Dear Cupid (5 page)

“Excuse me?” she said at last.

He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve decided it’s time I got married. Only, with my schedule I don’t have a lot of time to look around. So, I want you to help me.”

She laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all.”

“Why me? I’m no dating service.”

He shrugged. “Your friend said Wife for Hire handles things like interviewing housekeepers and nannies, so I figure why not a wife?”

“Because that’s not how it’s done.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” She spread her arms in a gesture that drew her top tightly across her breasts, distracting him. He’d thought she looked stunning in red, but the orange outfit she wore now nearly brought him to his knees. “This is not the Middle Ages, here. Nowadays,  relationships are based on mutual respect, attraction, compatibility, not just personal gain and convenience. Couples generally meet, go out, fall in love, pick out china, set a date, that sort of thing.”

He forced his attention back to her face. “I plan to love my wife. As for china, I’ll let you—I mean her—pick that out.”

She glanced around and muttered under her breath, “Well, I’ll say this much. If anyone ever needed a wife, it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned.

She stared at him as if trying to decide if he was serious. “Your furniture,” she said at last.

He looked around. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s not exactly—How do I put this delicately? It looks like rejects from Goodwill.”

“Hey, my parents gave me that sofa when I graduated college.” He tried to see the room from a woman’s point of view. “All right, I’ll admit, it’s a little worn around the edges, but is that any reason to throw out a perfectly good sofa? It’s just broken in.”

“Have you ever heard of reupholstering?”

“Well, sure, but I figured if I ever got married my wife would probably want to redecorate, so why do it twice?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because—archaic as it sounds and may the feminists forgive me—few women want to marry a man who looks like he can’t afford to support himself, much less a family.”

“I can afford a family.” He wondered where she’d gotten the idea he was broke. Did she think he’d won the house in a lottery or something? He’d made his first million writing animation software before he’d turned twenty. Not that he’d tell her that, or she’d think he was a computer geek. “Besides, maybe I don’t want a woman who’ll marry me for my money.”

“You’re right.” She held up a hand. “You’re absolutely right. Unfortunately, initial attraction between the sexes is fairly superficial. A man asks a woman out because he likes the way she’s built. The woman says yes because he has kind eyes and seems reasonably intelligent. Of course, a nice body and some decent clothes don’t hurt.”

“You don’t like my clothes?” He looked down at his bright Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants.

“I like them fine.” Color flooded her cheeks as her gaze traveled downward. “I’m just saying some women prefer a less rumpled package.”

“I happen to like comfortable clothes,” he offered reasonably.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, unless you’re trying to impress someone.”

“All right,” he said. “As part of the job, you can pick me out some new clothes and redecorate the house.”

She stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious. If you’re up to the challenge.”

Her eyes turned wary. “And if I refuse?”

He hadn’t considered that and had to scramble for a reply. “Then I wouldn’t have very nice things to say about your friend’s business, now would I?”

“That’s blackmail!”

He shrugged, hoping she didn’t call his bluff.

“Oh, all right!” she growled. “I’ll take your ridiculous job, but only under protest.”

“Great.” Relief washed through him. “When can you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have things to do today!” she snapped as if plotting his murder had just been added to her list.

“Like what?”

“Look—” She stepped toward him, tossing her curls. “If I’m going to work for you, let’s get one thing straight. My personal life is none of your business.”

“I can live with that.”
For now.
“Show up here first thing tomorrow and we’ll get started on the Great Wife Hunt.”

HALFWAY
  home, Kate pulled her Escort over onto the side of the road, dropped her forehead to the steering wheel, and waited for her insides to quit shaking. The last person she’d ever expected to see again was the man from L.A.

Oh, but heaven help her—she found him every bit as gorgeous as she had the first time.

She’d thought that he returned that attraction, but obviously not. He’d come right out and said he wanted a wife, but “not her.” The insult had been a direct echo from her marriage. Men, apparently, put women into two categories: the ones they flirted with, and the ones they married. She’d resent Edward forever for marrying her and then deciding she wasn’t good enough to be a wife, but could she really blame Mike for feeling the same after the way she’d behaved in the airport? God, some days she hated everything about men, dating, and marriage.

The thought jarred her into sitting upright, her eyes wide.

No wonder Gwen wanted to fire her. How in the world could she dole out positive advice about love with all these negative thoughts running through her head? How had this happened to her? She used to be so upbeat, so confident about herself and life. Growing up, she’d always been the person everyone gravitated to when they wanted a boost in their day. Had that girl died completely? How did she find her again, coax her out of hiding? She had to, though, if she wanted to save her job as Dear Cupid. She had to believe in happily ever after again. Or at least, reasonably content ever after. To believe that sometimes marriage did work.

But how?

It hit her all at once, the perfect solution: help Michael Cameron find a wife. What better way to prove to herself she still had what it took to be Dear Cupid? The idea lifted her spirits enough for her to take a full breath.

Beneath the relief came another thought, however. Michael Cameron needed to pay for the threat he’d made to Linda’s business. That had been a major mistake on his part. The question was, how could she accomplish both goals at once? Putting the car in gear, she contemplated ways to make him pay while she found him a wife.

~ ~ ~

The sound of car doors slamming jarred Mike from a dead sleep. He squinted against the morning light that poured through the windows facing the lake. Out on the deck, a mockingbird gave a rousing ode to spring. Somewhere beyond that cacophony, he heard the murmur of voices.

Kate.

A smile washed over him but faded abruptly at the shrill sound of the doorbell. Cringing at the noise, he fumbled on the floor for some clothes and managed to come up with a pair of shorts. He abandoned his search for a shirt when the doorbell pealed again. Dragging a hand through his hair, he padded out of the bedroom, across the living area, and up the step to the cold tile foyer.

He swung open the door, and there stood Kate, looking fresh and sexy in a bright yellow T-shirt and white capris.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she said, eyeing him from head to toe.

“No, not at all.” He yawned through the lie.

“You did say to come first thing this morning.”

“Is it morning already?” He squinted past her toward the wide expanse of sky so blue the color stung. “So it is.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her gaze drift to his bare chest, linger a moment, then jerk away. He had to hide a smile at seeing that Kate wasn’t as disinterested as she claimed.

“Wild night?” she asked.

He thought of explaining that he’d been working at his computer until four a.m. but scratched his chest and stretched a bit instead, just enough to flex his muscles. “Guess I can’t keep up with the dancing girls the way I used to.”

“Cute.” She smirked. “Now, are you ready to get started or not?”

“By all means,” he answered absently as his gaze lifted to the pickup truck parked at the top of his drive. “What’d you do, bring a bodyguard?”

“A building contractor,” she explained with a suspiciously sweet smile. Behind her, a large, dark-haired man ambled down the drive, fastening a tool belt about his hips. “Jim, meet Michael Cameron. Michael Cameron, Jim Davis, my friend Linda’s husband.” She gave him a pointed look that silently added the words:
As in the Linda whose business you
’
re so eager to destroy.

“Call me Mike.” He offered his hand in greeting as he summed the other man up in a glance. Jim Davis had a strong handshake, the body of a linebacker, and a directness in his gaze Mike liked right off the bat.

“Now,” Kate said as she marched past Mike into the house. “I believe we’ll start in here.”

With a shrug, Jim followed the little general with the coppery curls across the living area. Feeling the first prickle of concern, Mike did the same.

“Last night, I was thinking about your house and I decided this wall really needs to go,” Kate said, motioning toward the high-ceilinged wall that divided the dining area from the kitchen. “It closes the kitchen off too much and completely ruins the view of the lake for whoever’s cooking.”

Jim pulled a pad and pencil from his tool belt and began taking notes.

“Of course,” Kate continued as she moved around the wall, “we’ll have to redesign the kitchen, as well. Turn these cabinets into a breakfast bar. Maybe create an island in the center of the room.”

“Excuse me,” Mike ventured. “What are you doing?”

She turned to face him, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Getting your house ready for a wife. Surely you don’t expect the woman you intend to love for the rest of your life to cook in this place, do you?”

He looked around the perfectly adequate kitchen. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She seemed a bit disappointed at his easy acquiescence, but nodded. “Good. I’m glad to see I won’t have to drag you along kicking and screaming.”

He studied her as his brain slowly cleared of sleep enough to function. “Just one question, Kate. How much do you plan to make me pay?”

“Oh.” She feigned innocence. “Is money a problem?”

“I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t seem too happy with me when you left yesterday and I’m wondering how much you plan to make me pay for whatever I did to upset you.”

She had the grace to blush. Then, to his surprise, mischief sparkled in her eyes. Her body moved subtly into a seductive stance that made his sleepy pulse hum. Even in the baggy T-shirt, he figured she could have a man whimpering in two seconds flat.

“That is the timeless question, now isn’t it?” she purred. “How much is a man willing to pay to gain a wife? What about you, Mike?” She leaned toward him and her fresh, spicy scent reached inside his gut and pulled hard. “How much are you willing to pay?”

His gaze dropped to her breasts. A good question, he realized, but not one he cared to contemplate on an empty stomach. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll scrounge some breakfast from my obviously deplorable kitchen while you two rearrange the walls.”

Kate felt a little twinge of guilt as he moved past her. Jim’s censorious look didn’t exactly help. She stiffened her back, determined to see her plan through. “And new cabinet fronts,” she decided. “Glass, I think. Definitely glass.”

“No glass,” Mike said as he pulled down a box of cereal and opened the refrigerator.

“Glass is very trendy,” she pointed out. “It’ll go with the open, airy look we want.”

“No glass.” Mike turned toward her with a gallon of milk in one hand and a box of Fruit Loops in the other. “If you tear out that wall, then anyone sitting in the main room will see straight into the kitchen. I don’t want people sitting on my sofa discussing my groceries.”

She glanced at the open cabinet behind him and struggled not to laugh. The shelves held a jumble of crumpled-up potato chip bags, boxes of Little Debbie snacks, and a few cans of soup. “I can see where that might be a problem. After you have a wife, though, your shelves won’t be such an embarrassment.”

Slowly, he set the milk down and opened his mouth to make some reply. The phone rang, cutting him short. He hesitated a moment, then snapped up the cordless handset. “Mike’s Magic Shop.”

She raised a brow.
Mike
’
s Magic Shop?
Now that was interesting. Nearly as interesting as the view he presented. His bare chest, with its well-defined muscles and light sprinkling of blond hair, certainly could do things to a woman’s bloodstream.

“Actually, I came up with an idea last night, but we’ll have to coordinate it with makeup,” Mike said balancing the phone against his shoulder as he poured milk into his bowl. “I’d like to see the skin come off in stages rather than going straight from live action to the animated robot.”