Perfect for You (3 page)

Unable to help herself, she turned and looked anyway. Right into the blue eyes of Greg Cavanaugh, upstairs neighbor and bane of her existence.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. He wasn't really the bane of her existence. He was just a minor blight in her world.

Freya looked up at him and something twisted in her gut, the way it always did when she had the misfortune to run into him. And just like all those other times, it was followed by an urge to run her hands through his dark, wavy hair. She remembered the one time she had that luxury—it'd felt so soft—and curled her fingers to resist the temptation.

But she didn't want a man she didn't trust—not even for a fling. Even if he was free, which he obviously wasn't since the China doll in heels was always coming and going from his place.

Then there was the fact that he was a lawyer. The most sought after divorce attorney in the state. He made a career of ruining people's lives.

And he had to be good at it, based on his clothing. The gray suit he had on was custom, and his tie probably cost as much as her favorite John Fluevog boots. Plus he drove a sexy older sports car that was in perfect show condition.
And
he owned the coveted upper flat.

He was raking it in by splitting up families, and that was enough to put him on her public enemy list.

She glared at him. "You can let me go now."

Cavanaugh didn't listen. Holding her upper arms, he checked her out before and smiling into her eyes. "Isn't it a little cold to be going out like this, Freya?"

She wouldn't notice how his slightly crooked nose added to the overall perfection of his chiseled face. She wouldn't wonder what it'd feel like to kiss the Cary Grant cleft in his chin. She wouldn't let his husky voice tease her into thinking about hot kitchen floor sex.

And she definitely wouldn't wonder what his strong hands would feel like touching her all over.

"Hey there," Anna said cheerfully from behind her. "You're the ogre who lives in the turret."

Cavanaugh looked beyond her and smiled curiously at her sister. "My reputation precedes me."

Anna came to stand next to them, staring pointedly at his hands, which still held her arms. "I'm thinking that maybe the rumors weren't quite as accurate as I was led to believe."

Scowling, Freya peeled his hands off her one by one. "I thought you had a date."

"I do, but this is much more fascinating." She held her hand out. "We haven't officially met, though I've seen you when I've come to raid Freya's fridge. Anna Godwin, the incorrigible sister."

He grinned and shook her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Anna. Greg Cavanaugh, but you can call me Shrek."

Laughing, she knocked Freya's arm. "He's funny. Are you sure you don't want to go out with him? It'd be so much easier than going through with an ad."

He gave her a questioning look. "An ad?"

"Freya's looking for the perfect god to show her the stars." She reached out, yanked the notepad out of the robe pocket, and handed it to him.

Scowling at her sister, she turned to Cavanaugh and held her hand out. "That's mine. Give it back."

He ignored her and flipped a few pages.

"Stop." She mentally groaned as she remembered the drawings she'd done. "That's private."

"I can see that." Cavanaugh turned it sideways. "I'm fond of this position too."

Oh God. She tried to grab it out of his hand but he lifted it so she only succeeded in pressing herself against his body. She froze, stunned by the strong heartbeat under her palms and the heat of his body. Her whole body flushed, and for a second she considered staying there because it felt safe and warm and like the answer to all her problems.

Confused, she searched his face for all the things she found unattractive about him. He was a lawyer. A destroyer of families.

All she saw was his intelligent gaze studying her like he wanted to know everything about her.

"Interesting," Anna drawled next to her.

Her sister's voice dragged her back to reality. She stepped back, wary. "Give it back," she repeated, wishing she sounded more commanding and less like she wanted to jump his bones.

"Not yet." His eyes held hers for a moment longer before giving the pad his attention. He studied the drawings before turning the page. "You're a talented artist."

"She was planning on going to art school before our parents died," Anna volunteered.

She elbowed the brat.

"
Soar with me through clouds, frolic under the stars, hand me the moon for my own,
" he recited. He looked at her, his eyebrow arched.

"She's going to get a lot of takers with that ad, don't you think?" Anna cheerfully rocked on her heels.

Something tightened in his expression. "I wouldn't doubt it."

She grabbed the notepad and hugged it to her chest. "What I do is none of your business. Either of you."

"True, but I do find it curious." He stared at her like she was candy. "Someone as stunning as you shouldn't have to resort to a personal ad."

"The point isn't how I look." She tightened the sash on her robe, conscious of the way his gaze lingered on the open neckline of her robe. It wasn't like there was much there to interest someone who liked watermelon-sized boobs, if his girlfriend was any indication. "Aren't you a little overdressed for the McDonald's Play Park?"

His smile dimmed in confusion. "McDonald's Play Park?"

"Yeah. Isn't that the only place open this late in the evening to take the child you date?"

Interest lit his eyes. Crossing his arms, he studied her. "Have you been keeping track?"

"She's hard to miss. Her rattle makes so much noise as she crawls up the steps to your flat."

He leaned closer. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd swear you're taking a personal interest in my social life."

She glared at him, wanting to step back but not wanting to show weakness.

"Just say the word and I'll help satisfy your curiosity." He tucked a curl behind her ear.

"Not even in your dreams." She pushed his hand aside, wishing she'd sounded more witty and less third grade.

"I'm more interested in
your
dreams."

She found herself drowning in his sea-blue gaze, believing he meant it.

But then she remembered how good her father's lawyer had been at looking them in the eyes and telling them lies. The way he'd lulled her family into a false sense of security—right before he took everything they had left.

She knew the danger of believing a lawyer's slick words, and she wouldn't make the same mistake her father had. Not even if the lawyer was hot. "Find something else to interest yourself. Take up needlepoint."

He grinned at her, an annoyingly knowing look on his face. "So when are we going out again?"

Anna nudged her. "Yeah, Freya, when are you going out again?"

"Never." She gave her sister a warning look before facing Cavanaugh again. "Never," she repeated for emphasis.

"Why not?" He studied her casually, but she knew there was nothing casual about him. "Your perfect god might be standing right in front of you."

Freya burst into incredulous laughter. "Yeah right."

"I don't know." He leaned forward, so close she felt his breath ruffle her hair. He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The rasp of his knuckles on her skin as he ran his hand down the side of her face to her neck raised goosebumps on her arms. "I'd at least like to try to be what you need."

Her nipples sprang to attention as he brushed his fingers across the skin her robe exposed.

For a second, she was tempted to agree with him—he might very well be just what she needed to get her sexual groove back. Not that she was
ever
admitting that.

"
Really
interesting," Anna said.

Hell—she'd forgotten about her sister, whose avid gaze bounced back and forth between her and Cavanaugh.

Freya pushed his hand away before turning on her sister. "Remember dinner? You need to go."

Anna heaved a sigh. "I'm telling you, it's not going to be as exciting as watching the two of you. But I'm going," she said hurriedly as Freya shot her a scowl. She grinned and waved at Cavanaugh as she went to her car. "It's been illuminating. Behave yourselves when I'm not here to referee."

They stood in silence and watched her race off. Then he turned to Freya with a smile. "She's a good kid."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to find something skeezy about his comment. But she had to be fair and admit that he meant it in the brotherly way he'd said it.

That didn't mean she felt any differently about him. "I need to get back inside. And I'm sure you need to get your girlfriend from day care."

"Careful." He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone in a touch so gentle it made her catch her breath. "Your eyes are turning green."

She slapped at his hand. "You are a menace."

Stomping up the porch steps, she opened her door and stepped inside, slamming it shut in his face before he could utter another word. She could feel him smirking all the way through the thick, hundred-year-old wood.

Jealous.
Ha
. She shook her head and stomped up the stairs straight to her computer. She opened a browser, went to craigslist, and opened her notebook.

She didn't need a deceptive lawyer with infantile taste in women. She rubbed her cheek to wipe away the lingering feel of his touch and typed in the ad.

"Take that," she said, hitting Submit. She sat back, feeling a little bit like her old self. Bold. Excited.

Empowered.

She grinned and stretched her arms over her head. "I'm open for business, world."

Greg could hear his phone ringing as he let himself in the entryway of his apartment. He walked up the two-story staircase to the main floor, waiting for the answering machine to click on.

"Hey buddy. You home yet?"

Hearing his best friend's voice, he took the rest of the steps two at a time to get to the phone.

"—It's after eight on Friday night, and—"

Greg snatched the receiver. "I'm here, Don."

"Did I catch you at a bad time? If you're busy I can call back." His voice was laden with innuendo. "Though I'm already calling you back."

"I just got home." It'd been a long, trying day, starting with one of his clients arriving in tears because her soon-to-be ex-husband called her that morning and told her he wanted full custody of Timmie. It took Greg half an hour to figure out Timmie was their pet iguana. The day had gone downhill from there.

"Man, you work too hard."

An hour ago, he would have agreed. He'd been exhausted after work. But after the head-on collision with Freya, he felt oddly refreshed and energized. And the place he wanted to expend his excess energy was in bed—with Freya surrounding him with her flaming hair and long limbs.

Dropping his briefcase at the top of the stairs, he headed straight for his bedroom. He'd loosened his tie hours ago but he was dying to get out of his suit. "How are Melinda and Abby?"

Don's voice softened. "They're great. Abby gets bigger everyday. We're thinking of giving her a brother or sister."

He smiled. One day, he was going to have what Don had—a loving wife and a close-knit family. If being a divorce lawyer taught him anything, it was the value of family.

"Speaking of Abby—"

Greg groaned, finally understanding why his friend was calling on a Friday night: desperation. "Don't tell me you need a babysitter."

"Okay."

Grinning, he shook off his coat while he waited out the silence. He loved spending time with his goddaughter. Babysitting her wasn't a hardship in the least. But he also loved yanking Don's chain and making him sweat. Any moment now, he'd break down and beg.

Don didn't disappoint him. "Come on, man. It's just for an evening. Melinda and I have an event to go to."

"What sort of event?" he asked, tugging off his tie and draping it over a chair.

"The sort of event where I get a ritzy hotel room and spend some private time with my wife without a three year old trying to climb between us."

"What happened to your babysitter?"

"Uh... She quit. Abby was a little willful the last time."

Greg laughed. It was amazing how one little girl could control adults so easily.

"And she wants to see her Uncle Greg. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"

"Low blow, Willis."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

"When are you and Melinda going out?"

There was a triumphant whoop. "I knew you'd do it."

Greg shook his head as he unbuttoned his shirt. An idiot would know he'd do anything for Abby, and Don wasn't an idiot.

"Saturday night. Be here by seven o'clock. Oh, and Abby requests a surprise."

Abby adored surprises almost as much as he liked giving them to her. "What if I have a date?"

Don snorted. "Of course you have a date. Cancel it. Tell her you have to babysit your goddaughter. You'll score major points."

"Melinda wouldn't like it if I used Abby to attract women."

"No kidding. That's why I said it while my wife was out of the room. See you Saturday."

Grinning as he hung up, Greg took off his pants and pulled on a pair pajamas bottoms. He pictured what Freya had on and his grin grew.

When she collided into him and his hands came in contact with her body encased in that silk robe... He'd never felt anything so decadent. So right. The glimpses of flesh wrapped in black lace peeking from the robe had just about slayed him. Thank God he'd had his suit coat buttoned or she would have seen just how interested he was in her.

She may deny it, but she was just as interested.

He'd seen the flash of desire in her eyes when he'd touched her skin. But for some reason she insisted she hated him, strong as their attraction was.

If only he could figure out what happened to turn her from warm to antagonistic in the blink of an eye. One minute they'd been cuddled on the couch, waiting for their pizza to be delivered, and the next she was upset and hated him.