Perfect for You (20 page)

"I don't know. I have to think about it." She looked him in the eye. "I'm disappointed this happened, but you're not the one I'm really angry with. As soon as you leave, I'm going to have a little talk with your informant."

"Don't be too harsh." He picked up his coat. "Love makes us do crazy things."

"Right," she said with a caustic arching of her brows. "I'll walk you out."

Connor kissed her delicately on her cheek and said he'd call her in the morning. She barely managed to nod and smile before she pushed him on his way.

Before she confronted Greg she needed to get herself together. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts butting against each other. She doubted she'd make any sense in the state she was in, and she had to be coherent when she went up against him. If she didn't have her arguments defined, he'd just turn her words around to suit his purposes.

That wasn't even taking into account the hold he had over her body. One kiss and she'd break.

Which meant she had to fortify herself.

How? She shook her head and trudged back upstairs. She had no idea.

Pacing her living room, she tried to give Greg the benefit of the doubt, but Connor got the information from somewhere. Who other than Greg? He'd said he'd do anything to make her his. At the time that had seemed sweet, but now it made her want to gag.

By giving Connor false information about her likes and dislikes he ensured that she'd be reluctant to go out with Connor. It was working too. How much longer would she have been willing to endure one restaurant she hated after another before she stopped seeing him?

How could he do something like this? She rubbed her forehead, trying to figure it out, but all she could come up with was that it was all a game to him.

She growled, picking up a pillow and hurling it across the room. God, she was so na•ve. Not only was she na•ve, but she was an idiot. Only an idiot would fall in love with someone who was so unscrupulous and still want him.

It was the first time all week that Freya wasn't going to be spending the evening with him.

Greg didn't like it at all.

It wasn't that she just wasn't going to be with him. She was her own person—he understood that she had friends to see and obligations to meet. It was one thing if she was not going to be with him because of work or one of her classes.

But tonight she was going out with Connor.

He looked at the text Anna had sent him and felt powerless. He wanted to disrupt their date, but he couldn't. It was wrong, no matter what Anna thought. He'd told her to stay out of it but who knew what she'd do.

The little brat. She knew telling him about Connor would drive him insane.

He needed to do something physical. A run, to be exact.

Going into his bedroom, he changed into a pair of Nike shorts and an old tee shirt. He went through his stretching routine and set out.

It was the perfect kind of evening for a run. The fog was rolling in, leaving the air misty and cool.

He hoped Freya was warm enough. He pictured Connor offering to heat her up and growled, making a woman on the sidewalk startle. He waved in apology and ran faster.

He needed to get a grip.

Anna wanted him to make a move, but now wasn't the right time. He wanted to wait a while longer, to woo Freya a little more before he tried to stake a claim, even if her deadline was in less than a week. Anna may doubt him, but he was pretty certain that Freya wasn't going to just cut him off after she made her deadline.

Freya was falling in love with him.

Not to be immodest or boastful. It was just a fact. He could see it in her lovely amber eyes when she looked at him.

It was justified, because he was so completely in love with her.

Every male hormone in his body clambered to put his mark on her. To put a big diamond on her finger that told everyone she was his.

He exhaled and ran harder.

He'd had to fight that instinct all week. It was too soon. He needed just a little more time, for her deadline to pass so she realized that she was with him because she wanted to be.

After he returned home, he hopped in the shower. He'd just dressed when someone banged on his door.

Freya? He jogged down the stairs, the pleasure of seeing her lifting his mood.

He opened the door to find Jade impatiently tapping her toes. "Oh, it's you."

"You always make me feel so welcome." She pushed past him. "I'm hungry. Feed me."

Shaking his head, he followed her into the kitchen. "You know you're getting a sandwich."

"If I wanted filet mignon I would have gone to Gary Danko." She perched primly on a stool and toed her shoes off. "Oh thank God. My feet are killing me. It was a long day."

"And a longer evening." He opened the fridge and began taking out everything he'd need.

"You're in a sour mood. Is there trouble in paradise?"

He frowned as he assembled the sandwiches. "She's out with another guy tonight."

"Ah, that explains it. Do you know what you need?"

"What, Dr. Jade?"

"I have no idea." She shrugged. "I was hoping my question would help you figure that out."

"Don't quit your day job." He set her sandwich in front of her. "You want chips too? I have salt and vinegar."

"Like I would turn down salt and vinegar chips." She took a bite and moaned. Around the mouthful of food, she said, "You may not be able to cook, but you've got the art of the sandwich down pat."

"Freya was appalled at my lack of culinary ability so she decided to teach me how to cook something."

Jade snorted. "How much of a disaster was it?"

He grinned, thinking about the mess. His smile faded as he got aroused all over again when he remembered how she stood pressed behind him, looking around his shoulder so she could measure his progress. He couldn't concentrate on her words because he'd been so distracted wondering if she was wearing a bra.

She hadn't been.

Needless to say, they didn't finish their lesson in cooking. They ended up ordering take-out. Much later.

"Jesus, Cavanaugh, I'm like your sister. You aren't supposed to have X-rated thoughts in my presence," Jade said, taking another bite.

"That obvious?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I like Freya." Understatement of the year.

"You love her," Jade corrected. "All that remains to be seen is what you're going to do about it."

"I know what I'm going to do about it." He frowned at the food. "Freya's the variable I have no control over."

Jade laughed. "Who ever thought Greg
Casanova
Cavanaugh would get his panties all twisted by a woman? But you know what, if she wasn't making you fight for it you would have gotten bored with her."

"Being bored with Freya is impossible."

"Exactly." Jade's usual sarcastic edge softened, and she touched his hand. "She's perfect for you. I'm happy you found her."

He nodded. "She is perfect for me."

She patted his hand. "So don't fuck it up."

Watching her devour the rest of her sandwich, he grinned. "You have such a sweet nature."

"Bite me."

"The prosecution rests, your honor."

It'd been three hours since Connor had left. Freya should have calmed down by now. She'd taken a bath, she'd put on comfy pajamas. But she was still fuming.

Hearing the heels clack overhead wasn't helping any.

She glared at the ceiling. Logically she knew she had no reason to be angry that he had a woman up there, but logic wasn't the thing that was driving her right now.

What
was
driving her? Fury. Indignation.

Hurt.

Underneath it all, there was a smidgeon of love and longing, and that
really
pissed her off.

Clack clack clack
.

That was it. She needed to tell Cavanaugh what a jerk he was to his face. She stalked down the stairs, out her front door, and banged on Greg's.

He opened the door, smiling as though seeing her were an unexpected treat. "Freya."

All the effort she put into composing herself flew out the window when she saw that smile. "You jerk!" she growled at him.

She threw herself against him, propelling them onto the floor, and actually managed to pummel him for two seconds before he recovered from his shock and grabbed her wrists. She strained in his hold, trying to twist and kick her way out, but, to her dismay, he reversed their position so he was on top and subdued her flailing limbs with the weight of his body.

She didn't want to think about his body pressing down on her, but it was damn hard. Literally. Their tussle, or something, had gotten him worked up and she could feel the beginnings of a major hard-on pushing into the vee of her legs.

"Let me go," she said through gritted teeth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

Someone cleared her throat.

They both looked to the stairs.

His friend Jade stared down at them, an intensely curious expression on her face. "If you guys are going to get it on, I should probably go."

"Yes." Cavanaugh nodded. "Now."

"I love you too, darling." She took her time sauntering down the rest of the steps in her high heels and tight skirt. She cocked her eyebrow at them. "Play nicely, children."

Freya waited until Jade left before she tried to hit Greg again.

"Hey." He firmed his slackened grip. "Will you tell me what's going on?"

She stopped struggling, conscious that it was futile with his weight pinning her down, and tried to ignore the usual zinging that being pressed against him caused.

She glared at him, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. "Get off me."

He shook his head. "Not unless you promise to calm down."

"I
am
calm."

"Right," he retorted sarcastically. "Promise me you won't hit me."

She considered that. "Ever?"

The corners of his mouth kicked up. "Just tonight."

She glanced at his lips for a moment before she averted her gaze. She had to get him off her before he could beguile her with his charm. She tried prying her wrists free so she could jab him once more before she promised, but he seemed to know what she was thinking. Grudgingly, she acquiesced. "I promise."

Slowly, he let her go and rolled off her. She breathed a sigh of relief and got up. Watching her warily, he followed her to his feet.

"I promised I wouldn't hit you again," she bit out, feeling insulted by his mistrusting look. With her head held high and her anger clutched closely to her chest, she stomped up the stairs ahead of him.

She didn't know what to do with herself when she got to the top so she began to pace again.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or would you prefer to be left alone to wear a groove in the hardwood floor?"

Stopping she met his undecipherable expression with a glare. She clenched her fists on her hips and pointed a finger at him. "You scum sucking parasite."

He strode into the living room and faced her. "That's better than the cold treatment. Now why don't you tell me what's going on so we can get past this and get on to the kissing and making up?"

"There will be no kissing!" she shrieked. "Not now, not ever!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?" She gaped at him. "
Why not?
Because I will no longer play your games. I am not a toy."

"Kissing you is
not
a game," he stated firmly.

"Right, but everything else was."

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong."

She tilted her head to one side as if she had an idle question. "Do you think I have good birthing hips?"

His frown deepened. "You have perfect hips, but when I think of them, birthing isn't what comes to mind. Why would I think that?" he asked with a hint of suspicion.

She glared at him. "Connor thinks I do."

"Connor?" Realization dawned in his eyes.

And her heart cracked. She shored it up with anger—she'd deal with it after. "Yes, the man who I've been dating for the past few weeks. You know, the one you've been coaching."

He took a step toward her. "Listen, Freya, there's an explanation for—"

She held out her hand. "Just tell me this. Did you give Connor misleading information about me or not?"

"I—"

"I just want the truth."

He raked a hand through his hair. "It's not that cut and dried."

"Yes, actually it is." She picked up a paperback that happened to be on a small table close to her and chucked it at him. "I think you're a
bastard
!"

"Hey!" He ducked the flying book. "I thought you promised no violence."

"I promised not to hit. I never said anything about throwing."

In a blink of an eye he was standing next to her, clasping her arms. To keep her from throwing anything else, she supposed.

Getting in her face so she had no choice but to look him in the eye, he said, "It's not my fault."

"Yeah, you masterminded it so it'd be Connor's fault."

He shook his head. "This isn't what you think. Let me explain."

"I don't need an explanation. I understand the situation perfectly." She struggled to loosen his grip on her so she could step back. The warm scent of him was seriously incapacitating. "I was a challenge you decided to undertake, and by making all the other guys I was dating look bad, you made yourself look so good that I couldn't help but fall in—" she choked on the word and, vowing she wouldn't give him that satisfaction, continued to say—"into bed with you."

"That's not true," he said firmly.

"Right." Jerking herself out of his grip, she began to pace again. "I can't believe I fell for it. At least I got some mediocre sex out of all this."

He grabbed her arm and twirled her around. She felt a surge of satisfaction that she finally touched on a sore spot. Now he looked as pissed off as she felt.

"This"—with his hand he motioned between them—"was not only about sex, which was pretty damn amazing, and you know it. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. You're just too stubborn to admit it."