Perfect for You

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."

 
Chapter Six
     
     
    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