“I really need to know if you brought me home. I don’t remember much, but I really don’t think Max did.”
Impassive. His expression didn’t falter.
He nodded. “I brought you home.”
She wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but dared not. “How did I act?”
He grinned. “Like an intoxicated woman.”
“Yes, I know that, but...but did I seem forward in any way?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Cyndi, where are you going with this?”
She huffed and balled her hands into fists. Why was he making this so hard on her? “Just answer me. Did anything happen?”
“No. Nothing happened.”
“Do you know if Max came to my apartment after you’d left?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Okay.”
“Why all the questions?”
“Because I don’t want to say something stupid in front of Max tonight. When we talked yesterday at work, he acted as he had been here.”
He let out a brittle laugh. “Then maybe he had.”
“But I want to know for sure. I don’t want to say something and have him think I’m an idiot.”
Damien shook his head. “He won’t, and if he does—” he moved closer and cupped her face in his hands, “—then he’s not worth your time. You deserve someone who can love you for yourself. And you’d better make sure he does before you give your whole heart to him. I’d hate to see you miserable again.”
She nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
He stared deeply into her eyes for a few seconds before leaning forward and kissing her on the mouth. His gentle lips brushed tingles across hers. It was all she could do to hold herself back from wrapping her arms around his neck. When he pulled away, she held in the disappointed sigh. The kiss had been too short. Dang it, but she wanted more!
“I better go before he catches me here.” Damien dropped his hands and took a step back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked, then turned and left her townhouse.
Blowing out a frustrated sigh, she marched into the bathroom to recheck her makeup. She leaned in closer to the mirror and widened her eyes. Yes, the eye shadow was evenly matched. She pinched her cheeks to make them rosier, and puckered her lips to check her lipstick.
The memory of Damien’s kiss came back, and she groaned aloud. Would she ever stop thinking about him that way? She didn’t want to ruin her life by falling in love with a man who would trample her heart when another Barbie wannabe came along. She wanted a man who wanted a life-long commitment and a family. Plain and simple, if she didn’t get rid of her feelings for Damien, she was in for a depressing, lonely life.
She straightened and fluffed her hair the way she’d seen Damien do it. A stray lock fell into her eyes and she swiped it away. Studying the thickness, she realized it was time for a haircut. Did Damien know how to cut hair? He certainly did a lot of things she didn’t expect him to do. Funny, but she really didn’t know what he did at his job. What kind of friend was that? She scowled. Starting tomorrow, she’d stop thinking about her miserable life and try to find out more about his.
Her doorbell buzzed and she jumped. She placed her hand over her chest to settle her erratic pulse.
Be yourself... Perhaps that was the wrong thing to think. Instead it should tell herself don’t mess up.
As calm as she could, she walked to the front door, her legs shaking as if walking on eggshells. Before she opened the door, she took a deep breath for courage. Right now she needed all the help she could get.
Her sweaty hand slipped when she reached for the doorknob, but she gripped it harder and turned the knob. When she looked upon Max’s handsome appearance, she smiled.
“Hello,” she greeted.
“Hi.”
His gaze wandered over her, so she took this moment to inspect him closer. Instead of his business attire, he wore a long-sleeve blue and white striped shirt with a collar. The first few buttons were unfastened. His fingers were inside the front pockets of his faded blue jeans, giving him that relaxed look. Why did men always look so casual and unaffected? One day she’d like to see a nervous twitch in the man’s eyes, or a bead of sweat on the forehead. Even stammering or a loss for words would be good. At least it would make her feel better.
“You look really good,” he said after a few moments of silence.
She smiled. “I was just going to say the same thing to you.” She took a step back and opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
When he passed, she closed the door and followed him into the front room.
“Hmm, smells good in here. What’s for dinner? Something Mexican?”
She walked past him toward the kitchen. Why would he think it was Mexican? She took a deep sniff. Come to think about it, it did smell like that. “Not Mexican. Just a family recipe I threw together. I hope you like chicken.”
“Love it.”
“Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll bring in the meal.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed Max walking to the table, his gaze wandering around her apartment. The smile on his face eased her worries. So far, so good.
So then why did he seem to be looking at things as if he’d never seen them before? If he had come to her place after the Christmas party, why did he act as if this was his first time here? If neither he nor Damien had kissed her, had it all been a dream? If she had dreamed it all, it had been Damien in her dream, not Max.
Confusion tightened her chest and a headache threatened. She shook it off and continued into the kitchen. Damien had taken the chicken and potatoes out of the oven and covered them to keep them warm.
She picked up the potatoes. From the other pan, a different scent assaulted her senses, making her stomach growl. That was chili powder she smelled. No, it couldn’t be. Her nerves were not only playing tricks on her body, but they were playing tricks on her senses as well.
Careful not to drop the dish, she carried the potatoes in and set it on the table. Max leaned over and sniffed.
“Umm, these smell heavenly. Don’t tell me this is another family recipe. This smells like it came from a gourmet restaurant.”
She chuckled. “Yes, this is just another family recipe.”
After a few more trips into the kitchen, everything was placed on the table. The aroma from the chicken wafted through the air. Confusion washed over her again, but it had nothing to do with the other night. The chicken did smell like chili. But wasn’t it supposed to smell like cinnamon? Coughing lightly, she tried to clear the lingering spice from her throat, willing away the tears threatening her eyes.
Hopefully, chili powder wasn’t baked in the chicken. She’d always had such a wimpy mouth, and she didn’t need to eat something spicy tonight.
Max smiled. “This smells great.”
Let’s hope it tastes great, too.
“Are you sure this isn’t a Mexican dish?” he asked again.
“No. It’s called Cinnamon Chicken.”
She sat and adjusted the napkin on her lap before reaching over to spoon potatoes on her plate. Max eagerly took a piece of chicken off the platter, licking his lips in anticipation. Deep inside, a sinking feeling invaded her stomach. Something would go wrong. She just knew it.
Max spooned potatoes on his dish before diving into his chicken. The red sauce dripped from his fingers when he picked up the piece and took a big bite. She held her breath, praying nothing was wrong with the meat.
The good Lord must have been too busy to hear her prayer, because when Max’s eyes widened and he took a quick intake of breath, she knew something wasn’t right. Slowly, he placed the chicken on the plate and picked up the pitcher of water, pouring the cool liquid into his glass. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes while he brought the drink to his mouth.
She licked the sauce off her finger. Her tongue burned like the Mexican border
in the dead of summer. Instead of drinking the water, she hurried and took a bite of potatoes. At least they tasted good.
Max wiped his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat. “That’s certainly a different tasting chicken.” He cleared his throat for the second time. “So, it’s a family recipe, you say?”
Humiliation washed over her and twisted her gut. Couldn’t she do anything right? She gave a helpless shrug. “Thought so, but now I’m wondering what I did wrong.”
He took a large spoonful of potatoes, but said in between bites, “Didn’t you say this was cinnamon chicken?”
“Yeah, I thought it was.”
“Doesn’t taste like cinnamon to me.”
“Me either.”
She tried to remember when she’d taken down the spices from his cupboard. Did she read the bottle or just look at the color? Inwardly, she groaned. There’d been two bottles the same color. She was willing to bet she’d picked up the chili powder instead.
“Oh, Max, I’m so sorry.” She wiped the napkin across her mouth. “I think I put in chili powder instead of cinnamon.”
He took another drink of his water, nodding. He didn’t have to reply. The liquid in his eyes told her what she needed to know. She’d failed again. At least Max was the only person to see her humiliation. Then again, he was the one she didn’t want to see.
She sighed and covered her face with her hands. Tears threatened to spill and a sob lodged in her throat. Could this night hurry and get over with? What was she doing? Obviously, she messed up on everything she did. She should just let him off the hook and tell him they’d just be friends, but she didn’t want to be the office joke either. If she gave up on Max, she’d never hear the end of it from Amanda and whomever Amanda had told.
The screech of Max’s chair sliding on the wooden floor made her jump. He’s leaving. She jerked her attention to him, trying to think of something intelligent to make him stay. He had to stay.
Instead of walking out the door, he came around to her side and knelt beside her. He took her hands in his. The warmth from his skin tried to heat her cold blood.
“Cyndi, it’s okay, really.” His fingers tightened around her hand.
She wanted to cry, but blinked to keep her tears from falling. “How can you say that?” Her voice croaked. “I nearly gave your mouth third-degree burns.”
He chuckled. “No you didn’t. In fact, I like spicy foods.” He shrugged. “But I must confess, the chili powder went a tad too far.”
She laughed then bit her bottom lip. “I wanted the meal to be perfect.”
“It is. I really like the potatoes.”
“What about the broccoli?”
“Well, I don’t exactly like that vegetable, but I’ll eat it.”
She shook her head. “No, don’t eat it. I’ve punished you enough for one night.”
He rose and kissed her cheek. “Then we’ll just snack on potatoes tonight.”
“I have bread and butter.”
“That’s even better.”
The tightness in her chest eased when she retrieved the bread and butter from the kitchen, although she knew Max was just being nice. He hated the meal, she could tell, but he still slopped down his food like a man in a hurry. She picked at her food like an anorexic bird. Her stomach wouldn’t allow her to eat any more.
He leaned back in his chair and linked his hands over his stomach. “Well, now that we’re done, what else did you have planned?”
The husky tone to his voice told her exactly what he had planned. He couldn’t have turned into that kind of man, could he? Didn’t he know she didn’t do things like that?
“Well, I hadn’t really made any other plans.”
“Why don’t we watch the tube? TBS has a Stooges marathon playing tonight.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Stooges?”
“Yeah, you know, The Three Stooges?”
“Oh, Larry, Moe and Curly?”
“Exactly.”
It sounded like a good idea, but she really didn’t know that much about the Stooges. Her mind came to a screeching halt. Number Six – Funny Movies. Before she could watch the Stooges with him, she’d better make sure she knew them. Then they’d have something to talk about.
“Well, unfortunately, my satellite dish isn’t working,” she lied. “The repairman hasn’t come to fix it yet, so watching television is off.” The idea for Number Five struck her. Tall buildings. Not too far from where she lived, there was a tall building with a restaurant on top. In fact, if she remembered correctly, the room moved around in a circle, giving a beautiful sight of the city.
She grinned. Perfect.
“I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
“How about dessert? I know this great restaurant up the street with a beautiful view of the city. Interested?”
His smile relaxed. “Yes.”
Simultaneously, they pushed away from the table and stood. She waited for him to walk around to her side before they stepped toward the front door. She grabbed her coat and purse. He opened the door and led them out.
So, the evening had started out bad, but she had definite hopes for a better ending.
Thirteen
Way #5—Tall buildings. In general, guys like big things. Find a place with a good view. Kiss him under the stars.
Damien growled, but the rumble in his stomach overrode everything. He’d tried to put his needs aside and concentrate on his irritation, but now it was time to eat.
He stormed to the front window and leaned against the pane. From this location, all he could see was her porch steps. How was her night going? Had the chicken ruined the dinner? Had Max left already? He glanced down at his wristwatch. It had only been a half hour since the date started, so perhaps they were still there. And if they were, what were they doing?
Sighing, he pushed his fingers through his hair and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Outside the wind picked up, stirring winter’s brown and orange leaves on the lawn. He loved this time of year. The coolness, the coziness of two people in love...
He huffed and pushed away from the window, turning to retrieve his jacket. What was he doing sulking like this? He’d never acted this way over a woman. Of course, he’d never met a woman like Cynthia Randall. Like most women he knew, she wasn’t trying to find a man because of his money but instead wanted to find one to fill the void in her life.
The void in his life needed to be filled, too. A different woman every other day had been getting old for a while now. He wanted a relationship. One woman. Forever.
Only one woman to love...
He stopped his thoughts as he reached for his black leather jacket behind the door. Love? Could it be possible he was in love with Cyndi? He’d told her he loved her, but did he really mean it that way? He’d wanted her for a while, but was it because she didn’t want him? Being with her lately had filled his days with laughter and softened his heart.
Heaviness grew in his chest as he admitted the truth. He did love her. Yet it didn’t matter because she wanted Max.
Slipping on his jacket, he stepped outside. The cool wind blew against his face and he bundled the collar around his neck, trying to block out the chill. Tonight was certainly not the kind of weather for walking, but he hoped it would simmer his aggravation, and his scorn. Not very often did a woman reject him, but with Cyndi, it was like a runaway train hitting him head-on.
He walked the street until a large building loomed before him. The Franklin Hotel was famous for their top-floor restaurant. He enjoyed this place. Looking over this section of the city at night calmed him and ceased his worries, if only for a little while.
Inside the five-star hotel, he unzipped his jacket and waited in front of the elevators. Many elegant couples walked arm-in-arm toward the grand ballroom. This hotel was not only known for their revolving restaurant on the top floor, but the numerous ballrooms used for various events. Tonight would be a great night to get fancy and have a kn
ock-out woman on his arm. Coming here by himself while surrounded by couples only intensified his loneliness.
The bell to the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He stepped inside and smiled. It’d been wonderful to dance with Cyndi the other night at her party, to hold her in his arms, and breathe her berry scent. Unfortunately, that moment was gone, and he didn’t think he’d get it back.
The elevator dinged again, jarring him out of his thoughts. He stepped forward. Soft music from the overhead speakers played a love song as he walked into the lobby of the restaurant. The aroma of steak caused his stomach to growl.
As he scanned the tables, waiting for the hostess to seat him, he spied a familiar white dress and the woman wearing it who had filled his dreams lately. His heart dropped. They’re here.
Cyndi had her arms crossed and was leaning on the edge of the table, her eyes dancing as she laughed at something Max said. Damien fisted his hands and shoved them into the pockets of his jacket.
Looks like she had won her man.
But Damien couldn’t let Max use her. All during college, Max was the man who jumped from one woman to another. Damien’s so-called friend even went after women who were taken, and like an idiot, Damien didn’t notice when the woman who was supposed to have loved him started spending more time with Max.
He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let Cyndi go through that. She deserved better. He’d watched men traipse through her life the last six months, and he knew by how she reacted that she wanted someone to settle down with...which was exactly what he was now looking for now.
Max wasn’t the settling down type. He never would be.
He glanced around the room, searching for a place to hide, but the plain and simple truth was, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Cyndi see him. She’d think he was spying, and he didn’t want her to be upset at him.
No matter how much he wanted to stay, eat, and watch Cyndi, he needed to return home. He pivoted on his heels to head back to the elevator but knocked into another person. He grasped hold of thin shoulders, keeping them from teetering. When the dark-haired woman looked up at him, he grumbled and dropped his hands to his side as if he’d just touched hot coals.
Her Own Fairy Godmother Page 15
