HOW TO BE THE PERFECT GIRLFRIEND

by Heather MacAllister

  He was gone.

  Oh, great. Fabulous. She almost started after him to thank him, but knew she'd better wait until she calmed down and thought up something to say to him.

  Sara put Charles Lufkin's evaluation on the stack she had yet to file. Imagine that: Simon Northrup, the legendary by-the-book Simon Northrup, had saved her job. He'd taken the time to hand deliver the paper. He hadn't called her supervisor in the payroll department to come and get it. He hadn't called her to come and get it.

  He'd brought it to her, himself. How incredibly kind.

  Sara heard a faint mental "ding" and realized that kindness was a trait she'd ascribed to her ideal man. And he'd been kind to her twice today.

  If she weren't careful, she'd find herself with a big, fat crush on Simon. Today had certainly put him in a different, and much more attractive, light. How could she ever have thought him intimidating and stuck-up? Stuck-up people didn't fix paper jams—real or manufactured—for others and they sure didn't cover for an underling's mistake the way he had.

  By the end of the day, Sara was not surprised to recognize crush symptoms, which meant that flirting with Simon for practice was now out of the question. Practice flirting only worked when emotions weren't involved. So, no flirting. At least for practice—no, no, no. No flirting at all. She'd have to find another man of that type for practice. With Simon, it was professional contact only. And maybe a lot of paper jams.

  Since she hadn't properly thanked him, Sara screwed up her courage and climbed up to the twenty-sixth floor to stop by his office and basically say, "I owe you." Like he'd ever collect. Still, it was the professional thing to do.

  The twenty-sixth floor was definitely more plush than hers, Sara thought when she stepped off the elevator. The carpet was thicker, the colors more modern and the furniture trendier. Client photographs and media stills lined the elevator bays. The receptionist appeared to have already left for the day. Sara knew where Hayden's office was, but she wasn't sure about Simon's. He probably had an office with windows, which meant if she stuck to the outer perimeter, sooner or later she'd eventually stumble across it.

  It was sooner rather than later and there was no stumbling involved.

  She heard him talking on the phone and stopped to listen for a moment and gather her thoughts. There weren't a lot of thoughts to gather, considering she'd had all day to think about what to say to him. "Thank you" was heartfelt and sincere, but once it was said and he responded politely, there wouldn't be a whole lot left to say.

  She heard him return the phone to its cradle and stepped into the doorway. "Mr. Northrup?"

  He was standing behind his desk and there was a flash in his eyes. A flash, not a gleam, and it only meant he recognized her. "Sara."

  "I, uh…" Don't say "uh." "I—"

  The phone buzzed. He frowned, let two buzzes go by then held up a finger indicating that Sara should stay.

  She hated that, hated waiting around while someone was on the phone, pretending that she couldn't hear, when of course she could. Even worse was when the conversation took an unexpected turn and she had to decide if she'd continue to pretend to be oblivious, or leave.

  She really didn't have much to say to Simon. She could just mouth her thank-you and make her escape except…

  Except Simon had reached for the phone without breaking eye contact. How sexy was that? He didn't mean for it to be sexy, she told herself. He couldn't help it. She swallowed.

  Simon continued gazing at her as he spoke into the phone. If she had to describe his expression, she'd say it was watchful. The weird thing was that she didn't feel at all uncomfortable or awkward about it.

  So she gazed—it wasn't really staring—back at him. Only at his eyes. Warm chocolate velvet eyes. Awareness crept over her. Awareness of him. Awareness of her. Awareness of what could be.

  Awareness that she was probably making way too big a deal of this. But then people with big, fat crushes on other people did that, didn't they?

  "Yes," he said. "Ask them to come up." A pause, then, "How many?" He blinked for the first time. Just once. "I see. Yes, it's all right." He hung up the phone as smoothly as he'd answered it. "Sorry about that."

  "Oh, no. I know you're busy. I just wanted to say thanks for not making a big deal out of finding the paper." She thought about the way that sounded. "Not that it isn't a big deal, and I know it. And I want you to know that I know it. Huge deal." Babble, babble, babble. She should have quit after "thanks."

  He wasn't saying anything. That was the problem. If he'd said, "It's okay" or something she would have stopped babbling. But he merely watched her, his lips on the verge of a smile. On the verge. No smile. Important distinction.

  Sara swallowed again, and attempted to end the conversation with some finesse. She linked her fingers together. "I wanted to reassure you that your trust in my competence has not been misplaced."

  There. That should be precise enough for him.

  "Right." He looked down at his desk. "Well, I'll just delete this scathing memo to the head of Human Resources denouncing your … competence."

  He pressed a key on the open laptop on the desk in front of him and then closed it.

  Sara forgot to breathe.

  Simon smiled faintly. "I was joking."

  "Oh!" Sara giggled inanely. "I knew that!"

  "No, you didn't."

  "No, I didn't."

  "A lot of people don't get my jokes. I've always thought I was quite witty." The line was delivered with the perfect deadpan expression. Despite his strait-laced reputation, the man clearly had a sense of humor. Don't think about that.

  Sara laughed, then wondered if she should have. "Maybe your jokes are just too subtle."

  "Chalk it up to my repressed boarding school upbringing."

  "In England?"

  "Yes."

  "You have a faint accent," she told him so he wouldn't think she'd been snooping in his file. And she hadn't—not much.

  "So does anyone who isn't from Texas. I do try. I've been sprinkling y'alls and howdys throughout all my conversations."

  Sara tried to imagine a "y'all" passing Simon's lips. Which made her look at his lips and the way they rested in that almost-smile position. His square jaw made him look strong, but the lips gave him a hint of vulnerability. All in all, it was a potent combination, especially considering his other body parts, which Sara had in no way forgotten.

  He had a way of looking at her—maybe everyone—which made her believe that his entire attention was focused on her.

  That was potent, too. It kept her focused on him and not on the fact that she should leave and he was being too polite to shoo her out.

  Politeness was a lost art these days and highly underrated, Sara thought. Was it on her list of preferred male traits?

  Voices erupted from the elevator. Female voices. Surely they were coming to meet with Simon. "Your visitors are here, so I'll take off. Thanks again."

  He looked as though he was going to say something when Sara distinctly heard the sound of running. She was so surprised that she didn't go anywhere. An instant later, two girls rounded the corner and headed straight for her. Sara stepped back into the office as the taller of the two reached out and slapped the door frame. "I won!"

  "Kayla," Simon said sternly.

  Sara stood there, filled with an entirely inappropriate curiosity.

  "This is a place of business," he continued.

  Kayla gave him a disgusted look. "Oh, chill."

  He took a deep breath that told Sara he'd taken many deep breaths in regard to Kayla. He turned to the dark-haired girl beside Kayla. "Howdy, Amber. How're y'all doing?"

  Sara tried to muffle her burst of surprised laughter and thought she was going to swallow her tongue. She made a noise that drew Kayla's attention.

  "Hey, is this your girlfriend?" Kayla eyed her with Hayden-like interest.

  Sara judged her to be about twelve or thirteen, the age when girls had boys on the brain. Unlike Sa
ra who had men on the brain.

  "I work with Mr. Northrup," she said.

  "Mr. Northrup!" Kayla giggled and jostled a smiling Amber.

  "Kayla, I told you girls not to run." A woman appeared in the doorway of Simon's office.

  "Mom! It's after hours. Nobody cares."

  Sara stared at Kayla's mother. The woman was sophisticated perfection and moved with supreme self-confidence. It was as though Missy and Hayden had merged. Merged their ages, too. She looked to be in her early thirties.

  And it wasn't as though she was wearing a killer ladies-who-lunch suit, either. No, she had on slacks and pointy-toed shoes or boots, and a top with a matching sweater's sleeves tied around her neck just so. A leather messenger bag—Prada? Kate Spade?—was slung over her shoulder.

  Here, before her, was the perfect woman, and Sara realized just how far she was going to have to go to attract and hold the interest of Simon Northrup's type.

  Clearly, this was the woman and child that the rumor mill had been buzzing about. Well. Had she ever thought for one minute about flirting for real with Simon Northrup, this chance meeting put an end to that.

  She was lucky. Oh, so lucky. She cringed at the thought of future humiliation averted.

  There would be plenty of cringing and more humiliation at the complete and ruthless assessment of herself that would occur later, when she compared herself to the polished woman eyeing her with faintly dismissive curiosity. Oh, to master that look. Hayden no doubt had it in her arsenal. Sara would ask her to teach it to her.

  Now if she could just slink away unnoticed…

  "Sara?" Simon's voice stopped her.

  He was going to introduce her. No. Please don't. There'll be the inevitable comparisons and—

  But of course he would introduce her because he was polite. Maybe politeness was overrated after all.

  "This wild thing is my half sister, Kayla, and this is her friend, Amber."

  Sara nodded, gathering what poise she could. Plastering a smile to her face, she turned toward the woman who was probably Simon's lover. Someone who didn't have to jam a photocopier to see his—better not go there. "And this is my stepmother, Joanna."

  * * *

  3

  « ^ »

  Joanna was pissed. Simon took a small pleasure in watching her face take on that set, slightly frowning look. She didn't like him to refer to her as his stepmother, but since she was his stepmother she couldn't object.

  Simon knew the office grapevine would be humming with the information by tomorrow morning. Live by the grapevine, die by the grapevine. He knew people had wondered about Joanna and Kayla and had assumed he was dating. He'd allowed the rumor to grow because right now, Joanna and Kayla had first call on his time and emotional energy. Especially Kayla.

  He hadn't fully understood the term "emotional energy" until recently or that it was something different from any other energy. But Kayla … Kayla needed something. Joanna needed something, too, but it wasn't up to Simon to provide it. Which was a good thing, since dealing with Kayla pretty much zapped him.

  Date? Not likely. At this point, the best he could hope for was a mutually pleasurable physical encounter when he traveled on business. An encounter with a woman who also wanted no more than a night, or two.

  A woman he wouldn't have to face at the office afterward.

  So why hadn't he taken advantage of the last several opportunities? Why had he chosen room service and movies on cable instead?

  Because he was at the stage in life where he wanted more. He wanted a meaningful relationship, though he'd be drummed out of the male gender if he ever said so aloud. But Simon wanted a family of his own, and he knew it. Unfortunately, he had to deal with the family he already had.

  Whoa. Back up. Back the heck up. Stepmother? Simon's introduction of Kayla finally registered. Half sister. He'd said half sister. Half sister? And more importantly, stepmother?

  Sara knew she should say something, maybe something like, "Pleased to meet you." But was she pleased? Was Simon pleased that he'd introduced her?

  It's a polite response. It doesn't have to mean anything.

  She turned to Simon, ready to mouth the polite response and make her escape. And call Hayden with some of the juiciest gossip that had ever come Sara's way.

  "So where're we gonna eat?" Kayla asked before Sara could say anything.

  "I have reservations at La Griglia."

  Wow. Fancy. But not too fancy.

  "Simon!" Joanna made a face. Kind of a classy annoyed face. Sara filed it away as another expression she'd like to acquire.

  "The girls aren't dressed for La Griglia," Joanna continued.

  No kidding. If those girls wore more than a yard of fabric between them, Sara would be surprised. She glanced at Simon, unable to help herself. She should have left by now, but truly she couldn't figure out a way to leave without attracting attention. Okay, she wasn't trying all that hard. It would take a saint to leave now.

  Simon was looking at Kayla and Amber. Sara had been to La Griglia once. It was moderately expensive and Italian. Simon had got the Italian part right. Most everyone liked Italian food, but the atmosphere was chic and to-be-seen. Not the place to take children, though Kayla had just passed the point of childhood and was deep into burgeoning adolescence. In fact, she was about to burgeon right out of those shorts. Her short shorts and tank top definitely looked mall food-courtish, though the businessmen and fifty-somethings at La Griglia were bound to enjoy the view.

  "What's wrong with the way we're dressed?" Kayla asked. "I think we look cute." She thrust her size zero hips to the side.

  Enjoy them now, honey. If the freshman fifteen don't get you, take-out and weekend dates with Ben & Jerry's will.

  Kayla was that fun age between child and woman. She was trying to figure out who she was and what she was going to do—not unlike Sara right at this minute.

  Only Sara had had fifteen or so more years to figure it all out.

  How depressing was that? Sara so needed to get out of Simon's office. She tried to catch his eye. He glanced at her at the exact moment she turned to him. He looked vulnerable and uncertain. Very un-Simon-like. Yeah, anything he said in response would probably be wrong. Sympathy kept her rooted to the spot.

  "La Griglia is a nice restaurant," he said slowly. "Not a casual sort of place."

  "That's the point," snipped Joanna.

  Sara wanted to do something to Joanna. Maybe take her aside and smack her.

  "Well, I'm going to have to get to class." Joanna gave Kayla and Amber a once-over before removing her sunglasses from the top of her head and putting them on. "I suppose they'll be okay." But the way she said it, everyone knew they wouldn't be okay.

  What a nasty piece of work. Hayden would have put her in her place, but Sara was no Hayden.

  Amber, who had been silent up until now, looked stricken.

  Kayla looked disgusted. "Is it some stuffy place? I told you I didn't want to go to stuffy places anymore."

  "It's one of the top-rated restaurants in Houston. I thought it would be a treat," Simon said quietly.

  Awwwww, Sara thought and sent a vicious and completely unnoticed look at Joanna. Why didn't she say something parental like "Mind your manners?"

  "Can we take a limo?" Kayla asked.

  "I was planning to drive."

  "Man." Kayla wore a sullen expression.

  "Limos are for entertaining clients," Simon said in the voice of one who knows he's doomed. "You don't like going out with clients."

  Joanna bailed. "I've got a seven o'clock class." She waggled her fingers, wrinkled her nose at Sara and left.

  Simon looked at Sara. If ever there was a cry for help, this was it. And Sara responded to the call. Willingly. Gladly.

  "They really aren't dressed for La Griglia," she said as though she'd been there many times herself. "You know what they'd like? Dave and Busters."

  "Dave and Busters!" Kayla's whole demeanor changed.

&n
bsp; "I love that place," Amber said. "But since you have to be with an adult, I don't get to go there unless it's a special occasion, or something. My cousin's graduation was the last time I got to go there. I still have leftover tickets." She groaned. "But I didn't bring them with me."

  "Tickets?" asked Simon.

  He looked lost. Appealingly lost. The kind of lost where Sara could be the rescuer. Now here was a nice switch on the traditional fantasy. Sara liked it. Now she could appear competent in front of him.

  And she owed him big time. Huge time. She could have been fired. Clearly, he wanted to make good with his sister, so Sara would help him. Just as clearly, but unbelievably, he didn't know about Dave and Buster's.

  Sara would cover for him because it was very uncool not to know about Dave and Buster's.

  "I love Dave and Buster's," she said. "There's nothing like it for relieving stress. I mean, sometimes I just want to chill out and play pool, but other times, I can't wait to get in one of those pods and blow people up."

  "Yeah!" Kayla and Amber clutched each other as they looked from Simon to Sara and back. Kayla's eyes were as dark as her big brother's and just as intense.

  "The drinks aren't bad, either, are they, Simon?" Sara grinned at him.

  And he grinned back. Oh, boy. Talk about fuel for her crush.

  "You're right," he said. "I am more in a Dave and Buster's mood. Would you like to come with us?"

  Sara had half anticipated the invitation. Still … Simon Northrup. Could she? Should she?

  "We're going to Dave and Buster's? For real?" Kayla looked stunned. Amber looked impressed. And Simon, well, Simon managed to look sexy and grateful at the same time.

  To Sara's surprise, Kayla grabbed her arm. "You're gonna come with us, right?" She looked from Sara to Simon and back. "I mean, Dave and Buster's … you've gotta be cool."

  Sara laughed, knowing exactly what Kayla was thinking—here was somebody to baby-sit big brother while she and Amber played video games. "Sure, I'll go."

  Kayla and Amber jumped up and down and squealed.

  "Reservations?" Simon asked Sara beneath the noise.