Perfect for You

she could think about was that it was all too placid.
    Connor was being too placid. If Greg were there, they'd probably be arguing about something trivial—like the origin of the grunion. And all the while he'd try to grope her, but she'd feel alive.
    Damn it—what was wrong with her? She shouldn't be thinking about Greg at all. He'd been her nemesis for months.
    Now she didn't know what he was.
    She frowned.
    Connor moved them away from the water line and dropped down to sit on a sand dune, tugging on her hand. He put his arm around her, a silent encouragement to snuggle into his side. After a moment, she went with it and wiggled closer.
    His arm tightened around her. She tried to relax, but she had the feeling he was going to kiss her. Hopefully not with limp, clammy fish lips.
    Sure enough, he had that look in his eyes. Because she was curious, she waited patiently instead of pulling away. He brushed back some windblown curls and leaned into her until his lips touched hers like a flutter of butterfly wings.
    Not bad—except for his cologne, which smelled expensive but too strong, like he was hiding something. She scrunched her nose to keep from sneezing.
    The kiss was pleasant though. Like swimming through a warm wave. He had the right balance of moisture and pressure as well as a comfortable angle so she didn't feel like he was breaking her neck.
    And his hands didn't creep. The only point of contact between them was at their lips.
    Connor finally pulled back. Dropping small peck on her cheek, he said, "Come on. I should take you home."
    He stood up and offered her his hand. Taking it, she leveraged herself out of the sand.
    "Freya, I have to say that I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a long time," he said as he steered his car through the empty San Francisco streets.
    Freya's brow wrinkled. That's what she said about having dinner with Greg the previous night. "I'm glad I called you" was all she replied with.
    "Perhaps the next time we go out we can go to the MOMA. There's a new exhibit I think you'll enjoy." He glanced at her. "That is, if there is a next time. I wouldn't want to assume there would be, though I'll be crushed if there isn't."
    "Crushed, huh?"
    "Shattered. My ego will take years to recover. Some psychiatrist will be able to buy a house in the Marina with the money from my fees."
    She laughed. "God forbid that I should be the cause of your ego's demise."
    "Does that mean I can call you?"
    Amused, she studied him, her head back against the plush leather headrest. "Sure, why not?"
    He double-parked in front of her building. With a chaste touch of her mouth to his, she murmured, "Thank you," and was out the door, taking the stairs two at a time. She should have felt light as she ran up the stairs, but she only felt like she was missing something big.

 
Chapter Fourteen
     
     
    Anna leaned on the buzzer. Open up already . She glanced at her sister's door, thankful Freya wasn't an especially early riser.
    The door opened. Greg tightened the belt on a silky black robe, his hair disheveled like he'd just gotten out of bed.
    She stepped inside and closed the door. "We have a problem."
    "Good morning to you too," he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. He headed up the stairs.
    Not wanting Freya to hear her footsteps, she tiptoed after him. She sniffed the air. "That smells good."
    "Coffee." He went to the kitchen and opened a cupboard. "I'll get you a cup and you can explain what our problem is."
    "Right." She sat on one of the kitchen bar stools and tapped her fingers impatiently.
    He turned around and handed her a steaming cup. "So what's so wrong that you're here predawn?"
    "It's hardly predawn. I think the sun rose half an hour ago." She hummed, closing her eyes and taking another sip. "This is excellent coffee. You know, if you just show up on Freya's doorstep with a pot of this, she'll lie prostrate at your feet and worship them forever."
    "It's not my feet I want her to worship."
    "You have to start somewhere." She sobered. "One of the masses slipped by us."
    "What?"
    "She met a new guy because of her ad."
    Sitting next to her, he shrugged. "I think I'm getting to her."
    "You don't understand. She likes this one." She leaned forward, hoping to impress the urgency of the situation. "Apparently he's above average. She agreed to go out with him again. He's being attentive ."
    Greg frowned. "How attentive?"
    "He texts and sends her email all the time. He's taking her out this weekend. To the