Fourteen
Way #6—Funny movies. When you can laugh together, you’re really connecting.
Strike-out Number Six. Cyndi expected to be able to at least make it all the way through an inning before striking out again, but it didn’t look that way.
She shoved the car into park and killed the engine. Glancing up and down the darkened street, she made certain nobody could see her. The single streetlight on the corner didn’t illuminate anyone. The quiet night gave her the peace she needed, and she heaved a sigh and slumped her head forward to knock against the steering wheel.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she make anything go right? She’d had it all planned out this morning. She’d invite Max to lunch, and during their meal, she’d start the topic of the Stooges. Well, that part seemed to go well. Max had picked the restaurant, an out-of-the-way Greek place not too far from work. It was semi-crowded, but she had expected that.
She’d been extremely nervous. She almost had to sit on her hands because they shook so bad. But soon, they discussed the Stooges, and she breathed easier. She thought it brilliant when he asked her a question and she threw out Curly’s phrase, “Why soitenly! N’yuck, n’yuck, n’yuck.”
Max had laughed over that, so she continued with one of Moe’s this time. “Why, you lamebrain, I’ll fracture ya.” Moe always threatened to do bodily harm.
Max had thrown back his head and laughed heartily. She went on with the name-calling; mashed-potato-muscles, two-ounce-brain, little-man, and cabbage-head. Since Max seemed to enjoy her playacting, she decided to move in for the kill. “Prepare for 81-c!” She held out a hand, two fingers extended and aimed for his eyes...
Cyndi growled in embarrassment and pounded her head on the steering wheel. Was it her fault Max forgot to block her fingers? After all, he was a Stooges fan. He should have known.
She lifted her head and rubbed the sore spot just below her hairline. Perhaps she’d hit her head a little too hard that time. Yet she deserved it. Poor Max couldn’t see for at least ten minutes after she’d gouged his eyes.
Tears threatened, and it wasn’t because of the pain in her head. Plain and simple, she was a loser. She couldn’t do anything right when it came to men.
Reluctantly, she opened the door and climbed out of her BMW. When she slammed the door, the echo rang through the deserted street, mimicking the loneliness of her heart.
A tear slipped free then others joined. She clutched her purse to her chest, trying to hold back the sob ready to burst forth as she shuffled toward her front door. Before she reached it, Damien’s door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. When he stepped out on the porch and saw her, he stopped.
Relief flooded through her body. Her chest ached, her throat burned. He was the only person she wanted to see right now.
His gaze wandered over her face. His eyes widened, and then his forehead crinkled. “Cyndi? What’s wrong?”
The concern coating his voice made an ache form in her heart. Tears fell freely once again. He held his arms open and she rushed to him, pressing her face against his black leather jacket. Her sobs grew louder as his embrace tightened around her.
“Mí amore, what’s wrong?” he repeated with a tender voice.
When she didn’t say anything; couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him, he lifted her in his arms and stepped back into his house. He raised her face enough to press it against his neck. His spice scent smelled so good. Like always.
The gentle stroke of his hand in her hair soothed her cries, calming her the way only Damien could. He took her to his couch and sat. She remained in his lap, and scolded herself for enjoying every second of it.
But she loved him.
She caught her breath and bit her bottom lip. When had this happened? The bigger question was...did she want it to happen?
Taking a refreshing breath, she finally lifted her head and gazed into his caring eyes. Soft and gray. So dreamy and laced with concern. Her heart clenched harder. She wanted him in her life. She wanted him to love her, to devote himself to her and only her. Would he ever do that?
He swiped his thumb over her cheek, brushing away more tears. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
She nodded and cleared her throat. “I’m up to strike six. Good thing I’m not playing baseball, huh?”
“What happened?”
She tried forcing a laugh, but it didn’t come across as humor. The squeak sounded pathetic. “You wouldn’t think I could mess this one up, but I did.”
“Did you talk to him about the Stooges?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t like it?”
“Oh, he liked it, all right. He thought my version of Curly’s n’yuck, n’yuck, n’yuck was amusing.”
“Then what went wrong?”
She shrugged. “I thought with him being a Stooge fan and all, that he’d be prepared when I did the fingers-in-the-eyes trick.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t. His eyes watered for nearly a half-hour, and even when he left work, they were still red. If he goes blind, it’ll be my fault.”
Damien’s lips twitched, yet his eyes still drooped with sympathy. Through her misery, there was humor in everything, and a smile tugged at her lips. Soon, his smile widened.
“Oh, Damien, why didn’t he block my poke?” She rubbed her forehead and sighed.
He chuckled. “I don’t know mí amore.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps he’s kicking himself for not doing it at this very moment.”
She laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he’s doing a lot more than kicking himself. He’s probably at the eye doctor discussing surgery this very moment.”
He shook his head. “Cyndi, I love your sense of humor.”
His laughing eyes grabbed her, pulled her in. Her heartbeat quickened. His square, clean-shaven jaw drew her to touch it, so she did, cupping her hand on the side of his face. It was smooth against her palm and she imagined how it would feel against her cheek. Heated tingles surged through her. Why did the picture in her mind seem so real?
Had he been in her room the night of the Christmas party? Had it been his hands cupping her face, his lips kissing her? It was! She just knew it. Her heart hammered out of control.
She stared at his lips, remembering the way they glided against hers. It hadn’t been a dream! She’d kissed Damien only a couple of times, and his lips were very gentle. How would she know that if it hadn’t really happened?
His expression softened, the gray in his eyes darkening and his lips parting. She had to kiss him. Now! Her heart jumped and lodged itself in her throat.
She continued to lean forward, slowly, and waited for him to stop her.
He didn’t. She closed her eyes and their lips touched.
His hands bracketed her head, holding her in place. Her heart soared. Electricity ripped through every nerve in her body, heating her blood to boiling. A sigh escaped her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his face to hers as she partook of his kiss. This was exactly what her dream had been like. Now everything was real. And that night had been real.
“Oh, Cyndi,” he mumbled as he broke the kiss. “I’ve dreamed of doing this for so long.”
“Damien,” she whispered his name, just to hear it on her lips. She cupped the side of his face and he nuzzled against her palm, kissing her skin.
She urged his face back to hers, but just before they could touch, the cell phone chirped, making her jump. She held his stare during the second ring, but by the third, a scowl had replaced his expression.
He lifted himself off the couch and grabbed the cell clipped to his waist, quickly reading the caller ID. Grumbling, he answered on the fourth ring. “This better be a life-threatening emergency.”
Within seconds, his expression changed again, but from a scowl to worry. His forehead creased, as did the corners of his eyes. He’d shown her this look before.
“Fine. I’ll be there shortly.”
He sighed heavily and turne
d off the phone. When he met her stare, he smiled, although it wasn’t full. “I hate to bring this to an end, but that was work.”
She nodded. Although she didn’t want him to leave, her heart swelled with happiness. She’d been thinking about kissing him for a while now, and it’d finally happened. Although, she was grateful for the interruption. She needed time to sort out her newfound feelings.
“Are you in trouble or something?” she asked.
“No, mí amore.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers briefly. “I’d like to finish our little discussion later, if that’s all right.”
She nodded. “How long before you come home?”
“It’ll be around midnight. Is that too late?”
“No.”
He touched his finger to her lips, stroking them softly. “Please stay here until I return. We have a lot to discuss.” He winked then left his townhouse.
A giddy laugh sprang from her throat and she hugged the throw pillow to her chest. The evening looked brighter already.
DAMIEN STORMED INTO his office, slamming the door behind him. That conniving woman was at it again. If Liza’s company was in the hole, how did she find all this money to buy out his stocks? He would not have it! Liza Scapolli needed to be stopped.
His mother had been informed that something was wrong in the stock market, and upon investigating, found Liza’s name adding up slowly, which was why his mother had called to warn him. Sure, her call was at the inopportune moment, but she couldn’t help that.
At the thought of Cyndi, he smiled. He didn’t like that she might be on the rebound from Max. If they continued on the path they’d been before he’d left, wouldn’t he just be taking advantage of her again? He would and he knew it. Just like that night after the party.
The tender emotion in Cyndi’s eyes flitted through his mind, and he groaned. How was he supposed to resist her? Besides, wasn’t this what he had wanted all along?
Her kisses were like hot honey, melting his heart quicker than any woman had done before. She was everything he’d dreamed about, and more. Tonight he’d come clean and tell her the truth—he’d been in love with her for quite a while.
Two swift knocks pounded on the door, interrupting his reverie. His mother bustled inside, wringing her hands against her stomach. “Damieno, what are we to do about Liza?”
“Mother, I can’t control the shareholders of the company. If they choose to sell their stock to Liza, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Stop her somehow. Make a deal with her. I don’t care what, but do something.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. In a flash, he remembered the way Cyndi had slid her fingers through his hair. A smile loosened the tension pulling at his mouth.
“Damieno? Are you paying attention?”
He snapped his gaze to his mother. “Of course I am.”
“Then quit looking like you’re in dreamland.”
Yes, dreamland with Cyndi...
“There you go again with that faraway look.” His mother huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t you care about the family’s company?”
“Of course I care.”
“Then pay attention. We have to figure out what we can do.”
He nodded, then scooted around his desk and sank in his black leather chair. He leaned forward, linking his fingers and resting them on the desk, trying really hard to concentrate. Cyndi’s beautiful face kept returning. Their talk could definitely not be put off any longer.
Tonight would be the night for confessing. Then tomorrow he could organize his thoughts and think of a way to stop Liza.
He returned his gaze to his mother.
“What’s so wrong with bringing her on as a partner,” his mother was saying. “We could write the contract up so she’d only get forty-eight percent of the stock.”
He scowled. “No. I won’t have her back in my life trying to steal ideas from me again.”
“It might not be that way now.”
He arched an eyebrow and titled his head. “What way do you think it will be, then? That woman is Satan’s own sister!”
“Damieno. Watch your mouth in front of your mother,” she snapped.
He wanted to laugh, but refrained. His mother had been raised from the old school, and that was how she’d always act. Perhaps it’s why she made such a great businesswoman.
“Please forgive me, Mother, but when speaking about that woman, my tongue gets carried away.” He shrugged. “An old habit, I suppose.”
“I have an idea.” She walked around the desk to his side and reached over to click on the computer. “Look up the rest of the shareholders she hasn’t swayed yet, and call an emergency meeting. Maybe then, we’ll figure out what can be done to stop this madwoman.”
He nodded and clicked on the program holding their addresses. “Brilliant idea.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t think of it first.”
“I’ve had other things on my mind.” He smiled again when his thoughts turned to Cyndi. He couldn’t help it. Love did crazy things to him.
His mother leaned forward and cupped his chin, turning his head to look at her. Narrowed eyes studied his. Finally, a smile stretched across her mouth. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”
He laughed, pulling away to look back at the computer screen. “Yes, Mother. I can’t lie to you.”
“Who is she?”
He paused, his hand and stared blankly ahead, only Cyndi’s face in his mind. “She’s my next-door neighbor.”
His mother gave a hearty laugh. “So Michelle was right. When do I get to meet this wonderful lady?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Should we wait until we get this mess cleaned up with Liza first?”
“Yes, but you better hurry. With news such as this, I can’t wait much longer.”
He chuckled. Neither could he!
Fifteen
Way #7—Offer to mend his clothes. Believe it or not, most men are old fashioned and love it when a woman can do domestic housework like this.
How did she get so lucky? The man she’d grown close to as a best friend was now within her grasp. She’d thought about how she loathed him upon meeting the womanizer a little over six months ago, but somehow his attitude about life had changed. He’d changed.
Or had she?
And what about Max? Why was it so easy to dismiss him from her mind? Had she known all this time he wasn’t the right guy for her? She’d never once been comfortable around him, stumbling over her words and causing him bodily harm. Damien had been right. The perfect man would be the one she could be herself with when she was around him. Damien Giovanni fit that mold.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that he’d been so attentive, so loving, caring, and thoughtful. He’d really listened to her, shared in her sorrow, and made her laugh when she needed uplifting. Best of all, she hadn’t messed up his life as she’d done to the others.
And what about the point she was trying to prove to her co-workers? She’d failed proving the Internet article on how to win a man...or had she? Most everything she tried on Max and messed up, Damien was doing to her, and succeeding.
Damien had melted—and won—her heart. He was her Prince Charming. Not Max.
She smiled. What her co-workers said at the office didn’t matter. Damien was the only person who mattered.
The rest of the evening flew by in a blur. She tried watching the television, but her thoughts kept returning to Damien. She studied books upon the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. At the bottom of a pile of books, one caught her attention.
The Bible? Damien read the Bible? Yet as she pulled it out, the light dust covering it told her he hadn’t read it for quite a while. Still, at least she knew he believed in God. That was encouraging.
She sat on the sofa and started to read, but the words ran together like watercolors in a rainstorm. Not that she didn’t enjoy the words of God...just not today while her
mind was full of Damien. What else could she do? She really wasn’t hungry. There wasn’t anything else for her to do but pace the floor wringing her hands in nervous anticipation.
She promised she’d stay in his house, but it drove her crazy not to be doing anything. At least if she was home, she could soak in a nice hot, bubbled-filled tub. She searched for another set of house keys, and when she found them, she left his house, locking the door behind her.
When she entered her place, the first thing she saw was his shirt lying across the back of her couch. He’d wanted her to sew on a button. Grinning, she rushed around the house until she located her sewing kit then sat Indian-style on her bed as she went to work, fixing his shirt.
Her mother had drilled these kinds of lessons into Cyndi’s head when she was young, encouraging her to learn as much as she could about the domestic life because one day she’d had a husband and family to care for. Although Cyndi lacked talent in the kitchen, the other areas she did well.
Once she was done, she studied her handiwork, feeling proud of herself. Damien would approve.
Oh, Damien. She sighed and fell back on the bed, her thoughts turning to their first kiss. The kiss she almost didn’t remember. She’d have to ask him why he didn’t say anything. From the bits she recalled about that night, she had enjoyed being in his arms kissing him, and sighing his name...
Dread washed over her like shards of ice, and she bolted up into a sitting position. I called out Max’s name!
Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. Why had she done something so stupid when she should have known perfectly well who’d been participating in the kiss? It had to be that blasted sinus pill mixed with the alcohol.
Was it any wonder Damien didn’t say anything about it? She didn’t blame him one bit for leading her to believe she’d kissed Max. Served her right for being such a fool. Now she had to make it up to him some way.
Had Damien forgiven her? He must have, or he wouldn’t have kissed her with so much feeling earlier tonight. She smiled and scooted off the bed. As she looked at his shirt, she wondered what it would look like on her. Giggling, she threw off her own shirt and slipped into his, buttoning up the front. This could have been a nightshirt for her since the bottom nearly hit her knees. It looked funny on her since she still wore her pants. Still, having his shirt on gave her comfort as if he had his arms wrapped around her right now.
Her Own Fairy Godmother Page 17
