HOW TO BE THE PERFECT GIRLFRIEND

by Heather MacAllister

  "That's nice." She stared fixedly at the floor indicator lights.

  This wasn't going as smoothly as he would have hoped. "What's your favorite ballet?"

  She gave him a quick look as the elevator doors opened. "The, uh, Nutcracker."

  "Yes, it's a real crowd pleaser. When I was growing up in London, I saw Baryshnikov dance." Women liked Baryshnikov. Sara should respond to that.

  "In the Nutcracker?"

  Damn the Nutcracker. "No. In Romeo and Juliet.

  "Oh."

  They turned right as they exited the elevator and headed toward Starbucks.

  Simon tried again. "It's always amazed me that a city with no basements has a complete underground tunnel system."

  "They come in handy," Sara said.

  They got in line. There was always a line at Starbucks.

  "What would you like?" she asked.

  "A latte."

  "I'm having the caramel one. It's super sweet, but I didn't have dessert at lunch."

  So polite. So stilted. He hated that he'd ruined their easy camaraderie. It was his own fault for pushing. He knew she was different, yet he'd treated her the same way he'd treated women with whom he'd only intended to have brief encounters.

  He'd just have to try harder. "The men from Glasgow have faxed over a preliminary agreement. I know that you helped influence them."

  She blushed. A woman who blushed in this day and age? Simon was charmed. "They asked about you," he added and watched her blush deepen.

  "They don't think I'm part of the marketing team, do they?"

  "You're on the Avalli Digital team, therefore, in a sense you are on the team."

  "You know what I mean. You marketing guys can put a spin on anything."

  They reached the barista and Sara ordered. She already had her wallet out, so he let her pay, too, because it seemed to be something she was determined to do. He liked that. It had been a long time since a woman had treated him.

  He tried not to think about it, but even Joanna had never asked him over for a meal. Not that Joanna cooked. But take-out would have been okay—it was the thought that was important here.

  "Do you cook?" he asked Sara suddenly, imagining her inviting him over for a home-cooked meal.

  Startled, she looked at him. "I can cook—I think. But I rarely cook. I grill and microwave, if that counts."

  "That counts."

  "I don't really do fancy stuff for just myself. I take a veggie dish to my parents' for the holidays. That kind of thing."

  At last an opening. "Where do your parents live?"

  "They've retired to Wimberly."

  "The Hill Country. It's a beautiful place."

  Simon had been willing to sit and talk at a table, but to his disappointment, Sara began to walk back to the elevator once they got their coffees.

  She didn't even look at him. He wanted to ask her to the jazz brunch, but figured she'd turn him down.

  He had only a few minutes to try to break through her reserve. "Are you planning to work out at the club any time this week?"

  "I'm not a member and," she gave a little laugh, "I can't afford that place."

  "You … you could be my guest…"

  The elevator doors opened. "I think they have rules against that."

  Yes, they did, but Simon could have figured a way round it.

  There were people inside the elevator and he didn't think he could continue the conversation without sounding desperate.

  He got out with her on the twenty-fourth floor. "Thanks for the coffee." If she would just look at him…

  And then she did and he wished she hadn't. "It was the least I could do for a Green Room donor." She smiled. He recognized it as the professional business woman's smile, coolly friendly without a hint of anything sexual or personal or encouraging.

  "I hope you find a gym to join."

  "I hope so, too." She smiled and nodded. "Thanks again." And she turned down the hallway.

  It was a classic brush-off. Simon stared after her unable to figure out what he was doing wrong.

  Keep walking keep walking keep walking.

  That was awful. Horrible. Simon probably thought she was a cultural vacuum with no conversation. She wasn't an expert by any means, but she had paid attention in art and music appreciation classes. It was just that she couldn't get past her overwhelming attraction to him and access her brain.

  It didn't matter now. Simon was probably no more. Not that he ever was, except there was the matter of the gleam. Missy and Hayden had said she'd know it when she saw it and she'd definitely seen it—or was that a reflection of her own gleam? No, she hadn't imagined that kiss in the Stratford Oaks doorway or the hot little sampler at the gym. She hadn't imagined his invitation to multiple meals including breakfast.

  But she'd completely rejected him. Twice now. Okay. Then this was what she was going to do: she'd attempt once more to meet another man and go the ring and veil route. And if that didn't work, then she'd try to reinstate that gleam in Simon's eye and go for a long smooth ride in a Rolls.

  * * *

  7

  « ^ »

  "You try to wear those pearls inside and I'll strangle you with them!"

  Missy's hand crept to her neck. "Pearls are always appropriate—"

  "Not at an Astros game, sweetie. This is my turf. You wear clothes that are bright and tight, show some skin, and cop an attitude." Hayden had started early on the attitude.

  "I'd counted on the pearls to cancel out the fact that I'm going to have to drink beer from a plastic cup."

  Maybe going to an Astros game wasn't such a good idea, Sara thought. But Hayden had been insistent, and had convinced Missy without too much trouble, that Sara's ideal man would like baseball. Something about testosterone calling to testosterone.

  Since she'd gone with Missy's advice on the Barre Belles thing, Sara had acquiesced to Hayden's instructions to wear a tight top, preferably red, and preferably low cut enough to warrant rescuing the Wonderbra from the back corner of her underwear drawer. "You want to attract the attention of the camera guy," Hayden had advised them. "He'll put your picture up on the big screen and interested parties can check you out. Truly interested parties will find you during the seventh inning stretch."

  "Hayden, thousands of people will be at the game. I hardly think we're going to be singled out," Missy had replied.

  That's kind of what Sara had thought, but Hayden was insistent. She'd also insisted that they go to an afternoon game which meant that they'd snuck out of work early—along with a surprisingly large proportion of the downtown working population. As Hayden and Missy argued over pearls, Sara watched youngish business types in button-down shirts and slacks stream past them into Minute Maid Park. Hayden was right. There could be nice hunting here.

  "The pearls go in the purse, sugar." Hayden withheld Missy's ticket.

  "All right!" Missy unclasped her necklace, wrapped the pearls in a tissue and tucked them carefully in her purse, which she then clutched tightly to her side.

  Missy had on a high-necked sleeveless knit shell that she'd worn beneath her suit jacket. She'd left the jacket in the car.

  "As a point of information, why haven't you complained about Missy wearing black?" Sara asked.

  Hayden handed out the tickets. "It's tight and she's a blonde. 'Nuff said."

  Missy fluffed her hair and took the ticket.

  Sara pondered the unfair advantages blondes had over the rest of the population as they entered the stadium and searched for their seats.

  "I can't believe I let you talk me into taking off early from work," Missy said. And actually, Sara was feeling a few guilt twinges as well.

  Hayden wasn't. "We work hard. We deserve a break. And just think—men in tight white pants."

  "But I'm paid by the hour."

  Sara had forgotten that Missy worked for a temp agency. "I appreciate this, Missy."

  "Oh, it's good for me to do something out of character. It'll keep Pet
er interested. And won't he be surprised when I can talk baseball with him? Do they print a glossary in the back of the programs or something?"

  They were all walking toward the section with their seats when Hayden suddenly peeled off and stood in line at a concession stand.

  "What is she—beer!" Missy gasped. "It's not even four-thirty yet."

  It seemed kind of early for beer to Sara, too. But Hayden beckoned them over.

  "Oh, it's not for me." She gave them a knowing smile. "It's for the camera guys."

  "What camera guys?" Sara asked.

  "For the big screen. We're paying them a little visit. How will they find me if they don't know where to look?"

  Missy nodded her head and grinned at Sara. "She's good."

  Sara couldn't believe it, but Hayden made them all carry a beer, go through the "Authorized Personnel Only" door, and climb about a million stairs to one of the broadcast boxes, where she proceeded to flirt with the lighting techs and the guy who ran the big-screen camera. She left her ticket stub and the beers. Then and only then did they make their way to their seats.

  "Inhale and keep your shoulders back, Sara. Oh, and when it's time for the 'Star-Spangled Banner,' we're going to just sing our little hearts out."

  "I'm not real good with the high notes," Sara mumbled.

  "Mouth the words, honey, and keep smiling."

  "I can't tell you how impressed I am by your attention to detail, Hayden," Missy smiled as she spoke. Missy did smiling very well.

  "You aren't the only one who schemes."

  They'd been sitting for several minutes watching the warm-ups. Sara was getting a little light-headed from all the deep breathing she was doing. At least her mother would be proud of her posture.

  "Change seats," Hayden ordered her abruptly. "We're both in red and we need Missy in the middle for contrast."

  Missy was standing up as soon as Hayden mentioned the red part.

  Honestly, Sara had so much to learn.

  And then Missy screamed in her ear. "Wave, y'all!"

  And there was Hayden—and then all of them on the big screen. Sara almost forgot to breathe. Hayden got to her feet and blew kisses to the players who were running to the dugout as warm-ups ended. The camera followed her and Missy and Sara were out of the shot.

  "I have certainly underestimated her," Missy murmured in Sara's ear.

  "If there's one thing I've learned, it's to never underestimate Hayden. Hey, Hayden—how did you learn about the camera guys?"

  "I'm in charge of stadium ads for Avalli, remember?" She sat down and preened.

  Several minutes later, an usher beckoned to Hayden. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

  "And so it begins," she said. "This one is a real eager beaver. Yes?" she called down the row.

  "You and your friends are invited to watch the game from one of the club suites."

  Missy gripped Sara's arm. "The club suites."

  "Whose club suite?" Hayden asked.

  Now Missy gripped Hayden's arm. "Does it matter?"

  "Why, yes." Hayden looked at her in surprise. "We might get a better offer."

  "Does this happen to you a lot?" Sara asked.

  "Only when I go to an Astros game."

  It figured.

  Hayden asked again, but the usher cupped his hand to his ear and shook his head.

  She stood. "Come on, ladies. We can always leave."

  "You know," Sara said as they followed the usher to the club level. "I wonder how I ever met any men at all without you two."

  "You met men," Missy answered her. "You just didn't meet quality men."

  "Oh." The usher had indicated which suite and Hayden stopped short, hands on hips. "I didn't know international marketing rated a suite. I'm thinking I'll have a chat with our finance officer."

  "What are you talking about?" Sara asked.

  Hayden stood aside and pointed through the glass. Sara saw Simon and a group of people that included the Glasgow men, Kayla, Amber and Joanna.

  But mostly she saw Simon. Saw the quick, pleased smile as his gaze caught and held hers. Took in the casual knit shirt that subtly reminded her of the muscles beneath, the khaki slacks … the man did look good in slacks.

  And those eyes. She saw the gleam, even from this distance, and saw it change into something more. A warm shiver rolled through her. Yeah, shivers were cold, but Sara's felt warm and were getting warmer by the second.

  How could he do that to her with just a look across a crowded luxury sports box? I'm a man. You're a woman. I'm interested. Your move. Her move.

  It looked like her move was going to be tossing the ring and veil and hitching a ride in a Rolls.

  She could no longer resist him. How could she settle down with another man when Simon was, incredibly, available to her? Her future was just going to have to wait. Eyes Wide Open, she told herself. Simon will put work and his sister ahead of you. And Joanna will be right there to see that you don't distract him. And he won't stop her. And after he doesn't stop her one too many times, that will be the end of it.

  Even knowing all that, Sara decided being with him for however long would be worth the inevitable hurt. Philosophy from the better-to-have-loved-and-lost school of romance.

  As soon as she made the decision, the unbearable tension that had gripped her for days loosened its hold to be replaced by a much more pleasant tension. It was no longer a matter of if, but when and how. She drew a deep breath.

  "Well, well." Hayden turned and gave Sara a sharp look.

  Kayla and Amber shrieked and opened the door, both talking at once. "Sara! We saw you on the TV! Simon said he could find you and he did! Isn't this the coolest? They've got drinks and hot dogs and nachos! Come on in!" Kayla pulled on one hand and Amber pulled on the other.

  Sara laughed. It would be easier to resent Kayla if Sara didn't recognize so much of herself at that age in her. As the girls took her over to the nacho bar, Sara looked up and saw Joanna watching her. Now there was someone to resent. Someone Sara suspected had more than a stepmotherly interest in Simon.

  There were a couple more families of people from Simon's division. Everybody was introduced to everybody and in the process, the Glasgow men revealed Sara's return visit to the Stratford Oaks.

  She'd pay for that later, she figured. But on the positive side, she introduced Missy and Hayden to Joanna, "Simon's stepmother." She did enjoy that.

  Shortly after, Hayden murmured in her ear, "So it's a work night after all," and switched to full company marketing mode as she flirted with and charmed the men from Glasgow.

  Missy, with a gentle, "Leave Joanna and the other women to me," practiced playing corporate wife.

  Kayla and Amber shoved a hot dog at Sara, and then went to watch the game outside the box with three other kids.

  Which left Sara standing next to Simon.

  "Hello." His voice rumbled through her in a way no man's voice had ever rumbled.

  "Hi."

  How soon could she get him alone? How soon?

  At least she was still speaking to him. Since their awkward coffee a couple of days ago, Simon had found Sara in his thoughts more often than not. He'd wanted another chance with her, but wasn't certain of the best way to approach her. Dazzling her with a big check hadn't done it, not that he would have liked her very much if it had.

  He still thought the jazz brunch was a good idea, but he felt an intermediate step was needed, say one in which she actually conversed with him in more than one-sentence bursts.

  He'd been thinking about her when Kayla and Amber had screamed that they'd seen her on the TV screen. He'd caught a quick glimpse, then a longer one of Hayden and had taken a chance.

  Kayla had been terribly impressed with him. Joanna had eyed him speculatively. The Glasgow bunch had brightened and he, well, he'd looked on Sara's presence at this game as a gift.

  Now, how to make the most of it?

  He'd have to tread carefully to avoid offending her. Slow and steady won the race and al
l that.

  But he didn't want to go slow and he certainly wasn't steady. He wanted her alone. More importantly, he wanted mutual wanting. And he wanted it pretty damn quick.

  She had to know he found her attractive. The whole room probably knew, because he couldn't stop looking at her.

  The sliding glass doors opened. "Sara!" Kayla shrieked. Kayla shrieked all conversation these days. "Come watch with us!"

  "Let me eat my hot dog first," Sara said.

  "'Kay." Kayla shoved the doors shut.

  Simon liked the way Sara casually interacted with Kayla and her friend. She didn't make too much of her the way a couple of women had and neither did she talk awkwardly to her the way some adults did. And Kayla seemed genuinely glad to see her.

  Joanna … he didn't care what Joanna thought.

  "Would you like something to drink with your hot dog?" he asked Sara.

  "Maybe later." She gingerly took a bite.

  It drew attention to her mouth and it was probably best that Simon's attention not be on her mouth just now. He looked away. "I'm glad the weather is sunny. I enjoy the games when the stadium roof is retracted."

  She nodded and swallowed.

  He'd now exhausted the weather and the stadium as conversational topics. He couldn't stand the awkwardness between them one more instant. Not feeling the way he did.

  As Sara raised the hot dog to her mouth, Simon took her arm and drew her over to the refrigerator away from the others.

  "Do I make you uncomfortable?" Might as well go for it.

  She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "In a way." Just before she stared down at her hot dog, he caught the upward curve of her mouth.

  Maybe he still had a shot. Opening the refrigerator, he took two bottles of water and opened one for her without asking. "In what way?"

  She set the hot dog down on the counter and took the water. "You … you're … I owe you so many favors."

  "What favors?" He got the impression that she'd been thinking of something else. He'd certainly been thinking of something else.