Mr. Right Now. Kate Hoffmann

the job.”

      â€œAll right,” Nina said. “I’ll do it.”

      â€œAll right,” Lizbeth repeated.

      â€œNancy!”

      Nina and Lizbeth looked up to find Charlotte Danforth standing at the doorway of Nina’s office. As always, she looked like she’d just tumbled out of bed, though this morning she wore evening clothes, a sexy beaded designer number that probably cost more than Nina made in a year. It was clear Charlotte hadn’t been to bed at all, but came right to work from whatever party she’d attended the night before. Her hair was mussed and she puffed incessantly on a French cigarette. Yet even in such disarray, she was still a force of nature, a human hurricane that left workers weeping in her path.

      â€œNina,” Nina corrected.

      Charlotte sniffed, then shrugged. “Yes, fine, all right, Nina. I need you to check a fact for me. I need to know what the trendiest spot on the body is for a rather small tattoo. And the most popular subject matter. Check for both men and women, I’m sure it’s different. And give me a breakdown by age if you can.”

      â€œCharlotte, I’m not sure there have ever been any studies done on—”

      â€œI don’t care if there haven’t been studies, Nora!”

      â€œNina,” she reminded. “Is this for an article? Because we did a story on tattoos just a few months ago.”

      â€œI just need the information, Nola,” Charlotte snapped. “It’s personal. By the end of the day?”

      With that, she turned and hurried from the door, leaving Nina to wonder how she’d ever convince Charlotte to give her an editorial position if the woman couldn’t even remember her name. “Oh, sure. I’ll just call the Census Bureau. I’m sure I remember answering the tattoo question on the 2000 census. Right hip, tiny rose.” She tossed aside the personal ads and straightened her desk. “I guess I’m going to be spending the rest of the day on the phone talking to tattoo parlors,” Nina murmured.

      Lizbeth smiled. “And I’d guess that Charlotte got herself drunk last night and ended up in one of those 24-hour tattoo parlors in the East Village. And now she wants you to tell her that she didn’t make a big fashion faux pas getting that big old butterfly tattooed on her butt.”

      Nina’s eyes went wide. “Really?” At least when Nina had decided on a tattoo she’d been sober and possessed of good taste, ending up with a tiny flower on a spot that only showed when she wore a bikini.

      â€œAs long as whatever she got is on the top of the list, hon, you’ll make her happy.”

      â€œBut how am I supposed to know?”

      Lizbeth stood and smoothed her skirt. “Leave it to me. She’s bound to tell someone what she did last night. She always blabs when she’s got a hangover. Five minutes later, it will be all over the office. I’ll feed you the facts and you make up the research.”

      â€œBut that wouldn’t be ethical,” Nina protested.

      â€œHoney, you do want the job in editorial, don’t you?”

      Nina nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I do. And while you’re finding out about Charlotte’s new tattoo, I’m going to work on my ad. Even if it doesn’t result in a great story, at least I’ll have something better to do on a Saturday night than polishing my shoes and fishing spare change out of the sofa.”

      â€œThat’s the spirit!” her friend cried. “Get on that pony and ride! Yee-hah!”

      Nina smiled at Lizbeth. “And maybe, if I’m very lucky, I’ll find Mr. Right. And if not him, then Mr. Right Now.”

      THE AFTER-WORK CROWD HAD settled in at Jitterbug’s, the coffee shop across the street from Attitudes’ Soho headquarters. It was a favorite spot for the staff who gathered regularly to sip lattes and mochas and discuss whatever outrageous request Charlotte Danforth had thrown their way during the day. But Nina had more important things on her mind than commiserating about her quirky and unpredictable boss. Nagging little projects had occupied nearly every minute of her workday and she hadn’t had a single moment to get back to her ad for the Personal Touch.

      Nina found her regular table in the corner and tossed her coat over the back of her chair, then dropped her bag on the smooth marble tabletop. She glanced over at the counter and waved at Martha who nodded, a silent agreement to make Nina’s usual—a double skinny decaf latte with a shot of hazelnut. She sat down and spread her work out in front of her—the Personal Touch ads from the last four weeks, her notepad, personalized with her name and the name of the magazine emblazoned across the bottom, and a pencil with a brand new eraser. She’d also brought a list of attributes she’d quickly compiled for Mr. Right during her lunch hour.

      â€œCute, considerate, humorous, spontaneous,” she read out loud. “Nice hair, kind eyes, and—”

      â€œA fluffy tail and good teeth. Honey, you sound like you’re advertising for a Pomeranian, not a man. If I were you, I’d stick with the man. He won’t poop on the rug.” Lizbeth flopped down in the chair across from Nina’s and sighed dramatically. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had. They sent me size two samples and size six models. Thank God for duct tape. We cut the back seams open and taped the clothes on.”

      Nina forced a sympathetic smile. She really wasn’t in the mood to hear Lizbeth’s tale of woe. She’d hoped to spend some time on her own, sipping coffee and carefully composing her ad. It had to be just right and it would take a lot of thought. “I’m just starting on this,” she murmured.

      â€œSo, what do you have so far?” Lizbeth asked.

      â€œActually…nothing.”

      Lizbeth sighed and shook her head. She pointed to Nina’s pad. “Take this down.” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “Headline—Looking for Mr. Right Now.” She glanced over at Nina and frowned. “I said, take this down.” Nina scribbled as Lizbeth spoke. “Attractive, fun-loving, energetic SWF, 25, seeks adventurous Adonis, 25-35, for wild Saturday nights and lazy Sunday afternoons.”

      â€œDon’t you think that last part makes me sound a little…loose?”

      â€œHoney, the whole thing makes you sound loose. That’s the point. What do you think I mean by ‘fun-loving’ and ‘energetic’? Likes sex and likes it all the time.” Lizbeth gave her a long look. “You want someone to answer the ad, don’t you?”

      Frowning, Nina ripped the top sheet off and crumpled it in her fist, then noticed Martha waving in her direction. “I’ll write my own ad, thank you very much.” She pushed back from the tiny table to retrieve her coffee, fully intending to toss Lizbeth’s ad in the garbage.

      But as she paid Martha, she contemplated her friend’s strategy. Time was running out. Maybe she ought to put off her search for Mr. Right and concentrate on Mr. Right Now. And kissing a few frogs made a lot better copy than finding Prince Charming on the first time out. Nina opened her fist and dropped the wad of paper on the counter, then smoothed it out. She re-read the words as she grabbed her coffee. With a soft sigh, she turned and started back toward her table, making mental edits to the text. She didn’t have to sound like a trollop, did she?

      She didn’t notice the man who stepped into her path, but in the blink of an eye, he was there. With a soft cry of surprise, she ran face first into a tall, broad-shouldered figure. Her coffee mug tipped between them, spilling hot coffee all over his wide chest, his flat belly and his…lap.

      The