Perfect for You (4 page)

At least she was jealous of his supposed girlfriend. It gave him hope. He chuckled as he hung up the suit in his closet. He wondered what she'd say if she knew that he hasn't been out on a date in longer than he cared to remember. His supposed girlfriend was just Jade.

He'd known Jade since they were toddlers. Funny how remembering how someone looked in a wet, saggy diaper could kill any inkling of attraction. They were more brother and sister than anything. He'd almost told Freya that but maybe her jealousy would help his cause. Her sister certainly seemed to like him—that couldn't hurt either.

His feet bare on the cool hardwood floors, he headed for the kitchen to make some dinner. His big plans for the night: retreating to the solarium at the back of the flat to decompress.

Opening the refrigerator, he took out sandwich ingredients, lined them up on the counter, and put together a triple-decker that most people could only dream about. It was pretty much all he could make as far as cooking went. Though Abby
was
fond of his peanut butter and banana too.

The phone rang again as he transferred his sandwich to a plate. He grabbed the cordless off the counter and answered it as he pulled a beer out of the fridge. "Hello?"

"I need your advice," Jade said sounding panicked.

"This should be good."

"Shut up and listen, because this is important. You know that asshole lawyer I lost the Patterson case to?"

"The bottom-feeding scum-sucker?" He lifted the beer bottle to his lips.

"Yes. We're going on a date tonight—"

Greg spewed his mouthful of beer all over the counter. "What? Didn't you say he played dirty to win that case and that he was Satan in a pinstripe suit?"

"Yes, but I like playing dirty. Pay attention to the real problem here, Greg. I don't know what to wear."

He nodded, juggling the plate and bottle with one hand and moving to the solarium. Might as well get comfortable. A clothing crisis could take a while.

"Do you remember the little red dress I wore to my company Christmas party last year?" There was rustling and the shrill scratch of hangers being shoved aside. "Is that too, I don't know, sexy to wear on a first date? Or should I stick with a boring black cocktail dress?"

"What's the goal?"

"A night of uninhibited debauchery."

"Then go with the red dress," he said, settling onto the couch. "As I remember, that red dress almost caused a riot among your coworkers. It was made for debauchery."

"Excellent. Thanks. What are your plans for the evening? Going to spy out the window on a certain downstairs neighbor?"

He frowned. "I don't spy on her."

"You would if you had the opportunity," Jade replied. "I've never seen you so pathetic. You bought the flat because of her. That's insane."

"Stop exaggerating. I met her after I moved in." He bought his flat because the space had felt right. But it wasn't until he met Freya that he suspected that he'd found home. "Get the facts straight."

"You're still insane. You called me and raved
for forty-five minutes
about how gorgeous she was. You can't tell me that's sane."

No, he'd definitely been struck by insanity that day. Who could blame him? She had the cheekbones of a faery queen and the chin of an urchin. The Daisy Dukes she wore that exposed her long, lanky legs didn't hurt either. Nor did the thin tank top that showed the outline of her nipples.

God, he loved how tall she was. A bohemian priestess, from her orangy-gold eyes down to the silver anklet she wore all the time.

That anklet drove him crazy.

"Let me clarify," Jade said in her courtroom voice. "You went on for at least five minutes about how her long, red hair shined in the sun. I doubt you even know what color my hair is after all these years."

"Her hair is beautiful." To look at and to touch, as he found out that Sunday they'd spent together.

He'd also found out that her mother named her after the Norse goddess of love and that she'd inherited her hair from her dad. Her favorite color to paint her toenails: midnight blue. He knew that she liked to snack on spaghetti in the middle of the night, and that she loved ginger and tulips.

With every detail he learned about her, she became that much more alluring, attractive beyond her gorgeous exterior.

But there was so much he didn't know. Like where her favorite spot to be kissed was. Wondering about that almost drove him as crazy as her anklet.

Unfortunate that she couldn't stand his guts.

"I've never seen you act like this over any woman," Jade said, pulling him out of his daydream. "Not even what's-her-name in college."

"Jade, there's a world of difference between what's-her-name and Freya."

She snorted. "The only difference is she won't go out with you."

"Yeah, that's a minor problem." He'd tried everything too, including suggesting going out just as friends, but she always said no. She wouldn't even take a ride to work from him. He couldn't think of what he'd done to cause such a negative reaction. "And now she's taking out a personal ad."

"Really?" Jade sounded intrigued. "I like that. It's bold. Why is she taking out an ad?"

"It doesn't matter." He propped his legs on an ottoman. "All I know is she's looking for the perfect god. I just need to convince her that that's me."

"Anyone ever tell you your ego is just a touch out of control?"

He grinned. "Just Freya."

"No wonder you love her. So what's the plan? You obviously can't reply to her ad. She'll just refuse to go out with you."

True. He frowned.

"What you need to do is have her understand that you're more than the expensive suits and flashy car."

"Jezebel is not flashy." Trust a woman to confuse a Ô63 Corvette Stingray with flash. "Jezebel is—"

"Art," Jade finished for him. "Whatever. But tell me what happens if your goddess meets other gods while you're trying to crack her icy exterior?"

"I hadn't thought of that." Because what man in his right mind wouldn't want to go out with Freya? He imagined some moron's hands on his woman, and he growled.

"This is going to be fun," Jade said perkily. "I can't wait to meet her. The one woman in the world immune to Greg Cavanaugh's charms. I can't believe I don't know her yet. I bet we'll get along famously."

"I'm not sure my fragile ego could take you two ganging up on me."

She laughed. "I'm going to love this woman."

He hoped so. Because he was pretty sure he already did.

"Hell." Anna jerked her car to the side of the road and put it in park. She checked the time on her cell phone—exactly ten minutes late for her date. And she was still ten minutes away from the restaurant.

The thing was, she couldn't stop thinking about Greg Cavanaugh—about the way he'd caused her sister to spark to life. Yeah, partly because he irritated Freya, but there was a lot of underlying chemistry there too. If he weren't a lawyer, Freya would have been all over him.

Anna tapped the steering wheel in rhythm to the song on the radio. She wanted Freya to be happy. Her sister deserved to be taken care of for a change. God—to think of all the things Freya had done for her. As a kid she hadn't really understood, but now she realized just what Freya had sacrificed for her: all her dreams.

By rights, Anna should sacrifice
her
dreams for Freya now. Because how would her sister react if she told her she wanted to be a lawyer?

She winced. Yeah, not so well.

But she couldn't help it. Law intrigued her. She wanted to help people in a way that her father hadn't been helped. But more than that, law seemed to offer security. Money. Greg Cavanaugh certainly did well for himself.

Just imagine—a full refrigerator. Hell, she could hire a chef.

Once, six months ago, she'd considered laying it all on the table and telling Freya she wanted to go to law school. She'd worked up the courage and went over to Freya's, only to find her pacing back and forth in her living room, ranting about sneaky lawyers who duped people into believing fairy tales.

Not the best timing.

She still hadn't told her sister, which would only be a problem if she got accepted into law school.
When
, really, because she knew she was getting in—it didn't hurt that she'd scored so high on her LSATs. She'd start getting replies to her applications any day now, which meant she had to prep Freya for the inevitable and change her mind about lawyers.

Greg was the key.

Anna knew Greg was attracted to her sister—he kept asking her out despite Freya's rejections—but she hadn't realized how much Freya was attracted to him in return. Her sister couldn't take her eyes off him.

"But will he be able to take care of her?" Anna mumbled, staring beyond the windshield. "Will he make her happy?"

If the way they couldn't keep their eyes off each other was any indication, the answer was
yes
. Together, Greg and Freya sizzled. Anna's hair had almost curled with the electricity zapping between the two.

But she had to be sure Greg wasn't an asshole in disguise, and she was compelled to make sure
now
. She knew he was at home—why put it off?

She opened her cell phone and called her date to cancel dinner. Justin wasn't so understanding. "But I'm already at the restaurant," he complained.

"So have dinner. They have good noodles. I'll make it up to you later."

"I don't know, Anna. You don't seem to care about my feelings."

What was it with men and their feelings? Every guy she went out with wanted to express. What happened to the tall, silent type? "I'm sorry you feel that way—"

"I don't know where I stand." Justin huffed. "You know I want you to be my girlfriend."

She sighed. "Do we have to get into this now?"

"Yes."

"Then the answer is no."

"
No
?"

"No," she repeated firmly. He'd been entirely too clingy, and they'd only gone out a couple times. She couldn't imagine what he'd be like if they were semi-serious.

"But—"

"Gotta go, Justin. See you in class." Cringing, she flipped her phone close. She probably shouldn't have made the date with him to begin with. Men.

Speaking of men...

Putting the car in drive, she made U-turn and coaxed her car back uphill despite her protesting transmission. She parked three blocks away from Freya's Victorian, curbed her wheels, and started the steep trek back up the hill. She had a lawyer to interrogate.

She ran up the stairs to the landing. Freya's door was the middle one—it was the middle flat after all—but she didn't know which one led to the top unit. Left or right?

"One way to find out," she muttered. She stepped up to the one on the right and stood on her tiptoes to look in the high beveled window. If only she'd inherited some of their father's height like Freya, but she'd hit 5'3 when she was twelve and stopped growing.

Cupping her hands around her eyes, she peered in. Dark. It looked like no one was home. Wrong apartment or did he go out?

"Can I help you?" a deep, accented voice said from behind her.

With a yelp, she whirled around to find a guy standing only a couple feet away. At first glance his jeans, tweed coat, and wire-rimmed glasses made him look preppy and disarming.

But that first glance was wrong. The closer she looked, the more unrestrained he seemed. Wild and passionate. His long hair framed his angular face like a dark Latin poet, and his intense green eyes pinned her to the door. Was he Spanish? He certainly looked like a conquistador.

Silly. She shook her head. "I'm looking for Greg Cavanaugh's apartment."

"This is my door. Greg lives upstairs." He pointed to door on the left.

Ah—he was the new downstairs neighbor. She studied him again and then shook her head. Freya needed her eyes checked if she didn't think this guy was hot.

He tucked his hair behind his ear. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all." She edged around him and pressed the doorbell. God he smelled good. Like warm, sweet onions and salty bacon. Weird, but delicious. Maybe he'd had dinner at a restaurant with poor ventilation. She sniffed again and her stomach growled with hunger.

When he didn't make a move to leave, she faced him again. "Thanks for your help. You can go now."

He folded his arms. "I'll wait with you."

Before she could ask why, the door swung open and Greg stood in the threshold. He glanced at the two of them. "No one told me there was a party on the porch tonight."

The downstairs guy nodded at Greg. "She said she was here to see you. I wanted to be certain she got in okay."

Greg's eyebrow arched at her.

She smiled winningly. "You didn't get the memo that we had a meeting scheduled?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll have to speak to my assistant about that."

The guy gazed back and forth between them. "You two know each other well then."

"Not really," she and Greg said at once.

The guy waited for a reply, but Greg didn't seem inclined to give him one, so she didn't either. His disapproval was written on every inch of his face, but he just nodded at Greg and let himself into his apartment. "Good night then."

She watched the door close behind him, feeling an odd sense of disappointment when he was out of sight. Weird.

She shook her head and focused on the lawyer. "Are you going to let me in, Shrek, or are we standing out here all night?"

He stared at her silently for a moment. "Should I be scared you're here to see me?"

"You should be thrilled." She brushed past him and tromped upstairs. Greg didn't smell nearly as good as the downstairs guy. "I hope you have something to eat. I canceled my dinner date for you."

"The kitchen is this way," he said when they reached the top. "Can you cook?"

"I can't even boil water," she said cheerfully as she followed him back.

"That makes two of us. But you're in luck, I make a mean club sandwich." He waved to a bar stool on one side of the island in the middle of his kitchen. "Sit."