How To Be the Perfect Girlfriend

Sara tried to muffle her burst of surprised laughter and thought she was going to swallow her tongue. She made a noise that drew Kayla’s attention.

“Hey, is this your girlfriend?” Kayla eyed her with Hayden-like interest.

Sara judged her to be about twelve or thirteen, the age when girls had boys on the brain. Unlike Sara who had men on the brain.

“I work with Mr. Northrup,” she said.

“Mr. Northrup!” Kayla giggled and jostled a smiling Amber.

“Kayla, I told you girls not to run.” A woman appeared in the doorway of Simon’s office.

“Mom! It’s after hours. Nobody cares.”

Sara stared at Kayla’s mother. The woman was sophisticated perfection and moved with supreme self-confidence. It was as though Missy and Hayden had merged. Merged their ages, too. She looked to be in her early thirties.

And it wasn’t as though she was wearing a killer ladies-who-lunch suit, either. No, she had on slacks and pointy-toed shoes or boots, and a top with a matching sweater’s sleeves tied around her neck just so. A leather messenger bag—Prada? Kate Spade?—was slung over her shoulder.

Here, before her, was the perfect woman, and Sara realized just how far she was going to have to go to attract and hold the interest of Simon Northrup’s type.

Clearly, this was the woman and child that the rumor mill had been buzzing about. Well. Had she ever thought for one minute about flirting for real with Simon Northrup, this chance meeting put an end to that.

She was lucky. Oh, so lucky. She cringed at the thought of future humiliation averted.

There would be plenty of cringing and more humiliation at the complete and ruthless assessment of herself that would occur later, when she compared herself to the polished woman eyeing her with faintly dismissive curiosity. Oh, to master that look. Hayden no doubt had it in her arsenal. Sara would ask her to teach it to her.

Now if she could just slink away unnoticed….

“Sara?” Simon’s voice stopped her.

He was going to introduce her. No. Please don’t. There’ll be the inevitable comparisons and—

But of course he would introduce her because he was polite. Maybe politeness was overrated after all.

“This wild thing is my half sister, Kayla, and this is her friend, Amber.”

Sara nodded, gathering what poise she could. Plastering a smile to her face, she turned toward the woman who was probably Simon’s lover. Someone who didn’t have to jam a photocopier to see his—better not go there.

“And this is my stepmother, Joanna.”

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