Red Hot Valentine: Falling for Cupid (3 page)

In a moment of weakness, I’d blurred the
lines and convinced us both that perhaps we were destined,
especially since his string of women hadn’t worked out.

But I’d never harbored some secret crush on
Brad. I just knew, despite his hard body, that I had no problem
wearing a bathing suit around him. He never made me feel like I was
less than. He never gave me a questioning glance or a scowl when I
went for the high fat plate over the salad on occasion. He’s always
loved and accepted me as I was, which is all any girl wants…along
with smoking hot sex.

And that’s where all the men, including Brad,
fell short. Brad was generous. He tried. But the spark that set the
sheets ablaze wasn’t there with any of them.

In short, it sucked. Add to
it that my clients were all females or married men or gay
and
married men, and my
chances of finding a man seemed slim to none. The cherry on top was
that I was already thirty-two. My mother about had a heart attack
when I told her about the divorce and Brad’s much younger
girlfriend. She’d been nagging me for grandbabies at least twice a
week since I turned thirty.

Mr. Dreamy and me would make beautiful
babies. Our hair was nearly the same color, and if they had his
eyes, my button nose and his smile-

Wrong man.
Not happening. When would I learn?

I checked my phone. With a sigh, I grabbed my
purse and stood. By the time I got back to the millionaire
nightmare’s mansion I would have been gone nearly two-and-a-half
hours. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t be happy, or polite.

—

Chapter Two

October
26
^th

Cupid

Dammit!
How had I missed it? I never missed these things.
It was
her.

I’d spent the rest of that day and all of the
next in a daydream like fog. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw
that bright pink shirt grazing the swells of her breasts; I saw her
ass tightly wrapped like a big, beautiful present in her jeans.
Every time I took a sip of a drink, I pictured her plump lips
closing over the lid of her coffee, her brown eyes sparkling as
they met mine, teasing the breath out of me. The softness of her
curves was a lure to me. My hands tingled nonstop, craving her
sure-to-be-silky flesh beneath them, beneath me.

I’d jerked off more times
in the last forty hours than Cupid had arrows. She was a mystery.
My reaction to her left me dumbfounded. There wasn’t any one thing
that stood out. She was gorgeous, but many women are. From what I
saw, she had a great personality, a beautiful
smile…
fuck.
There
was just
something
.

I spent less than two hours with the woman
and somehow she ruined me for other women in that time. I didn’t
want to strip and ruthlessly fuck random women, yet I found the
hidden caveman within surfacing. I wanted to dominate her
curves.

Shit. Pull it together, man!

Light poured in through the uncovered window
of my Oceanside condo. A glance at the clock showed it was nine, a
respectable time to call someone for business, even if it was a
Saturday.

With a sigh, I picked up my phone. There was
no way around this. I needed her initials on that page.

“
Hello?” Her voice
instantly roused my cock, her morning husk like a vise around the
head.

“
Hi, Mrs. Burke. It’s, uh,
Mr. Valentine, your divorce lawyer. It seems in my hurry that I
missed a page with you. Is there any way you could meet me sometime
today or tomorrow so I can get these filed Monday morning?” I
sounded much calmer than I felt. I felt like I was back in middle
school asking my first girlfriend on a date.

I cringed when she hesitated. Damn the part
of me that delighted in seeing her again.

“
Um, I think I can manage
it today. Same time as before?” I could tell I’d caught her off
guard.

“
That would be great.
Thanks, and sorry about this. I assure you I’m usually quite
competent.”

I heard the smile in her voice as she
relaxed. “It happens to the best of us. I’ll see you this
afternoon.”

“
Uh, yeah, see you
then.”
What the hell?
When did I lose my smoothness? Women didn’t trip me up. I
didn’t stumble or stutter with them. I also didn’t run off like a
chump when I didn’t like something they said.

My groin tightened at the thought of seeing
her again. Idly I wondered what her curves would be dressed in
today.

Shit.
This was bad.

—

Daisy

To say I was surprised by Mr. Dreamy’s call
this morning was an understatement. Much to my chagrin, and despite
my bitterness, he’d occupied the majority of my thoughts the last
couple days. I knew he wasn’t good for me. Double standards were
always a bad sign. But I couldn’t shake him. Those eyes. That body.
That smile. Constant reminders of his negatives did nothing to
dissuade my heart…or my lust-filled imagination.

A heat wave had come
through overnight. We were looking at a high in the upper eighties
today, but most retailers I worked with blasted the air
conditioning.
Thank God.
I’d broken out my black, fine linen dress shorts
with a cute rolled up cuff that actually flattered my thighs,
making them appear a little smaller rather than bigger. The
material fell to just above mid-thigh. A cream tank with a matching
thin, cream, off-the-shoulder sweater looked amazing beneath my
chunky yellow-gold jewelry. My hair was piled high in a neat bun.
I’d dug out a pair of nude summer wedges with a deep ocean blue,
piped edge. I forewent my usual luggage sized purse for a bright,
glossy green clutch.

Clothes were my business card. I’d attracted
and attained a few low-budget customers in the area simply with
what I wore. Too bad it didn’t work with men. No matter what I wore
I didn’t seem to attract them, at least here in town. Admittedly,
when I traveled into the closest big city they flocked me. But I
didn’t want long-distance, and my business was here.

I adjusted my necklace as I approached the
door to the coffeehouse. As expected, the air conditioning smacked
my flesh, eliciting a shiver as I stepped inside. Goose pimples
feathered my skin as anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach.
I glanced around, catching sight of him at a corner table near the
side window. Damn my heart for beating faster, thumping after him
like a lovesick puppy.

He waved me over with a smile that was more
polite than genuine. He stood to greet me. Flat front Tommy
Hilfiger khaki pants and a green polo of the same label showed off
just how fit he was. They skimmed his buff figure, highlighting
every muscle.

Involuntarily, my tongue slicked my lips,
wetting my Big Apple Red lipstick, as I sauntered over. I found
myself sucking in my stomach, as if it would make a significant
difference in my size, as I watched his gaze slide over me. He was
trying to be inconspicuous, but it was my job to pay attention to
details.

“
Hi again.” He extended a
hand. Unlike most men, his hands weren’t callused. They weren’t
soft, but didn’t abrade my own as I closed my hand around
his.

“
Hi.” Why was I suddenly
breathless? I suppose it would have been the jolt of electricity
that seemed to race up my arm and strike my heart.

“
Um, please take a seat.”
He appeared to shake himself before he rounded me and pulled out my
chair. “This will only take a minute,” he said as I sat down,
dropping my purse on the table. He gently shoved the chair in
behind me. “Would you like a drink? My treat. It’s the least I can
do for troubling you.”

He was…different today. He seemed nervous
almost. Maybe he was concerned I would give him a bad review?
Online reviews could make or break a business these days. It’s why
I worked so hard to please even the most difficult of clients.

I decided to let him off the hook. If buying
me a drink would make him feel better, I should just give in. “A
medium cappuccino with three sugars would be great, thanks.”

He nodded once, his shoulders visibly
relaxing as he set off on his mission.

He returned two minutes later with two to-go
cups. Steam blasted through the small opening on the edge of the
plastic lids.

I smiled as he handed me mine. “Thanks.”

He sat down and made a point to meet my gaze
before he uttered, “You’re welcome, Mrs. Burke.”

He was very different today. If I was
foolish, it’d be easy to believe he was enamored with me,
especially with the way his sea glass hued eyes drank me in every
chance he got.

I felt my cheeks heat. I quickly lifted my
beverage to my lips, hoping to hide my new color. I blew lightly on
the lid. It whistled quietly in reply.

“
I guess we should get down
to business.” He set his drink aside and flipped through the stack
of papers before him. When he found the one he was looking for, he
flipped it towards me and set a pen atop it. “I just need your
initials on the line beside Mr. Burke’s.”

I placed my cup beside my clutch. Holding the
paper with my left hand, I signed with my right.

He expelled a breath as I slid it back
towards him. He gave me an easy smile as he realigned the stack
with the page in place. “I know I made a hasty retreat last
time-”

I snickered, unsure what came over me as I
blurted, “Looked more like you were fleeing the scene of a crime
you’d just committed.”

He flushed, his lips mashing into a straight
line. “Not my proudest moment.”

I found myself relaxing. His actions had
taunted me these last couple days. “Be honest, was it what I
said?”

His lips pursed.
Damn. They look like plush satin begging to be
kissed.

I bit my bottom lip, straining for control I
typically had.

He cleared his throat. “Um, not directly,
no.”

I narrowed my gaze, feeling my brows crease.
He was lying. It felt like an anvil smacked my chest.

He sighed. “Yes, it was, but not for the
reasons you think I’m sure.”

“
Try me.”

“
Um…” He scrubbed the back
of his neck. “I’d rather not get into it. Just know it’s nothing
personal against you.”

I considered him. His stare never wavered. He
was being sincere. His expression showed his discomfort. His Adam’s
apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

I blew my unease away. We all had our hang
ups; I guess dreamboat hotties were no exception. “Okay.” I took a
sip of my drink. My eyes widened as the flavor danced across my
tongue. He’d mixed the sugar perfectly. “You get an ‘A’ for
stirring well.” I smiled.

His features relaxed into a toe-curling grin.
“Are you saying I have a back-up career as a professional coffee
stir-man?”

“
I don’t believe that
position exists, but one taste of your work and I’m sure many
elitists would create it for you.”

His eyes twinkled, like a star was shining
its light at just the right angle to illuminate the best parts of
him. My lips rose at the edges, matching his…until his gradually
disappeared behind a cloud of upset. “I’m sorry about the other
day, Mrs. Burke.”

I sighed inwardly. The moment was gone.
“Thanks.”

“
Did you have any
questions?” Back to business.

The rebellious part of me wanted to crack
him, to yank him out of his professionalism and get him to let
loose.

I shook my head negatively. “I know Brad
probably gave you a terrorizing interview comparable to a CSI
initiation.”

The light touched his eyes once again.
“You’re not kidding. If I should be a professional stir-man, he
should be a professional interrogator.”

I laughed. “He’s not as hard on women. They’d
figure that out quick and can him.”

“
That makes him a
gentleman, but I can see how it would be a problem.”

“
Exactly.” I swallowed a
bit of my cooling-by-the-minute beverage.

“
Well,” – he fished out his
wallet, opened it and passed me a business card – “take this. If
you think of any questions, feel free to call me, day or
night.”

“
You shouldn’t tell clients
that; some will actually call in the middle of the night.” I’d
learned that the hard way. I ended up adding phone consulting hours
on my business card and my fashion blog.

His gaze held mine. “I wouldn’t mind if you
called.” His voice was sultry, definitely bedroom worthy.

A shudder worked through me as my womb
heated. His undertone awakened my libido.

I dropped my gaze to the white matte
cardstock in my hand. My brows shot up as I read his name. I’d only
ever known him as Mr. Valentine. I’d figured it was best that way.
It kept me from losing all semblance of professionalism with him.
“I’m sure you get this question all the time, but is Cupid your
real name?”

He watched me; his eyes assessed me as if he
was calculating risk assessments. Abruptly, he softened, leaning
in. “It’s much worse. My full name is Cupid Hearts Valentine.”

“
Oh no!” It was hard to
bite back my amusement.
Poor guy.
“Were you born on Valentine’s Day?”

“
No. That would make too
much sense.” I detected a touch of bitterness. “I probably wouldn’t
have been teased so much had I been a girl.”

“
Kids can be cruel. Some
parents don’t think ahead.”

He nodded in agreement, taking a healthy sip
from his cup. “My mother was a hippie well into the eighties. She
had, and still has, zero style. She’s a walking holiday card
year-round. I love her dearly, but will never forgive her for the
name.”