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"Since I heard that Saturday morning in the park is a great place to meet buff guys."
She perched on the edge of my bed. "Not that I actually bothered running. The trick is to always look like you're about to run, or like you've just finished running. It's hard to hook up with someone while you're in the process of running."
"Did it work?"
She grinned. "Yep. I met a really hot guy, very nice, too. He had old-fashioned manners like I haven't seen since I left Texas. I don't think he was there for running, but hey, it's the results that count, not the process."
"Did you get his number?"
"Not exactly. But I did tell him where my friends and I always hang out on Saturday nights, and I invited him to drop by and join us."
I frowned. "Where do we always hang out on Saturday nights?"
"I found this cute little bar. You'll come with me tonight, won't you, Katie? Maybe he'll bring a friend."
I groaned. "I'm not sure I'm up to it."
"Oh, come on, you were already in bed when we got home. You're not hungover, are you? How much did you have to drink last night?"
"Not that much," I said, mentally calculating. Oh God, I'd been persuaded to go kissing frogs in Central Park on only three cosmos. I was such a lightweight. But my hangover was more emotional than physical. I was still freaked out by the whole frog-kissing incident.
"Did you have a good time? What did you do?"
"Oh, the usual girls' night out stuff, looking for guys. Like they say, you have to kiss a few frogs—"
"Before you find a prince," she completed the saying for me. "Did you find any?"
"A prince is in the eye of the beholder." Let her interpret that any way she wanted to.
I wasn't sure I was ready to cope with the bar scene again, but I let Gemma drag me out that night anyway. Marcia begged off, saying she had work to do. That almost made me change my mind. If Gemma hooked up with her guy, that would leave me the odd one out. I supposed I could always beat a strategic exit if it came to that.
The bar she'd found was a comfortable neighborhood place, the kind where we might hang out regularly, if we were so inclined. By the time we'd been there about five minutes, she'd managed to turn herself into a regular who knew the names of every waiter and bartender in the place. I still couldn't figure out how she did it.
I ordered a glass of wine because cosmos made me think of frogs. Gemma tried to make casual conversation about how my week had gone while her eyes scanned the room, looking for her guy. Fortunately, her attention was too focused on looking for the guy for her to notice much of what I said. My week didn't really bear deep examination.
Finally, she lit up. "There he is!" she said. I turned to see a tall man with dark, Byronic hair enter the room. He wore dark gray slacks and a flowing white shirt with suspenders. He looked vaguely uncomfortable and out of place. He also looked familiar. "Philip!" Gemma called to him, standing and waving a hand in the air. He smiled and some of the unease left his posture when he saw her.
She pulled out a chair for him at our table. "Philip, this is my friend Katie. Katie, Philip." He took my hand and bowed over it when we were introduced. I hoped he didn't kiss it. That would only remind me of Naked Frog Guy. Then he placed his hands on the back of the chair she'd pulled out and waited expectantly. When she plopped into the chair she'd been sitting in instead of the one he was holding for her, he frowned and looked confused, then rushed to help seat her and scoot her up to the table before taking his own seat.
That was when I realized who he was. He was the frog prince from the night before, the one Ari had disenchanted with a kiss. He didn't seem to have recognized me, but considering he'd been surrounded by a giantess and two fairies, he probably hadn't noticed the plain vanilla girl. I wondered if he was magical himself or if he'd just been the victim of a cruel spell.
Either way, I wasn't sure I wanted my roommate dating him. But what could I say? It wasn't like I could suggest to Gemma that it was time for a trip to the restroom, then warn her that her new guy used to be a frog. So far he'd been very polite and had given me no excuse to take such a strong dislike to him that I'd use a roommate veto. Those had to be saved for very special circumstances, such as when you recognized your roommate's date from the artist's rendering of a serial killer on the news
and she refused to acknowledge that fact. I wasn't sure the former frog status was quite that bad.
They seemed to be nicely at ease with each other. In any other circumstances this would have been time for me to come up with someplace I needed to be so I could leave them alone. But I couldn't leave Gemma alone with a former frog. A fly buzzed through the bar, and I watched with a sick feeling in my stomach as Philip's eyes tracked it hungrily. When he licked his lips while watching it, I'd had enough.
I waited until Gemma turned to talk to the waiter, then leaned over to Philip. "Look, I know what you used to be, and I hear that's not something that happens to nice guys. So I want to make it very, very clear to you that if you give my friend anything to complain about, I know people who can turn you right back into a frog. Are we clear?"
His eyes grew wide as he nodded. I doubted I could really get one of the guys at MSI to turn him into a frog, considering that the girls had said frogging spells had been outlawed, but he didn't have to know that.
Just as Gemma returned her attention to us, a waiter came over and put a glass of champagne in front of me. "Compliments of that gentleman over there," he said.
I turned, my heart in my throat. I didn't know what to hope for. I'd never had that sort of thing happen to me, so I steeled myself for disappointment. It was something Rod might do if he ran into me in public.
But it wasn't Rod who smiled at me from across the room. It was Naked Frog Guy, now fully dressed. "Wow, Katie, an admirer!" Gemma said. "Go talk to him." In other words, leave her alone with her frog—er, guy.
Oh, I definitely wanted to talk to him, but not for flirtation purposes. I stood—Philip rose slightly from his chair as I did so, proving that he was from more than a decade or so ago, since few modern men did that sort of thing—picked up my drink, and made my way over to Naked Frog Guy's table. He stood to greet me. "My dearest Katie, I can't begin to thank you for what you did for me," he said, sounding like a surfer dude attempting to perform Shakespeare. It didn't quite work.
