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“I have the muscle tone of an eight-year-old child,” Lili said sadly, pulling on the soft skin under her upper arm.
Every similarly toneless muscle in Jules’s thighs and arse throbbed. She lay her head down over crossed arms, ready to be taken by a higher power.
“Kill me now.”
“Oh, quit the dramatics,” said Cara, drama queen extraordinaire. “There’s work to be done.”
Jules grunted, which Cara took as her cue.
“So I’ve done a little research.” She skipped over a frighteningly complex-looking spreadsheet, complete with multi-colored pie charts, and cracked open a section about a quarter of the way in. “And there are certain commonalities to the most successful profiles.”
“Such as?” Jules asked, raising her heavy head.
“Blondes have it best.”
“Already ahead of the curve. Good thing Lili’s off the market, bless her heart.” She smiled at her sister-in-law, who ran a hand through her cloud of unruly dark hair, made even wilder by her Zumba exertions.
Cara gave a sly grin. Blondes of the world unite.
“The best profiles use words like “fun,” “easygoing,” and “travel.” There’s a shockingly huge love of travel in the online dating community.”
“It’s a wonder anyone gets time to date if they’re always out of town,” Lili commented dryly before dissolving into a coughing fit. She took a sip of Cara’s muddy green protein shake and made a face.
Ignoring her, Cara attacked her laptop’s keyboard with gusto. “Fun-loving girl who lives to laugh, travel, and squeeze every drop out of life.”
“Sounds painful,” Jules muttered.
Tappity-tap.“I’m looking for the guy to light my fire,” Cara plowed on, ignoring the smart arse commentary, “and make me smolder.”
“Arsonists should bring their own gasoline and matches,” Lili said, drawing a laugh from Jules and a glare from Cara.
“It’s important to be fearless,” Cara said primly. “Ask for what you want.”
“How do you know all this?” Cara seemed awfully prepared considering Jules had only made her announcement yesterday.
“I was going to start the manhunt online last year but I ran into an Irish brick wall first.” She smiled shyly.
“So you don’t recommend a drunken marriage to a total stranger in Sin City?”
“It worked out,” she said, touching her stomach reverently like she was the Virgin Bloody Mary, “but that’s a one-in-a-billion thing.” Cara had turned into quite the softy since she’d met Shane and fell in love with him on their way to an annulment.
Cara completed the vital statistics section quickly while Jules peered around the monitor. As usual, the words on the screen shifted and changed before her eyes, so it was a good thing she trusted her friends to write this up. Numbers weren’t a problem, though.
Twenty-five years old, zip code 60622 …
“You put me in as 5’5”. I’m 5’8” if I’m an inch.” Closer to 5’9”. It was always a nightmare to find men who were taller.
“Not online you’re not. Guys are intimidated by tall women. Start as you mean to go on.”
“By lying?”
“Everyone fudges the truth. You’re painting a picture of you on your best day—”
“Or the day when you’re at your shortest,” Lili chimed in.
“We all create faces,” Cara went on, undeterred and clearly speaking from experience. “You can’t show what’s inside up front, not in a forum like this. You have to craft something first and play your cards close. Then when you’ve got him on the hook, reel him in, and let him know a bit more about you. It’s a delicate balance but we’ll be there with you. Daily reports.”
It sounded so complicated and a little bit deceitful, though the line about creating faces hit the mark. There had been a lot of that in London. Bad Girl Jules was a pro at never letting the bastards see the real her.
