Eye Candy Read Free Page A

sprawled on the brown leather couch, balancing a Diet Coke on her stomach, reading a James Patterson paperback. Ann-Marie and I call Luisa Goth Girl. Not because of her personality (which is a little dark, actually), but because of her raven black hair, straight and thick, almost like a helmet framing her slender, pale face.
    â€œI haven’t had a decent date in a year.”
    The words tumbled from my mouth in a harsh voice I didn’t recognize. I had my arms tightly crossed in front of me. I plopped down in the big La-Z-Boy to keep from pacing.
    Ann-Marie clicked her phone shut and looked up at me. Luisa kept reading. She raised a finger. “Let me just finish this page.”
    â€œFinish the whole book,” I snapped. “I’m just babbling.”
    â€œGo ahead and babble,” Ann-Marie said. “We like it when Miss Universe is a little stressed.”
    I glared at Ann-Marie. “Don’t call me that. That’s my whole problem, don’t you see? Guys think I’m . . .”
    â€œToo beautiful?” Luisa helped out from the couch.
    â€œI didn’t say that. It’s just that I’ve been told I . . .
intimidate
guys. So they don’t ask me out.”
    Ann-Marie laughed. “What a terrible problem, Lindy. Too gorgeous. That one goes right up there with world hunger.”
    Luisa and I laughed. Ann-Marie always knew how to put things in perspective.
    Ann-Marie has short, wavy auburn hair, which I keep urging her to lighten, at least with a few streaks. She has beautiful, olive-colored eyes, but her face is very round and her front teeth poke out a bit, giving her a kind of chipmunky look.
    And though I hate to say it, she could probably lose a few pounds. She’s a fanatic about the gym, but I think the problem is all the big Italian dinners she’s been cooking for her new boyfriend, Lou D’Amici.
    Luisa closed her book and turned to me. “Can’t you meet any guys at your office?”
    â€œAre you kidding?” I cried. “I work in children’s publishing. There
are
no guys in children’s publishing!”
    I thought about my office, all women except for Saralynn’s assistant, Brill, who is gay.
    Luisa casually ran a hand through her dark bangs. “Lindy, you could hang out at any bar. Slap on a short skirt and a tube top, show off your legs and let your tits hang out, and you’ll meet a dozen guys a night.”
    I sighed. “No offense, but I don’t want to meet guys in bars.”
    She sneered at me. “Snob.”
    Luisa waitresses at The Spring Street Bar in SoHo, and she’s always bringing guys home after work. I see them creeping out of her room in the morning, smiles on their faces.
    â€œI’m not a snob,” I said. “I don’t want to meet guys who like me for my body. Guys looking for another dumb blonde. You know I’m right, Luisa. I want someone I can talk to.”
    â€œWell, why don’t you do what I did?” Ann-Marie asked, repeatedly flipping her cell phone open and shut.
    I frowned at her. “Write a personals ad?”
    She grinned. “Worked for me.”
    â€œShe’s right. Lou is a great guy,” Luisa said, opening her book again. “You should do it, Lindy. Meet-Market.com.”
    â€œYeah, I got so many replies,” Ann-Marie said, climbing to her feet. “You remember. We picked Lou out because he crossed his eyes in his photo. We figured he had to have a sense of humor.”
    â€œOr else he was cross-eyed,” I said.
    â€œHe’s funny,” Luisa said. “He always cracks me up.”
    â€œHe’s sweet, too,” Ann-Marie said, her cheeks turning pink. “Did you see those earrings he bought me? He said they were undiamonds for my unbirthday.”
    â€œI think they were real zircons,” I joked.
    Ann-Marie didn’t laugh. She doesn’t like jokes about Lou. Maybe I’m a little jealous of her.