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see that underneath the slick lawyer exterior Greg was a great guy, maybe she'd give him a chance. And in accepting Greg, Freya would be less resistant to the idea of her going to law school. She was driven to be an attorney but nothing was worth alienating her sister. Even the thought of Freya being disappointed in her paralyzed her.
    Of course, for this to work, Anna would have to make sure the other guys didn't measure up to Greg. But that'd be easy. Some "advice" to them here, a "tip" or two there, and they'd be toast.
    Greg shook his head. "I don't like that look on your face. It reeks of scheming. I won't do anything to upset her, and I won't lie to her."
    "Don't worry. You just have to be yourself. Leave the rest up to me." She shrugged off the pang from her conscience. There wasn't anything to feel guilty about. She was doing this with Freya's best interest at heart. "It'll be fine."
    He groaned. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
    "Trust me." She pulled the forgotten sandwich closer to her. "The sandwich looks great."
    He looked up at the ceiling. "This is where something catastrophic happens. Like a jet falling through the roof."
    "The only bad thing that could happen is if she finds out."
    "That's what I'm afraid of." He took another swig of his beer.
    She shot him a grin. It was sweet that he was so concerned about it. It reinforced that she was right in picking him. But she'd make sure everything went down the way she envisioned. She'd just have to hang around the Victorian more to make sure the plan went off without a hitch.
    Maybe she'd run into the Latin guy who lived downstairs again. She sniffed her sandwich. Good, but not nearly as delectable as that guy.
    "Does it smell bad?"
    Startled, she looked up to find Greg staring at her. "What?"
    He nodded at her food. "The sandwich. Does it smell off?"
    "Uh, no." She felt her cheeks start to burn. "Just checking for onions."
    Greg cocked his eyebrow. "I didn't put any on."
    "Too bad." She smiled as angelically as she could. "I've developed a taste for them recently."

 
Chapter Six
     
     
    Looking around the Ethiopian restaurant, Freya took a sip of tej. The honey wine slipped down her throat, smooth and sweet. She liked it. She liked the restaurant too—it had a great neighborhoody feel.
    To think she'd lived blocks away all these years and never bothered to try it. She didn't even know why.
    But earlier, as she sat in her office, she vowed that was going to change. The personal ad was a good start, but there were other ways to jumpstart her creativity.
    Hence the new restaurant for dinner. And she had other ideas, like taking a cooking class at the Culinary Academy. She even thought of trying to paint again.
    She hadn't painted since her parents died.
    Swallowing the sudden sadness, she focused on the class list. "Introduction to French Desserts" and "Thai Cooking Made Easy?" Crme brulŽe or pad thai?
    A masculine shadow fell across her table. Smiling, she looked up to greet the waiter.
    She blinked in disbelief, her smile dissolving, because the last person on earth she expected to see was Greg Cavanaugh.
    "Hello, Freya."
    He said her name in that oozy voice on purpose—she just knew it. "Did you follow me here?"
    "Would I do something like that?"
    "Is that a trick question?"
    Cavanaugh pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. He slipped out of his coat and hung it on the back of his chair.
    "Make yourself at home," she said, watching him loosen his tie and unbutton the top of his shirt. The blue of his dress shirt matched his eyes and showed off his sculpted chest when his arms stretched.
    He just smiled and said, "Thanks. I hoped you wouldn't mind if I joined you. There's a wait, and I told Rose I could sit with you so I wouldn't take up a whole table by myself."
    "Very thoughtful of you." Sarcasm seemed the best way to go—definitely better than acknowledging the trill of excitement that flared in her chest at seeing him. "I don't