too,” Tina said, which was a lie, Kara knew.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, what quiet things are we talking about?” Tina stirred her drink very slowly, her eyes glued to Tom.
“For me, it’s sailing. I have a small boat I take to the lake.”
“Sounds nice. Water and waves and rocking.” She lifted a straw full of drink and let it slide into the side of her mouth, a gesture just this side of suggestive. “I always wanted to learn to sail.”
He shook his head. “Your nails are too nice.” He patted her hand, then moved away, leaving Tina open-mouthed, her straw poised in midair.
“So that’s how it’s done, huh?” Kara teased.
“He blew me off.” She sounded more mystified than wounded. “I swear there were definite vibes.”
They watched Tom pour bourbon into a glass for someone at the other end of the bar, completely ignoring them.
“Maybe I’m not his type,” Tina continued. “Maybe he goes for blond bombshells with exotic eyes like you.”
“Please.” Tina had convinced Kara to ditch her glasses for contacts because her uptilted eyes were “unique.” Kara knew her figure was decent, but she was far from a bombshell, and she had to watch what she ate to keep her hips under control. As for her hair, it was blond, but so unmanageable she often pulled it back into a ponytail or a twist in the librarian look Tina never failed to malign.
“Why don’t you go for it?” Tina urged.
“Because he’s not my type. We’d have nothing in common.”
“That’s the whole point. You need to sleep with someone you can’t possibly fall in love with. Someone sexy as hell but all wrong for you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. If not Tom—and I have first dibs on him—someone like… I don’t know. Let me see.” She looked around the bar, which held a number of attractive men, since it was a popular singles watering hole. “These guys are all business types. You need somebody less responsible, more of a bad boy. Someone like…”
The bar door opened and, as if on cue, Ross Gabriel walked in.
“Ross!” Tina declared. “He’d be perfect!”
“Ross? He’s my friend. My good friend.” Kara loved nothing better than to hang out in the art department exchanging cheap shots and jokes with Ross. They were known to finish each other’s sentences. She couldn’t have sex with him.
He was cute, though, she noted, watching him swagger in, blinking at the sudden dimness. Kara had been instantly attracted to him when she’d started work at S&S, until she discovered he was just an overgrown boy—Peter Pan with a sex life. He was her age—twenty-nine—but he lived in a funky apartment in a dangerous part of town, his only transportation an ancient motorcycle and a battered bike. He considered a kegger in the desert to be high entertainment, and, despite talent, intelligence and a terrific way with clients, he was perfectly content to remain an art director at S&S, designing ads, not overseeing anything or anyone, until they closed shop.
But it was more than his lifestyle. He was a babe magnet. And Kara was too ordinary to be considered a babe. Ross would never say that, but she’d read it in his face and that took care of any desire to flirt she’d had.
Right now, he’d barely gotten inside the bar and was already talking to a woman. He had an easygoing, bad-boy-who-brings-his-mom-flowers way about him that women warmed to. He made you feel really seen, and he was an excellent listener. It was a routine, probably, since Ross looked after Ross and never went far beneath the surface, but the blonde on the bar stool was interested, Kara could see by her open body language.
“So what if he’s a friend?” Tina asked. “He’s hot. He’s experienced. And you could never fall in love with him.”
“You got that right,” she said, watching the woman write something—her number, no doubt—and hand the paper to Ross, with an extra touch of his sleeve. How did he do it? He was indifferent about fashion and tended not to comb his dark, longish hair, though he always managed to look arty. On him, stubble looked charming.
Could she sleep with him? The idea gave her a sharp charge. This is Ross, she reminded herself. The brother she’d longed for as an only child. He was like Tina, but better in some ways. Tina told her what to do; Ross mostly listened. He gave her the male perspective on her breakups, until she ended up laughingly philosophical instead of morose.
He was also the guy who’d held her forehead in the S&S bathroom when she’d gotten sick on fish tacos, then driven her home and watched over her all night. Of course, he’d kept her awake with Three Stooges movies at top volume and consumed all her imported beer and impress-your-date pâté, but it was the thought that counted.
Meanwhile, Ross had caught sight of them and was headed their way with his great affable smile, which faded as he got closer. “What’d I do?” he asked, and Kara realized she and Tina had stared at him during his entire approach. “Is my fly down?” He checked his zipper.
“You’re fine,” Tina said. “We were just noticing how cute you are.”
Kara jabbed her in the ribs. Don’t you dare.
“Uh-uh. No way,” Ross said. “You can kiss up to me all night, but I’m not doing that Emerson project, not even with overtime. I save my nights for romance.” He waggled his brow.
“You are so lazy,” Tina said. “If you’d show a little initiative you could manage the whole art department.”
“All that responsibility, with a mortgage and an ulcer to match? No thanks. I want my options open. Who knows when I might decide to hike the Andes?”
“Think about it. I’m taking off,” Tina said, sliding down from the stool. “We can talk about Emerson Faucets and Stoppers tomorrow. I’ll let you two make your plans.” She winked at Kara.
“Tina,” Kara said between gritted teeth, but her friend had wiggled off on her impossibly high heels and ultratight skirt.
“What plans are we making?” Ross asked Kara.
“Nothing,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “I noticed you’re in trolling mode.”
He feigned innocence. “You mean Lisa?” He tilted his head toward the blonde at the end of the bar. “Don’t give me that ‘Ross has hooked himself another bimbo’ look. She’s an accountant with Smith Barney.”
“I’m pleased to see you’ve raised your standards.” Ross tended to share his conquests with her—blow-by-blow once he’d had a couple beers—and the last few women he’d dated had needed Cliffs Notes for their driver’s tests.
“You know too much. Now I’ll have to kill you,” he said, pretending to go for her throat.
“What can I get you?” Tom said, interrupting Kara’s strangulation.
“Just practicing for the next agency meeting,”
