Made to be His ( The Archer Family 1)

inding street near the convention center, and while they still had a ways to go, she could already catch glimpses of the flashing cameras and red limo taillights. Athletes were probably pouring out of party buses, one after another, and tonight she would be on their radar. Or at least she’d be that much closer to being on their radar. Maybe.

"Why didn't we hire a limo?" Shay Myers, Andy’s business partner, said as she stared out the window.

"You don't hire a limo when you drive a Rolls," Matt said, using her distraction as an opportunity to tune the radio back to the sports network.

"Maybe you don't." Shay turned the dial back without bothering to look this time.

The car slowed in front of the long line of press and celebrity cars, and Matt turned around again to face Andy.

“Trust me, we’re going to stand out in the Rolls.” He grinned. “That’s a good thing.”

She nodded. It was always odd when he looked at her full in the face that way. To see her own green eyes staring back at her, her own sprinkling of freckles across his long, thin nose. Really, the only difference between herself and her older brother, besides the obvious genitalia situation, was that the world regarded him as one of the most handsome athletes of all time.

As for Andy? Well, she'd been voted most improved in her middle school's acne-free challenge. So that was something, even if that had been more than a dozen years ago.

But that didn’t matter. She'd learned a long time ago that her looks were not the thing that’d get her through this life. Nope, all these stars would want someone smart and efficient on their side, and that was, by far, where Andy shined.

She'd worn her smartest pantsuit, her most comfortable shoes, and her most professional attitude. She was going to circle this party and make it through the night the only way she knew how: by relying entirely upon her business savvy.

And, of course, where that failed, she always had Shay’s supermodel good looks to back her up.

Following Shay’s and Matt's lead, she slipped from the car and onto the red carpet, careful to duck far enough behind the two that she wouldn't be caught in any of their photos. It was like trying to dodge land mines, though, and every time a camera flashed, she flinched like it was about to spit poison at her. Luckily, she always knew when she'd wound up in a shot because a nearby photographer would angrily sigh and press a button on their camera to make her disappear into digital oblivion.

Which was more than fine with Andy.

When she was finally inside the venue, she mentally wiped her brow with relief. But just as soon as she'd calmed herself, panic flooded in again at the realization that she'd completely lost her brother and business partner in the process. She scanned the crowd, but with so many near-mythic human beings circling around, it was almost impossible to see the ceiling, let alone the space through the throng.

After ten minutes of searching to no avail, she tapped on a huge, tree-trunk like arm and one of the most famous football players on God's green earth turned to look at her. The coursing adrenaline of being in his presence was overwhelming, and while she struggled to come up with something to blurt out, heat rushed to her cheeks and she managed to splutter, "I'm looking for someone. A tall brunette? Short hair? Sort of…” She gestured to her chest, and then, as the hot lava of humiliation rolled over her, she finished, “Uh, busty. She is, I mean. The person I’m looking for. Not me."

Stop talking. For the love of god, stop talking.

He laughed politely, but shrugged. Like one of those massive tree things from The Lord of the Rings. "Be sure to let me know if you find her. Sounds like my type."

Andy nodded and weaved through the crowd, trying a couple more times with similar results, though luckily with considerably less self-flagellation. By the fifth inquisition, it had finally sunk in that she could either spend the rest of the night hunting down her friend, or she could get to work.

She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. Sure, it would have been easier to work with Shay. They had a system. Andy would recite their carefully outlined pitch, and Shay would smile and nod beside her. All the while, most men would stare at Shay while Andy spoke, and when all was said and done, they’d usually walk home with his number.

Well, Shay did, at the very least.

But if her friend couldn't help tonight, she'd have to let her old buddy, alcohol, do the trick.

She sliced through the crowd as best she could, thanking every deity she could think of that the bar was on an upper level. And when she got there, she found the rest of her luck.

There was Shay, encircled by at least ten men, all laughing and holding drinks out to her.

Andy should have known. Not that Shay was a barfly—far from it—but if there was a life at any party, Shay was sure to be a part of it. Or the source of it.

Not for the first time, Andy hung back, studying her friend's technique as she leaned into her admirers and laughed, dimples cutting her beautiful, angular face. The whole thing was an utter mystery. How she looked so natural around all those strangers. How she stood so straight in her uncomfortable-looking dress. How confidence seemed to radiate from her. And especially how she managed to walk in those six-inch heels.

It just didn't make sense.

If Andy so much as looked at those things, she'd break an ankle. And the other stuff? Well, that wasn't for lack of trying. She'd been to plenty of parties, swishing around drinks and throwing her head back in laughter. But for some reason whenever she tried to do things like that, she looked less like a Chanel commercial and more like someone in the middle of a pulmonary embolism.

Still, she reminded herself, that's why we make such a good team. I'm the brains, she's the brawn. Nothing wrong with that.

Andy scanned the crowd and the bartender finally plunked her drink down in front of her. After a long pull, she glanced at her friend again. Now the men were practically fawning over her. It was sickening. Or at least it would be, if envy weren’t chief among her emotions right now.

Maybe I should give it one more try…