Duping Cupid (A Valentine's Day Short Story)

by Gina Ardito

  “No, thanks,” Stewart muttered. “One was good.”

  “One is good,” she replied, “but two are a necessity tonight.”

  “Vivi,” Julian murmured with an underlying hint of warning. “That’s enough.”

  “One more.” She nodded at Raul. While he poured her another, she leaned across the bar. “You know, you’re an exceptionally good-looking man.” Opening her clutch, she pulled out a business card. “Call me on Monday. I might have a side job for you.”

  He took her card and read it, suspicion turning to surprise. “You’re Cupid?”

  “Yup. But it’s my night off.” She pointed to her refilled shot glass. “Thanks, Raul.” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “And keep that bottle handy.”

  “You got it.”

  She downed the second tequila with more ease than the first.

  “Oh, look, Vivi,” Julian announced a little too loudly. “There’s someone over there you have to meet.”

  Taking her hand, he pulled her away from the bar crowd, but not before she called to Raul, “Don’t take away my glass yet. Just in case.”

  Dozens of eyes followed their stroll across the carpeted floor, and Vivi bet not one spectator bought Julian’s excuse, especially since he finally stopped in the farthest corner of the restaurant, miles away from another person.

  “Vivi,” Julian whispered with ferocity. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Just having a little fun,” she replied and nodded toward the bar where Raul waited, watching her. “You want a shot?”

  “No, and I’d prefer you don’t have any more, either.”

  “Then, may I suggest you stop the backhanded compliments and the nasty commentary? Because I’m putting you on notice. Raul’s now got my back. Every time you say something even slightly derogatory, I’m doing another hundred dollar shot.”

  He frowned, his anger charging the air between them. “I should have hired that Nancy girl you tried to foist on me.”

  “I should have turned you down altogether,” she retorted. “So we both miscalculated. Now we can either call off this farce, and I’ll grab a cab home, or we can try to get through tonight with humor and civility. You’re the client. The choice is yours.”

  His gaze dropped to the floor and he sighed. “Let’s do this.”

  A flurry of activity and loud voices near the entrance drew her attention, and she peered around Julian to see several tuxedoed men struggling to hold back a less well-dressed party crasher.

  “Vivi!”

  Her jaw dropped when she saw him pushing past the guests and restaurant staff trying to block his path. She gasped and sputtered, “Bass?”

  “What’s he doing here?” Julian asked.

  After bypassing his last human obstacle, Bass strode toward her. Although his breathing was labored as if he’d run twenty city blocks, he spoke loud enough for the wait staff to hear him in the kitchens. “Vivi, I need to talk to you. Now.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Julian repeated.

  “I don’t know, Julian,” she replied. “Why don’t you give me a minute to find out, okay?” She turned to Bass. “Okay. So talk. What’s up? And start with how you knew I was here.”

  “Sarah told me where to find you.”

  Sarah. She was sooooo fired.

  Around them, all other conversations had stopped. The entire population of the room stared, waiting to hear the reasons for this man’s sudden appearance in their midst.

  “Umm…” Bass leaned closer and spoke through unmoving lips. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

  Julian yanked her into his arms with so much force, Vivi squeaked. “She’s here with me. Get your own date. Where’s A-va?” He sing-songed the name like a kindergartner.

  Bass ignored him. “Ava knows. I spoke to her earlier. Vivi. Give me five minutes. Please.”

  She shook her head. Whatever he had to say, now wasn’t the time. “Go home, Bass. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Taking Julian’s arm, she whispered to him, “I’m sorry about this. Come on. Let’s go find our table for dinner.” She led him toward the draped banquet where embossed white place cards indicated each guest’s seat.

  “I’m staying here until you talk to me,” Bass called after her.

  “Go home, Bass,” she repeated over her shoulder.

  Chapter 10

  Dinner was a dull affair, made worse because Vivi couldn’t shake thoughts of Bass from her mind. What possessed him to come here? Did it have to do with that email he’d sent her yesterday? Dammit, she should’ve opened it when she had the chance. What if it was crucial? Like, what if he was dying?

  Cripes, Vivi, talk about jumping to conclusions. That email could just as easily be a love letter to Ava sent to her accidentally, and now Bass showed up here to explain why he’d referred to her as a rhinoceros. Not that he had to. Kate had already called her a steamroller. A rhino was the same—with a sharper nose.

  Beneath the tablecloth, Julian’s fingers danced across her upper thigh. Using the subterfuge of lifting her napkin, she firmly placed his hand on his own leg. After shooting him a look of censure, she returned her attention to her dinner plate. Too obsessed with Bass to eat, she toyed with her shrimp. Her brain barely registered the conversations buzzing around her, which seemed to center on recent cases the firm had handled and the current price of real estate in the Hamptons.

  Once again, the spidery sensation of Julian’s fingers landed on her thigh.

  Stretching her lips into a smile, she spoke through her teeth. “Move your hand, or I’ll call Raul to the table to bring a round of tequila for everyone here.”

  Rather than back off, he leaned closer and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder while digging his fingers into the flesh of her thigh. “Relax, Vivi. You’re bought and paid for. Let’s have some fun.” One swift hand motion flipped her dress’s hem up to her hips.

  The action shocked her. Thank God for the length of the tablecloth, which kept the other diners from seeing her panties. But his callous comment boiled her blood.

  “We’re done,” she said as she shot to her feet and smoothed down her skirt.

  All small talk stopped. Someone’s silverware clinked against a plate. On a wave of interest, beginning with the guests at their table and spreading to the tables around them, people halted in whatever they’d been doing to gape at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she announced to the onlookers. “I’ve just realized Julian and I are as incompatible as ever. I don’t belong here. So, if you’ll excuse me…” She rounded her chair and picked up her clutch from beside her dinner plate. “I think I‘m going to grab a cab.”

  “Vivi, wait,” Julian whispered with urgency. “Sit down.”

  “Sorry,” she told him. “But my time is too valuable to waste on dirtbags.”

  She stalked out of the dining room. So much for rolling the dice on Friday the thirteenth. Next time, she’d lock herself in a closet until Saturday the fourteenth. While heading toward the coat check area, she mentally whipped herself for her naiveté.

  Good God, were other clients this hostile toward her agents? Or was Julian a unique misogynist? First thing tomorrow, she’d draft up a questionnaire for all her agents to complete. Based on the results of that survey, she’d sit down with Bass and their lawyer to update their client contract. None of her agents should find themselves subject to abuse of any kind at the hands of a Cro-Magnon like Julian. She’d put in a penalty clause that would bankrupt anyone who tried!

  “Cupid?”

  Hearing her nickname, she stopped and looked up.

  Raul stood behind the bar, that distinctive tequila bottle displayed for her. “Aren’t you forgetting your souvenir?”

  A smile crept over her lips. “That depends. How much trouble will you be in?”

  He shrugged. “With Uncle Tommy?”

  “Uncle Tommy?” She quirked a brow at him. “As in Tommy Fatozzi, world class chef and owner of this place?”

  “Yup. So I t
hink I can wiggle out unscathed. Besides…” Stretching the bottle out to her, he winked. “I’ve already been offered another job so I’m guessing I’ll be able to make rent.”

  “You sure will.” She took the bottle. “Be sure to bill this to Mr. Bruno’s personal tab.”

  “No problem.”

  At coat check, she grabbed her dark wool from the clerk and slipped into the sleeves. She walked out to the lobby, ready to hail a cab when another male voice called from behind her.

  “Vivi.”

  Once again, she turned. Once again, Bass rushed toward her. Seeing him brought relief—a friend was exactly what she needed right now. Her posture relaxed, and she found another smile for him. “Didn’t I send you home over an hour ago?”

  “Since when do I listen?”

  She laughed.

  “I’ve been hanging out with our new employee, Raul. Nice kid. I’d just gone to the men’s room when you came out of the dining room.” He gestured to her buttoned coat. “Early night?”

  “I called our client a dirtbag,” she confessed with a wince.

  “Then I’m guessing he won’t be giving us a decent referral.”

  All the tension that had brewed between them over the last three months washed away under the flow of their easy banter.

  He jerked his head at the glass entrance a few feet away. “Take a walk with me?”

  “A short one.” Extending her leg, she showed off the spiky heel. “These aren’t exactly athletic shoes.”

  “You look spectacular, by the way. That dress could get a dead man’s attention.”

  “Great. I’ll swing by the morgue on my way home. If I plan early, maybe I can grab a date for next Easter at my parents’.”

  He cocked his head. “Wulf didn’t work out?”

  “Wulf. Yeah.” She quickly came to a decision. It was time to come clean. “He’s totally inappropriate. He gets little white hairs all over my clothes and he licks his privates in front of me.”

  She knew the moment he understood. His grin lit up the room. “You’d probably see that same nasty habit out of Bruno, if he could reach.”

  Her laughter erupted, loud and attention-getting. She didn’t care. “Probably.”

  He took her hand and led her outside. The night air was crisp and clean. The blizzard’s snow piled high on either side of the flagstone walk. De-icer crystals crunched under their feet as they walked.

  “What are you doing here, Bass?”

  “You wouldn’t take my calls or answer my emails. I was desperate.”

  “About what? What’s so crucial that you couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow?”

  “This.” He pulled her against him and crushed his mouth to hers.

  The world spun away, and she soared. His kiss claimed her: body, soul, and heart. She pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him into her to reside deep inside. They tasted each other for the very first time, feasting on the love that had lain dormant between them for far too long.

  The night enveloped them, and she thought she could stay connected to him this way until the world melted away. Too soon, he broke the kiss.

  Before she could voice her disappointment, he touched a finger to her cheek and traced the contours of her face. “I’m in love with you, Vivi. I want you in my life forever. I always knew it, but when I opened your Christmas gift—”

  “You opened it?”

  “I sent you a video I recorded when I opened everything. The day of the blizzard.”

  “Oh.” Warmth flooded her cheeks, and she looked up at the wrought iron streetlamps arching overhead. “I…umm…sort of deleted that.”

  “I’ll send you another copy,” he promised. Unmindful of the wet and rough stones, regardless of any onlookers who might linger nearby, he knelt and reached into his pocket. “I bought this for you before Christmas. You can check the Gossipmonger’s website if you don’t believe me.”

  The box. Tiffany’s. She believed him.

  He flipped open the lid, and a rainbow of colors flashed in the night. “Marry me?”

  Tears of joy stung her eyes, and she held out her left hand. “Yes!”

  He slid the ring into place, but she kept her gaze pinned to his lake blue eyes while he stood again. “Look at it, Vivi. Me, you’ve seen. Look at the ring. Make sure you’re happy.”

  Happy? She was delirious. But curiosity won out, and she stared at her finger. The diamond, nestled in a platinum channel setting, was perfect for her: square and sparkling and ablaze as the symbol of Bass’s love. For her.

  Only one flaw marred the moment. “What about Ava?”

  He waved off her concern. “She knew we loved each other before I did. She wishes us a lifetime of happiness.”

  “Let’s get started then,” she replied and tilted her head up, lips pursed and parted.

  Bass kissed her again. From somewhere nearby, a violin crooned softly. Never losing touch with her lips, he led her in a waltz in the wintry heart of Central Park.

  As the song faded away, he broke their kiss again. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? It’s Valentine’s Day,” she reminded him.

  “I know. Wanna get married?”

  “Why not?” So Kate was half-right. Bass had managed to get off his knee before she yanked him to City Hall.

  No other words were necessary between them. Not when there were kisses to explore. Long, lingering, lovely. A lifetime of kisses.

  ****

  From the Wharton Gossipmonger, dated February 15:

  SebAva a Hoax?

  In the unusual stories of love in New York, Ava Featherstone has upped the ante. Seems she and Sebastian Lawrence were never an official couple after all. Lawrence, former star of the 90’s hit series, Our Small Town, sought Ava’s help in winning the heart of his real-life love. Vivian Maxwell, known to many New Yorkers as the Cupid behind Cupid To Go happily accepted his marriage proposal on Friday. The couple married at City Hall yesterday morning. Asked about her role in their romance afterward, Ava Featherstone told the Gossipmonger, “Even Cupid needs a little help once in a while.”

  Enjoy a sneak peek into another Gina Ardito romance, Nobody’s Darling (Book I of the Nobody series) available now on Kindle!

  Chapter 1

  “Everyone is looking for a mother to care for them.”

  The moment the sentence left her lips, April Raine wanted to take it back. Instead, though, she squirmed on the couch in the faux living room set of daytime talk show, “Taking Sides.” Chalk up the unexpected slip to nerves stretched tighter than her pantyhose.

  One size fits all, my butt. One size fits all anorexic runway models, maybe.

  While her waistband dug trenches into her old C-section scar, the klieg light burned down, beading sweat on her upper lip. She could almost hear crickets chirping in the canyon of silence around her.

  “Wow, April.” Grant Harrison, on her right, sat up higher in his armchair. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

  Backpedaling would only make her look desperate. Seeing no other choice, she opted to keep the conversation light and hope the audience took her comment in stride. “I guess I do, Grant. I’ve built an entire business around that theory.”

  “Let’s talk about that,” Jocelyn Jones, the co-host seated directly across from her interjected. “Several years ago, you were a married woman with what you thought was the perfect life. Then one day your husband ran off with another woman, leaving you destitute and facing eviction.”

  Wham! Did somebody catch the license plate number of that truck? “Taking Sides” had a reputation for kamikaze interviews, but Jocelyn’s statement hit way below the belt. More like a blow to the shoulder blades with a two-by-four.

  Well, if total strangers were about to learn the details of her private pain, they’d hear the unvarnished truth and not some detached two-sentence summary.

  “My financial downturn didn’t exactly occur within forty-eight hours of my husband’s departu
re. I struggled for years to make ends meet, worked at dozens of low paying jobs, pawned everything of value I owned. I did whatever I could to keep my family solvent…”

  “That must have been very difficult for you.” Jocelyn patted her hand sympathetically. The gesture played well for the cameras, but left April stone cold, and she pulled away to avoid further contact.

  Never missing a beat, Jocelyn’s shark-like mien transformed to puppy eagerness. “Until you started your own business. How exactly did you come up with the idea for Rainey-Day-Wife?”

  Good. Let’s get this interview on the topic of business, rather than my personal life.

  “A neighbor of mine had to work overtime on a night he was responsible for carpooling his son’s soccer team. He asked if I would drive the team. In exchange, he offered to pay my expenses plus a little extra for doing the favor on a moment’s notice.”

  Grant flashed his trademark smile at the audience. “And, ladies and gentlemen, from that simple errand six years ago, April Raine built a thriving company. Isn’t that incredible?”

  Boisterous applause rose from the studio audience.

  April sidled to the edge of her seat to be heard over the noise. “Once again, it didn’t happen overnight,” she said. “I had to--”

  “Now,” Grant interjected, “you have dozens of clients who hire you on a month-to-month basis to handle their families’ needs, isn’t that correct?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “And what sort of tasks does Rainey-Day-Wife perform?”

  She shrugged. “Anything your average wife does.”

  “Anything?” Waggling his brows, he leaned close.

  April pinned her hands beneath her thighs to keep from smacking the leer off his face. A line from an old movie popped into her head. Her idol, Bette Davis, in Beyond the Forest: “Being here is like waiting for the funeral to begin. No, it’s like waiting in the coffin for them to carry you out!”