Of Love and Deception

by Melisa Hamling

  As the officer approached, she mumbled, “Then again, maybe so.”

  The same hefty officer that warned her three times before waddled to her driver’s side mirror. He leaned into the window, chubby cheeks and all. “Good morning, Miss Kurtz. Why the rush? You seem a bit earlier than usual.”

  Hmm. No tablet of citations. No pen. No nothing, but his humpty self. She threw on a seductive smile. “Gosh, Winston... it is Winston, right?”

  He chuckled. His belly bounced as he continued. “Winston it is. Now, Miss Kurtz—”

  “Please. Call me Daniella.” She gave him a wink.

  Another snort. “If you say so... Daniella. Now you know I can’t keep issuing warnings, right?” He cocked his head to the left. “This is the last time. I won’t bother writing up a warning, but next time you’ll earn yourself a ticket.”

  “Why, Winston, you are too kind. I’ll work on my speed, slow down a bit, and hopefully avoid that ticket.” She patted his hand.

  “Be on your way.” Winston slipped his hand off the door and tapped the back end of the black mustang as he moved along.

  “PIG. Serve and protect? If I were a dogface, little sausage fingers, Winston, wouldn’t hesitate to write that ticket. Fat-ass.” She wanted to floor the gas pedal and peel out. Better not tempt fate.

  Daniella approached her office. A large vase of white and yellow roses sat on the counter. She hadn’t thought about it yesterday, but today, it dawned on her: Cruz had delivered the flowers before he’d even met her. Why, he even wrote the words ‘Just a small token of appreciation. I’m honored to have you as my personal designer.’ Hmm. I bet he’s a friend of Parker’s.

  How the heck would she get this man out of her head? His name jumped off the pages in his file. It’d be impossible. A dose of reality woke her to the simple fact she’d likely have to see his face for the next month or two. She brought up a diagram of the interior of his home on the computer. “Very nice.” But nicer once I’m done with it.

  Several hours passed as she worked in the fine details of designing Cruz Canton’s fabulous home. A few times, she looked up and admired the bouquet, a distraction she couldn’t afford. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of shadows closing in. Office gossip queens. It figured they’d use their coffee break to snoop.

  The women crowded the doorway and stepped back when a delivery man approached.

  “Delivery for Daniella. Daniella Kurtz?” His brows lifted as he examined the ladies hanging around her office. He nodded when he caught sight of Daniella.

  “Ah. I believe this is for you.” He marched forward and planted the plastic wrapped bouquet on the counter. “I’m supposed to inform you to read the card this time.”

  “I see. Thanks for informing me of my obligation and for the delivery.” Daniella stood and gave him a swift pat on the shoulder. “You have a nice day, Mr. Delivery Man.”

  In an all-too-eager manner, she tore the plastic off, and realized she wasn’t alone. “What? It’s just a token of appreciation, that’s all.”

  Her right shoulder raised and she grinned. She knew her comment wouldn’t satisfy them.

  “Appreciation? For what, might we ask?” Jill, the queen of the group asked.

  “Um. Good question. I don’t know why he’s sending me flowers. I don’t even know the guy.” Daniella snatched the card out of the bouquet before Jill could take a peek. All eyes watched with intense nosiness. “What? Stop looking at me that way. Don’t you all have work to do?”

  They looked at each other, turned to face Daniella, and burst out in laughter. They crowded into her office and shut the door.

  Oh boy!

  “Someone has an admirer. And a hotty pants he is.” A round of giggles passed through them as if they were a clique of high school girls.

  “Don’t you see it, Daniella? The guy has got it for you. He wants you, woman,” Johanna said.

  “Yeah, he wants to dip his cucumber into your salad,” Lori chimed in. Another round of laughter passed through them.

  “Lori, you’re too much.” Daniella mused.

  “He wants to slip his anaconda into—”

  “Stop!”

  “Plant a garden in your muff.”

  “Sick!”

  “Pop the porpoise?”

  “Shut—”

  “Wooly bully?”

  “You’re... warped, Lori.” Daniella dabbed the tears of laughter away from her eyes with a tissue.

  After the cheerleaders left, she opened the card. It read:

  I’ve already given you a token of appreciation. Can’t use that one again. Truth is, I can’t get you out of my mind. I know, I know, sounds crazy, but I promise you I’m not a loon. Just a man bewitched by a woman he hardly knows.

  Cruz.

  “Wow.” She wasn’t sure how to take this man. The idea of him thinking about her raised a network of goose bumps over her entire body.

  SNAP!

  “Ow! What the—why you dirty little weasel!” She rubbed her forehead where the rubber band made contact.

  Lori stood with both hands on her hips. “So. What’s going on with you? And I don’t want to hear another shit story about why you shouldn’t date this guy.”

  “Jeez Lori, what do you want me to say? I mean, it’s not like he’s actually asked me out on a date.”

  Lori tapped her nails on the counter. “But you know it’s coming. Are you going to agree to go out with him when he does ask you?”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that, and besides—”

  “Oh, bull crap! It’s been two years, D. Don’t you think it’s time to live again, or are you going to let what happened with Blake ruin the rest of your life? Because if that’s the case, then you’ve let him win by letting him control you.”

  Man, did she hate it when Lori was right. “You think I don’t know that? Well, I do, and yes, if Mr. Canton wants to take me out, then I’ll go out with him. Now get your nosey butt back to work.”

  ~~~

  The workweek passed quickly, and by golly, Lori never let up on her. She continued to harp at her about moving on… and Lori wouldn’t be Lori if she didn’t mention something about dirty deeds and tasty treats. Sick perv!

  By Friday, Daniella’s office looked like a floral shop. The little greeting cards Cruz sent with each arrangement suggested a night out, but she didn’t call him on any of his offers. A difficult task indeed.

  “Is this the newest designer look?” Parker, her boss, asked, propping himself against the metal doorframe.

  “Designed by the one and only Cruz Canton.” She shook her head and smirked.

  “Oh, really? Well isn’t he splendid!” Parker clapped once and clasped his hands together. “I would guess you’ve sold your looks—I mean your remarkable work to him?”

  A hint of jealousy rang in his tone.

  “If it were only that simple, Parker. My guess is that a man like Cruz doesn’t keep to one woman. A heartbreaker. A player. I could be wrong. What’s your opinion?” She flashed a flirty smile, only to get rid of him quicker.

  “A ladies man of sorts, but a player? I don’t know.” He scratched his head and examined the arrangements. “He’ll be a good client though. Did he sign the contract yet?”

  “No. I’m supposed to call him. There were a few things he wanted added on, so I had to change the contract and figure in the cost. I’m sure he’ll sign if he added more work, don’t you agree?”

  Parker nodded. He smiled as he strolled out and went about being his usual morning nose-poking self.

  By noontime, Daniella had wrapped up Cruz’s layout and contract. Ah, but she knew he most likely awaited her call. Nah. She’d wait until the last dying minute to call and confirm a business deal.

  Tic, tic, tic.

  Three o’clock.

  Tic, tic, tic, tic.

  Three forty-five.

  At three fifty-two, the secretary buzzed. “You have a call on line two.” Before Daniella could ask who was ca
lling, the secretary had already buzzed off. Man! What I wouldn’t give to clobber that old wench.

  “Hello, this is—”

  “Miss Kurtz?” The voice. His deep, sexy voice.

  Daniella’s stomach danced a nervous beat. “This is she.”

  “Cruz, here. Haven’t heard from you yet and it’s Friday. Your deadline, remember?” His words were a bit hasty.

  “Indeed, I do. Need I remind you that there are twenty-four hours in a day? Midnight is my deadline.”

  A muffled chuckle passed through the earpiece. She could tell he had his hand over the mouthpiece, maybe an attempt to hide his amusement. A brief second of silence passed before he said, “Do we have a deal?”

  “Possibly.”

  “A simple yes or no will do, but a yes is preferable. Let me simplify. My house, your designs and a contract in hand. Tomorrow, two p.m. sharp. You show up and it’s a done deal. You don’t show up... my heart will be an anchor to my ego.”

  Whoa!

  “You sure know what you want, don’t you, Mr. Canton?”

  No reply. Nada. Nothing.

  “Mr. Canton? Cruz?” The line was dead. “I’ll be damned. He’s got me up against a wall. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.” The do part was more becoming.

  3 - Mr. Sarcasm

  Short skirt or blue jeans? Hmm. What to wear. Daniella examined her wardrobe. “A short skirt might say ‘I’m interested’... or ‘do me here and now’. Nah. Jeans. Definitely jeans.” She slipped on her favorite pair of faded denims and pulled a white V-neck tee over her head. Smoothing it out, she tucked it into her pants. Add a glittery Gucci belt with matching accessories and her favorite fragrance, Daniella was almost ready to go. She twisted a few more curls to her semi-wavy hair, inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. Still nervous.

  One-thirty pm. She couldn’t be late. That would be bad business. It would take approximately fifteen minutes to get to his house if she drove the legal limit, a task nearly impossible.

  Daniella took a sharp right and entered ‘Quails,’ Cruz Canton’s neighborhood. Large brick houses rose like fortresses from verdant well-trimmed lawns.

  “Damn impressive lifestyle you have, Mr. Canton.” She gathered Cruz had money, like most of the clients requesting service at Designer’s Inc.

  Countless times she rehearsed what she would say when he answered the door. Good lord, it’s just a business deal. Nothing new, not a date. Daniella inhaled and exhaled repeatedly as she rolled into Cruz’s driveway.

  Before stepping out of the car, Daniella examined the brilliant reddish-brown maple and oak trees. The length of the front lawn was edged with colorful ornaments of tall decorative grasses, flowers, and plants that were neatly manicured. Not a single shrub was without a perfectly square or rounded pattern. “Hmm. Very nice. The landscape is tastefully done.”

  Daniella fumbled with her keys and tossed them into her purse. When she exited the car, her knees buckled. Dammit. What is wrong with me? Get it together. This man drove her nuts, turning her into a moronic fool, a bundle of nerves, and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was or why. GQ men never stirred her up or drove her to this level of anxiety.

  Knock on the door or ring the doorbell? She did a quick sweep through her wavy hair and knocked on the door.

  No answer.

  Three more knocks.

  No answer.

  She rang the doorbell.

  Nothing.

  Three minutes passed and still no response. Okay. Maybe one or two minutes passed, but it feels like ten. And I feel like a fool!

  Daniella knocked and rang the doorbell, and knocked and rang the doorbell again.

  Nobody answered.

  “Screw this.” She flipped around and headed back to her car. “He said two pm. Guess he’s a real bullshitter. He’s probably pissed because I didn’t acknowledge his hitting on me,” Daniella mumbled. “Jerk-off. As—”

  “What was that?” Cruz strolled around from the side of his house.

  Crap. Now what? Good going, dummy.

  She met his eyes; his beautiful blue eyes hinted he’d heard her exact words.

  “Sorry. I take it all back. I was quick to assume you ditched me, wasted my time on purpose.” Her cheeks burned ten degrees hotter. Dang. Please tell me he didn’t hear me mention him hitting on me.

  “Which part?”

  “What?” Oh hell no!

  Cruz’s brows arched. “Which part are you sorry for?”

  Daniella hesitated. “Um. Hmm.”

  “Ah. I see. You’re not really sorry. You think I’m a jerk-off and an ass. Or were you going to call me an asshole?” A grin played on his lips and a dimple formed on his left cheek, adding to his charming good looks.

  You’ve already blown it. Damage is done. What the heck. Just spit it out. “Probably both. Ass. Asshole. Pretty much the same thing.” She rubbed her temple and reached for the door handle.

  “Wait!”

  “For what?”

  “For what? Aren’t you Daniella Kurtz... interior designer with Designers, Inc.?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  She shot her best eye roll. “Uh… Duh.”

  “Okay, smart ass. I am officially here. Two o’clock sharp. You’re here for a reason. Would that be for the contract? Or is it because you like my attention—hits, attraction, desire, or however you’d like to put it? Maybe I am a bullshitter. Maybe not. You decide.” He advanced a few steps toward her and tilted his head, as if studying her.

  What could she say? Daniella wanted nothing more than to be a speck of dirt at that moment. Embarrassed? No, she sulked in humiliation. Breaking free from his stare, she rolled her eyes and gazed at the front of his house. “Mm,” she muttered.

  “Mm,” he mocked her.

  A splash of cold droplets splattered against the skin of her neck. “Whaa—why you... you—”

  “Asshole?” He chuckled and aimed the hose at her.

  Daniella placed her left hand on her hip and stomped her foot. “Don’t you dare do that again.”

  He lifted the hose and feigned to squirt her.

  “NO. No, no. You’re not that. You’re a great guy! I’m the asshole. Don’t—” Daniella raised her arms, portfolio, purse and all, to protect her head.

  He laughed and flipped the hose toward the street, shooting water at the landscape along the edges of the sidewalk.

  “Jumpy girl.” His laugh fading, Cruz twirled the hose around his forearm and shut off the spigot. He returned to find Daniella hadn’t budged.

  She clutched her portfolio and samples, seething, while waiting for him to return.

  Cruz waved his hand, motioning her to come on over. “Well? Are we going to get busy here?”

  He held the front door and waved her in.

  Daniellla fumbled with her bag of samples, folders and portfolio case.

  “I’ll take that.” Cruz’s hand slipped next to hers and grasped the handle of the case. She stared at his grinning face and after hesitating, released her grip and let him take it.

  “Which room would you like to start with first?” Daniella asked, trying to sound calm and collected.

  “How about the bedroom—I mean living room?”

  She met his gaze. Normally, she’d be turned off by such a comment, but not this time. Not with this superb male animal in prime condition. O-M-G. What am I doing? Where did all of my morality go? Just stop it. Stop now, mind of mine! Think pure thoughts, think pure thoughts, think pure thoughts! Sheesh.

  “The living room it is.” Cruz went into the kitchen and opened the portfolio, displaying it on an emptied counter space. “Are you coming... or looking for the bedroom?”

  “You’re quite the jokester, Mr. Canton.” Daniella managed to break away from her warped thoughts of Cruz and found her ‘moral’ self.

  “Please. Don’t call me Mr. Canton. It makes me feel like an old man.” He gave her a wink.

  “I see. And I suppose Cruz makes you feel like a young stud—a teen at
heart, or a playboy?” She pursed her lips tight and forced the laughter tainting the back of her throat to stay put, not daring to look at him.

  “Whaa? Ewe-hew-hew!” He stepped to her side, nudged her with his hip, and continued to do so until she turned to face him.

  Daniella peered up to observe his expression. He must have towered three to four-inches above her five-foot seven—five-eight with heels—height. “What? Did I say something wrong? Offensive?”

  One side of his mouth tilted as he backed her against the wall. With a hand planted on either side of her head, he leaned forward. “I’m no teen. I’ve been all of those things you mentioned, but there is nothing about me that screams ‘teen.’”

  The grin faded, and his gaze turned sultry.

  “No?” Her heart fluttered. He was too close, and she could feel his body heat radiating through her own tingling skin.

  “No.” Cruz’s lips curled and his brows arched. He closed in, lips almost touching hers. “When you’re woman enough to find out, let me know.”

  His tongue slid crosswise over her lips, and he stepped back before she could respond. Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... do it now!

  The second he turned away, Daniella ran her tongue over her lips. Dang, he’s yummy! She collected her thoughts. “Woman enough, huh. We’ll see about that... Cruz.” We’ll see about that. Mm.

  Working with Cruz Canton might be dangerous, but she was willing to take that risk. Heck, she was already aboard.

  He’s nothing like Blake. Blake who?

  Wanting to appear composed, she wiped all the negative thoughts—Blake—out of her head and focused on her job. And Cruz.

  She swept the portfolio open and spread the designs onto the kitchen table. For the next twenty minutes, she helped him visualize the designs and he appeared pleased. Walking to the wall, she asked Cruz to hold up some of the molding while she taped different color samples of wall paint next to it.

  Cruz obliged. Standing behind her, pressing his chest against her back, he held a piece of molding, centering it just below her shoulders.

  “How about here?” His breath hit the back of her ear and she shuddered.