redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros (20 page)

“Would you wear it loud and proud?”

“For you, anything.” His serious smile and perfect words made my heart sprout wings.

Sweat soaked my palms and my heart raced. Fear? Nervousness? This side of Grayson, the playful bantering, the ease I felt being around him, the attraction that bordered on full-blown lust, all those things scared the shit out of me. Made me want to push back my chair, run from the room, and protect my heart so he would never be able to harm it.

Thomas came back and saved me from an embarrassing exit. He set a sterling silver wine bucket next to the table. “Your Pinot Noir.” The causal, family friend gone, replaced with a serious businessman.

He held the bottle out to Grayson for inspection, but Grayson waved it away. Thomas filled his glass with a small amount. “Would you like to sample it?”

Grayson picked up the glass and swirled it around, raised it to his nose and took a sniff, then a tiny taste. “It’s perfect.”

Thomas filled our glasses, then left us alone again.

“Do you bring a lot of dates here?” My heart burned, heated with jealousy. I wanted to be the only one who met Thomas, or saw this beautiful garden roof. I wanted to be special. Or did I?

“So far you’re the only one, but judging by your reaction maybe I should add it to my rotation. After all, a Man-Whore should oblige all women, right?” I watched that sly grin compliment his twinkling eyes.

Thomas came back in carrying a tray covered with a silver lid and a stand. He opened the stand next to us, then set the tray on top and lifted the lid. Steam and a heavenly aroma escaped. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a variety. Calamari, bruschetta, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and the house specialty spanakopita.” He placed two appetizer plates in front of us. “Are you ready to order?”

The silence stretched, until I realized both men were waiting for me to speak up. It had been so long since I decided on my own food in a restaurant that I had forgotten the protocol. Grayson and I placed our order, and Thomas left us alone.

My stomach grumbled at being denied the food sitting within my reach. I wrapped my arms around my mid-section to quiet the loud bastard.

“Hungry?” Grayson smiled.

“You heard that?” My face flamed.

He grabbed the serving fork and placed a generous helping of everything on my plate. “You don’t have to be afraid to eat in front of me, I’ve already seen you at your worst.”

I grabbed my fork and worked at shutting my stomach up. Salt and spices and a thousand calories made my taste buds tango, and I was grateful I didn’t pick a skintight dress for the evening.

“So far tonight, I’ve learned that you don’t care if I stuff your romantic gestures up your ass, you’re an Otis Redding fan, a cross between Superman and Batman, and that you like a woman who can eat her weight in food. Anything else you’d like to share?”

“Are you asking because you’re interested or because you feel guilty that you don’t know anything about me?” He eyed me over the bite of a stuffed mushroom he took.

I searched in the deep recesses of my mind for the answer. “I’m generally interested.”

Grayson smacked his hand on the table and held his hand in the air. “Check please. My work here is done.”

“Funny, funny.” I stuck my fingers in my glass and flicked water at him. “I’m not leaving until I get my steak.”

“You’re not leaving until I let you.” He ran the tip of his finger along the top of my hand, teasing me with his touch, and my stomach wasn’t the only thing growling anymore. “I notice you’re not wearing the bracelet.” Not really a question.

I knew he had asked me to, but when I was getting ready I held it in my hand, slipped it on my wrist, and watched the Cupid bow dangle. Then I stripped it off and tucked it under the rest of the jewelry hoping to hide it away until I was ready for that kind of commitment with him. “I’m not ready to take that step.”

“Someday.” He turned my hand over and traced the veins on my wrist, sending chills up my arm and straight into lusty loins.

Thomas arrived with dinner and saved me from pulling him on the table and having my way with him.

“How long have you lived in your house?” Grayson asked after swallowing a piece of his own rare steak.

“My whole life. It belonged to my grandparents, then my parents, and now it’s mine.” I cut into the steak. “I’ll never move out or sell. It’s a part of my life, the only thing I have left of my family. Well, that and Doris. She was my grandpa’s.”

“Your grandpa drove a pale-pink Mustang?”

“She was fire-engine red when he owned her. I made some alterations to match my personality.”

“I couldn’t imagine you driving anything else.”

Len and Grayson couldn’t be any more different. “Len has been after me for a year to replace her with something more reliable.” I took a bite. “I almost caved.”

“He’s a fool.”

Dinner continued, the conversation flowed, and then it was time to go. Thomas came up to say good-bye. Gone was the serious restaurant owner, back was the affectionate family friend. We thanked him for a lovely evening, and Grayson helped me down the stairs.

In the car, Grayson handed me a leopard print blindfold. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” I turned and he tied it around my eyes. “We’ll be there in a few moments.”

“Didn’t think you were into BDSM.” His chuckle sparked worry.

Once the car stopped, Grayson came to my side and opened the door, but kept me in the dark, literally. He helped me up and navigated me to our secret location. A bell tinkled from above.

“Good evening, sir,” a woman purred. “Right this way please.”

“Just a few more moments.” He whispered in my ear.

My heels clicked on a wood floor. I counted two left turns and one right. Grayson put his hand on my shoulder, turned me slightly to the left, and then untied the blindfold.

I opened my eyes and my breath stuttered. Hanging on the wall in front of me was the entire collection of Degas’ Ballerina retrospective. Not just the finished paintings, but the sketches, too. But that wasn’t what captured my attention the most. In the center of it all, on a wooden pedestal, stood the sculpture of the young dancer, arms behind her back in her gold and cream leotard and skirt.

He placed his hands on my hips. Light. Tender. Intimate. Right where they belonged. “I saw the statue in your studio.”

“He’s my favorite.” I left his touch, even though I didn’t want to, and stepped closer to the art.

The curator pulled out a pair of white gloves. “If you put these on you’re welcome to touch the statue.” She handed a pair to Grayson too.

I slipped the gloves on my hands and walked closer to one of my favorite pieces of art. Ran my hands over the bronze beauty. Felt the clefts, the indents, the power that a piece of art held over my heart.

Grayson stood by my side, but didn’t say a word. I stopped at every painting, every piece of paper, and studied the strokes. For an hour I walked back and forth, taking it all in, not talking, not thinking about the man next to me.

When our time was up, Grayson led me to the door and to his car. I couldn’t talk, the emotions were too raw, too close to the surface, and he left me to my own thoughts.

“How did you manage a private showing of Degas’ collection?” I finally said when I felt like I could keep the happy tears at bay.

“I work with the owner of the gallery on quite a few projects. When I saw they had the exhibit coming, I knew you would love to see it.”

“Thank you.” I paused to gather my thoughts and laid my hand on his. “I think tonight was the most spectacular evening I’ve ever had.”

We pulled into my driveway and Grayson turned off the car, came around, opened the door and escorted me up my porch. “So, the man-whore did well?” The playful look on his face made me want to invite him in and do X-rated things.

“The man-whore excelled.”

He leaned in, his lips close to mine, and I welcomed the kiss about to come. His hand touched the side of my face, tucked my hair behind my ear, breath warming my cheek. I sighed when his lips finally touched mine, but before the kiss even started it was over.

“Good night, Noel.” His fingers brushed my thigh, and his words caressed my heart. “And sweet dreams.” He bent down, touched his lips lightly to my cheek, then turned, walked down the porch steps, got in his car, and rolled down his window. “I do chaste well.” He pulled out of the driveway, leaving me with a smile on my lips and the aching between my legs he promised.

No matter how much I wanted to deny it, Grayson had whittled his way into more than just my loins. He had found a place in my life. But more importantly, he found a home in my heart. Cupid be damned.

Sixteen

Lucy and Ethel Got Nothing on Me

The only information I needed from Cupid’s daily text in the morning was the when and where. The who? Len and Lauren. That was obvious. So when it finally came through at its normal time, I was already at my pottery wheel working. Well, pretending to work. I pushed the peddle and it spun in a slow, lazy circle, the cool, slippery clay sliding between my wet fingers as it formed and reformed, bringing me an odd sense of calm I couldn’t find anywhere else.

Burying my heart in my work would help alleviate the worry and unease that bubbled in my belly. Pounding on clay for a couple of hours would relieve the stress that had tied my shoulders in knots. And hopefully spending a few hours in my studio would straighten out the Sunday-morning-paper jumble of problems in my mind.

Color me confused, conflicted, and concerned.

My thoughts circled my brain like the clay on the wheel. Around and around, not ready to be turned into something solid or concrete.

My feelings for Grayson were the main reason I sat in a daze. Last night he had surprised me, proven to me there was so much more than the playboy who lived on the surface. It was obvious that Len wasn’t mine to keep, and if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to. I wanted Grayson in my life. No doubt about it. But not until after Len and Lauren found their happily ever after. I owed that much to the man whose heart I trampled.

Tonight I wouldn’t rely on Cupid or fate or the alignment of stars to connect them. If Len was going to meet Lauren, I was going to be the one to put his hand in hers and make sure those damn flickering arrows disappeared for good.

Limbo is a fun game, but not a state I wanted to live in permanently.

Forcing Len to notice Lauren was the only way we would all be free from this current cycle of bullshit. I had to hope he answered the text I sent him earlier asking him if we could talk. That he was willing to meet with me.

Len’s ringtone sang from my phone’s tiny speakers and an arrow of adrenaline bounced against my bones. I wiped my hands on my pants to remove the sweat and clay, and picked up the phone to read his response.

When and where?

With a
whoosh,
I released the breath I had been holding and typed out my answer to his question.
Wet Stone Wine Bar—8p.m.

The same time and place as my Cupid connection with Grayson. Coincidence? I think not.

I’ll be there.

The plan that had been percolating in my mind all morning would open his eyes, and if everything played out the right way, he wouldn’t even notice I was missing because he would be focused on Lauren. His real soul mate.

I worked until the sun went down, my heart growing heavier at each passing minute. I called Grayson on the drive home, happy to hear his voice when he answered.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He sounded just as happy to hear from me.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to stay away from tonight’s connection.”

“Anything but that.” His happiness disappeared into a fog of grump.

“Just hear me out,” I started, but quickly continued so he wouldn’t have a chance to cut in. “I need Len and Lauren to connect tonight. We all do. I promise I won’t stand in the way.”

And I meant it. I wouldn’t interfere, I wouldn’t get in the way, and I would make sure that Len and Lauren found each other. What they did with each other after that, well that wasn’t my problem, I had my own happily ever after to arrange.

The silence on the other end of the line grew uncomfortable, so I babbled on to fill the void. “They’re meant to be together I know that now, but I need to be the one to connect them.” Then I filled him in on the rest of the plan.

He didn’t speak for several moments, and I pulled the phone away from my ear to see if he was even on the line. The read out showed the call was still connected, so I put it back up to my ear and waited for him to respond.

He made a sound, part growl, part moan, and one hundred percent frustrated. “Fine. I’ll let you handle this one, but I’ll be watching. If something goes wrong, I’ll come and rescue you from your Lucy and Ethel moment again.” He hung up after that, leaving me to chew on his words like some bad cud.

None of the fancy fun clothes in my closet matched my mood, so I picked out a white silk blouse, black slacks, and black knee-high boots. Serious clothes to match my serious mood.

I arrived at the Wine Bar half an hour early and took a seat on one of the cushioned bar stools, far back in the corner with a great view of the door. A row of over-priced wine bottles decorated the shelves above my head, and colorful un-matching arrows bobbed over the heads of the other patrons, but only one pair of bobbing arrows interested me.

Grayson’s text tone chimed.

At the coffee shop across the street. Let me know when you need help.

Not
if
but
when
. Ye of little faith.

As if summoned, Lauren walked in and paused at the hostess stand. She looked like she had just gotten off work in a beige tailored-to-perfection business suit and a beautiful pair of gold Louboutins, but her expensive clothes couldn’t hide the toll that these past few days had taken on her body. Dark circles smudged the top of her high cheekbones and her complexion leaned closer to ghostly pale than rosy pink.