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Copyright ©2006 by Champagne Books
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Stupid Cupid
Three brand new stories from three talented authors!
Featured authors include Rayka Mennen—Oops!—All Vince Anderson wanted was a decent assistant who knew the right end of a pen. Instead he gets Leena, bright eyed, smart and also his landlady and a witch. He falls head over heels in love. But can he trust his attraction to her isn’t manipulated by her powers?
Leena Mackay had enough to worry about with a mortgage payment she couldn’t make and a sister intent on casting crazy spells. Why did her boss have to rent an apartment in her house and turn out to be the only guy who could make her lick her lips?
Can she convince him that their love transcends the earthly and the supernatural?
Liz Hunter—Dang Crooked Arrow—Tara Avery pegged Harrison Howard as a playboy and ladies’ man the minute he walked into the florist’s shop. So attracted to the ‘hottie’ shop owner, Harry barely noticed Tara and the four children with her. Inexplicably, Tara and Harry take another look and suddenly saw each other with new eyes, and it was love at first sight.
Only thing is, Tara can’t abide Lothario’s lifestyle, changing his lady of the week at three month intervals to coincide with his sales route. And no way did Harry want to step foot into a relationship with a woman and four children.
Despite their reservations and with a little outside interference they can’t help but fall in love.
Phyllis Campbell—Crazy Cupid—Fashion designer Kenya Whitaker is leery about the strange and poorly dressed man she meets, and she’s even more skeptical when he explains he’s from the future. She refuses to help, but the offbeat, sexy man charms, and shows her what love is really all about.
Eli’s very existence is threatened and he needs Kenya’s assistance. The man she’s supposed to marry has locked Eli’s father in a mental institution. Joshua Montgomery must be released and put in his rightful spot as president of Montgomery Aisle. If Eli fails, he’ll not only lose Kenya, but life will cease to exist.
Champagne Books Presents
Stupid Cupid
A Valentine’s Anthology
By
Phyllis Campbell,
Liz Hunter &
Rayka Mennen
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Stupid Cupid
ISBN 1897261489
OOPS!
Copyright © 2006 by Usha Menon
DANG CROOKED ARROW
Copyright © 2006 by Donna K. Smith
CRAZY CUPID
Copyright © 2006 by Marie Higgins
February 2006
Cover Art © Chris Butts
Produced in Canada
Visit us online at www.champagnebooks.com
Champagne Books
#35069-4604 37 ST SW
Calgary, AB T3E 7C7
Canada
Stupid Cupid
Prologue
“Thas’ri Bunny, my arrows. My arrows make people fall in love. No, no I am serus, real serus, they do.”
A long, deep, resonating belch climbed up from the depths of the little cherub. Easter Bunny’s ears shot straight up and his body quaked with shivers of disgust.
“I think you’ve had enough Cupid.”
“I’m okay Bunny, I can fly.” A twitch in his left wing nearly toppled Cupid to the floor. “I’m not drunk! I prove it to ya, jus watch.”
“It’s okay, really.”
“Watch Bunny.”
With agility and perfection of form that belied the mass inebriation that obviously racked the little man, Cupid whipped an arrow into his bow and drew back. Without warning another gassy expulsion caused his aim to falter as he released the drawn string. The result was certainly unexpected.
The satisfied grin on Cupid’s face was wiped clean when Easter Bunny burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The errant shaft had split into two as it was meant to. Each one struck a target as had happened countless times throughout his illustrious career.
Slobbering, Cupid wiped his mouth with the back of one paw and drawled out his shocked, drunken surprise, “Tha can’t be good Bunny.”
“Oh my goodness Cupid, you have one seriously warped sense of humor.”
Sitting in a corner booth, wrapped so tightly in each others arms that they were almost one body, sat a six foot Nubian princess and a three foot midget Eskimo with no teeth.
“That does it Bunny, I’m goin’ home.”
Oops!
Rayka Mennen
Rayka Mennen chooses to write romance because she believes in the power of love to heal. She welcomes you to her world of romance, laughter, magic and even a little mayhem. Also a nurse scientist, she remains committed to her research in cancer prevention/early detection. She had no idea her writing career would take off as it has and she’s becoming an expert juggler of both careers—but she wouldn’t give up a moment of either.
Books by Rayka Mennen
Operation Playboy
Bound By Destiny
Dedication
To KM for your unfailing support of my writing career.
To PR & MK for your friendship; may your love story continue to inspire.
Prologue
Despite a blinding headache, Cupid peered out the window of the rent-controlled apartment where Easter Bunny lived. The sun shone in his eyes with a brightness that almost seemed gleeful. By Jove, of course! They probably knew about his screw-ups by now. And of course, ever since he’d stolen those herds from Apollo, his brother was on the lookout for a way to get even.
“Pshaw. Go away,” he mumbled.
“No way,” Apollo shot back. “I gotta see you fix this.”
Cupid groaned. He’d better get in touch with Dionysius to find out how to deal with this hangover. At least that’s what Easter Bunny had told him it was—this feeling that his head might explode.
He opened the window then flexed his wings before flying out into the early morning. There was only one thing to do—get this awful pain taken care of, then come back and fix the havoc he’d wreaked the night before.
One
Today of all days, someone had cast a klutz spell on her! And she had a pretty good idea who it was. This spell casting practice by her sister could land them all in big trouble.
Leena set the plates down on one end of the counter with great care, trying not to make a sound; or drop the whole damn lot. The account exec droned on behind her as he addressed each still shot on the screen, telling the gathered team why this was the best way to advertise the next miracle vacuum cleaner.
Why in the hell her boss wanted a full meal served in a room that was darkened for the presentation she had no idea. Phyllis had these strange starts at times. She grimaced at Val, the other office assistant, who rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk down
one end of the table, a tray of desserts in her hands.
Leena picked up the stainless steel coffeepot. Jeez, it was heavy! She glanced around the table. A couple of people had their coffee cups right-side-up, which meant they wanted coffee. Should she ask the others? But that might disturb the presenter. With another silent curse sent her boss’s way, she headed for the guy with the open cup at one end of the long table.
As she made her way up the table behind Val, people began turning their coffee cups over or shook their heads at her. Good, maybe she could get this over without a mishap. She came to the new guy, Vincent Anderson, who neither looked at her nor had his cup upright. Arrogant—.
She stifled the thought and let out a tiny sigh as the presenter concluded. Someone called out for the lights to be turned on; everyone began clapping. She leaned down to him and caught a whiff of his aftershave, giving an appreciative sniff. It reminded her of sun-splashed porticos on a Jamaican island resort. Not that she’d ever been to one. But that’s what the firm’s last ad campaign had been about.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“What? Sure.” He turned back to clapping and with another sigh, she turned his cup over and poured.
Leena later decided that it was the combination of the bright conference room lights coming on suddenly and the klutz spell at work. She blinked and the lid of the coffeepot swung open, cascading coffee down into the cup and onto his lap.
“Ouch!” She set the pot down as he scrambled back from the table. Grabbing his napkin, she dabbed at his legs.
“Oh, God I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” She pressed the napkin against his thigh hoping to soak up the coffee.
“Geez. Dammit.” He seemed to be trying to control himself. “I’m fine. Just a few drops. Really. Listen, you can stop that now.” He caught her around the wrist and she stilled when she realized she was patting his … well, his thing.
“Sorry” she mumbled, backing off as the heat rose up her neck and face, along with strange tingles that shot up her arm.
“It’s okay. Most of it went on the floor anyway.”
Stricken with embarrassment, she glanced up at him. His hazel eyes glinted with amusement and something else. “I—.”
He cut her off. “It’s fine. Maybe you could bring another napkin and cup for me?”
“Oh, sure.” She rushed back to the sideboard and unwrapped an extra set of cutlery wrapped in a cloth napkin. She turned, bumping her elbow into a hard body part. She realized it was his abdomen. Dang it! The man had followed her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, backing into the table behind her. She handed him the napkin and looked down at her feet.
“Thanks.”
She watched surreptitiously as he dabbed at the front of his khakis. He had a nice forehead and she loved the way an unruly lock fell over it.
What the hell was wrong with her? Mr. Unruly Lock could very well get her fired. In the three weeks he’d been there, he’d fired two assistants and had made the copy ad gal cry. And Leena needed this job like she needed to breathe.
Vincent handed the napkin back to Leena and stood there, his attention on the speaker. Jeanine—blond, beautiful and a man-eater. Good luck with that, she thought.
Glancing over she realized what he’d said was true. Most of the coffee had spilled on the dark carpet. The few splashes on the table were mopped up already. By him?
She secured the lid of the wayward coffeepot and gingerly poured coffee for the remaining two people, trying not to glance at Vincent or his thighs, so nicely outlined by those khakis. She should probably offer to pay for the cleaning, but she really couldn’t afford it.
Back by the food, Leena rested against the wall. She and Val would wait a few more minutes then leave and come back for clean up after the meeting.
The screen still showed a shot of a nice-looking man in jeans and a white T-shirt, lying back on a sofa. He held a smiling toddler up over his chest. This was the first run of an idea pitched to the vacuum cleaner guys and she could tell they liked it. The general story was of a man who had more time to play with his kid and cook dinner for his wife because of the fancy vacuum cleaner that made cleaning a cinch.
The whole scene vibrated with good-will—the American dream, happily every after and all that jazz. Ha!
She eyed the photo with skepticism when something occurred to her. The scene wasn’t quite right. What was it? She focused and it hit her. She tried to hide a grin as she muttered. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?” asked a quiet, deep voice almost in her ear. She started and turned, realizing too late that Mr. Hot Shot was still standing next to her. She blanched. Her sister, Carly, would hear about this latest spell gone wrong.
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“About what?” he insisted, his steadfast hazel eyes catching her gaze.
Why me?
Couldn’t he just go back to his place and leave her alone? Surely he had an employee to fire or some other horrible thing still left to do? When it looked like he wouldn’t drop it, she improvised.
“I was just considering how I might get the stain off your pants. And I thought about getting you a wet napkin. But I decided that would only make it worse.” She cast about for something more to say. “Salt. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll get you some salt to sprinkle on it.”
“You were watching that photo. Now tell me what about it won’t work.”
Vincent’s eyes roved her face. Such gorgeous eyes—green one minute and light brown the next. Leena shook off the thought. Focus. That’s what she needed to get through this day. His aftershave wafted over her again and she almost groaned. Better just tell him and get the hell away.
“That photo. He’s supposed to be married, right?”
He nodded, his eyes bright and curious. “Yeah?”
“Well, he’s not wearing a ring.”
“So—oh hell, you’re right.” He grinned at her. “Wow! Sharp eyes.”
She shrugged. At least he wasn’t yelling at her or something.
“Wanna tell them that?”
Was he nuts? “No thanks. I’ve got stuff to do.” She gathered a stack of plates and headed toward the cart set unobtrusively in the corner by the door.
“Then, mind if I say it?”
“Be my guest,” she shot over her shoulder, stepping carefully away.
Vince shook his head in amazement. All these talented people in the room—well some were on the light side of talent—and no one had caught it. He caught Jeanine’s gaze and responded to her flirty look with a strained smile. She’d caught his eye when he first got here. But not anymore. Too blatant. A few years ago, maybe. Not now. Now he appreciated subtlety and women who did not act like they would spread themselves over him at the slightest encouragement.
Like that assistant. Pretty woman. He’d been surprised he noticed her. She wasn’t his type with all that curly hair and rather sixties manner of dressing. Linens and earth tones. But her brown eyes sparkled and she seemed to bring the light into a room with her.
With an inward roll of his eyes at his poetic thoughts, he walked back to his seat. Maybe it was time not to be so picky. He hadn’t been on a date in almost a year.
Phyllis, the president of the advertising firm he’d just joined, clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you all. Looks like this one’s a wrap.” She gestured to the vacuum company guys who nodded and smiled. They must have indicated their approval while he chatted with the office help. He caught his boss’s eye and she nodded toward the door, holding up all five fingers. Okay, he’d see her in her office in five minutes.
His pants didn’t look all that bad, just a few dark spots. It was Friday after all and he had no other meetings. He could stay in these ‘til he went home.
Phyllis joined him in the outer room of her suite.
“Come into the office.” She waved him to a chair and shut the door. “So what did you think?”
“Of wh
at? The presentation? Good work.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We could jazz up our presentation style a bit. But otherwise, I thought the team did well.”
“I know what you mean. Can you help them with that?”
“Yeah. I was thinking we should do mock pitches a couple of days before they’re actually due. Just to some of us in the office. I’ll send a memo around. That is, unless…”
“No, its all yours.” She laughed. “That’s why I’m paying you the big bucks.”
He grinned. She wasn’t really. When Phyllis and her husband divorced, he kept all their major accounts and she split off and started her own ad firm. A year later, she was doing well but not great. He’d been looking for more of a challenge than managing the big corporate accounts he had at his last company. And so she negotiated with him—a share of the profits and free rein to whip her young team into shape. He took it and so far he’d enjoyed it. But it had only been three weeks.
“Just one thing,” Vincent added. “That last still, where the model’s on the sofa. He’s not wearing a wedding ring. But the whole scene revolves around his married life—wife, kid, hearth and home.”
“Good catch. This is exactly why I hired you. Well, the vacuum guys wouldn’t have caught it, but if it had gone into production, someone might’ve complained.”
He couldn’t take the credit. There was far too much of that in this business anyway. “I didn’t catch it, actually. It was that assistant.”
“What assistant? Yours? You don’t have one anymore.”
“I didn’t want an assistant who spent more time checking out her make-up and adjusting her neckline around me,” he said mildly. “No, the one who served the food. The curly-haired one.”
“Leena?”
He shrugged because he didn’t know her name. “Maybe. Kind of earth mother look.”
“That’s Leena. Really? She caught it?”
He nodded. “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got stuff to do.”
Back in his office, he sorted through his mail wishing he had an assistant. Vince returned a few calls and began work on a new ad campaign for one of his own major accounts. The cosmetic company was marketing a set of skin-care products for the older woman.
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