His For Christmas (8 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.”

Anabelle stilled, thinking about the
qualities Charlie deemed as necessary. Maybe Charlie had a point.
Those qualities weren’t necessarily bad and they would help towards
her pursuit of a male induced orgasm.

“Fine,” she said, ignoring Charlie’s pleased
expression. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you have a
shop to look after?”

Charlie ignored Anabelle’s irritation and
took her time selecting a cookie. “My mom is there.”

“Ha! Now I know why you’re so interested in
my love life. You big chicken.” Karma was a witch and since Charlie
had gotten her steamrolling tendencies from her mother, it was fun
watching her best friend get flattened by the master every once in
a while.

“Mom’s between projects at the moment so
guess who’s the star of her project now?”

“Yeah, well, my mother’s the opposite. I’m
the last of her worries unless she wants something from me.”

“Want to adopt mine?”

“If I could, I would. You’re mom is great
but don’t worry, she’ll get distracted by something else soon
enough.”

“Please God.”

“At least you have brothers to share the
spotlight. You guys can rotate whereas I’m an only child. So when
she decides to pay attention to me or needs something from me,
there’s no one around to be a decoy. I get all the attention, all
the time and it’s not easy. Trust me.”