

His arm tightened around her. She tried to relax, but she had the feeling he was going to kiss her. Hopefully not with limp, clammy fish lips.

Sure enough, he had that look in his eyes. Because she was curious, she waited patiently instead of pulling away. He brushed back some windblown curls and leaned into her until his lips touched hers like a flutter of butterfly wings.

Not bad—except for his cologne, which smelled expensive but too strong, like he was hiding something. She scrunched her nose to keep from sneezing.

The kiss was pleasant though. Like swimming through a warm wave. He had the right balance of moisture and pressure as well as a comfortable angle so she didn't feel like he was breaking her neck.

And his hands didn't creep. The only point of contact between them was at their lips.

Connor finally pulled back. Dropping small peck on her cheek, he said, "Come on. I should take you home."

He stood up and offered her his hand. Taking it, she leveraged herself out of the sand.

"Freya, I have to say that I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a long time," he said as he steered his car through the empty San Francisco streets.

Freya's brow wrinkled. That's what she said about having dinner with Greg the previous night. "I'm glad I called you" was all she replied with.

"Perhaps the next time we go out we can go to the MOMA. There's a new exhibit I think you'll enjoy." He glanced at her. "That is, if there is a next time. I wouldn't want to assume there would be, though I'll be crushed if there isn't."

"Crushed, huh?"

"Shattered. My ego will take years to recover. Some psychiatrist will be able to buy a house in the Marina with the money from my fees."

She laughed. "God forbid that I should be the cause of your ego's demise."

"Does that mean I can call you?"

Amused, she studied him, her head back against the plush leather headrest. "Sure, why not?"

He double-parked in front of her building. With a chaste touch of her mouth to his, she murmured, "Thank you," and was out the door, taking the stairs two at a time. She should have felt light as she ran up the stairs, but she only felt like she was missing something big.

Anna leaned on the buzzer.
Open up already
. She glanced at her sister's door, thankful Freya wasn't an especially early riser.

The door opened. Greg tightened the belt on a silky black robe, his hair disheveled like he'd just gotten out of bed.

She stepped inside and closed the door. "We have a problem."

"Good morning to you too," he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. He headed up the stairs.

Not wanting Freya to hear her footsteps, she tiptoed after him. She sniffed the air. "That smells good."

"Coffee." He went to the kitchen and opened a cupboard. "I'll get you a cup and you can explain what our problem is."

"Right." She sat on one of the kitchen bar stools and tapped her fingers impatiently.

He turned around and handed her a steaming cup. "So what's so wrong that you're here predawn?"

"It's hardly predawn. I think the sun rose half an hour ago." She hummed, closing her eyes and taking another sip. "This is excellent coffee. You know, if you just show up on Freya's doorstep with a pot of this, she'll lie prostrate at your feet and worship them forever."

"It's not my feet I want her to worship."

"You have to start somewhere." She sobered. "One of the masses slipped by us."

"What?"

"She met a new guy because of her ad."

Sitting next to her, he shrugged. "I think I'm getting to her."

"You don't understand. She likes this one." She leaned forward, hoping to impress the urgency of the situation. "Apparently he's above average. She agreed to go out with him again. He's being
attentive
."

Greg frowned. "How attentive?"

"He texts and sends her email all the time. He's taking her out this weekend.
To the museum
," Anna stressed.

"Shit."

She nodded. "That's what I thought. What are you going to do about him?"

"Nothing."

"What?" She gaped at him. Surely she heard wrong.

"I'm not going to do anything about him," Greg repeated. "I
will
ask Freya out though."

"Why should she say yes? She's going out with Connor."

"That's his name?"

"Yeah." She waited for him to say something, but it became apparent he wasn't going to so she urged him on. "You have to do something."

"No, I don't." Greg took a calm sip of coffee.

"What happens if Freya decides that this guy Connor is who she wants?"

"She won't."

"Sure, be all quietly confident, but you don't know Freya."

"I know enough to know she won't pick him without going out with me first."

"I'm missing something here." Anna narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing that you need to know." He frowned at her. "Do you need to go to class or can you have breakfast?"

She perked up. "Breakfast." But even as she said it she wondered if Max was around and if he'd like the chance to cook for her.

It was time to see him again. She just didn't know how to play it—did she invite herself over again for food or did she ask him out for a drink? She frowned.

Greg set a plate in front of her. "You have something against toast?"

"No. Toast is great." She opened the jar of jam he set in front of her. "I was thinking about a different problem. A guy."

He raised a brow. "Your own guy?"

"Yeah." She pursed her lips. "At least he will be once I convince him of it."

"The poor guy doesn't stand a chance against you."

"He really doesn't." She smeared jam on a piece and offered it to him. "I just need to figure out my next move."

"Go for honesty," he suggested as he accepted the toast. "Any guy who isn't flattered by a pretty young woman choosing him isn't worth it."

She batted her eyes at him. "You think I'm pretty?"

"The way a Venus flytrap is." He ducked the napkin she threw at him. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Are you saying you care, Shrek?"

He yanked her ponytail. "If I didn't care, do you think I'd let you torture me before I'd had my first cup of coffee?"

She grinned. "True. Very true."

When she came back that night, Anna had a plan.

     1: Intercept Connor.

     2: Kiss Max.

Not that she was entirely sure how she was going to accomplish either goal.

But she was smart—she'd figure it out. And she had intel. Freya had told her she was going to an early dinner with Connor, so she figured she'd park somewhere unobtrusive and wait for him to drop her off at home.

She huddled in her jacket, trying to get comfortable in her car. If only it wasn't so cold. She looked at Freya's building, specifically the lights on in the downstairs apartment.

Max was home.

Max could warm her up.

Later. First she needed to focus on Connor.

Who the hell named their kid Connor? Anna shook her head. His brother's name was probably Norm. Sure, she'd often thought her parents had been smoking the ganja when they came up with Freya's name, but at least it was cool.

So Connor.

Dealing with him would be tricky, because Freya had already gone out with him twice, plus who knew how many exchanged emails. He was going to know a fair amount about her sister, so she had to tread carefully. A casually made up story wouldn't work.

A fancy sedan pulled up in front of the Victorian. Anna craned her neck to see the occupants.

Bingo.

Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she waited for them to get out of the car. Like she expected, the Connor guy walked Freya to the door. Then he put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her.

"Ugh." Anna gagged and looked away. She was relieved that it was over a second later when she looked back.

Freya smiled at the guy and went inside.

Thank God. Anna exhaled in relief as she exited her car. How awkward would it have been if she had to charge in and disrupt them getting on.

Connor was five feet from his car when she cut him off. By the looks of him, conning him would not be easy. He carried himself with a self-assurance that would be hard to shake.

Good to know. She smiled brightly and waved. "Hey! Did I see you leave Freya?"

"Yes," he answered cautiously, assessing her. "Are you a friend of hers?"

"Just her sister," she said with an offhand wave. "You must be Connor."

The pleased surprise on his face almost made her sorry to deceive him this way.

Almost. "She's told me about you," Anna said with a conspiratorial wink, knowing any man would like hearing that the object of his desire was telling her friends about him. "As her friend, I'd usually feel inclined to warn you not to toy with her. You know, the usual godfather, Ôwhat are your intentions' kind of talk. But I can see that you're different."

"Thank you. You're obviously a young woman of great intellect," Connor joked.

Please don't make me like you.
"I need to get going, but it was good meeting you. We'll hopefully see each other again."

Connor grasped her hand firmly. "Likewise."

As she turned to leave, she looked back over her shoulder, as if she suddenly remembered something. "By the way, Freya loves flowers. Especially roses. Red ones with baby's breath. She's very fond of white wines. She likes anything Spanish, especially movies. And
chocolate
," she added in a spurt of pure inspiration. "She absolutely
loves
chocolate. But what girl doesn't, right?"

Connor nodded with a smile. "Thanks for the tips."

"Anytime." Anna hesitated. "But don't tell her I mentioned any of that to you. In fact, you'd better not tell her that we met. I wouldn't want her to think I gave you the third degree. Or that I meddled in her love life."

"Of course. I won't say a word."

"Great. Well, see you around!" She fluttered her fingers at headed to the Victorian.

Foundation laid.

Step two came to her as she strode up the Victorian's porch steps. She pulled out her phone and texted Greg:

    
Buy her flowers ASAP. Exotic ones.

His reply was instant:

Remind me never to play chess with you.

Grinning, she put her phone away. That was done—now to take care of her own love life. She pressed the buzzer to Max's flat.

He opened the door. His hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail, and his shirt was open a button more than usual, showing off the tan smooth skin of his chest. He was barefoot, and for some reason that seemed so risquŽ.

His brow furrowed when he saw her.

Before he could say anything, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his mouth down to hers.

His lips were warm and smooth—and unresponsive.

Of course he was—she'd surprised him. But she refused to back off, teasing him with her lips.

She felt when he gave in to her, a delicious yielding that felt like winning the greatest prize in the world. She savored it, melting into him.

And then she pulled back.

She smiled at him and then turned on her heels and walked off. She didn't look back until she reached her car.

He still stood in the doorway, watching after her. She couldn't see his expression, but she imagined he still had that sexy half-lidded look she'd left him with.

Turning the car on, she drove away. When she was no longer in sight, she pumped her fist in the air. "
Yes
."

Freya knew she should have been working. Her meeting with Charles was on Monday, and she needed one more design to complete her first offering.

But it was Saturday, and more than that it was a rare warm March day. What better to do than to do some gardening?

She snorted and yanked another weed from the ground. Okay, anything was better than weeding roses, but Connor had had to cancel their afternoon date, Eve was at yoga, and who knew where Anna was hiding. Weeding was better than hanging out alone inside, especially when it was sunny and warm out.

Connor had a family emergency—something about a sister's kid's arm being broken. Freya didn't mind, actually. It spoke well of him that he was so close to his family. And, frankly, he'd wanted to go to a Spanish movie. She didn't have anything against Spain, but why see something with subtitles when there was a new Bruce Willis movie out? She loved the big explosions.

Questionable taste in movies aside, she liked Connor. He was funny and considerate. Not pushy. He kissed well, even if he didn't make her blood sizzle with a mere touch like Greg did.