fantasies that had a very real possibility of happening. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly excited, exhilarated and jittery like a teenager looking forward to her first date. Now she wanted to find a gift for him, something to give him just for the sake of propriety, and then maybe something a little sexier to give him if all went the way she hoped it would.
Cass found a vanity mirror inside the pink handbag and checked her flawless makeup in it, then fluffed her wavy chestnut-brown hair before continuing to explore the bag’s inner compartments.
Holiday shoppers milled about the downtown store, and a man wearing a lavender sweater edged Yasmine out of the way to grab a pair of discounted earmuffs. She elbowed herself back to her spot across from Cass and kept scanning the pile of merchandise for the perfect gift.
Yasmine had dialed her best friend’s number on her way out of the office this afternoon and begged for some help picking out a gift for the hot guy she barely knew. Cass, as always, hadn’t failed her. Never in her life had she missed an opportunity to shop.
“Why are you all of a sudden worried about your insanity?” asked Cassandra.
“This guy I’m buying the gift for? I think I’ve got a thing for him. And I’m pretty sure he won’t want a pink handbag.”
“Having the hots for him is a problem because…?”
“For one, he works with me, but more important, he’s a total pretty boy.”
“I’ll never understand your aversion to beautiful men.”
“I don’t want a guy who’s obsessed with appearances. And this guy has actual highlights. Like, the kind from the salon.”
“So? Lots of men are getting color these days. I think it’s sexy.”
“Pretty soon men are going to be getting bikini waxes. That is not sexy.”
“What planet have you been living on?”
Yasmine gaped at Cass. “Don’t tell me men are becoming that obsessed with their appearances.”
Lavender-sweater guy gave her a withering look, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“Honey, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but my last boyfriend recommended the woman who does my waxes now.”
“Then why didn’t he get the hair on his ass waxed off?” One of the many unwelcome tidbits of her love life Cass had foisted on Yasmine.
Cass shuddered. “Beats me. He brought a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘love handles.’”
Yasmine grabbed a high-tech-looking no-spill coffee mug and decided it was possibly the most boring gift on earth. Clearly, she wasn’t going to find the ideal present for Kyle here at the clearance table.
“I want a guy I won’t have to compete with for time in front of the bathroom mirror.”
“Maybe this new guy is just naturally beautiful. Then you’ve got the best of both worlds.”
Yasmine bit her lip. “He does look kind of like a surfer. I guess it’s possible he achieved natural highlights and a perfect tan in the great outdoors.”
“See, you’ve just spent so many years around all those computer geeks in your office, you don’t recognize a genuinely outdoorsy guy when you see one.”
“Speaking of guys I work with, there’s one I think you should go out with,” Yasmine said, knowing there’d never be a perfect time to broach the subject of a blind date with Cass.
She stared across the sale table at Yasmine in abject horror. “You. Did not. Just suggest. A blind date.”
“Yes. I did.”
“Forget it!”
Admittedly, Cass had experienced some of the worst blind-date luck on the planet, and she seemed much happier without a guy in her life than she did with one. “This guy is different. He’s smart, funny, nice, cute—”
“I don’t do computer geeks, nerds or any other sort of New Economy professionals.”
“So, what? You’re eliminating ninety percent of the men in the Bay Area? Restricting yourself to impoverished teachers, janitors and the homeless?”
“I’m just being efficient, that’s all. I know what I want, and I’m not going to waste my time on the losers who don’t meet my criteria.”
“You’ve been getting awfully picky lately,” Yasmine blurted before she could catch herself. She’d danced around the subject of Cass’s recent rejection of the dating scene, afraid of entering territory her friend didn’t want to broach.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not getting any younger, and I’ve learned by now what I like and don’t like. I know I’ve been telling people for the past decade or so that I’m twenty-nine, but—”
“You’re not twenty-nine?” Yasmine tried her best to look genuinely shocked, but