redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros (4 page)

I didn’t want to lose all common sense. Didn’t want my body to respond to Grayson in any way other than pure revulsion.

“God damn it.” I threw the loofa at the tile wall, where it left a slick trail of bubbles on its way to circle the drain.

Why couldn’t Cupid have hooked me up with someone more like nerdy Norm, someone who didn’t make me want to drop trou?

I managed to wash off the sand and dirt, but couldn’t begin to remove the guilt. As much as I wanted to stop thinking about Grayson, the memory of his naked body, his teasing touch, his ability to take me from zero-to-moaning with just a stroke sent tiny quivers between my legs. I cranked the water to cold, needing to extinguish the heat in my core, wash away the mental image of Grayson and me getting down and dirty in a beachfront cabana.

Sure, the sex with Grayson was phenomenal. And before Len, Grayson would have been just the kind of guy I would have fallen for, but not now. Now I knew better than to let myself fall for someone like him. My heart couldn’t handle being broken again. The only attraction I felt for my Cupid-appointed-pain-in-the-ass was physical.

The shower door obscured the numbers on Len’s clock on the bathroom counter, but I didn’t have to look hard to see that the first number. Six. Damn, I should be at the restaurant already. Late to my own engagement celebration. Figures. I snatched a towel off the rack and dried off, ran to the closet, and grabbed a dress worthy of a celebration.

I slipped into a black bra and panty combo, and pulled the dress up over my hips. I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The black, figure-hugging fabric with butterfly lace across the chest was sexy enough to make me feel feminine, but hid enough skin to get Len’s approval.

Rummaging through my jewelry I found a thin, silver bangle with a bow and arrow dangling from the center. A gift from Grayson when Cupid brought us together. I’ve never worn it, never planned to. I tossed it back, picking up a large, silver hoop, one of my favorites, and held it up to my ear. Too flashy for Len. Finally settled on a pair of tasteful, diamond earrings that used to belong to my grandmother, and a small, diamond solitaire necklace that belonged to my mom. Simple and understated, just like my fiancé.

My phone chirped. I picked it up and noticed the time. 6:15. Double damn. Len was going to be disappointed in me yet again.

Len’s text read:
Are you still joining me?

Just leaving the house now.
My fingers flew over the keys and I noticed my very bare ring finger. Crap. Engagement ring.

I rushed to the tray on the dressing table and snaked my fingers between the perfume bottles where I had hidden my ring. It was gone. I pushed aside a pink heart- shaped bottle, the one I was sure I left it by.

Nothing.

I lifted the cobalt blue bottle, the one decorated with pansies.

Nada.

Had I put it in one? I picked up a sage green bottle, the only one with an opening large enough for a ring, and turned it upside down.

Empty.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I moved the bottles one at a time to the dressing table, picked up the silver tray, and looked underneath. My stomach clenched. “Holy shit. Len’s going to kill me.”

My phone chirped again. I put the tray back down and rushed over to read the text.

Should we cancel?

No. Bad traffic. Be there soon.

I just had to hope Len didn’t notice my naked finger.

Why is it when you are running late, every light is red, every person is driving at an eighty-year-old-man-out-for-a-Sunday-drive pace, and finding a parking spot is impossible? I finally gave up and did the valet thing, tossing Doris’ keys to some young kid, hoping she wouldn’t come back banged up.

A pretty young girl greeted me with a smile when I hurried to the hostess stand. “I’m meeting my fiancé.” The word still felt foreign on my tongue.

“His name?”

“Len Holder.”

Her smile faded, teeth hidden behind her disapproving lips. “He’s right this way.” She turned on her fake Jimmy Choos, and I followed her through a sea of perfectly pressed, linen tablecloths and padded, cherry wood chairs.

Len sat at an intimate table in front of a large brick fireplace, two glasses of no-longer-bubbly champagne at each place setting, and a red rose laying on my bread plate. His elbow rested on the linen tablecloth, chin in his palm, his foot tap, tap, tapping. We approached the table and he stood, shoulders up, lips down. He pulled out my chair. Always the gentleman, even when pissed.

Len scooted in my chair, a little harder than necessary, and returned to his seat. The hostess leaned forward, her low dipping top giving Len a great view of her twenty-something breasts. “I’m sorry about your wait, sir.” She straightened up and shot me a look that guaranteed there would be spit in my soup.

Len took the linen napkin off the table and smoothed it out on his lap. “What kept you?” He wouldn’t even meet my eyes. “Did you have problems with that wreck you call a car?”

“No. Doris is running great.” I ignored the remark about my baby. We’d already talked about that more times than I cared to count. Len wanted me to get something more reliable; I wanted him to keep his opinions to himself. I reached over and lightly squeezed his hand with my right one, hoping to hide the missing jewelry. “Work ran late, unexpected things came up.” The words left my mouth and I immediately thought of Grayson’s dick. Guilt shot through my body like Cupid’s misguided arrow.

He pulled his hand from mine. “Tonight is supposed to be special. I thought at least tonight you would be on time.”

One of our other frequent disagreements. Len believed that if you weren’t ten minutes early you were late. I, on the other hand, ran at least twenty-minutes behind for every function I’ve ever attended.

I origami’d my napkin, focusing on something else other than the hurt and anger in Len’s voice. I needed to turn this night around, make Len happy. “Tonight is important to me. You’re important to me. Please, Len, I’m sorry.”

He reached into the pocket of his navy blue sport coat. “Then why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring?” He held said ring between his thumb and index finger.

My pulse took off to the beat of one of the annoying tunes Grayson always tapped on his leg. Sweat puddled in my armpits. “Oh, thank goodness, you found it. I went to the studio and worked with clay, I didn’t want it to get stuck in the setting so I took it off.” I reached my palm out and he placed the ring in the center. “I put it somewhere where I knew I wouldn’t lose it. It scared me when it was missing.”

He leaned back in his chair and raked his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for making you worry. I got angry when I saw it sitting on the tray. I thought maybe you didn’t want to wear my ring.” He straightened the salt and pepper shakers and candle into a neat little row. “I just wanted everything to be in order tonight. How about we get two fresh glasses of champagne and start over?”

“Sounds perfect.” Although a tequila shot sounded preferable to a glass of bubbly at the moment, but Len didn’t like hard liquor.

I stuck my spoon in my glass of water and twirled the ice cubes around, loving the way the water made a tiny whirlpool in the center.

Len stopped my hand, removed the spoon from the glass, and laid it in a perfect straight line on his rectangular napkin. “What’s this new project that made you late to an important celebration?”

Damn. He wasn’t going to let my tardiness go that easily. “A sculpture for the Greek mythology project I’m working on.” Also known as Cupid’s daily assignments.

The waitress came for our order, stopping Len’s inquisition. Perfect timing if you asked me. Len ordered for both of us, something he did often, something that irritated me, but I kept quiet to keep the peace. I hoped the unease that had formed between us would fade into the night, spending the rest of our evening enjoying each other’s company.

But when Cupid spends his time trying to find new ways to fuck up your life, he fucks it up good.

“Noel, is that you?” The familiar Upper-East-Side twang sparked a chill that traveled through my arms and legs, settling at my core. Tara and Angelo. How I wished a crater would open up and suck me into oblivion.

But instead of the earth opening up and swallowing me whole, I pasted a faker- than-fake smile, and faced the last couple I wanted to run into. The first pair of soul mates Grayson and I had ever helped put together.

Tara had never met a bottle of blonde hair dye, plastic surgeon, or Botox needle she didn’t like. Her poured-into, red-leather dress barely covered, what I assumed was a Victoria’s Secret thong, and her heels belonged on the stage of a strip club. Tara acquired her wealth from an ex-husband who had loved her too much to bother getting a pre-nup. Too bad she hadn’t acquired some class to go with it.

Angelo was short, chubby, and Puerto Rican. His clothes were louder than Tara’s nasally laugh, and he wore more oil in his deep-black hair than flowed through the engine of my Mustang. They were a match-made-in-tacky-heaven.

And they needed to leave.
Now
.

“Tara, what a surprise.” I tried to make my words sound more chirpy and real, and less grumpy and false.

She bent down and air kissed both my cheeks. “I’m so happy to see you.” She nudged Angelo. “Look Sweet Um’s, it’s Noel.” He nodded his head. Angelo wasn’t much of a talker. Or looker.

Len cleared his throat, obviously wanting an introduction. Both Angelo and Tara glanced in his direction.

And this is where things got tricky.

“This is Len.”

My ever-so-polite fiancé stood from the table and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you both.” Tara grasped Len’s hand, but her eyes searched mine. Searched for an answer to a question that needed to remain unspoken.

I prayed to whoever would listen that Tara would be too embarrassed to ask about Grayson, my pretend fiancé the night we met.

Her hand covered her soft-pink collagen-filled lips. “You’re not with Grayson anymore?” So much for Park Avenue manners. “You seemed perfect for one another when we met you at the cafe.”

“Grayson?” Len raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin.

“A co-worker.” Another lie to add to the list. My words were guilty quick, wanting to brush over any mention of my supposed soul mate.

“Really, I could have sworn you two were…”

Knocking over my water, of course by “accident”, in an effort to stop the word engaged from slipping from Tara’s mouth. Len rushed to right the toppled glass, throwing his cloth napkin over the liquid.

Shit. Tara was about to divulge more details about that evening than I was comfortable with. Details like me sitting on Grayson’s lap, snuggling into his neck, or the kiss they witnessed in the corner booth that left me breathless. Pretending to be engaged to Grayson, Scenario Fifteen, was the only way to connect Tara and Angelo.

Len and I worked at cleaning up the liquid, while Tara and Angelo watched. Her gaze settled on my ring finger. Her eyes opened wide and she gave me an understanding nod. Time to get rid of the happy couple. Let’s hope she understood that the G-word was not a topic I wanted to discuss.

“It was so nice seeing you again, Tara, but we’re celebrating.” I reached for Len’s hand. He let me take it, but didn’t fold his fingers into mine. “And we’d like to be alone.” I gave her a just-between-us-girls wink.

Tara looked from me to Len, then her smile lifted higher on one side. “Of course you do. Let’s leave them to their celebration.” Angelo offered her his arm and she linked hers through. They turned to leave, but Tara stopped and looked back. “Thank you for helping me find my Sweet Ums.” She gave Angelo a quick kiss on the cheek, and they finally walked away.

I thought the coast was clear until Angelo looked over his shoulder and said, “Noel, next time you see Grayson, tell him we said hello.”

They weaved through the tables on their way to the exit, taking any hope of a peaceful evening with them.

Len pulled his hand from mine and I knew the few moments of happiness we had found during this disaster of an evening were marred by my deceit.

“Who’s Grayson?” His tone stiffer than his over-starched Dockers.

“Just someone who works with me on the mythology project.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned him before?”

“He’s in and out of my life. I only see him when I’m forced to.” Stretching the truth about my relationship with Grayson made me feel better than full-out lying.

Len pulled the linen napkin from his lap, folded it in a nice, neat square, and placed it on the table next to his bread plate. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”

What I wouldn’t do to tell him about Cupid and all the soul mate nonsense, but I couldn’t. Not one person on the planet beside Grayson understood what I was going through. Opening up to Len would send him running in the opposite direction, scurrying away with a cloud of dust kicked up from the speed of his feet.

So, I did what I’ve done for the past month, pretended there was nothing wrong, and avoided answering his question.

“I’ve never mentioned Grayson because he’s no one to me and it didn’t seem important.” There, the truth.

Len crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes and lips pinched flat. “We’ve been together for two years. You obviously been out with him during our time together. Why didn’t you tell me you were going for meals with other men?”

I reached my hand across the table, not able to touch him, but hoping he would reach out and take mine. He didn’t. “One man, not other men, and dinner with a work acquaintance didn’t seem like a big deal to me. Certainly nothing I had to get permission for. Don’t you go to lunch or drinks with other women from work?”

Len’s features softened, and he moved his arms from his chest to the tabletop, but stopped before they passed the black candleholder in the middle. “You’re right. You have your own life. I just want you to be open and honest with me at all times.” He moved his hand closer, fingers covering mine. “Forgive me?”

A fist of guilt grabbed my heart and squeezed.