Authors: Kate Perry
Let's Misbehave (28 page)
“Strategic?”
“I didn’t want to aggravate him any more than he was.”
“Hmm.” Eve gazed at her like she didn’t believe her. Then she picked up one of the discarded printouts. “Did you do this mock-up?”
“Yes,” Freya answered cautiously.
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“What does it look like?”
“Boring.”
“It’s just a mock-up.” She stretched to take the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it at the trash can.
Eve leaned forward and picked up the notebook. “Interesting sketches.”
Freya groaned. “Give that to me. I was just messing around.”
“By drawing porn?” Her friend frowned as she flipped pages, faint parentheses lining the space between her eyebrows. “
Artist in trouble?
Are you writing a personal ad?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Why are you whispering?”
“I wouldn’t put it past Dad—I mean Charles—to bug the place.”
Freya rolled her eyes. “Your dad is megalomaniacal, but he’s not that far gone.”
“Did he or did he not threaten to fire you?”
“You heard that, too?”
“Everyone heard. He’s a beast. Especially given how he knows you’re paying for Anna’s college and can’t afford to lose your job. I’d call him something worse, but it’d be too disrespectful.” She tapped the notebook. “But let’s get back to this.”
“It’s nothing. A moment of insanity.”
“If it’s nothing, why are you blushing?”
“I’m not,” she said even as she felt her face burn hotter.
“Right.”
Eve stared at her with a narrowed gaze that was too much like Charles’s for comfort. Then she said, “I have ways of making you talk.”
“It’s really nothing.” Freya sighed. “I had the fleeting thought that if I found someone who made me feel like a sex goddess I’d be able to channel that newfound sexuality into the design for Sin City.”
“And to find a sex slave you decided to do a personal ad?”
“I didn’t say anything about a sex slave, and I haven’t decided anything.”
“Well, it’s brilliant.”
Freya blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s brilliant. You’ll find a guy who’ll help you get your sexy back so you can design something sensual and creative.” She nodded. “It’s just what you need. How long has it been since you’ve played footsy with a guy? The last one was Brad.”
Brad.
She sighed. “He was a good kisser.”
Eve made a face. “He was boring. I rejoiced the day you broke up with him. You yourself said he didn’t excite you.”
True. She’d liked Brad, but when he’d proposed to her she’d realized she couldn’t spend her life with him. Something was missing. Sometimes she was afraid the something that was missing was her.
“You know what you need?” Eve leaned forward, her gaze intense. “You need spicy.”
“Spicy gives a person indigestion.”
“You used to love spicy.” Her friend tapped the notebook. “Do the personal ad. It’s the answer.”
“It was only an idea in a second of desperation.”
Eve shook her head. “No, it’s a creative solution to a problem. It’s old Freya shining through. It’s exactly what I’d do in your place.”
“Yes, but you have a habit of coming up with crazy schemes that backfire. Like that time you and I went to Napa for a day at the spa—”
“I just wanted to see what tipping a cow was like. How was I supposed to know that guy was out patrolling his pastures?”
“And when you decided we should take a road trip the summer after we got our driver’s licenses even though we didn’t have money or parental consent—”
“You have to admit it was a genius idea picking towns where the fire stations were holding free ice cream socials and spaghetti feeds. We saved so much money. And we met all those cute firemen.”
“Yes, but we still ran out of money for gas and had to call our parents to wire us enough to get home. Which only sucked because you’d said we should tell them we were spending the week at each other’s house, and they didn’t know we were on a road trip.”
Eve wrinkled her nose. “We did get busted that time.”
“We got grounded for the rest of the summer,” Freya corrected.
“That was unfortunate, but you can’t deny you loved every minute of it. And I may have had the ideas, but you were the gung-ho one who acted on them.”
True, and she did love those times. But that was before she had to take care of Anna.
Eve frowned for a brief moment before she lifted her determined chin. “No one’s going to get grounded this time. The fact of the matter is you
are
desperate, and desperation requires drastic measures. Also, I’d like to point out that this was originally your idea, not mine.”
“It’s years of your bad influence.” Freya sat back in her chair. “People always assume you’re the angelic one, with your cherubic looks. But it’s the innocent-looking ones who’re the most diabolical.”
“I know,” her friend said with a proud smile. “But I try to use my powers for good.”
Freya sighed. “I don’t know, Eve.”
“Remember how you always wanted to be a bohemian artist? After high school, you planned to go to Paris, live in an attic, wear lots of scarves, and smoke Gauloises. But when your parents died, it all changed.”
“I remember.” Familiar sadness filled her chest, and Freya rubbed her heart to try to ease it. It’d been years since her parents’ accident, but she still missed them every day.
Eve took her hand. “You had to be responsible, because you had to take care of Anna, so you started to play it safe. Somewhere along the way, you lost yourself. You’ve dried up.”
“It really is that bad, isn’t it?”
“Freya, you’re turning into a human Sahara. You’ve become as bland as your designs.” She waved at the trash can.
“Ouch.” She winced, but she couldn’t dispute that bland was exactly how she felt.
“Don’t get me wrong. You don’t
look
bland. You’re hot. The programmers eye your butt every time you walk through the office. Those pencil-thin cords are great.” Eve sighed in longing. “I wish I could wear pants like that. If only I were tall like you.”
“Five-five is tall for women. You shouldn’t compare yourself to me. Five-eleven is abnormal.”
“I wish I could be abnormal like a supermodel, too. At least your chest is flatter than mine. It’d be terrible if I had to hate you for that, too.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“I’m just saying you need to shake things up before you’re tempted to buy white cotton underwear.”
“I’m not
that
far gone.”
“You’re one step away from it.” Eve waved the notebook. “This is what’s going to save you. Do it.”
Freya sighed. “I’m a visual artist. I suck at writing.”
Eve flipped the notepad to a fresh page and extended a hand. “Pen.”
Handing one over, she watched Eve frown at the blank page before scribbling a few lines. Then her friend held out the notebook. “Here.”
Taking a deep breath, Freya looked it over:
Fiery goddess in search of the perfect god. Soar with me through clouds, frolic under the stars, hand me the moon for my own. Mortals need not reply.
She blinked and reread it. Not a blatant
I want you to give me hot sex
, but it hinted that she wanted to share sensual pleasures, sex or otherwise, without sounding desperate.
More than that, reading it stirred something inside her. It took her a moment to pinpoint that the feeling was excitement. “This is actually kind of good.”
“I know,” Eve said modestly. “It’s perfect for you. Promise me you’ll use it.”
Nerves set her stomach lurching again. But Eve was right—instinctively she knew she had to do something big to move out of the corner she’d backed herself into. “I’ll do it.”
“Then my work here is done.” Her friend hopped up.
“What would I do without you?”
“That’s too horrible a fate to even contemplate.” Eve tugged one of Freya’s curls. “Good thing for you you’re stuck with me.”
“Yeah, good thing.”
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Et Cetera, Et Cetera
Please don’t ride a motorcycle—or anything—directly through Hyde Park. Although a horse might be okay. And I certainly don’t condone breaking any park rules about being there at night. Ahem.
I played fast and loose with all things regarding the Carlton Club. Meaning I’m not certain they’d just let someone walk in, even if he were as hot as Merrick. I probably wouldn’t try it. Probably.
Wine Women & Shoes is a great organization that helps charities raise money for their causes. They do fun events that celebrate women, and I’m proud to be a supporter. They haven’t expanded out of the United States, but I have every confidence they’ll host a fabulous shindig in London one day soon. Keep your Jimmy Choos at the ready.
Special smooches to My Boudoir, in San Francisco, who graciously hosted the cover shoot for this book. If you’re ever in the city, visit Geri and she’ll hook you up—quite literally.
Kate’s Shelf
Summerhill
The Laurel Heights Series
Pillow Talk Novels
The Guardians of Destiny
Standalone
Legend of Kate
Kate has tangoed at midnight with a man in blue furry chaps, dueled with flaming swords in the desert, and strutted on bar tops across the world and back. She’s been kissed under the Eiffel Tower, had her butt pinched in Florence, and been serenaded in New Orleans. But she found Happy Ever After in San Francisco with her Magic Man.
Kate’s the bestselling author of the Laurel Heights Novels, as well as the Pillow Talk and Guardians of Destiny series. She’s been translated into several languages and is quite proud to say she’s big in Slovenia. All her books are about strong, independent women who just want love.
Most days, you can find Kate in her favorite café, working on her latest novel. Sometimes she’s wearing a tutu. She may or may not have a jeweled dagger strapped to her thigh…
For more on Kate, visit:
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