Perfect for You (2 page)

"Don't get me wrong. You don't
look
bland. You're hot. The programmers eye your butt every time you walk through the office. Those pencil-thin cords are great." Eve sighed in longing. "I wish I could wear pants like that. If only I were tall like you."

"5'5" is tall for women. You shouldn't compare yourself to me. 5'11" is abnormal."

"I wish I could be abnormal like a supermodel too. At least your chest is flatter than mine. It'd be terrible if I had to hate you for that too."

"Thank God for that."

"I'm just saying you need to shake things up before you're tempted to buy white cotton underwear."

"I'm not
that
far gone."

"You're one step away from it." Eve waved the notebook. "This is what's going to save you. Do it."

Freya sighed. "I'm a visual artist. I suck at writing."

Eve flipped the notepad to a fresh page and extended a hand. "Pen."

Handing one over, she watched Eve frown at the blank page before scribbling a few lines. Then her friend held out the notebook. "Here."

Taking a deep breath, Freya looked it over:

Fiery goddess in search of the perfect god. Soar with me through clouds, frolic under the stars, hand me the moon for my own. Mortals need not reply.

She blinked and reread it. Not a blatant
I want you to give me hot sex
but it hinted that she wanted to share sensual pleasures, sex or otherwise, without sounding desperate.

More than that, reading it stirred something inside her. It took her a moment to pinpoint that the feeling was excitement. "This is actually kind of good."

"I know," Eve said modestly. "It's perfect for you. Promise me you'll use it."

Nerves set her stomach lurching again. But Eve was right—instinctively she knew she had to do something big to move out of the corner she'd backed herself into. "I'll do it."

"Then my work here is done." Her friend hopped up.

"What would I do without you?"

"That's too horrible a fate to even contemplate." Eve tugged one of Freya's curls. "Good thing for you you're stuck with me."

"Yeah, good thing."

Freya got off the bus and walked, huddled against the wind, the four blocks to her flat, the middle unit of a beautifully restored gingerbread Victorian in Laurel Heights.

Well, okay, Baja Laurel Heights—close enough to the swanky multimillion-dollar houses to rub off a little glamour but far enough on the periphery that her mortgage was affordable. Of course, she'd bought it before the dotcom boom; what she paid was more reasonable than what most people forked out in the city.

She absolutely loved her flat. It wasn't the nicest of the three condos in the building; the top one was amazing and had a better view. But it was all hers and no one could take it away.

Unless she lost her job.

Not going to happen. She'd get her life back on track if it killed her. The first step: placing the ad on craigslist. This evening.

Determined, she strode to the middle door. The door on her right led to the downstairs flat. The one on the left led upstairs to Cavanaugh's unit, otherwise known as the seventh circle of hell. She made a face at his door and let herself into her home.

At the top of the landing, she heard rustling. Heart thumping, she craned her neck but couldn't see anyone.

Then she heard a discordant singing she knew well. Anna, her sister.

Not knowing whether to be irritated or relieved, she followed the racket her sister was making into the kitchen. Sure enough, Anna's bony butt stuck out of the fridge. Why was she surprised? Anna spent more time here than in Berkeley, where she lived and went to college.

Freya dropped her purse on the kitchen table, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction when her sister jerked and hit her head on the refrigerator shelf. "What are you doing here?"

Anna rubbed her scalp. "Foraging. Duh."

"I don't know what I was thinking when I gave you a spare key."

"You were thinking, ÔGosh, I love that sister of mine. I wish she hung around more.' Do you have any more of that white cheddar?"

"Most people do their grocery shopping at Safeway."

"Most people aren't poor college students like me."

Freya shook her head. "It's behind the eggs."

"Oh. Thanks."

"I'm going to change. Make yourself at home," she said knowing her sarcasm would be lost on her sister.

In her bedroom, she undressed and put on a pair of broken-in fleecy pajamas, but she paused when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

The pjs were faded and dull.
And
they had a saggy butt.

Eve was right—she needed to reclaim herself. Old Freya wouldn't have been caught dead with a saggy butt. She stripped, tossed the pajamas in the trash, and slipped into a silky black robe instead.

Almost perfect, she decided, looking in the mirror again. She went into the deep recesses of her closet and rummaged until she found her marabou trimmed house mules.

Anna walked in, holding up a little white bag. "Look what I found."

"Hey." She frowned as she slipped on her slippers. "That was in my purse."

"I know. I smelled the chocolate. It's Teuscher too. Yum. Can I have some?" Without waiting for an answer, Anna opened it and took out a piece. "I knew it. You bought chocolate covered ginger and peeled the chocolate off."

"I like the candied ginger. I can't help it if it's covered in chocolate."

Her sister popped a shard of chocolate in her mouth. "Your dislike of chocolate is unnatural, but a good thing for me. Are you expecting company?"

"No." Freya blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Why?"

"Your clothes. Or rather, the lack thereof." She waved a hand up and down. "You dress like this every evening?"

"Of course not."

"So what's special about tonight?" Anna hopped up on the bed and swung her feet, just like she'd done since she was a little girl.

"There's nothing special."

"It looks like you're ready to make a sexual conquest." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "What's going on? Hot date?"

She wished. She sighed before she could stop herself. "No date."

Anna snapped her fingers. "I bet you're going through a quarter-life crisis."

"Don't you mean mid-life crisis?"

"You can't go through a mid-life crisis at thirty-one. You're too young," she replied sagely.

Freya grinned. "Don't tell me this is what you've been learning in school."

"Heck no. I read this in
Cosmo
. You've got all the signs. Restlessness. Erratic behavior. Suddenly dressing sexy." Her sister settled on her side, her hand propping her head. "All you're missing is the new hot guy."

Not for long. On impulse, she said, "I'm going to find a hot guy."

"Seriously? That's awesome." Anna perked up. "You should ask out your upstairs neighbor."

"
No
," Freya said—immediately and forcefully.

"Why not? He's super attractive, and he likes you."

She shook her head. "Cavanaugh doesn't like me."

"Yeah he does. Freya, he spent an entire day pruning roses with you. A guy doesn't do that for a girl he doesn't like."

Her heart softened as she remembered that Sunday just after he'd moved in when he'd surprised her by joining her in the garden. They'd spent all morning and afternoon laughing, and he'd been funny and sweet and sexy. The sun had been shining but it'd been his warmth she'd basked in.

Anna poked her. "Don't you remember how excited you were about him? You called to ditch me for dinner, for frick's sake, because you wanted to have dinner with him instead. That's telling."

He'd offered to order pizza, and she'd jumped at the chance of being alone with him. Until she found out what he did for a living—the shock of it had been like a slap across the face. Even thinking about it now brought back the feeling of being duped and the bottomless disappointment.

"And he keeps asking you out. He has been forever. Not to mention that he brought you tulips to plant in your garden, remember? Tulips are your favorite."

"He just wanted something from me." She didn't know what, but she was sure he had an ulterior motive.

"I can imagine what he wants." She grinned slyly. "Whenever he sees you he follows you with his eyes like he's imagining eating you whole."

"That's because he's a shark. Cross him out."

"Why? He's hot, and he wants you. Ask him out."

"I don't trust him."

"You don't know him."

"He's a lawyer," Freya said flatly.

"
Oh
." Anna's eyes widened.

She knew her sister would understand. No way could she cozy up to a lawyer—not after what had happened. She tensed just thinking about how her dad's lawyer had fleeced him.

Her dad, a caring doctor, had freaked out when one of his former patients saddled him with a malpractice suit. But his lawyer swore the woman didn't have a case. The bastard had assured him of that right up until her dad was stripped of his license, his assets, and his dignity.

After the final verdict, her dad been so distraught leaving the courthouse he'd crashed into a tree. The police said he and Mom had died instantly. In one afternoon, she and Anna had gone from being secure and loved to having nothing. Not even the house they'd grown up in, which went toward the massive legal fees.

"Not all lawyers are like the one Daddy had," Anna said hesitantly.

"No, but Cavanaugh is. He has a constant parade of petite blondes through his apartment." An exaggeration. She'd only ever seen one petite blonde traipsing up to his apartment, but the click-clack of her high heels had woken Freya up in the middle of the night more times than she could count.

Probably his girlfriend. The cheating bastard. He couldn't really want her if he was dating someone else.

"But—" Her sister shook her head. "Okay, if not Cavanaugh, what about the guy who just moved in downstairs?"

"Him? No." Freya wrinkled her nose. Not that the new guy didn't seem cool. She'd run into him a few times in the couple months since he'd bought the downstairs unit and he was always friendly and polite. Nice. She shook her head. "Not my type."

"So how
are
you going to find a hot guy?"

"I'm taking out a personal ad."

"Holy crap." Her sister sat up straight. "I can't believe it."

"It's not a bad idea—"

"Not a bad idea? It's frickin' fantastic!"

Freya frowned. "It is?"

"Hell yeah."

She hadn't expected such an enthusiastic response. "Do you want to see it?"

"You have it written?"

"Eve wrote it this afternoon. Wait here and I'll get it." She returned to her bedroom a moment later with the notebook. "Here."

"Whoa. Cool drawings." Brow wrinkled, Anna turned the pad sideways. "Is this position really possible?"

Freya rolled her eyes. "The ad is on the next page."

Her sister reluctantly turned the page. "A goddess, huh? I
love
it. It's so you." 

"You think so?" She took back the notebook and slipped it in her robe's pocket.

"Totally. It's great. I've been worried about you since you broke up with Brad. Not that I liked him—" she made a gagging face —"but you haven't even looked at another guy since and that's not natural."

"Oh."

"This is a good thing." Anna opened her mouth and then shut it, looking unsure. She tugged on her straight brown hair and hesitantly said, "Sometimes I feel guilty, like if you didn't have the burden of taking care of me you'd be a completely different person."

"Don't say that," she said fiercely.

"It's true. Art college is so expensive." Guilt emanated from her big brown eyes. "It's like you're making all these sacrifices and I'm not doing anything to help. Maybe I could increase the number of hours I work a week. If I cut down on my art time—"

"
No
. I want you to concentrate on your painting. You're so talented." She smoothed her sister's uneven bangs back from her face. "One day you'll be supporting me with all the money you rake in from your gallery shows."

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts. It's no sacrifice. You're my little sister. Of course I'm going to take care of you."

Anna heaved a sigh. "I just want you to be happy too."

"I am." Well, she would be. She was going to make this all work. She hugged Anna tightly, trying to transfer her certainty in the embrace.

Anna squeezed her back. Then she gasped. "Is that the time? I have to go. Date tonight."

Freya smiled. "You always have a date."

"It's the best way to get dinner when you're poor." She hopped off the bed.

"Don't forget your groceries." She followed her sister down the hall and waited by the landing.

"Right." Anna returned from the kitchen with a full brown bag in addition to her jacket and backpack.

"I'll carry that." Freya took the paper bag and led the way down the stairs to the curb where her sister had parked illegally. "If you run out of money, let me know, okay?"

Anna popped the trunk and dumped her backpack in. "Okay, but I'm good for now."

"I can't believe you still drive this pile of junk." She set the groceries inside and carefully shut the trunk so the bumper wouldn't fall off.

"At least
I
have a car."

She wasn't sure the rusted Chevy Vega qualified as a car. But if the DMV didn't have a problem with it, who was she to complain? She hugged her sister tightly. "I'm happy you came over, even if it was to raid my fridge. You're a pest, but you're my pest."

Anna squeezed her back. "Your pest wouldn't mind it if you cooked gumbo sometime and invited her over for dinner."

"I'll take that under consideration." Laughing, she let go and stepped back straight into a solid barricade. Fortunately, the wall of mass had arms that reached out and steadied her so she didn't land on her ass.

Oh no
, she moaned internally. She didn't have to look to know what blocked her way. Or rather, who.