Dear Cupid Read online

  Confused

  Dear Confused,

  Most women adore flowers of any kind—depending on who they’re from and why they’re given. So, the question is, are you trying to romance her heart or seduce her body?

  If you are bent on seduction, take the time to learn her fantasies and gift her with pleasure. If, however, you strive to win her heart, take the time to learn her dreams, and offer a gift that shows your understanding and support.

  Cupid

  NODDING in satisfaction after she finished her last letter, Kate shut down the computer and headed for the Davises’ to get Dylan. The sun had yet to burn off the dew that dampened her feet through the open toes of her high-heeled shoes. As much as she enjoyed the casualness of working at home, she liked church on Sundays for the chance to dress up.

  “Is anybody home.” she called through the side door of the house on the hill.

  “Up here,” Linda called back.

  Kate went up the half flight of stairs to the main level of the house. The large open area that combined the living room, dining room, and kitchen offered a view of the Hill Country and Lake Travis. She found Dylan already dressed for church and eating breakfast with Linda and Jim.

  “There’s my best boy,” she said and kissed his sticky cheek. “Mmm, maple syrup. My favorite.”

  “Want some?’ he asked, holding up a forkful of pancake.

  “Maybe I’ll just have you instead.” He giggled when she made gobbling noises against his cheek. Just being near her son filled her heart with joy. “I missed you last night.”

  He bobbed his head in agreement, his cheeks bulging as he filled his mouth with pancake.

  “There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Linda said. “And plenty of pancakes if you want some.”

  “I’ll take you up on the coffee.” Kate sighed, and headed for the cabinet to get down a mug. Even though she and Mike hadn’t stayed out that late, she’d spent the remainder of the night staring into the dark, remembering that kiss, trying to ignore the ripples of need that wouldn’t go away.

  “Did you have fun last night?” Linda asked from the table with enough innuendo to let Kate know she was asking about Mike, not the party.

  Kate’s hand tightened on the coffeepot before she forced it to relax. “The party was great. They had live music, tons of food, and the people! You’ve never seen such an eclectic crowd. You’d have loved it, Linda.”

  “Only I would have loved it alone. Jim hates parties.” Linda made a face at her husband.

  Smiling over her coffee mug, Kate watched Jim as she said, “Rachel Lee was there.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His eyes lit up. “As in the actual Rachel Lee?”

  “The genuine article,” Kate confirmed.

  “Now, that’s one party I wouldn’t have minded going to.”

  “Jim Davis!” Linda batted her husband playfully on the shoulder. “Why don’t you and Dylan finish getting ready for church?”

  “In other words,” Jim said to Dylan, “why don’t you men get lost so us women can talk.” Dylan giggled as Jim took both their plates to the sink. “Come on, partner,” Jim said. “Let’s go get the present you made for your mom.”

  “You made me a present?” Kate asked, delighted.

  “Uh-huh. A wooden paperweight.” Dylan nodded, his eyes wide. She gave silent thanks that he’d told her what the gift was, since some of them were difficult to figure out. “It’s out in the shop,” he said. “So you have to wait here while I go get it.”

  She smiled as her son dashed from the room with Jim lumbering slowly in his wake.

  “That shop,” Linda grumbled, clearing away the last of the dishes. “I swear I should get a case of dynamite and blow the thing to smithereens. Then Jim would have to spend some time with me.”

  “I take it your evening didn’t go as planned?’ Kate asked, concerned.

  With angry jerks, Linda piled the dishes by the sink and turned on the water. “After we put Dylan to bed, Jim went right back out to that stupid shop, and stayed there so long, I fell asleep. So much for seduction.”

  “There’s always tonight.” Kate leaned her hip against the counter, sipping coffee as her friend loaded the dishwasher. “Speaking of Dylan, did Jim talk to him?”

  “Of course he talked to him.” Linda attacked the sticky plates with a food scrubber. “All he did last night was talk to your son, which saved him from having to talk to me.” She stopped abruptly, and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound like a complaint against Dylan.”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m just sorry you and Jim are having problems.” Lord, if Linda and Jim couldn’t be happy together, there really wasn’t any hope left for romance.

  “Yeah, me too.” Linda ‘s quiet voice alarmed Kate more than any burst of anger. “To answer your question, yes, Jim found out what’s bothering Dylan.”

  “Oh?’ Kate felt a skitter of nerves.

  “You know the talent show the school puts on every spring?”

  “Yes?”

  “Apparently, Jason Haynie talked his dad into doing some sort of father-son routine.”

  “Oh.” Understanding fell heavy on Kate’s shoulders. “So now I suppose Dylan wants his dad to do a skit with him.”

  Linda gave her a sympathetic look. “He asked Jim for advice on how to talk Edward into it.”

  Kate’s shoulders sagged. “We both know the chances of Edward agreeing are next to nil. Or worse, he’ll agree, and then promptly forget about it, which will hurt Dylan far more.”

  “Or ...” Linda began. “Jim could offer to do a skit with him.”

  “Jim? On a stage? In front of an audience?” Kate laughed at the image that sprang to mind. “The man would die of stage fright.”

  “But he’d do it. For Dylan.”

  “Yes, he would.” Kate sighed, grateful for Jim’s interest in her son, but concerned about the relationship becoming awkward. What would happen when the baby came? Would Jim still be as willing to play surrogate dad to a friend’s child when he had a child of his own? “I don’t know. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Linda nodded in understanding, then her eyes lit as she veered back to the original topic. “So, tell me about last night.”

  “I already did.” Kate smiled, even as her stomach tightened.

  “Details, Kate. I want details.”

  Shaking her head, Kate gave in, but strictly avoided any mention of her dance with Mike by the pool, or the heated kiss they’d shared. Or the fact that she’d lain awake all night wondering what to do about it. Even now, in the morning light, fantasies of what could have happened warmed her skin. She felt like the clichéd divorcée, hungering for a lover’s touch, even as her battered heart cringed at the thought of emotional involvement. Worst of all, the inevitable question had wormed its way into her head: What if she could have the physical without the emotional?

  She shook the question off, knowing such a shallow involvement was wrong for her and unfair to Mike. At least she’d have a day’s reprieve before she had to see him again.

  ~ ~ ~

  On Monday, the rain started just as Kate returned from taking Dylan to school. With the sound of it drumming against the roof, she booted up her computer and settled in to get some work done. She’d had an inspiration during the night for her next column: “Party Flirting: How to Keep it Platonic.”

  With every sentence she typed, she felt more and more as if she were lecturing herself rather than handing out advice to others. In hindsight, she saw a dozen ways she could have handled the situation with Mike differently right from the beginning. The question now was, how to proceed from here. If only she had somewhere to turn for advice like her readers did.

  The thought stopped her mid-sentence. “All right,” she said. “So, what advice would Dear Cupid give to someone in this pickle?”

  Before she could come up with any words of wisdom, the phone rang. She answered it absently, her mind still focused inward.

  �
�Kate! Have you seen that thing on your Web page?” the caller demanded.

  “What?” She frowned, recognizing Gwen’s voice. “What thing?”

  “That flying Cupid.” Anxiety crackled over the line like static electricity. “The Web master called me this morning to tell me about it. I can’t believe it!”

  As Gwen went off on a tangent about computer hackers and deadly viruses, Kate clicked on the bookmark for her site. For the most part, she tuned out Gwen’s words. Even back in college, Gwen had been a knee-jerk alarmist who overreacted to any hint that she wasn’t the one in control.

  When the page finished loading, Kate stared in wonder at the new, animated graphic for her front page: a beautiful, charming, whimsical graphic. Rather than the stationary cupid stuck above the curlicue script, a da Vinci-style sketch of a cupid fluttered playfully around and through the letters. Then it swept downward and toward her, until it landed at the bottom of the screen with one forearm resting on the edge of the window and the other forearm raised so the chin rested in the hand—the classic pose of Raphael’s angel from the Sistine Madonna. Rather than a serene, contemplative expression, though, this winged cherub looked straight at her and gave her a very cheeky wink.

  Kate laughed in delight; the cupid looked just like her! Not in the manner of a serious portrait, but still the artist had captured her perfectly.

  “And just what do you think is so funny?” Gwen demanded.

  “It’s wonderful,” Kate breathed. If Gwen had gone to the trouble to have her page redesigned, then surely her job was once again on sure footing. “Oh, Gwen, I love it. Who did it?”

  “That’s precisely what I’d like to know. So I can have them sued.”

  “Sued?” Kate frowned. “Gwen, what are you talking about?”

  “Some hacker broke into our Web site during the night and put that ... that thing on your front page. Do you know what this means? Someone out there might have copied all the files in our database, our business records, our client lists. And for all we know, they left behind some time-bomb virus that could explode any second and wipe everything out.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kate tried to focus on Gwen’s words. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Obviously someone who knows you, or at least knows what you look like. Which is another thing that worries me. God, Kate, for all we know, there’s some wacko out there who’s formed an attachment to you. Look what happened to Jodi Foster. And John Lennon.”

  Kate mentally weeded through Gwen’s paranoia. “What makes you think the person knows me?”

  “Well, look at the thing. It looks just like you.”

  Kate’s gaze snapped toward the cupid. Not only did it resemble her, the animation was top-notch professional. “Mike,” she breathed in disbelief.

  “Who?” Gwen asked. “Are you saying you know who did this?”

  “No, not for sure, but I have a suspicion.” And if it’s true, I’m going to kill him. How dare he pull a stunt like this when her job hung by a thread?

  “Well, find out, for God’s sake.”

  “I will, I assure you.” She gave the cartoon one last look, her heart breaking at the thought that it had to go. “And I’ll tell him to take the cupid off immediately.”

  “No!” Gwen shouted. “Tell your friend to stay the hell out of my Web site.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll tell him that.” And a whole lot more.

  Chapter 13

  A volley of thunder shook the windows of Mike’s workroom. He glanced up briefly, distracted by the drama of black clouds hurling lightning and rain at the hills and lake. In the background, the radio he’d tuned in to the weather station offered a steady stream of alarming updates. He’d learned soon after moving to Texas that tornadoes could be as deadly and unpredictable as the earthquakes he’d left behind in L.A. With weather like this, he had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t see Kate, or anyone else that day.

  He turned back to the computer screen and tried once more to concentrate on work. He’d finished creating the 3-D robot, and had begun the tedious task of assigning keystroke commands for every movement of the hands, arms, legs, and head. Though time-consuming, the process required little concentration, which allowed his mind too much freedom to wander.

  For the hundredth time, his thoughts went back to the scene by the pool. He never should have let the kiss get out of hand. From the beginning, he’d known to approach Kate cautiously. She’d obviously been hurt, and badly, for her to act so skittish.

  He remembered how she’d been in L.A., feisty, sexy, confident. That, he suspected, was the real Kate—the Kate he’d fallen in love with the moment he’d laid eyes on her. The question was, how to get past the wounded Kate to the real woman she kept so carefully guarded? Did he push harder, or back off?

  Over the low hum of the radio, he thought he heard the doorbell ring. He cocked his head, wondering if he’d imagined the sound. Who in their right mind would venture out in the midst of a major thunderstorm? The sound came again, this time in a long insistent series of rings that demanded attention.

  He hit the command to save his file and dashed up the stairs. He found Kate standing in the protection of the overhang with her arms wrapped around her middle, her body shivering. Rain poured off the roof like a gray curtain behind her while droplets glistened in her hair and darkened the shoulders of her tangerine-colored T-shirt-and-shorts set. Even so, the sight of her knocked the air from his lungs, as it always did.

  “You idiot,” he said, pulling her inside. “What are you doing driving in this weather?”

  “What am I doing? The question is, what are you doing?” She shook her head, scattering raindrops over him and the tile floor. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

  “Do you realize there’s a tornado watch in effect?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mike, it’s springtime in Texas. Of course there’s a tornado watch in effect. When they issue a tornado warning, then I’ll get worried. Now will you answer my question?”

  “What question?”

  “What did you think you were doing, putting that animation on my Web page?”

  “Saw it, did you?” He grinned. Even though the animation was relatively simple, he’d spent an entire day and half the night creating it for her. It was his form of an apology, he supposed, a kind of peace offering.

  “Yes, I saw it!” she snapped. “And so did Gwen, the woman who owns the e-zine that sponsors my site. Do you have any idea how furious she is?”

  “Why?” He frowned. “Because I gave you a present that would normally cost a few grand?”

  “A few ... grand?” Her face paled for an instant, before anger had the color flooding back. “Are you crazy? I didn’t ask you to give me anything. Especially not something so, so—”

  “Personal?”

  “Outrageous!” Her hands flew, adding emphasis to every word. Her fire and energy completely enthralled him. “You broke into Gwen’s Web site. For all she knows you corrupted her files, stole data, planted a virus.”

  “I didn’t break into her site,” he said defensively. “I broke into yours, and did some badly needed sprucing up. As for Gwen’s accusations, I hope you know me better than to think I’d steal or destroy anything.”

  “Of course I do. But she doesn’t.” Kate placed a hand over her eyes as if to forestall a headache. “I can’t believe you did this to me. Do you realize I could get fired over something like this?”

  “That’s nonsense. It’s your Web site.”

  “No it’s not.” She dropped her hand. “I only write the articles. Gwen pays for the site. But even if it were my site, I resent your arrogant assumption that I would want you to go in and spruce it up, whether it needed it or not. God!” She strode away from him. “You’re no better than Edward, thinking I’m too stupid or inept to take care of my own business.”

  “Wait a second.” He followed after her but stopped when she whirled on him.

  “Well, I have news for
you, Michael Cameron, I’m doing just fine on my own, and I don’t need any interference from you!”

  “All right.” He held up his hands in surrender, even as his fingers itched to touch her. “Do you think we could sit down and discuss this rationally?”

  “I don’t feel like being rational. I feel like throwing something!”

  “I have some old dishes in the kitchen,” he offered. “Since they’re mismatched, you’ll probably want to throw them out anyway. So, what do you say? Wanna throw my plates in the fireplace? I’ll even help, if you like.”

  She stared at him a moment, then shook her head as if amazed. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me so mad one minute, then make me want to laugh the next?”

  “Family trait. Comes with the name. Now why don’t you sit down while I get you a towel?”

  He left her long enough to duck into the master bathroom. As he rummaged through the cabinet for a clean towel, he muttered to himself. “Great Cameron, just great. Do you think you could possibly do anything else to screw up your chances here?”

  When he returned to the living room, he found her seated in the armchair rather than on the sofa, which denied him the chance to sit beside her. Not to be daunted, he knelt before her. “Here,” he said, dabbing her cheek with the towel. “You’re all wet.”

  “Mike,” she complained, stilling his hand with her own. “Would you stop? I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can.” He relinquished the towel, but remained where he was, just to be near her.

  “It’s important to me, you know. Taking care of myself.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I spent too many years letting my parents and then my husband do things for me. Do you realize, I’d never even balanced a checkbook until two years ago?”

  “There’s more important things in life than balancing a checkbook.”