Page 33 of Mr. Flirt

Okay. It didn’t hurt that he was God’s gift to women, and I’d been under a lot of stress lately. And maybe every little cell in my body felt like it was doing a dizzying disco dance whenever I was around him.

So, he seemed like an ideal type of guy to relieve some tension with if I didn’t chicken out first.

But I always chickened out.

That was who I was to my very core. I lived, breathed, and ate divorce every single day of my life. If I weren’t busy making a grown man give up half his pension for his cheating ways, I was busy having divorce parties to make the women feel better.

Only it left me feeling worse.

A lot worse.

I’d always prided myself on sticking up for people who got kicked around in relationships. But because I saw every dirty detail and rotten trick played, all in the name of a glorified side piece, it was extremely difficult to trust.

My doorbell rang, which was the perfect reason to get me out of my thinking zone. No good ever came from the lust spiral of forbidden fruit.

I wandered to the door to see my perky sister holding her new Chanel bag and wearing a sloppy grin.

“You okay?” I asked as I hung on the door.

She touched her chest and fluttered her eyelids. “I’m in love.”

My eyes widened. “With life? With your purse!”

She giggled and let her hand slide away from her chest.

“With a bona fide male who wants to spoil me, marry me, and have my children.”

I eyed her. “In that order?”

Mae rolled her eyes and wandered into my townhouse. I’d chosen the place because it was in a quiet, gated community where angry men were less likely to find me after I crushed their wallets in the courtroom.

“Don’t be such a Negative Nelly.” She patted my shoulder like I was ninety-nine years old and needed help at the crosswalk. “Just because you’re not cut out for love doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be miserable like you.”

I scowled and shut the door behind us. “I’m not miserable. I love my life.”

“Yeah?” She wandered over to my cream bouclé couch and slid down with a big sigh.

I’d been down this road many times before with my sister, and I knew what to expect. There’d be a few weeks of utter fascination, followed by a tad bit of skepticism before full-on loathing of not only the man she was dating but the entire male species.

I smiled. “Okay, tell me all about him.”

She let out a happy squeak that I couldn’t project if my life depended on it. My vocal cords refused to reach that pitch.

“He’s got brown hair and brown eyes.” She grinned. “And a body to die for.”

I waited a few seconds that nearly turned to a minute or two before I realized that my sister was done.

She’d already summed up her soul mate in the simplest of terms. At this rate of description, I’d be able to pick him out of a lineup... say, never.

“Okay. What about his personality?” I prodded, heading to the kitchen. “And do you want a drink?”

“I’ll take a vodka with a lemon twist.” She stretched toward the ceiling. “He’s got a great personality.”

“Sure, he does,” I muttered under my breath as I reached for a glass.

“What about you? What all is going on with that guy from the bar?”

I made her drink and grabbed a soda for myself.

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