Heather Macallister - How To Be the Perfect Girlfriend

Simon didn’t let go of her arm, though his business associates were waiting for him. They’d already staked out a table in the bar, and were looking at Simon questioningly.

“I—I don’t know…” Sarah mumbled.

“Please.” His voice was low, with a husky catch at the end. Or maybe that was desperation. All Simon knew was that he needed to be with her just now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way.

She was so…something. Simon found himself terribly attracted to her in this incarnation. She was hot. Totally hot. Look-at-me hot. And Simon looked. He couldn’t stop looking.

What he needed to do was pay attention to his potential clients. Negotiations had reached a delicate stage at which the slightest thing could make them go either way. Simon had already lost two accounts this week. Losing this one after all the time they’d invested would be no good for the bottom line.

Still, his eyes glued on Sarah, all he could think about was that directly above them were floors filled with many, many beds.

And he needed only one.

Dear Reader,

A few months ago I was at a bridal shower, where the topic naturally turned to men. And surprisingly, I discovered there were two categories of women at the shower—well, other than the bride-to-be, who was in a category all by herself, and myself (who is happily married, thank you very much). But as for the others, all the women fell into two groups—the career singles (those who are single and loving it) and the singles who’d made a career out of preparing for marriage.

As the bride opened her presents, there was a friendly yet intense discussion about life and men—specifically whether or not these women actually wanted a man in their lives…and then how to get him there if they did. When they talked strategies, the career singles and the seriously-getting-marrieds sounded a lot like my characters Hayden and Missy. And I couldn’t help thinking that the perfect girlfriend would be someone who was a mix of the two….

That’s how my heroine Sara came to be. I hope you enjoy her adventures in How To Be the Perfect Girlfriend. Who knows? Maybe you’ll pick up some tips!

Don’t forget to stop by www.HeatherMacAllister.com for news about upcoming books.

Happy reading!

Heather MacAllister

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

785—MOONLIGHTING

817—PERSONAL RELATIONS

864—TEMPTED IN TEXAS

892—SKIRTING THE ISSUE

928—MALE CALL

How To Be the Perfect Girlfriend

Heather MacAllister

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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My thanks to perfect girlfriends Candace Cogan and Hellen Knox, who acted as my husband’s personal chauffeurs and let him boss them around so I could stay home and write this book.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

THERE WAS NOTHING like a little humiliation to get the blood flowing on an ordinary Tuesday morning. Sara Lipton’s came in the form of rejection by e-mail. It was a new personal low.

Somehow, e-mail rejection was more humiliating than rejection by answering machine, and oh, yes, she’d had plenty of experience with that kind.

In this case, she’d sent a carefully casual, yet sensually perky—and don’t think that was easy to achieve—e-mail to the visiting business associate with whom she’d spent several enjoyable hours last Friday night.

And this was his response: I can’t seem to locate you in my client base—have we met? And then to hammer home the point, he’d signed it, Bradley Whit, Senior Software Consultant, Cynoware Industries.

Oh, they’d met. Their lips had met, too. Several times in a dark corner booth long after the rest of the gang from work had left. In fact, Sara thought Bradley had been kissing her in a we’ve-clicked-and-I-want-to-see-you-again way, when it apparently was an I’m-in-town-from-Boston-and-am-looking-for-temporary-fun-in-Houston way.

Yeah, and she’d given him a real Texas welcome. Or would that be a French welcome? Better not go there.

Have we met? This was fast becoming the story of her life. Okay, then. It was time to rewrite the story of her life.

And she intended to, just as soon as she finished photocopying the end-of-month employee evaluations. Clutching them to her as though they contained Avalli Digital Media’s most sacred company secrets—she was a little worried about the new privacy policy—Sara left her cubicle and headed down the hall.

She’d hoped to finish copying them by lunchtime because she’d called her friend and co-worker Hayden to meet her for a heart-to-heart chat about Life and Men. Mostly men—Hayden’s area of expertise. Sara didn’t want to be late because she’d also asked Missy, the cute little blond temp from Dallas who got on Hayden’s nerves because all she ever discussed was her upcoming wedding. Yeah, so sue her. Sara was fascinated by the details. Go figure.

Between them Sara figured these two women knew everything worth knowing about men. Hayden could give her tips on how to get a man, and Missy could tell her what to do with him once she got him. A perfect plan, if Sara did say so herself.

There was a line at the photocopier and Sara couldn’t wait until after lunch, which meant she was going to be late. Whipping out her cell phone, she called Hayden, hoping to catch her before she left for the café.

“Where are you?” was the way Hayden answered the phone. From the background noise, Sara could tell that she was already in the building’s atrium café.

“Can you grab us a table? I’m caught at the photocopier.”

“Can’t you just scan and print?”

“No. You know we don’t want confidential information on the network.”

“I swear. You people in payroll are paranoid. Hey—you just need black-and-whites, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then go on up to my floor. There’s an old machine that we keep next to the vending machines. It doesn’t collate or do anything fancy, but you’ll get your copies.”

“I’m on my way.” Sara pulled open the door to the stairs and started running up the two flights to the twenty-sixth floor, her steps echoing in the stairwell.

The running lasted half a flight. She really needed to start exercising.

Breathing heavily, Sara found the old machine in the deserted vending area of the marketing department. All the marketing people apparently ate lunch out. If Sara had an expense account, she’d eat out all the time, too. But payroll assistants didn’t have expense accounts. Sara brown-bagged her lunch at least two days a week and aimed for three. It was part of her long-range plan to become fiscally responsible. See? She was planning for the future. She was maturing.

She deserved a mature relationship. One with commitment at its core. A life-partner relationship.

Either that or a lot of really fun, hot, immature relationships. Relationshipettes, maybe. Memorable encounters, even. The kind that inspired women to write memoirs. Sara visualized herself with silver hair, gnarled hands weighed down with diamonds and a satisfied smile as she dictated her life story to a fascinated and envious young woman.