Dear Cupid Read online

  “I know that, Dylan,” she sighed. “But all this dust is bad for your lungs. Do you really want another trip to the hospital?”

  Muttering under his breath, he stomped over to the stairs and sat with his back to her as he pulled the neck of his T-shirt over his mouth and nose. At times like these, he made her feel like the world’s meanest mother. What choice did she have, though?

  With a sigh, she gathered chunks of drywall and headed outside to dump them on the growing pile. By the second trip, a trickle of sweat had formed between her breasts. She picked at the front of her tank top in an effort to cool her skin, then returned to work.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mike sat staring at his computer screen. He’d never considered himself a man who cared about material things, but the thought of the mess upstairs made him so mad he couldn’t see straight. He tried to tell himself it was just a house; it could be fixed. Only, a house meant a lot more than just walls and a roof.

  The house he’d grown up in certainly wasn’t as nice as this place. And yet, when he thought of that clapboard structure in the hills of Santa Monica, he didn’t think of the cracked driveway or the peeling paint. He thought of all the years of living that filled the rooms, the sound of sitcoms playing on the old TV in the living room, and the smell of his mom’s chocolate-chip cookies baking in the stove she’d complained about for years. He remembered her tears the day his dad had surprised her with a brand-new Kenmore stove; and he could still hear the sound of his sisters’ voices coming from the one bathroom the four of them shared. He’d listened in fascination over the years as they talked about everything from boys to the mysteries of makeup.

  But most of all, he remembered the back deck that overlooked the ocean. How many nights had all of them sat on that deck with hamburgers sizzling on the grill as the fiery ball of the sun melted into the shimmering water? The day the real estate agent had shown him this house on Challenger Drive, the sun had been setting just like that over Lake Travis. He’d walked out onto the deck, looked across the water, and known this was the house where he wanted to raise a family of his own. He’d known it the same way he’d known that Kate was the woman he wanted to raise that family with. He’d just known.

  Only Kate had knocked a giant hole in the middle of their house.

  Before that thought could make him even madder, he tried again to concentrate on his work. He’d received approval on his sketches that morning, but wanted to get some more input from the special-effects supervisor before he started creating the skin that would cover the wire frame of the robot. Signing onto the studio’s site, he entered his password so he could transfer a file.

  Behind him, something crashed to the floor. He bolted out of his chair and whirled to find a boy standing by the built-in bookshelves. A spaceship model from the first Star Wars film he’d worked on lay at the kid’s feet

  “Holy shit!” He stared in disbelief at the broken pieces on the floor.

  “I didn’t do it!” the boy said frantically, his blue eyes wide with fear.

  “The hell you didn’t,” Mike snapped as he came forward to inspect the gift that George Lucas had presented to him at the end of their first project together. The boy stumbled backward.

  Mike drew up short, realizing he’d frightened the pint-sized intruder. Only, how had a kid gotten into his workroom in the first place? “Look, it’s okay. I’m not going to hit you or anything.” He bent down and retrieved the model. Relief went through him as he saw the break was clean. A little glue and some paint, and no one would ever know.

  “I didn’t touch it,” the boy insisted. “It was just sitting there, right on the edge, and it just fell all on its own. Honest!”

  Mike gave him a narrowed look. “All on its own, eh?”

  “I’m not lying!” Red flooded the boy’s cheeks. “It’s just a stupid toy, anyway.”

  “It’s not a toy,” Mike corrected as he wondered again who the kid was and how he’d gotten into his house. “What’s your name?”

  “Why do you want to know?” The kid gave him a wary look that seemed very familiar.

  Mike raised a brow. “Because you happen to be in my house, and I want to know what you’re doing here.”

  “I’m with my mom,” the boy said defiantly.

  Of course! Mike recognized the suspicious expression now. Kate had given him that same look several times. He remembered her saying her son was seven years old, although this boy looked a bit small for seven. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “School’s out for the day.” The boy smirked.

  Mike glanced at his watch. “So it is.”

  “Wow, is that yours?”

  “Hmm?” Mike followed the line of the kid’s eye to the large monitor glowing from amid the piles of notes and drawings on his desk. With all the movie models and memorabilia in the room, the kid zeros in on a computer monitor? “Yeah, it’s mine.”

  The boy stood silently eyeing the screen, looking as if he’d sell his soul to get at the slick, state-of-the-art computer, but would also cut out his tongue before he’d ask permission.

  “You want to see it?” Mike finally asked.

  “Maybe.” The kid shrugged, trying but failing to look indifferent.

  Mike studied him, recognizing a fascination with technology to match his own. “What’s your name?” he asked again, remembering it was something that started with a D.

  The boy hesitated, then glanced at the monitor again.

  “If you want to see the computer,” Mike said, “the least you can do is introduce yourself.”

  “I’m Dylan,” the boy said at last.

  “Glad to meet you, Dylan. I’m Mike.” He held out his hand and saw the surprise flash across the boy’s face. After a moment, Dylan gave him a good solid handshake.

  “Ugh! You’re stronger than you look.” Mike grunted, hoping for a smile. The kid remained straight-faced and Mike sighed. “Come on, I’ll show you the computer.” Standing, he led the way to the desk. “You know how to operate one of these things?”

  “Of course.” Dylan rolled his eyes. “I have one at home I use all the time.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” Mike hid a smile as he took a seat and moved his chair back enough for Dylan to stand between him and the keyboard.”

  “Well, actually, it’s my mom’s,” Dylan confessed. “But she lets me play on it whenever she’s not answering email.”

  “Email?” Mike’s interest piqued as he realized the boy could satisfy some of his curiosity about Kate. “I take it your mom has a lot of email friends.”

  “They’re not exactly friends.”

  “Oh?” Mike prompted.

  Dylan seemed to sense his eagerness and warmed a bit. “You wanna see?”

  “See what?” Mike asked.

  With the ease of someone far older, Dylan opened a new window.

  “There,” Dylan said when the page came up. “That’s my mom.”

  Confused, Mike glanced at the screen to find an elaborate blog page. In the header, a chubby, winged cherub, in the manner of Raphael, hung above flowing script that read “Dear Cupid.” The cherub’s heart-shaped face, with its stubborn chin and mischievous eyes, bore a striking resemblance to Kate.

  “Well, yeah,” Mike said. “That does look a bit like your mom.”

  “No,” Dylan said, pointing at the cherub again. “That is my mom. She’s Cupid.”

  “What?” Mike glanced from the screen to the boy then back again. Taking the mouse in hand, he navigated through the site, skimming an article by “Cupid” on creative ways to celebrate an anniversary. Older articles covered topics on how to ask someone out, how to get through a first date, how to spice up a marriage.

  The fact that Kate, who behaved at times as if men were the scourge of the universe, had written those articles struck him as the supreme irony. A chuckle started to build inside him just as footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “Dylan? Honey, where are you? Oh, there you are. Thank goodness.
I’ve been looking everywhere.” Kate came to an abrupt halt when she stepped into the room and found Dylan standing between Mike and the computer with Mike’s arms going to either side of her son to reach the keyboard. “Dylan, what are you doing down here?”

  “Hey, Mom, look at this cool computer,” Dylan said. “Isn’t it neat!”

  Her eyes went to the large screen and widened in utter mortification. “Dylan! What have you done!”

  Her son gaped at her as she swept across the room, nearly falling into Mike’s lap as she hit the close window command.

  “It’s okay, Kate,” Mike said, steadying her with his hands on her hips. “Dylan was just showing me your Web page.”

  Kate jumped back and whirled to face him. Just as she feared, she saw laughter in his eyes. “Don’t you dare say a word. I’ll put up with other people making fun of what I do, but so help me, if you say one word against it, I’ll—I’ll—” Unable to think of anything horrible enough, she pulled Dylan against her and cradled his head against her stomach. Her son buried his face, as if on the verge of tears.

  “Hey.” Mike held up his hands. “I wasn’t laughing at you. You have to admit, though, it is funny.”

  “What?” she demanded.

  “That you’re Cupid.” His laughter spilled forth. “The woman who doesn’t trust any man farther than she can throw him.” He clamped an arm about his waist. “It’s just too rich.”

  “I will not put up with this. Dylan, come on, we’re leaving.” Taking her son by the hand, she headed for the door.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy.” Dylan’s voice caught. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  Her heart twisted at the sight of his tears. “I’m not mad, sweetie. Well, not at you.” She dropped to one knee to dry his cheek. “You didn’t know any better. In the future, though, I’d prefer that you not show people my Web site. That’s Mommy’s secret, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Because ...” She floundered for an explanation. “It just is. Now, promise you won’t tell anyone else.”

  “Okay.” Dylan sniffed.

  “I don’t know what you’re so embarrassed about, Kate,” Mike said. “It’s a great-looking Web site.”

  “No, I guess you wouldn’t understand.” She cast him a lethal glare over her son’s head. What would he know about a husband who publicly belittled her “little hobby” and privately berated her to never embarrass him again by mentioning it to his colleagues or clients? And all because her column involved romance. No doubt, if she wrote about any other subject, Edward would have proudly told everyone that his wife was an online columnist. Deciding not to get into any of that, she rose with Dylan’s hand firmly in hers and faced Mike. “I came down here to tell you that Jim has arrived. He’s taking care of the problem so there’s no need for me to stay.”

  “Wait a second,” Mike called as she turned to leave. “What time do I pick you up tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “For the party.”

  She started to tell him again that taking a date on a wife hunt was a ridiculous idea; but sighed in defeat. “What time does the party start?”

  “Seven o’clock,” he answered. “But I doubt anyone will get there until eight or nine.”

  “Then pick me up at eight.”

  “You got it.” He nodded. “Oh, and Kate,” he called as she turned toward the stairs.

  “What?” she growled.

  A grin spread slowly across his face. “Wear something sexy.”

  Rolling her eyes, she left the room with Dylan in tow. Men were so predictable. Or most of them were. Mike, however, went beyond her comprehension sometimes.

  Chapter 9

  “WEAR something sexy,” Kate snorted to Linda the following evening. “It would serve him right if I wore a burlap bag.” Dressed in a floral satin bathrobe, she rummaged through her closet looking for something to wear. Something simple and conservative. Something befitting a dating coach rather than a date.

  “I have to admit, your first account is certainly ... unusual.” Linda lounged back amid the mountain of peach and gold pillows on Kate’s four-poster bed. “Since I started Wife for Hire, I’ve interviewed maids, nannies, landscapers, and housepainters, but I’ve never had a client ask me to find him a wife.”

  “I should have told him no,” Kate said as she considered a black shift her ex-mother-in-law had talked her into buying. The outfit hung straight from her breasts to her hips, making her look forty pounds heavier. She held the dress before her and looked in the mirror. “This whole thing is completely absurd.”

  “So why did you take the account?” Linda tilted her head to study the dress, then made a face that expressed Kate’s sentiments exactly. Black made her look like she’d been dead for a week. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m thrilled to have you working with me. Besides, I think Mike Cameron hiring you makes sense in a spooky, cosmic sort of way.”

  “Actually, you’re right.” Kate hung the black dress back in the closet since her ego refused to wear anything that made her look that bad. “It’s enough to make you believe in fate, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” Linda asked.

  Kate continued digging through the closet. “Only that here I was, doubting my ability to be Dear Cupid, even before Gwen threatened to cancel me, which is all connected. Once you doubt yourself, pretty soon everyone will follow suit. The job with Mike is my chance to turn everything around.”

  “Turn what around?”

  “My attitude.” Her gaze landed on a skimpy gold dress way in the back of the closet. The dress was one of her favorites, yet she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn it. The cleverly darted design accentuated her hourglass figure, and gave the illusion of being tight, when in fact, it flowed comfortably over her curves. The spaghetti straps and princess-cut neckline left her arms and a tantalizing hint of breast bare.

  Holding the dress against her, she stepped before the mirror and wondered if it still fit. “If I can prove to myself that I still have what it takes to be Cupid, that confidence will come through in my articles and responses to e-mail, right?”

  “And how will you prove it?”

  She met her own gaze in the mirror. “By finding Mike Cameron a wife. The perfect wife.” And if she wanted to wear a skimpy gold dress and have a little fun while she was at it, then by golly she would!

  She headed for the dresser to find the right undergarments to wear with a spaghetti-strap dress. Thanks to her passion for lingerie and her discount through Gwendolyn’s Garden, she certainly had plenty to choose from.

  “Wow,” Linda said, watching her. “You didn’t mention you wanted to be that wife.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kate glanced up, startled. “I’m not interested in marrying Mike myself.”

  “Right,” Linda laughed. “Although it’s about time you started dating again.”

  “I’m not dating him,” she insisted as she took a seat at her Queen Anne vanity. A cheerful array of perfume bottles, jewelry, and makeup cases vied with family photos on its surface. Pointing her toes, she rolled the silk stockings onto her legs. “Trust me, Linda, there is absolutely nothing romantic going on between Mike and me. This is business.”

  “Too bad.” Linda made a face that came dangerously close to a pout. “For a moment, I actually thought one of us had something romantic going on.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate stepped into the closet to exchange the robe for a bustier. and French-cut girdle.

  “Nothing,” Linda mumbled.

  Kate stuck her head around the door and frowned at her friend. “I know that look. Something is obviously wrong, so spill, woman.”

  “It’s nothing,” Linda insisted. “Except this huge stomach of mine! God, I feel so fat, I don’t think I’ll ever be thin again.”

  “Jeez, Linda, don’t tell me you’re letting that hamper your love life.” Kate slipped the dress over her head. With a wiggle of her hips, the gold fabric sett
led about her, as light as a lover’s whisper. Yes! she mentally cheered. It fit.

  “I’m not letting it stop me,” Linda said. “But Jim is. Do you know we haven’t made love since the baby started kicking?”

  “What!” Kate stepped around the door, slipping high-heeled sandals onto her feet. “But surely the doctor told you it was okay, as long as y’all don’t get too rambunctious.”

  “She did. But Jim refuses to touch me. At first I thought he was just afraid of hurting the baby, but now I don’t know.” Her voice grew a bit desperate. “Kate, he spends all his time out in his workshop and he’s made it very clear he doesn’t want me to come out and visit with him anymore. It’s like he doesn’t want me around. What if he’s having second thoughts about starting a family? Having a baby could change everything between us. What if he’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?”

  “Oh, honey ...” Kate came to sit on the edge of the bed. Cupping her friend’s chin, she stared into the frantic blue eyes. “I know for a fact that Jim finds you incredibly attractive—”

  “I’m not attractive.” Linda pouted. “I’m fat.”

  “You are not fat!” Kate growled. “You’re pregnant with his child, and that makes you the most beautiful woman in the world to him.”

  “Then why won’t he make love to me?”

  “You said it yourself. He’s worried about hurting the baby. So, what you need to do is reassure him that sex can be very healthy for the baby. In fact, every time you have an orgasm, it makes your uterus contract and gives the baby a massage. If you think about it, it really is incumbent upon him—as a caring father—to give you as many orgasms as possible. For the good of the baby, of course.”

  Linda gave a short, surprised laugh. “You’re making that up.”

  “No, really, it’s true. And what’s more”—Kate wiggled her eyebrows—“the more your uterus expands to make room for the baby, the stronger your orgasms will be.”

  “Kate!” Linda moaned. “That’s not the kind of thing to tell a horny woman who’s gone without sex for two months.”