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.”
I suddenly didn’t feel so bad about my own name. “Do you have any siblings?”
“A brother. Brace yourself,” he teased.
I smiled, moving forward with perked ears.
“Saint Nicholas Christmas. And no, he wasn’t born on Christmas.”
I know my eyes widened, revealing my horror. “She didn’t.”
“She did. At least he has a normal name in there, thanks to the legends of Old Saint Nick. I have to say Coop like it’s short for Cooper and pray my sweaty palms don’t give me away.”
“Well, Nick and Coop sound normal.”
He chuckled. “They just hide my mother’s dirty secret.”
“I suppose I can’t complain about my name now.”
“Daisy is cute for a girl.”
“Exactly; for a girl. I’m a grown woman.” I wrinkled my nose. “I take it you didn’t look at my full name with my maiden last in the papers.”
He squinted, the edges of his mouth fighting a smile as he put the two together.
“Daisy Hibiscalily Field.”
He schooled his reaction well. “It’s not awful.”
“My middle name belongs to an evil botanic scientist.”
He cracked, laughing heartily. “Thankfully, for both our sakes, middle names are rarely used.”
“Yes, thank goodness. Brad is also being kind and letting me keep his last name.”
He stiffened, his humor quickly falling away. “I’m sure you’re relieved.”
I couldn’t figure him out. He had the oddest triggers. I was suspended in place, waiting for him to bolt again. To my surprise, he recovered and pressed on.
“By chance is your mother a florist?”
“How ever did you guess?” I clutched my palm to my chest dramatically.
The twinkle was back in his depths. “I like you, Daisy Hibiscalily Burke.”
I practically melted in my chair. My heart reacted as though he’d confessed his undying love to me. I knew my eyes were bright with enthusiasm. He was a gorgeous hunk, chock full of sex appeal. I was more than a little flattered, even if he meant it as an innocent statement. “I like you too, Mr. Valentine.” Do not blur the lines. Do not cross a single one, girl.
“Please, call me Coop.” There was that dazzling smile again.
Before I could do something foolish, like go goo-goo over a non-professing declaration, I withdrew myself from the situation. “It was a pleasure, Coop, but I must return to work. I have wardrobes to stock and fannies to kiss.”
His gaze didn’t falter, nor did his smile. “The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Burke.”
I stood, half-full coffee cup in hand, and grabbed my clutch. “Please, call me Daisy.” Sweet cherry pie, did I really just wink at him? A nervous giggled escaped me. “Have a good day, Coop.” I strolled away with an extra swing in my hips, oddly self-conscious, hyperaware of prying eyes on my figure.
My face split and my confidence surged when he mumbled, “I will now.”
—
Chapter Three
November 27th
Daisy
It’d been a month since I’d last seen Coop, yet he was fresh on my mind every night as I lay in bed and each morning when I woke. His smile, full of humility and charm, seduced me. His eyes, glossy and bright, pierced me. I could only fathom their beauty when dark and dangerous, brewing with intense passion as he took a woman…namely me in my dreams.
I dreamed vividly of his hard against my soft, squishing me rather than me squishing him. His powerful stare and his bulging, flexing muscles as he took me to the brink never ceased to steal my breath away. I always morphed the professional good guy into a sultry, confident bad boy in my head, unashamed of taking rather than asking.
Sweet cherry pie I wanted him to fuck me. I’d gone off the deep end. I was a touch away from being obsessed. The worst part? He’d done nothing to warrant this reaction from me. I just couldn’t keep my thoughts from slipping to him, like Cupid had shot his arrow straight through my desperate, lusty heart.
I groaned, jerking the covers over my head. I was a mess.
—
Cupid
I squeezed my stiff cock. I’d had another dream about owning her luscious curves. Every smile she’d given me had been one of innocence, yet my imagination had run wild, altering them into acts of seduction. Every day I fought the urge to call her. It would be so simple to reprint a document and fake it as reason enough.
I’d been strong, so far.
Every time I closed my eyes though, I saw her. Her red lips around my hard prick, sucking harder, her bountiful curves writhing beneath my command, her breasts bouncing, begging to be pinched then tongued, as I took her hard and fast, throwing romance and mercy out the window. Jesus I was a fucking sadist. I wanted to pound her pussy into the next millennium in the roughest way.
The more I thought about her, the larger my muscles felt. I could easily crush her; overpower every whimper, every plea. I would accept nothing less than complete compliance on her part as I pushed us both to our limits.
I shook my erection in frustration. This wasn’t me. I was worse than a twisted stalker and I hadn’t seen her in weeks. God help the next woman I take. Aggression seemed to permeate my every pore, driving me to claim her. Her.
I forced out a breath, flinging my arms over my eyes. This wasn’t good. If this was what it felt like to be hit by Cupid’s arrow - to be filled uncontrollably with lust and need for a person you barely knew but couldn’t seem to shake, to turn away from, - then someone needed to burn them all.
I forced myself out of b
ed and towards the bathroom. Another cold shower was in order. I’d never been so clean and pruney in my life.
—
Chapter Four
January 3rd
Cupid
I stormed out of the courtroom. Rage coiled in my chest, burning. I’d never been so angry. Worse, now, even with my upset, I had to tell my clients the bad news. I hated that I actually wanted to see her. I’d never craved someone’s company so bad. I’d been strong until now. With my mind consumed by her for months, I didn’t know if I could be trusted around her, but I couldn’t miss the chance either. Damn I sounded like a girl all whiny, confused and uncertain. And it was only getting worse.
I plowed through the doors of the courthouse. My suit protected me against the elements as I made a beeline for my car. I slid behind the wheel and pulled out my phone.
“Happy New Year, Coop. Am I officially a single woman?”
I smiled. Her voice wrapped my heart in warmth. Oh yeah. I wanted to see her. “Not yet unfortunately. Are you able to meet me so I can discuss what the judge said?”
“Oh. Um, hold on.” The phone rustled, creating a bit of static. “Brad’s with me. We can leave now and meet you at the coffee shop if you’d like.”
“Perfect. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“See you then.” She hung up.
I hated upsetting any of my clients, but especially her, and I’d heard it in her voice. She was worried. I was uncomfortable with the fact that I cared this much, but apparently when Cupid’s arrow hit, it hit hard, demolishing every filter, every bit of sanity, every ounce of resolve surrounding his other victim.
Turning the key in the ignition, I peeled out and headed towards the other side of downtown.
—
Daisy
My knee bounced as Brad drove. I steadily worked my bottom lip, grateful I hadn’t worn lipstick today. I was dressed casual, by my standards, today. I wore a forgiving yet stylish pair of boyfriend jeans, rugged with shredding and rolled up cuffs, a tight, navy blue, long sleeved turtleneck with a cream colored scarf and a delicate yellow gold necklace. Camel colored ballet flats with a large bow on top of them gave my ensemble a certain schoolgirl charm. My long dark brown hair was in a fishtail braid, the rubber band at the end concealed by a half-inch wide, satin, navy blue ribbon I’d tied into a bow.
I glanced at Brad. I knew he was worried, but he came off cool as a cucumber. Fitted dark wash jeans, a red pullover sweater I’d given him two Christmases ago and black tennis shoes were still, unmoving aside from when he breathed or shifted gears. He casually glanced at his watch as he pulled into a parking space.
He put his hand atop mine, stopping me from getting out immediately. His thumb brushed my wedding band; he stared at the half-carat diamonds that wrapped halfway around the band. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I don’t regret marrying you. Okay?”
A lump formed in my throat. Tears stung my eyes as I met his gaze. A thousand thoughts converged at once, making it impossible to single any out. “Okay.”
He squeezed my knuckles before releasing me. “Let’s go.”
Brad said he didn’t regret it, but guilt would haunt me to my deathbed if our divorce was declined. Can judges even stop you after a certain amount of time has passed?
I slid my chocolate brown, hunter green, navy blue and cream colored plaid, structured tote on my arm as Brad held my door open. I stepped out, facing him with trepidation. “What if-”
“Stop. Let’s wait for the facts. Don’t make yourself sick on speculation alone.” He shut the door and pressed his keyless remote, locking it.
I sighed. “You’re right.”
He smiled easily. “I’m always right.” He winked.
I harrumphed. “Lisa and I would disagree with that.”
“I’m shocked.” He wasn’t really.
We walked side by side. He held the door for me. The warmth of the coffee shop was welcomed. Winter, well, for Florida, was in full effect. The air was a crisp forty-eight degrees with a wind chill of thirty-nine. A quick scan showed Coop wasn’t there yet.
I’d made the mistake one night after too much wine of confessing my lust for Mr. Dreamy to Brad and Lisa. Brad immediately issued an, “I knew it!”
Lisa had more tact. She gave me an encouraging smile and said, “I say go for it. If he says no, you don’t have to see him again after the divorce is finalized. But, if he says yes.” Her eyes widened as her smile turned coy. “Let’s just say I don’t know how you’ve gone this long without.”
The truth was, it was one thing to pine after someone from a distance. You were safe. There was no chance of you getting hurt. But admitting your desire put you in front of the firing squad. Your pride, your confidence, your heart, were all at risk.
“Want a drink?” Brad placed a hand on my shoulder, directing me to a nearby table.
I dropped my purse over the side of the chair and sat down. “My usual, thanks.” I was shaking and I didn’t know why.
Brad headed to the counter and ordered.
I kept nervously glancing back at the entranceway.
Kind blue eyes met mine when I refocused on the table. “Stop, Dais. I’m sure it’s just a last minute form to fill out, something minor.” He passed me my cup.
I took a deep breath. “This is torture. You know I hate surprises.”
He rolled his eyes, humor touching his expression. “Yeah, I know. You love to plan them though.”
“That’s different.”
“Of course it’s different. Opposite ends of the spectrum.” His words were coated in sarcasm.
I cut my eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me, buddy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He winked, a cocky smirk in place.
“What day does Lisa get back?” I blew into the slot on the lid of my beverage. Steam puffed out, giving my lips a mini facial.
“Thursday, I think.”
“You better clean the house before she gets back. I know how you are, mister.”
“Jeez. It’s like I have two wives between the two of you. Should I go ahead and convert to Mormonism?”
I smacked him across the table. “Asshole.”
He chuckled, unfazed. “And yet you put up with me.”
“Because you put up with me.”
“Because you’re awesome.”
“Damn straight.” I beamed.
He frowned. “You were supposed to tell me I’m more awesome.”
“Sorry. I’m not kissing your fanny after the Mormon bit.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I can live with that. I don’t need your approval.”
“Remember that when it’s time to get your tux for your next wedding.”
His lips parted in mock shock. “Now that’s just cruel.”
I laughed. “You’re the one who said it.”
“Okay, I take it back.”
“Fine, then I’ll ensure you look so damn sexy on your big day, Lisa can’t wait until after the reception. You might want to do a closet check before meeting her at the alter.”
“I can always count on you, Dais.”
I met his gaze, humor slipping away. “Always. I’ll always be there for you, even when you annoy the shit out of me.”
He patted my forearm across the table. “Ditto. You can always count on me.”
“I know. And I love you for it.”
He nodded, pulling back as Coop came into view. “Lay it on us, Valentine.”
Coop’s eyes searched me as he sat down. His usually clear blue-green eyes were foggy today; he appeared unsettled, as anxious as I felt. His suit was impeccable, but his hair was disheveled, as though he’d been raking his hands through it repeatedly. He scrubbed his day old stubble, looking at me with unbridled intensity.
A shudder shook me to the core. I wanted to know. I needed to know. If it was hitting Coop this hard, it couldn’t be good.
He glanced at Brad. “Judge Benson is an older gentleman that’s
been happily married to his wife and best friend for over thirty years. I believe that’s why he motioned the way he did.”
I found myself holding my breath. My heart raced. I clenched my hands into white knuckled fists in my lap. “What’d he say?”
Brad’s eyes were focused intently on Coop, waiting patiently. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t detect his restlessness, the tiny pucker between his brows, the way his lips pursed ever so slightly, the way he clamped his teeth together.
“Judge Benson has issued a thirty day stay. He wants you to reconsider your decision over the next thirty days. If at the end you still want a divorce, he’ll grant it. I tried to explain the situation, but he wasn’t hearing it. If your minds are set, then February third your divorce should be finalized.
“That’s it?” Brad asked.
Coop’s attention flitted briefly to me. He nodded his head once. “That’s it.”
“Is that going to mess up your proposal, Brad?”
He released a breath, sitting back. “It’s not ideal, but we can’t change it. Shit happens. I’ll call Lis after and see how she reacts before I change my plans.”
“Speaking of rings, are you ready to take yours back yet?”
He flicked his hand at me. “Wear it till February third, then keep it, pawn it, do what you want with it, sweetie.”
I bit my lip around a frown. “You’re so stubborn sometimes. I hope Lisa knows what she’s signing up for.”
“Oh, she knows the full extent of what she’s getting.” He wagged his brows suggestively.
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry about him, Coop. He’s not always PC in public.”
“Only with you, Dais.”
“Am I supposed to feel special now?”
“Yup.”
I shook my head, grinning. My muscles relaxed. Thirty more days as Mrs. Burke wasn’t too bad. Of course I’d rather spend thirty days testing the waters with Cupid...
My breath hitched as I caught sight of him. His biceps flexed as he squeezed his laced fingers on the table, the tips paling. All of his attention was on me.
Red Hot Valentine: Falling for Cupid Page 3
