His chuckle made her sneak a peek at him from between her fingers. His gray eyes sparkled. “Mí amore, you have nothing to worry about. Once Max gets to know the real you, he’ll fall head over heels.”
She lowered her hands and scowled. “I doubt it.”
The corner of his lips quirked in a knowing grin as he bent over and grasped her arm. “All you need is a little encouragement.”
“No, all I need is a fairy godmother.”
He shrugged. “Isn’t that what you think I am?”
“Well...yes, but I was just joking.”
“And I’m not.”
“Damien, I don’t think—”
He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Are you going to let your boss and her daughters win?”
She frowned. “No.”
“They don’t expect you to be there tonight, and don’t you want to see the look on their faces when you walk in looking gorgeous as ever?”
Gorgeous? She highly doubted she would fit that mold, however, she would love to see their shocked expressions. “Well, I would love nothing better than to rub it in their faces that I had finished their chores and I was able to still make it to the party.”
“Then let’s get you ready.”
He grabbed her hands, and she allowed him to pull her up. Surprisingly, her stomach didn’t protest this time.
“I assume you’ve already taken a shower.” He leaned into her and sniffed her neck.
Warm tingles spread through her body and she had to hold herself back from leaning into him more. Goose bumps ran over her arms and she giggled.
“Yes, you have,” he said. “You smell like berries, but I could get you a perfume from my work that compliments your scent.”
She cocked her head. “You think GIO products are better than what I use?”
He shrugged. “You’ll never know unless you try them.”
He pulled her into the bathroom and positioned her in front of the mirror. Her pale skin shone like a beacon, making her dull, blue eyes appear much larger. Ugh!
“First thing we need to do is let down your hair.” He pulled her cloth-covered scrunchy free from her ponytail. A piece of hair came with it, and she yelped. Frowning at his reflection in the mirror, she rubbed the sore spot on her head.
He picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. The gentleness of his actions made her close her eyes and relax. Soon his fingers threaded through her locks, massaging, stroking warmth back into her scalp. Oh, he’s good.
When he took her by the shoulders and turned her around, she looked at him. Up this close, his eyes appeared darker than she’d first imagined, almost black.
He pushed her to the toilet seat and made her sit. Thankfully, the lid was down or she would have fallen in.
“Now be still and let me do my job. I don’t have a magic wand, but...I have magic fingers.” He wagged his eyebrows.
She couldn’t believe how cocky and self-assured he was. But once his fingers made contact with her hair, she closed her eyes again. He hadn’t been lying at all. His fingers were very magical. He used gel and hairspray, ratted and pulled, but she still enjoyed the tender way he relaxed her...just like the other night when he worked on her with that new GIO product. She sighed. Wonderful.
Fluttering sensations moved throughout her, making her smile. When she realized her thoughts were not on Max, she scolded her traitorous thoughts. Think about Max.
She imagined Damien’s hands were Max’s. What would Max wear tonight? Would he talk to her, dance with her, take her outside to walk in the moonlight? Would he kiss her? Should she make the first move? No. He’d definitely have to do it.
She could almost feel the texture of his blond hair as she twirled her finger around a strand. She could almost smell his musky scent of cedar. She’d run her fingers through his hair and caress his close shaven jaw. Just as quickly as she continued fantasizing, Max’s face was replaced with Damien’s. His eyes would be closed as she touched his dark hair, his face, and a satisfied grin would pull at his mouth...a mouth that she wanted to kiss.
“Now that’s done, let’s move on.”
His voice made her dream disappear and she almost let out a disappointed groan. He stepped away. Forcing herself back to reality, she opened her heavy lids in time to see Damien snatch up her make-up case. He pulled it over closer on the counter.
She blinked and shook her head. “You’re going to do my make-up?”
He folded his arms across his massive chest and tilted his head. “You don’t think I can do an adequate job?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You certainly implied it.” He grinned. “Do you trust me?”
“I let you do my hair, didn’t I?”
He laughed. “Close your eyes and let me help with this.”
Once again, she let her eyelids drift close and concentrated on the sense of touch. His touch. So soft. Gentle. Warm.
He used the brush to swipe on her foundation and blush. She should have told him to hold off on the blush because she figured her face would be beaming with color on its own tonight. It took a little longer for him to stroke the eye shadow across her lids and use the eyeliner.
She tried to imagine Max again, but Damien’s masculine scent enveloped her, making her want to bury her face in his neck and stay in his arms. Forever.
“Here. I’ll let you do this.”
She jerked back from his voice and snapped her eyes open. She cursed herself for letting her thoughts get carried away, once again. What was wrong with her, anyway? Why couldn’t she focus on Max instead?
He held the tube of mascara in front of her. She stood and faced the mirror then froze. Wow. Good thing he wasn’t charging her. Looking this good probably cost a fortune in the salons.
She leaned closer to the mirror and thickened her eyelashes with the mascara brush. When she was finished, she turned to face him. He took out a lip pencil and glanced at her lips.
“Pucker for me, baby.”
She laughed.
“That’s not a pucker.”
“Then quit making me laugh.”
He was adorable. Cute enough to cuddle. Yup, he’d make some girl really happy when he decided to settle down.
Therein lay the problem. Would he ever settle down? Probably not. By the amount of women that accompanied him during the week, he was definitely not the marrying kind.
Relaxing, she puckered and stayed still while he outlined her lips. When he took the tube of lipstick and brought it to her mouth, she relaxed her lips and let him apply it. His eyes narrowed as he worked, but his face softened.
“Perfect.” He stepped away, giving her a self-assured grin.
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You’re boasting.”
He clasped his hand around hers and pulled her into the bedroom. “Now let’s pick out a dress.”
“Nothing too fancy. I don’t want to stand out.”
“Oh, but I think you should.”
She grimaced. She was afraid he’d say that. “Really, Damien, I don’t think—”
He stopped suddenly and she bumped into him. A scowl took over his handsome features.
“Now listen, Cyndi. Do you want my help or not? I thought we were trying to get Mr. Jock Strap to notice you.”
“Jock Strap?” She snorted.
“Yes. That’s my nickname for him.”
She chuckled. “If you say so, but I won’t tell him you think of him that way.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. So, do you want my help?” He held up his hands.
She shrugged. “Well, that was the idea, fairy godmother.”
“Then you’re going to have to wear what I tell you.”
She expelled a heavy breath, her heart racing once again. Dare she? But then, she’d gone this far. Why now all the way?
Seven
“All right,” Cyndi said, ready for anything.
Damien wandered into her walk-
in closet and sorted through her hanging dresses. She stepped just inside the room to see which one he’d pick. When his hand stopped on the Victorian-style lavender gown, her heart picked up rhythm. She’d always loved these gowns, which is why she’d purchased one. Unfortunately, she’d never had an opportunity to wear it. Odd that he would notice that gown amongst all the others in the closet.
The shoulders of the gown were slightly puffy because of the era it portrayed, but the sleeves fit snugged against her arms. The bodice had a diamond-cut that displayed more bosom than she’d showed before. Back in those days, the women wore corsets. Nowadays, they were called push-up bras. Thankfully, she owned one.
He brought it over to her. “I like this one.”
“You do? Why?”
“Because it has elegance written all over it. With you wearing this, you’ll certainly be the belle of the ball.” He winked. “Now go put it on.”
“Well, you see, I don’t think it’s the right gown for tonight’s function.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not me. The dress is...is...”
“Is what?” He held it up. “Gorgeous? Perhaps you don’t like it because it’s the perfect color for you?”
His words were so sweet, and the thought of really wearing this dress made her heart thump faster than it should. If the truth were known, she didn’t have enough body for that dress. Her mother’s nickname for her when she was younger was scrawny. Even with a push-up bra, she was certain the gown would hang on her.
His smile widened. “This dress is more you than you realize. Go put it on.”
She huffed. “No.”
“If I have to dress you myself, I will.” He stood firm. “Cyndi, we don’t have long to argue. The party starts in half an hour.”
“But—”
“No buts. Just put the dress on.”
When she didn’t move, he grabbed the end of her shirt and pulled it up. Before it reached her breasts, she clamped her elbows to her side to keep the material from riding up any farther. Her heart pounded out of control. She glared at him, yet the softness illuminating in his gray eyes took away her anger.
“I mean it, Cyndi.”
She swallowed hard and gave in. “Fine! Give me the stupid dress.”
She yanked it out of his hand and marched into the bathroom. Grumbling under her breath, she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the evening gown. There were small buttons in the back that she couldn’t reach, and she was sure Damien would assist her with those. She had to admit, though, the lavender dress brought color to her face. The untamed hairstyle Damien had fixed looked good on her although it didn’t really match the era that the dress had. Nevertheless, she looked extremely sophisticated, just as he’d said she would.
Max might actually take notice. She smiled wide.
“You’re taking too long,” Damien called from the other room.
“Be patient for a few more minutes. I’m almost done.”
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out. Damien’s gaze moved over her slowly.
He whistled and shook his head as his smile grew wide. “Woman. You are stunning.”
“I need help with the buttons at the back.” She turned her back toward him and gently lifted the bulk of her hair.
He stepped closer and his large fingers fumbled with the buttons, but it was his warm breath on her neck that made her shiver. A time or two she thought her legs would give out on her, but she stood strong.
“There,” he said softly.
She faced him and held her arms wide. “How do I look?”
“You take my breath away.”
Her cheeks burned. “Thanks, but this is your creation.”
Grinning, he touched her chin, his thumb gently stroking the skin. “Just make sure you’re back by midnight. You’ll turn into a pumpkin if you aren’t.”
For the first time that she could remember, she really did feel like Cinderella...well, when she went to ball, of course. She always felt like Cinderella at work, thanks to Fran and her dumb daughters.
But now, she enjoyed the elation rushing through her from Damien’s creation. She laughed and threw her arms around him, giving him a hug. “You’re the greatest. Do you know that?”
“Yes, but I get rather bored telling it to myself all the time.”
She placed a light kiss on his cheek. His body stiffened and he sucked in his breath. Fire shot through her, touching every nerve ending in her body, especially when she could tell he enjoyed it. What am I doing?
She quickly pulled away. “I owe you big time for this.” Her voice shook.
For a moment, his eyes had darkened the way she liked, as if he had experienced the same spark of interest as she had. Then he cleared his throat and the expression disappeared.
“Are you ready?” His voice was lower than before.
“Let me just put on my shoes and I’ll be ready.”
“Oh, that remind me,” he said, moving out of the room. “I bought something for you today.”
“Damien, you didn’t have to buy anything for me.” She followed him into the front room.
He picked up the box he’d brought in with him when he first entered the house. “This is for you.”
She smiled, but warily opened the box. What on earth could it be? But when she lifted the lid and saw a sparkly pair of two-inch heels, she gasped. They were white. No, actually, that wasn’t correct. They appeared almost as if they were made of glass. No way! She’d been feeling like Cinderella all day, and now she held a pair of glass slippers. This couldn’t be real.
“Oh, Damien,” she sighed. “They are beautiful. Where did you get them?”
“Today at work I went to Gordon’s Finest to try and sell the expensive store our line of products, and I walked by their shoes. This one grabbed my attention and I immediately thought of you.”
“Why?” She scrunched her forehead as that strange feeling came upon her again. Why was he thinking about buying things for her?
“Because I knew they’d look good on you for your party tonight. And well, now you’ll really be just like Cinderella at the ball.”
She laughed. “You are too much, Damien.”
“Try them on.” He motioned his hand toward the shoes.
She sat on the edge of the couch as she picked up the first shoe. “And you got the right size. How did you know?”
He chuckled. “Because you are the same size as my sister. I hoped you had the same foot size, as well.” He bent in front of her and took the shoe. “Here, allow me.” He winked.
Her stomach erupted with flutters, and when he held her foot in the palm of his large—and very warm hand—the flutters expanded to other parts of her body. Good heavens, why was her body reacting this way?
He slipped the shoe on, and thankfully, it fit perfectly. Then he repeated the process with the other shoe. She stood, holding her dress up just enough to see them. They looked remarkable good on her, too. “They are simply beautiful.”
“Just like their owner.” He winked again. “Now remember, when you’re with Max, you’ll need to tell him how nice he looks. Men love compliments.”
The Internet article came to mind, taking her thoughts off Damien and back onto Max where they should have been. Give a man compliments. “Yes, I need to do that. So what do you think I should say?”
“Tell him how sharp he looks in his suit. Tell him how the color compliments his eyes. Tell him you like his smile, enjoy hearing his voice when he’s on the news, and most importantly, tell him...” His grin widened, but he remained quiet.
“What?” she urged.
“Tell him what a nice butt he has.”
She slapped his arm, but laughed at his remark. It was so close to the truth. “You’re awful.”
“No, I’m serious. Guys like it when a woman tells us we look nice.” He laughed. “Okay. I’m going now.” He kissed her cheek. “Have a good time at the ball, and if you need a designated driver, you k
now my number.”
She shooed him with her hands. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t drink alcohol.”
“That’s right. You’re too goodie-two-shoes, right?”
She pulled her shoulders straight. “Right—and don’t you forget it.”
After he left, she walked around her townhouse feeling like she was really Cinderella. Tonight nothing—and especially nobody—was going to stop her from feeling like fairytale heroine. Her heart pounded in a different rhythm now, but she didn’t know if it was the exchange she’d just had with the Italian Spice, or because she was going to force herself to talk to Max tonight.
She breathed slower, convincing herself the excitement bubbling inside her was for Max. In less than fifteen minutes she would see Maxwell Harrington’s reaction to the new Cynthia Randall.
WAY #3—COMPLIMENTS. The quickest direction to a man’s heart is through his ego.
These heels made her ankles wobble. At least that’s what she blamed for her unsteady legs. The last time her limbs shook this bad was last summer’s earthquake that had trembled for what seemed like hours.
Cyndi walked into the Richmond Hotel and headed toward the ballroom. She handed her coat to the coat-check lady, while sounds of the party drifted around her, clinking glasses and voices rose in laughter. Smells of cinnamon and pine assaulted her senses, which made her sneeze. At least there was no tightness in her sinus any longer. That pill Damien had given her worked wonders.
She followed the Christmas music coming from a room down the hall, the sounds growing louder the closer she came. Humming to the familiar tune, she stepped inside. People from her office filled the space, but there was no sign of Max. He wasn’t at work earlier, so where was he?
Strange how Fran and her daughters weren’t here, either. She definitely couldn’t wait to see the shocked looked on their faces.
“Cyndi? Is that you?”
She turned toward Amanda’s voice. Her co-worker stood amongst a cluster of other employees, all holding drinks. Cyndi gave them her best smile even though her lips twitched in a nervous gesture, and walked their way. “Hi, Amanda.”
Her Own Fairy Godmother Page 9
