Perfect for You (5 page)

"No questions about why I'm here?" She perched on the stool and dropped her coat on the floor next to her.

He started to pull stuff out of the fridge. "I figured you'd get to that in your own time."

"You're not the least bit curious?"

"Oh, I'm curious all right." He nudged the door shut and reached for a baguette on the side counter. "Specifically because I'm sure your sister doesn't know you're here."

"Hell no." She shuddered dramatically. "If Freya knew I was here she'd give me a time out."

Greg chuckled. "You seem too old for a time out."

"I'm twenty-one."

He paused in the act of cutting a large section of bread for her sandwich. "You say that like you aren't sure whether you're old enough or not."

"It's complicated. Are you ever old enough where your parents are concerned?"

"Freya isn't your parent."

"She might as well be. She raised me." She pursed her lips. She'd come here to quiz him and he'd neatly started pulling information out of her. Slick. No wonder he was a hotshot lawyer. "Don't your parents still treat you like you're their little boy?"

He snorted. "I'm surprised when my parents remember to send me a card on my birthday."

"Really?" Her memories of her parents were dim, but she remembered that they'd been loving. She leaned in, her chin resting on her palm. "How does that make you feel?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he stacked her bread with an assortment of meat. "Are you studying to be a psychiatrist?"

"Nah, I'm in art school." She sighed.

"You don't sound enthused about it."

"Do you enjoy what you do?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her as he placed tomato slices on the pile. "Why?"

"Just curious." She wasn't sure she wanted to divulge her secret to him yet, so she changed the subject really quickly. "Having cold parents had to have colored your world view. Are you interested in having children?"

"That would depend on the woman I end up marrying, wouldn't it?" He opened a cabinet behind him and pulled out a plate.

"Yeah, but what if she wanted to have kids? How would you treat them?"

"Like they were my world."

Muscles she didn't know were tensed relaxed, and she exhaled in relief. "And your wife?"

He carefully transferred the sandwich to the plate. "I don't have one."

"But you want to have one, right? Would you take care of her? Are you dating anyone?"

He eyed her as he pushed her food across the counter. "I like you, kid, but not like that. You need to find someone better suited to you."

For some reason, the guy downstairs flashed in her mind, which was totally ridiculous because she didn't know him at all.

Then she realized what Greg had said. "No! For frick's sake, I'm not trying to pick up on you."

"That's a relief."

"That's just gross. I mean, you're hot and all, but geez"—she shuddered—"you're ancient."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"And Freya likes you, so you're practically like a brother." She gave him a flat gaze. "Incest is not cool."

"No, it's not." He crossed his arms and leaned on the counter behind him. "But I think you got your signals mixed up about Freya. She hates my guts."

Anna shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Maybe it's time you told me why you're here tonight." He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer before dragging out a stool for himself.

"Can I have one?" She nodded at the beer.

"No."

She frowned."Why not?"

"Because you're driving home."

"It's just one beer." She huffed when he stared at her implacably. "You're not my brother yet."

"Consider this practice."

She wanted to grumble, but even though she was annoyed, his concern for her wellbeing warmed her. "I came here to figure out if you were good enough for Freya."

He studied her in silence before he said, "And your verdict?"

She threw her hands in the air. "I didn't get to ask you nearly as many questions as I would have liked. You kept turning the tables."

"Sorry," he said insincerely.

She ignored him. It seemed the thing to do to a would-be brother. "But I like you, and Freya liked you that one day you guys hung out together. She liked you a lot."

"And then she couldn't wait to get away from me."

"Only once she found out you were a lawyer."

"A lawyer?" He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

It had everything to do with everything. "Our dad was a doctor, and one of his patients sued him because she got nerve damage in a procedure. Dad's lawyer promised him everything would be fine right up to the moment Dad lost everything, including his license."

"I still don't understand what that has to do with me."

"Dad's lawyer misled him. Between his fees and his crappy advice to go to court instead of settling, we lost all our money, including most of our parents' life insurance." She swallowed a thick lump that rose in her throat. "Dad was so upset after the verdict that he lost control of the car on the way home from court. He and Mom died instantly. Freya says it was an accident, but sometimes I think she's just protecting me, because it'd suck if Dad meant to..."

He nudged her shoulder. "If Freya thinks it was an accident, then it was an accident."

She looked into his eyes and any doubts she may have had dissolved. "You're not bad, even if you are a lawyer."

He grinned. "Thanks. I think."

She gripped his hand. "So you get why Freya freaked when she found out you were a lawyer, right? The bastards took everything from her, and then she was stuck trying to raise a bratty little sister instead of going to college like she'd planned."

"Yes, I'm beginning to get it."

"We just have to get Freya to realize what a good guy you are." She frowned. "You are a good guy, right?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I think so."

"That's what I think too." She slapped her palms down on the counter. "Excellent. You pass. Let's do this thing."

"Oh no." He shook a finger at her. "We aren't doing anything. This is none of your business."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

His expression turned serious. "Whatever happens is between me and Freya. There is no
we
here."

"But—"

"No," he said resolutely. "I'm grateful that you explained to me why Freya suddenly turned off after I told her what I do for a career, but I'll run with this on my own."

"Because you've had such great results with her so far?" she asked sarcastically.

"I'm getting to her."

"Slowly, but she's putting out an ad while we speak." She leaned forward urgently. "She's smart and funny and caring and
hot
. Do you really think some other guy won't see that and try to pull her away before you get past her defenses?"

"What's your part in this? Why do you care so much?"

"Because I want her to be taken care of for a change, and I want her to be happy. I think you're up for the job."

Greg's eyes narrowed. "And?"

"And nothing."

His gaze pinned her, not letting her squirm out of answering.

"Okay, fine. Drag it out of me." She threw her arms in the air. "I want to go to law school."

"It's all becoming clear now."

"But it's also that the only time I ever see Freya as impassioned and alive as she used to be is when she's around you. I'm hoping you'll be good for her."

He nodded. "I admire that, but I don't think she'd like you to interfere in her life."

Anna grinned. "She'd be totally pissed."

"But that's not going to stop you."

"Hell no. I'm doing this for her own good."

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to help her see that the other guys aren't as good for her as you are." If she could make Freya see that underneath the slick lawyer exterior Greg was a great guy, maybe she'd give him a chance. And in accepting Greg, Freya would be less resistant to the idea of her going to law school. She was driven to be an attorney but nothing was worth alienating her sister. Even the thought of Freya being disappointed in her paralyzed her.

Of course, for this to work, Anna would have to make sure the other guys didn't measure up to Greg. But that'd be easy. Some "advice" to them here, a "tip" or two there, and they'd be toast.

Greg shook his head. "I don't like that look on your face. It reeks of scheming. I won't do anything to upset her, and I won't lie to her."

"Don't worry. You just have to be yourself. Leave the rest up to me." She shrugged off the pang from her conscience. There wasn't anything to feel guilty about. She was doing this with Freya's best interest at heart. "It'll be fine."

He groaned. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Trust me." She pulled the forgotten sandwich closer to her. "The sandwich looks great."

He looked up at the ceiling. "This is where something catastrophic happens. Like a jet falling through the roof."

"The only bad thing that could happen is if she finds out."

"That's what I'm afraid of." He took another swig of his beer.

She shot him a grin. It was sweet that he was so concerned about it. It reinforced that she was right in picking him. But she'd make sure everything went down the way she envisioned. She'd just have to hang around the Victorian more to make sure the plan went off without a hitch.

Maybe she'd run into the Latin guy who lived downstairs again. She sniffed her sandwich. Good, but not nearly as delectable as that guy.

"Does it smell bad?"

Startled, she looked up to find Greg staring at her. "What?"

He nodded at her food. "The sandwich. Does it smell off?"

"Uh, no." She felt her cheeks start to burn. "Just checking for onions."

Greg cocked his eyebrow. "I didn't put any on."

"Too bad." She smiled as angelically as she could. "I've developed a taste for them recently."

Looking around the Ethiopian restaurant, Freya took a sip of tej. The honey wine slipped down her throat, smooth and sweet. She liked it. She liked the restaurant too—it had a great neighborhoody feel.

To think she'd lived blocks away all these years and never bothered to try it. She didn't even know why.

But earlier, as she sat in her office, she vowed that was going to change. The personal ad was a good start, but there were other ways to jumpstart her creativity.

Hence the new restaurant for dinner. And she had other ideas, like taking a cooking class at the Culinary Academy. She even thought of trying to paint again.

She hadn't painted since her parents died.

Swallowing the sudden sadness, she focused on the class list. "Introduction to French Desserts" and "Thai Cooking Made Easy?" Crme brulŽe or pad thai?

A masculine shadow fell across her table. Smiling, she looked up to greet the waiter.

She blinked in disbelief, her smile dissolving, because the last person on earth she expected to see was Greg Cavanaugh.

"Hello, Freya."

He said her name in that oozy voice on purpose—she just knew it. "Did you follow me here?"

"Would I do something like that?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Cavanaugh pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. He slipped out of his coat and hung it on the back of his chair.

"Make yourself at home," she said, watching him loosen his tie and unbutton the top of his shirt. The blue of his dress shirt matched his eyes and showed off his sculpted chest when his arms stretched.

He just smiled and said, "Thanks. I hoped you wouldn't mind if I joined you. There's a wait, and I told Rose I could sit with you so I wouldn't take up a whole table by myself."

"Very thoughtful of you." Sarcasm seemed the best way to go—definitely better than acknowledging the trill of excitement that flared in her chest at seeing him. "I don't suppose you've ordered?"

He smiled. "As a matter of fact, I have."

As if on cue, the waitress brought him a glass of tej, batting her eyes at him. To his credit, he politely thanked her but didn't flirt back. She also set down a couple hot, damp towels, opening Cavanaugh's and offering it to him like she was offering him her body.

Freya gritted her teeth and reached for her own towel. She would not make a comment.

Cavanaugh craned his neck to look at her papers. "What do you have here?"

"It's a list of cooking classes," she admitted reluctantly.

"You cook? Or are you hoping to learn how?"

"I'm an excellent cook. I just thought I'd broaden my scope."

"You should take the Thai cooking course." He flipped through the list. "I love Thai food."

"I'll take whatever class pleases me." No need to tell him she was leaning towards the Thai class too.

"Maybe sometime you'll cook for me."

"Sure." She nodded. "When hell freezes over and Satan holds an ice skating party."

He grinned. "Heard he throws a helluva party."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing, waiting to speak until she felt under control again. "I'm sure some woman out there is dying to have the pleasure of your company. Don't you want to go find her?"

"You have a fixation on my private life." He leaned back and crossed his arms.

"It's not a fixation. I just can't help wondering why you're here with me when you obviously have a girlfriend. Commitment issues? Or is there some deeper problem."

His eyes roamed her face. "You're really beautiful, you know. Even when you're being bitchy."

"I'm not bitchy."

He calmly sipped his wine.

"Okay, maybe I'm being a little bitchy."

"I just thought it'd be nice to have dinner with someone for a change," he said. "If you're really miserable, I can leave."

A quick protest leapt to her lips, surprising her. What did it mean that she didn't want him to go? Absolutely nothing.

But he sounded genuinely lonely, and that shocked her as much as her reluctance to see him go. "You eat alone a lot?"

He nodded. "Long hours. I often work through dinner."

Her back stiffened as she remembered what sort of work he did. But she was determined to not to be bitchy, because no one deserved that, so she tried to keep her voice her mild. "Do you enjoy your work?"