Before leaving, he bent and kissed her forehead. Her body jerked and her eyes flew open.
He smiled and stroked his finger along her jaw. “Good night, mí amore.”
When he withdrew, she grasped his hand. “Don’t leave me.”
He shook his head. “Honey you’re home in bed. It’s all right.”
“No. I don’t want to be alone. Can’t you stay and talk?”
His lungs must have stopped working, making it difficult to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “You’re in no condition to talk right now, honey. The pill has made you extremely tired. It’s best if you rest.”
“But I like having you here.”
His heart twisted. “Cyndi, I’ve got to go home.”
With his other hand, he trailed his fingertips over her cheek. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and his heart came to life again, beating an uneven rhythm in his chest. He traced her lips. They parted. Her fragrant breath touched his skin.
Turning, she propped herself up on her elbow. Cyndi pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles, too. What is she doing? Did she even know she’d kissed him?
“Cyndi...” His voice was too deep to be his own. No other words escaped, just quick breaths.
She shook her head. “I know you want to kiss me.”
Obviously she could read his mind well.
He dropped his gaze to her mouth. Heaven help him, he wanted to know if she would ever consider him good enough to date—to fall in love with. Somebody stop me! Because he was falling for her fast.
Damien kept his gaze on her eyes as he leaned forward. As he neared, she closed her eyes, her lips puckering slightly. The silent encouragement told him not to stop. When he placed his mouth over hers for a soft kiss, she sighed and leaned into him more. She pushed her fingers through his hair as she kissed him, and he enjoyed the magic of her caress through his hair.
He took things simple, knowing he didn’t want to treat her anything like his past girlfriends. Cynthia was too special. She had higher standards, and he didn’t want her to lower them for him. He didn’t think he could ever reach her level, but he wanted to try, and if that meant going to church with her, he would. He craved her respect like a thirsty man craved water.
He didn’t want to think of why she would kiss him, that maybe she’d regret it in the morning. For now, he wanted to let her know through his kiss, how much she meant to him.
Breaking the kiss, he stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open, still appearing like she was half asleep. A smile curved her lips and his heart soared.
As he leaned in for another kiss, she mumbled a name under her breath, halting him completely.
Max? Did she just say Max? He couldn’t be sure, but...
Disappointment crashed over him. Of course she thought he was Max. The sports anchorman had been the man on her mind. Max was the man Cyndi wanted. Not Damien.
Pain like no other grabbed his chest and tightened, and then spread throughout his body. He jerked away, his heart dying slowly. Her body fell to the mattress in exhaustion, her eyes closing and didn’t open this time. Finally, she’d drifted into dreamland. He moved off the bed and pulled the blanket over her.
Leaving her townhouse, his heart grew heavy as a knot tightened his throat. If she thought she had been kissing Max, he’d let her believe it.
Nine
Intense throbbing in Cyndi’s head roused her from a deep sleep. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know the sun shone a brilliant path through her window onto her face. She groaned and clutched the edge of her pillow, rolling away from the light. There, that’s a little better. Unfortunately, the pounding still raged. From the back of her mind came a nagging feeling as if she’d done something wrong.
Through her fierce headache she recalled the party, and especially the devastating way she’d passed out in front of Max. She reached up and touched the bump on the side of her head and winced. She remembered the dance with Max, and—oh, the way her head swam the rest of the evening as if she’d been riding the roller coaster at the amusement park. Her stomach rolled in protest and she groaned. She’d throw up soon, she just knew it.
Thank heavens for Damien, always there to take care of her, always there to give his aid whenever she needed, and always there...
In a flash, last night’s events came crashing through her fuzzy memory. She sat upright, opening her eyes as shock vibrated through her. Her stomach lurched before there was time for another thought to penetrate her blurred brain. She yanked back the blanket and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to pay homage to the toilet.
She clutched her head, then her stomach, and then tried holding them both. Had she heaved up every organ in her body?
Cyndi grabbed the towel hanging on the wall and pressed it to her mouth. Slowly she stood, her legs as wobbly as a newborn calf’s. The beat in her head increased, but at least her stomach had calmed. She rinsed her mouth out at the sink before weaving her way back into the bedroom. She headed for the sanctuary of the soft mattress and warm blankets. Cool air touched her face, and she glanced down at the floor as she hurried to her bed to fall face first onto the bed.
What have I done? Kissing the very man I’ve been avoiding? What was I thinking last night?
Damien had let her kiss him, knowing she wanted Max. But why?
She climbed underneath the covers and curled into a ball for warmth.
I kissed my neighbor! More importantly, she had kissed her friend—the man she had no intention of having any lovey-dovey feelings for.
She remembered the way his hands had stroked her cheek, the way his mouth had moved across hers. Especially, the way she’d felt in his comforting arms. He’d been so gentle, and so loving.
That still didn’t answer her question. Why hadn’t Damien stopped things and left her alone? He knew what condition she was in—how her body had reacted so strangely to the sinus pill. Hadn’t their friendship meant anything to him?
Perhaps he had been drinking last night and that was the reason he kissed her. She couldn’t think of another explanation.
She moaned and tried to pull her knees to her chest, but then realized she was still wearing the gown she had on last night. Groaning, she slowly moved out of bed just long enough to discard the dress before finding her nightgown and slipping into that. Once she was back in bed again, she curled herself into a ball.
Would Damien speak to her today after what they had shared last night? Would he even remember? She prayed it wouldn’t damage their friendship. But more importantly, had he enjoyed kissing her as much as she had him—enough to want to change into the kind of man she wanted?
She brought her thoughts to a halt. Ridiculous! Damien would always be a womanizer. There was no way he would lower himself to going out with just one woman. And if she hadn’t been able to change any of her other boyfriends, why did she think she could do it this time? The more she thought about all of her failed relationships, the more her head throbbed. She needed to get up and eat something, but just thinking about food turned her stomach.
Strange, but a sinus pill never had this kind of effect on her.
Once again, her thoughts wandered back to last night. Her hazy memory wouldn’t let her recall how Damien had looked after he kissed her. In fact there were a lot of things her memory wouldn’t allow. Perhaps she’d been dreaming all of this—kissing him and holding him.
She groaned and held her head. Why can’t I remember more?
The pounding in her head grew until it sounded like the walls were crashing together. Or was somebody knocking at her front door? She pulled the pillow closer to her ears, hoping whoever it was would go away and take that noise with them.
Footsteps echoed on the hard wooden floor in her front room. Her heart stopped, so did her breathing, and she listened closer. Had someone broken in?
“Cyndi?”
She sighed heavily. It was Damie
n. But then the rhythm of her heart took on a different beat. Excitement, worry, and fear of bringing up the incredible night, all in one horrendous staccato that pulverized her body.
As his footsteps drew nearer, she pulled the blankets up to her chin. Perhaps it was because of her foggy memory, wondering if she’d said things to him that she shouldn’t have...
Damien knocked on the bedroom door before he peeked inside and smiled at her. “So, you are awake.”
“Barely.” Her voice squeaked.
He held up a glass filled with red foamy liquid. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used your keys to open the door. I’ve brought something for your head cold and your tremendous headache.” He walked into the room.
“How did you know I had a headache?”
The corner of his mouth lifted a little higher than the other. “You forget, I saw you last night. I figured you’d be miserable this morning.”
“Makes sense. So what is this drink?”
“A concoction to make your recovery smoother from the pill I gave you last night.”
“Did you make this?”
“Yes. It’s a family secret that’s been passed down through the generations.”
“I take it you’ve had a lot of sick people in your family.”
He chuckled and stepped over to the bed. “Do you want it or not? I promise within an hour you’ll feel much better.”
She nodded and sat up, trying to keep the covers up around her chin, but they still drooped as he lifted the glass to her mouth. She placed a shaky hand over his and guided the drink to her lips. Tingles burst through her. Touching him again was wonderful. With her eyes closed, she swallowed. The foam rose instead of heading down her throat, and she gagged. She pushed the drink away. “Yuck.”
He laughed. “It’s not the best tasting medicine, but it will help. Drink all of it.”
She grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t want to throw up all over you.”
“You won’t.”
She held up her hand. “Please, no more. I’d rather have a congested headache.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over them. The hooded look in his warm, gray eyes bothered her, especially when it wandered all over her face as if he tried to read her thoughts. He’d better not! She didn’t understand her own thoughts lately, especially her feelings about him.
Damien glanced around the room, then back at her. “So, how was your evening with Max last night?”
A breath caught in her throat and she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening. Max? Why did he think Max was here?
She shook her head. “Max wasn’t here.”
“Yes he was. He was with you last night.”
A greater ache pounded her head. Had she really brought Max home? Had it been Max she’d kissed so tenderly instead of Damien? Her stomach churned. Oh, why couldn’t she remember? Now that he’d thrown the doubts at her, she tried to recall her evening, but once again, the fog in her mind just let her know she’d been with a man. Could it have been Max?
“Damien, don’t play games with me. I don’t remember being with Max last night, unless of course, it was at the party.”
His brows drew together. “Really? I could have sworn you were with him.”
Did I dream everything? Maybe she didn’t kiss Damien. That would certainly relieve her confusion. Then why did her fantasy seem so real? Why could she still feel his hands on her cheek, his lips on hers?
She scratched her head. “Well, I was pretty goofy last night because of that pill. Anything could have happened.”
He chuckled and stood. “Exactly.” He placed the drink on the stand next to her bed. “Well, I’ll leave this here if you change your mind. I’ve got to get to work.” Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “Aren’t you lucky today is Saturday?”
She nodded. “You’ll never know how lucky I am. I don’t exactly feel like answering questions from people at work today. Monday will be hard enough.”
He winked, then turned and walked out. Scowling, she slammed her fist into the mattress. What’s wrong with me? Why am I dreaming about letting a Casanova like Damien into my heart?
DAMIEN GAVE A POLITE nod to the people greeting him when he walked out of the elevator and toward his office. The lab technicians at GIO had been working on a new product, but Damien didn’t care right now. All he could think about was last night. He couldn’t get the image of Cyndi out of his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d returned his kiss with so much passion, and the way she’d felt in his arms.
He also couldn’t stop thinking about the name he thought he’d heard when she’d sighed. Mistake or not, she’d been thinking about Max.
Yet, according to her this morning, she hadn’t. She didn’t even recall bringing the sports anchorman home. So why had she sighed his name? Damien would give anything to hear Cyndi whisper his name like that.
Could he have heard wrong? Doubt it.
He walked into his office and closed the door. Just as he made it to his desk, the office door opened.
“Damieno?” The woman’s tone was natural, sweet and caring. “There are a million things we need to do, and don’t forget about the board meeting with our investors today at three.”
He chuckled. “Which explains why you won’t give me two minutes to myself this morning.”
Shaking her head, she walked to him with hands planted on her hips. “Your thoughts haven’t been centered lately, so you need me now more than before.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to see you care, Mother.”
She smiled. The crows’ feet around her eyes only enhanced her beauty. She was still a strikingly lovely woman even at her age. Her black hair had streaks of silver. Her gray eyes sparkled all the time. “What a charmer you are.”
He laughed and stepped behind his desk. “Did Michelle get those documents to you?”
“Yes, she brought them by the house two days ago.”
“Good. I’d hate to think I was paying her good money for nothing.”
“Stop talking about your baby sister like that. She’s a hard worker and you know it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “She’s only a hard worker if her goal is flirting with single young men.”
His mother flipped her hand in the air. “What do you expect from a nineteen-year-old? In fact, why aren’t you trying to catch somebody’s eye?”
“Too busy.” He sat in his brown leather swivel chair and opened his briefcase.
“That’s not what I heard.”
“What did you hear, Mother?” he asked without looking at her. For years now, stories had circulated around the office. None were true, but they were entertaining, nonetheless.
“I heard you’ve been hitting on your neighbor.”
He snapped his head up and caught her knowing smile.
“Is this true?” she asked.
“Who told you that?”
“Michelle. She said you were all dolled up last night just to help out your neighbor at her office Christmas party. She said she’d never seen you look so refined before.”
His breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat quickened. He let out an uneasy laugh. “Michelle is making up stories again.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t have a neighbor?”
This was all he needed, his mother to know he had an interest in Cyndi. “I do have a neighbor who is a woman, but she’s just a friend.” He shrugged and glanced at the papers he took out of his briefcase. “She thinks of me as her friend.”
His mother let out an exasperated breath and slapped her hands on his desk. He looked up and raised his eyebrows.
“Damieno, you’ve been lying to another woman, haven’t you?”
“Mother—”
“Why haven’t you told her the truth?”
“I’ve told you before. I’m protecting myself from fortune hunters.”
“You’re al
so throwing away your social life.”
“I have a social life.”
She arched a brow. “Sure, with women who think of you only as their best friend. Now tell me, what kind of life is that?”
“It’s a life with no heartaches, that’s what it is.”
Her expression relaxed, the tense lines around her mouth disappearing. “You can’t let one heartache control your whole life.”
He took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten. “Mother, you’re meddling again.”
“But Damieno, I just want you to be happy.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ll be thirty years old in two months. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down and raised a family?”
“I do, but I’ll settle down on my own time, and the children will come when I’m ready for them, and not a moment sooner.”
She stood straight and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re upset with me again.”
He exhaled slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I just wish you’d stop lecturing me. I’ve heard this speech before. I know what I need to do.”
She nodded, then turned and walked back to the door. When her hand touched the knob, she glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, and speaking of fortune hunters, Liza Scapolli is back in town.”
The name struck him like a hammer, inflicting painful wounds in his chest and bringing back memories he didn’t want. It’d happened seven years ago. Why was the pain as fresh as if it’d happened last week?
His mother walked out of the office before he could ask more questions. But he really didn’t care what Liza and Max had done to him. At least he didn’t want to care.
Ten
Cyndi kept her eyes downcast as she hurried through the front doors to Channel Nine’s building. Rushing by, she glanced at her coworkers out of the corner of her eye. None of them looked at her as if she’d grown two heads, thank heavens. She worried about Fran and her idiot daughters, but then she recalled what Damien had said to Ana and Driz, and it gave her hope that maybe those two would finally leave her alone.
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