Perfect for You

and shook her head. "Claire called."
    "Uh-oh," she repeated with more feeling. Whenever Claire called, Charles spun out of control. He loved his elder daughter most, probably because she was most like him. It was probably also why they clashed so much.
    "Claire and Tom are taking Izzie to North Africa with them."
    "How old is Izzie now?"
    "Six. They're taking her out of school for a month."
    "So Charles is pissed becauseÉ" Freya motioned with her hand.
    "He thinks Izzie should have come to stay with him and Mom." She shook her head. "The real problem is that Claire hasn't come home in a long time. Underneath he's pissed that she's gallivanting all over the world but not coming to visit."
    "If Charles was my dad, I might not want to come visit that often either."
    "Tell me about it." Eve made a face. "The last time they came, he cornered Claire's husband and interrogated him about his finances."
    "Nice."
    "I know." Eve exhaled. "Tell me about your dates. I feel like I haven't talked to you so long."
    Freya shrugged. "Nothing to tell."
    "I find that hard to believe. You said you had a number of dates lined up for this week."
    "I did." She frowned. "Something's weird. I've made five dates so far."
    "That's good." Eve hesitated. "Isn't it?"
    "You'd think so, but they've all gone wrong somehow. Something's off."
    "Like?"
    "Like I feel as though someone's sabotaging them."
    Eve raised her brows.
    "I know, it sounds crazy, except I have this feeling." She wrinkled her nose. "Last night my date took me to Bix and you know who we happened to run into there?"
    "Who?"
    "Cavanaugh. And he ruined my date."
    Eve's brow furrowed. "Cavanaugh?"
    "My upstairs neighbor."
    "Satan's spawn?"
    Freya winced. "Yes."
    "Strange that out of the hundreds of restaurants in San Francisco he'd turn up at the same one you went to."
    "That's what I'm saying."
    "He was alone?"
    "He was with his girlfriend, who isn't his girlfriend but actually his platonic childhood friend. She was stood up by her date and he took her out so she wouldn't be upset."
    "Ooohh," Eve drawled.
    She frowned. "What does that mean?"
    "Just that he's free, and he's been asking you out." She let that linger in the room before she asked, "And he ruined your date?"
    "Yes. Marcus, the guy I was out with, kept insisting there was something going on between Cavanaugh and me."
    "What would give him that idea?"
    "I have no clue." She remembered the way he'd slipped his hand between her thighs and flushed again.
    "No idea, huh?" Eve's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Maybe you should think about going out with him now that you know he's free."
    She shook her head vigorously even as something inside her leapt at the thought. " No . No way."
    "Why not? He's been asking you out for the past couple months—"
    "Six months." Not that she was keeping track.
    "—And he seems like a nice guy."
    "He's a smarmy lawyer," she said with less than solid conviction.
    Eve, of course, picked up on it. "A smarmy lawyer taking his friend out to make her feel better? You're right. What a jerk."
    She ignored her friend's sarcasm. "And I have another date scheduled and the guy seems promising. Plus I get messages every day. It's not like I don't have choices."
    "Maybe you should still consider going out with the lawyer. It might be just what you need."
    Now she sounded like Cavanaugh. "I'm not that desperate yet."
    Eve stared at her silently for a moment before shaking her head. "I've got to go. I have a meeting with Charles that I need to prep for."
    "Do you need help?"
    "You have any tequila handy?" She stood. "Just feel lucky you're off his radar for another few days, or you might get desperate enough to go out with Cavanaugh."
    Freya shivered, remembering the way Cavanaugh's fingers had felt on her skin. Sometimes she wondered if being desperate wasn't as bad as she'd always thought.

 
Chapter Thirteen
     
     
    Nine o'clock at night. Freya sat in her living with her computer on her laptop, staring at a blank Photoshop file.
    Two more days. She had forty-eight hours before she had to show Charles the initial mockups she'd come up with for the Sin City account.
    "This is ridiculous." She stretched her arms overhead. It shouldn't have been that hard to get inspired.
    Maybe she just needed a break. She opened a browser window to check the email address she'd set up just for her craigslist ad.
    Eleven messages. A couple were spam, some of them were automatic deletes. But the last one she read, from a