His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) (3 page)

“I’d caption that photo ‘Tie me up and
spank me real good mommy’.”

“Jeez!
Charlie
.”
Anabelle spun around in her Herman Miller chair. “I
hate
when you do that!” She killed the preview screen for BIGBOY123.
Damn Charlie’s light-footed prowess.

“Sorry. I thought you heard me.”

“Noooo. I’m getting you a cow bell for
Christmas.” And she’d check the lock for the back of the house corridor door they
used between their two businesses.

Charlotte MacKinnon lifted a perfectly
arched auburn eyebrow. “Relax. You had that open-mouthed guppy look going. The
one you get when you’re concentrating hard and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Seriously, Charlie, the way you build me
up, it’s heart warming. Open-mouthed guppy? Tell me again, why are we best
friends?”

“Because you love me.” Hazel eyes widened
as Charlie did her best Bambi impersonation.

“Don’t bother. It’s been a long time since
you could pull that off.” Even back in Mrs. Ladner’s kindergarten class when
they’d first met, Charlie had been the kid spouting random facts about penises
and vaginas while horrified moms rushed to cover their offspring’s tender ears.
To say Charlie had been a precocious five-year old was an understatement.

Charlie shrugged, unrepentant.

Anabelle checked the time on her Mac and
winced. Her stiff shoulders reminded her she’d been trolling Cupid’s Match for an
hour when she was supposed to research material for tomorrow’s presentation.

What a
time suck.

“I need your opinion. Try these reduced
sugar cookies just out of the oven.” She set down a plate along with a glass of
thick, green juice. “Bon appetite, my little guinea pig.”

“Yummy…I think.” She picked up a cookie and
cocked her head. “You put sugar in these, didn’t you?”

“Yeeeess.
One time, you smart-ass.
A girl makes a mistake one time.” Charlie snatched a cookie from the
overflowing plate and took a bite. “See! Sweet not salty.”

Anabelle grinned at Charlie’s belligerent
expression. She took a bite. “Just messing with you. Delicious. Better than
yesterday’s batch.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you should put these on the menu. The
guinea pig gives it two thumbs up.”

“Excellent.” Charlie gave a little happy
wiggle then pulled up a chair to sit. “Soooo, what’s new?”

“Nothing.” She spotted her requirement
checklist and prayed Charlie hadn’t noticed. The thought of having her best
friend involved in this particular research made her shudder.

“Baloney.”

Anabelle straightened her desk, stacked papers
and magazines, and tucked the damning checklist under a folder, away from
prying eyes.

“You were pretty focused when I walked in.”

She turned back to the monitor and pulled
up tomorrow’s preliminary presentation. “I was researching.”

“What? Serial killers?”

“Of course not.” She scanned furniture
images and selected a few possibilities.

“You know you should let me set you up.”

“What?” She looked at chandeliers, refusing
to glance at Charlie, the expert interrogator. Why she’d gone into baking
instead of law was beyond comprehension.

“You’re not good at being sneaky Anabelle.
I know what Cupid’s Match looks like.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She cropped an image in Photoshop and placed it in her idea collage.

“Look at me.” Charlie pulled her chair
inches away and leaned close.

“Why?” Anabelle felt her friend’s scrutiny
and ignored it as best as she could, clicking on another image.

“Because then I’ll know for sure you’re
lying.”

“I’m not.” Crop. Click.

“Ok. Then look at me.”

She paused and sighed. “Fine.” She could
totally win this time. Anabelle pushed away from the keyboard and turned to
face the Quantico wannabe. Charlie leveled golden eyes at her and never wavered.
The urge to squirm was strong and Anabelle held off as long as she could.

“Okay, okay. I give, I give.” Anabelle
slumped back in her chair. “It’s not fair. You’ve got a creepy stare you know.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s a talent.” She
leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head. She pinned
Annabelle with a stare. “Now…confess.”

Anabelle took a quick breath, nodding. No
use putting it off. “I’m ready to date again,” she said and at Charlie’s squeal
added, “I think.”

“Wohoo! Finally.”

“I know. I wasn’t ready before but now…”

“I think it’s great and I have some ideas
for possible matches.”

“No ma’am. I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Matchmaking is in my blood.”

Anabelle rolled her eyes. “If you say so.” She
took a sip of the green juice Charlie brought over. No one would guess by
looking at the green guck that it was delicious.

“Seriously, you know I love you and if
you’d let me—“

“Forget it Charlie.” She glared at her
loving but bossy friend and massaged her stiff neck. “I’m glad your social life
is hopping but that’s what’s great about this Cupid’s Match thing. I can do it at
my own pace. The thought of cruising bars is horrifying.” Anabelle shuddered and
Charlie grinned. “I’m dipping my toes into this dating thing, which you’ve harassed
me to do for a while, so you need to back off.”

Charlie held her hands up. “Alright, alright…
pax
.” She bit into a cookie. “Mmmm…these
are good. But you have to text me photos, descriptions, addresses and any relevant
information before any date.” She grimaced. “You know…in case.”

“Of course.” Crime shows were their guilty
pleasure.

“Good.” She beamed. “You’ve been sitting on
the sidelines for too long.”

Anabelle shook her head and grinned because
it was hard to stay irritated with someone so concerned with her best interest,
even if that someone had steamrolling down to a science. An inherent danger of being
best friends with a genius level type A was dealing with the ultimate
know-it-all.

“Thanks. Uploading my profile is a
huge
step for me.
Major
. So big that it may be the
only
step if you start pushing.”

Head down in submission mode, her friend
appeared duly chastised but one never really knew with Charlie. She had the
come back quality of a rubber band. When you thought you had it were you wanted
it, it would snap back and sting you. Hard. It paid to be aware around Charlie.

“Damn Gavin,” Charlie growled. “I’m all for
celebrating same love but jeez…he really fucked up.”

Anabelle shrugged, accustomed to her
friend’s rant. “What can you do?” She gave up pretending to work and opened a
new window to browse for possible matches.

She clicked on a prospect. “This one’s
cute. He has a Ryan Gosling thing going. A little young though.”

“Let me see.” Charlie elbowed close. “Not
bad.”

Anabelle read the bio and sighed. “Nope. He
smokes and I’m not interested in kissing a cigarette every day.”

“True. How about that one?”

Anabelle dutifully selected TallDH10 for
Charlie. “It’s strange scanning for men like this.” She was an old fashioned
girl. Some would say boring but when she’d married, she’d thought it would be
forever. Turned out, her forever was eight years. “Looks a little slick doesn’t
he?”

Charlie grimaced. “Welcome to the modern
age of dating. Scan, discard or keep.”

“Pretty superficial, like you’re judging a
book by its cover. You know, the thing we aren’t supposed to do?”

“True, but
it’s
reality. Photos have a maximum of ten seconds to make a good impression.”

“What if you aren’t photogenic?”

“Then it sucks for that person. But
fortunately you
are,
so that’s one
less thing to worry about.”

She made a face. Yeah.
One
less thing.
Considering how out of practice she was, things could get
tricky. She’d met Gavin straight out of grad school. Before then, she’d kept
busy with school and a variety of goals. All worthwhile accomplishments except there
hadn’t been time for a social life or even a hint of rebellion.

According to Aunt Martha, Anabelle was
thirty-eight, with no prospects in sight and practically petrified on the shelf.

The thought of dying without experiencing a
male induced orgasm was depressing.
The
sheets hadn’t burned between her and
Gavin,
hadn’t remotely
sizzled and she was late with her sexual revolution. But hopefully it wasn’t
too late.

If she had to dance naked under a full moon
to break her dry spell she was going to get laid and have a damn fine time
doing it because she’d made a list. If there was one thing Anabelle was good
at, it was making list…attack list, things to do list, go to list. She was
armed and dangerous.

“Let’s add a filter,” Charlie said after
the fifth page of possibilities.

“How’s that?”

“Here, you can filter by height, body type,
education level, income and whatever else you want.”

Charlie took over the keyboard.

Anabelle watched the magic unfold. “Is
there a filter that sorts hot guys who were kind, wanted kids and had the
ability to be faithful and wasn’t stuck in the closet? Was there an algorithm
for that?”

Eight years of relative bliss until her
husband had barreled out of the closet with their trusted builder and shocked
the hell out of all of them.

Charlie gave her a sympathetic squeeze.
“That would be perfect, wouldn’t it?”

She nodded. She’d reeled in shock for a
while because these kinds of things happened on
Oprah
to
other
people,
not to her.

She was boring.

She had
always
been boring.

She
liked
being boring.

She wanted to
remain
boring.

Not really, but who wanted to be the star
of the “look at poor Anabelle” party? In a heartbeat she’d give up the
never-ending sympathy, the gratuitous speculation on why it had happened and
how relieved she must have felt to remain childless so further drama had been
avoided.

Right.

How could she not feel relieved she’d
waited until everything was in place before she’d contemplated children?
Especially when her thirty-eight year old eggs were on the verge of a cold,
unfertilized death with nary a man in sight and a disappointed mother, she
should feel grateful.

Not.

“Is there a reason why so many of these
guys aren’t smiling? Are they constipated? Or do they think looking like an
unhappy grump is somehow sexy?

Charlie laughed. “You’ve got a point
there.”

“Look at this guy. Is that the best photo
he has? Really?”

“Have you emailed anyone yet?”

“Are you kidding me?” she shuddered. “Toe
in water, remember?”

“Chicken.” A sly look entered Charlie’s
eyes. “How about a party and I invite a select few single guys?”

“Don’t you dare.
”
Anabelle didn’t like the speculative look Charlie wore. It never meant well for
her. “Never mind, you go away and I’ll sort through it.”

“How about a list? You don’t do anything
without one,” Charlie said with an arched eyebrow.

“Well…”

Charlie held out a hand, palm side up. “Give
it.”

Anabelle tugged the list from her hiding
spot and pushed it forward. “Don’t laugh.”

“Not bad,” she said after a moment. “Family
oriented, honest, sweet. Perfect…if you’re shopping for a dog. Jeez, Anabelle.”

She snatched back the list. “I knew I
shouldn’t have shown you anything.”

Charlie snatched it back. “I have a few
qualities you need to add.”

“Heaven help me.”

Charlie grabbed a pen. “You’ll love it. I
know.” She finished writing with a flourish and pushed the list towards
Anabelle.

“Should I look?” Anabelle glanced down but
didn’t grab it. The slightly evil grin Charlie wore made her pause.

“Please do.” Charlie fluttered her fingers
in a plotting manner. “Come on. Read it,” she begged, bouncing on the edge of
her chair.

Anabelle sighed, knowing there was no way
out of it, and picked up the list. “Sex god? Kissing connoisseur? Love
machine?”

“Hubba…hubba.” Charlie waggled her
eyebrows.

“You know you’re ridiculous, don’t you?”

“Hey. These are good qualities. Having a
strong intimate relationship matters.”

“Uh huh.”

She picked up a pen to scratch the new
additions but Charlie stayed her hand.

“Leave them.”