Perfect for You

taking care of me you'd be a completely different person."
    "Don't say that," she said fiercely.
    "It's true. Art college is so expensive." Guilt emanated from her big brown eyes. "It's like you're making all these sacrifices and I'm not doing anything to help. Maybe I could increase the number of hours I work a week. If I cut down on my art time—"
    " No . I want you to concentrate on your painting. You're so talented." She smoothed her sister's uneven bangs back from her face. "One day you'll be supporting me with all the money you rake in from your gallery shows."
    "Yeah, but..."
    "No buts. It's no sacrifice. You're my little sister. Of course I'm going to take care of you."
    Anna heaved a sigh. "I just want you to be happy too."
    "I am." Well, she would be. She was going to make this all work. She hugged Anna tightly, trying to transfer her certainty in the embrace.
    Anna squeezed her back. Then she gasped. "Is that the time? I have to go. Date tonight."
    Freya smiled. "You always have a date."
    "It's the best way to get dinner when you're poor." She hopped off the bed.
    "Don't forget your groceries." She followed her sister down the hall and waited by the landing.
    "Right." Anna returned from the kitchen with a full brown bag in addition to her jacket and backpack.
    "I'll carry that." Freya took the paper bag and led the way down the stairs to the curb where her sister had parked illegally. "If you run out of money, let me know, okay?"
    Anna popped the trunk and dumped her backpack in. "Okay, but I'm good for now."
    "I can't believe you still drive this pile of junk." She set the groceries inside and carefully shut the trunk so the bumper wouldn't fall off.
    "At least I have a car."
    She wasn't sure the rusted Chevy Vega qualified as a car. But if the DMV didn't have a problem with it, who was she to complain? She hugged her sister tightly. "I'm happy you came over, even if it was to raid my fridge. You're a pest, but you're my pest."
    Anna squeezed her back. "Your pest wouldn't mind it if you cooked gumbo sometime and invited her over for dinner."
    "I'll take that under consideration." Laughing, she let go and stepped back straight into a solid barricade. Fortunately, the wall of mass had arms that reached out and steadied her so she didn't land on her ass.
    Oh no , she moaned internally. She didn't have to look to know what blocked her way. Or rather, who.
    Unable to help herself, she turned and looked anyway. Right into the blue eyes of Greg Cavanaugh, upstairs neighbor and bane of her existence.

 
Chapter Three
     
     
    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