Bad Boys Over Easy

by Jen Nicholas; Jordan Summers Erin McCarthy

  As “Papa Don’t Preach” blared out of her speakers, she took another long swallow of wine and peeled her clothes off on the way back to her bath. She did a little jig along with the beat, filled her glass to the rim, and gratefully sank into the hot water.

  A half an hour later she woke up to water that had cooled considerably and her glass floating on top of the now milky water. Her hands and feet were wrinkled, but she was definitely more relaxed. Her music had stopped, sometime after she’d last been singing along to “Like a Virgin.”

  Val took the time now to rub herself with tropical fruit moisturizer, then wrapped herself up in her favorite purple robe.

  The knock on her door as she was heating up a frozen dinner was unexpected, and annoying. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, not now, maybe not for a few days. But it could be Tasha, and if it was, Val knew that she’d have a willing ally in her upcoming rant against men and life in general.

  The microwave dinged as she took one more drink of wine, carrying the glass with her as she went to the door. The bell had rung again while she had been debating whether to answer it or not.

  Thank God I answered it was her first thought as the door swung open and her eyes adjusted to the brightness of her hallway.

  He was perfection, utter perfection in male form. Near-shoulder-length hair, a shade of blond that she’d never seen before and had no name for. And eyes the color of melted chocolate, like perfect ovals of the Godiva she stashed away in her emergency chocolate drawer.

  It took her a minute to realize that she’d seen him somewhere before, that somehow she knew him. And it hit her that this was the man she’d dreamed of last night, before the start of her really shitty day; she didn’t even realize that she’d loosened her hold on the wineglass until she felt the liquid splash against her bare feet.

  Val looked down to see wine making a hideous-looking stain on her gray carpet and growled low in her throat, forgetting for a moment the man still standing in her doorway.

  But then he stepped over the threshold, picked up the fallen glass, and stared directly into her soul. At least that’s what it felt like, and when she looked into those brown eyes, when she felt him brush lightly against her arm and the resulting zap that zinged its way through her body, she knew that there was no way on earth she’d ever forget him again.

  Four

  January 14, 2004

  Val’s Apartment

  Gideon wasn’t sure what he was going to say until the words just popped out of his mouth.

  “You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”

  His heart had done a somersault inside his chest when she’d opened the door. The blood had rushed to his head, making him a little dizzy. It had also pooled in a part of his body that he’d long ago thought was tamed.

  Obviously not.

  Val had backed up a step, one hand automatically taking the wineglass from him and the other going to her throat as she bunched the lapels of her robe in one fist. She was staring at him now as if he was either a threat to her security or a figment of her imagination.

  Maybe he was both.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was wondering if we could talk.”

  Gideon watched as color simultaneously gathered in her cheeks and drained away from the rest of her face. She backed up another step, loosening her hold on her robe to thrust her hands out before her. To ward him off.

  “I don’t know you. Yes, I do. No, no. No, I don’t,” she mumbled, making pushing motions at him with her hands. “Go away. Why would I want to talk to you? I don’t know you.”

  He was sorry for her confusion, but it didn’t calm the racing of his heart or the throbbing in his loins.

  “I’m sorry. Really. But it’s very important that I talk to you.”

  Val was shaking her head now, taking small steps backward and wildly glancing around at anything but him. “But I don’t know you. I mean, you’re not here. I’m dreaming.” She finally stopped backing away and looked up into his face. “That’s it. I fell asleep in the bathtub, and this is all just another dream.”

  Gideon smiled. Denial. He could handle denial.

  “You’re not dreaming, luv. My name is Gideon, and it’s very important that we talk.”

  She just stood there shaking her head at him. “This is insane. Totally insane. A man I don’t know is standing inside my door, telling me we need to talk.”

  She was talking to herself. It was starting to worry him. Next would come panic, and he didn’t know if he could handle panic.

  “Look, luv, I’m just going to back out into the hallway. See?” Gideon took a few steps back until the threshold stood between them. “How about I go downstairs to the lobby and you can come down and we’ll talk?”

  It seemed that denial and panic moved quickly into anger. Val rushed the door, and with one swing he watched as it edged toward his face. The slam reverberated through the hallway.

  He sighed. Women. He didn’t have much experience in handling women, and this one was proving to be more trying than most.

  Gideon rang the doorbell. He could feel the weight of her stare through the peephole.

  “Go away.”

  Her voice was muffled but firm through the solid wood of the door.

  “I can’t.”

  She was still there, on the other side, and Gideon swore he could almost hear her moaning in frustration.

  He was going to have to do something, say something, that he would have preferred to wait and say until she was calmer. Until she was more ready to hear it. No time for waiting now, though, or he’d never get her out of her apartment.

  “Val, it’s about the Cupid thing.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was loud enough for him to hear through four inches of solid door.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Although her voice was low-pitched, he heard the sharp thread of uncertainty that laced it.

  “I’m going downstairs now, Val. I’ll wait for you there.”

  Gideon had no choice. She’d either come down or she wouldn’t. If she did, then he’d explain to her as quickly and as calmly as he could what was going on. And if she didn’t…well, if she didn’t, he’d just have to come back up here and hound her until she opened the door again.

  She was either hallucinating, suffering a nervous breakdown, or about to depart on a ride that wasn’t based on factual scientific knowledge. Regardless of which one it turned out to be, the words “Cupid thing” kept clamoring around in her head like a ship on a very angry sea.

  Val was sitting on the floor in the puddle of wine right inside her front door. The man…Gideon, she reminded herself…had left. Presumably he was waiting in the lobby for her. But she could still see the sexy tumble of his golden hair, the sensual tint of his brown eyes, like a photograph frozen behind her eyes.

  It was happening. Everything she’d asked for, hoped for, was happening, and she was in no way ready for it. Val hadn’t expected a real live person to show up at her door talking about Cupid and arrows and love. She hadn’t expected…well, anything. She didn’t know what she had anticipated when she’d written that letter asking for help, but she knew without a doubt that this wasn’t it.

  It was time to act. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, just sit here with wine seeping into her best robe and pout about not being ready. Valentine Lewis was a woman of action, and if ever a time called for action, this would be it.

  Val jumped up and rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a dishrag to clean up the wine from her living room floor. Task accomplished, she needed to change. What should she wear? What did you wear when you talked to someone wanting to discuss Cupid? She finally settled on jeans and a sapphire blue turtleneck sweater that brought out the color of her eyes.

  There was no need to be anything less than impressive.

  She slipped on a pair of black flats, grabbed her purse, and headed out to meet her destiny.

  Val paused for a mome
nt as she reached the lobby and just looked at him. Gideon. She had to keep reminding herself that although she as yet had no idea what he would tell her, the man had a name.

  It seemed to fit him. Gideon reminded her of angels, and the man sure as heck looked like one. That hair, those eyes, the smile. He looked good. Very good. Good in a hormonal surge, sexy sort of way. A part of her was depressed at the thought that if he was here about her letter, then he wasn’t the man she was intended to fall in love with. The thought made her a little sad.

  He was sitting on one of the couches near the palm trees. The owners of the complex had tried, and failed miserably, to make the lobby take on the appearance of a charming, exciting tropical oasis. Fake palm trees, apricot-colored couches and chairs, and monkeys hanging from strings, however, did not a tropical paradise make. A large indrawn breath to still her raging heart, a quick prayer to whoever was listening for courage, and Val approached him. His smile was quick and genuine, and it lit up his entire face. The man had a mouth to die for.

  She sat down quickly in a chair across from him, afraid that if she kept standing much longer her legs would turn completely to jelly and she’d just collapse into a quivering pile of need in front of him.

  “Well.” She didn’t know what else to say. The man had, after all, come to her, so he should be the one to get this show on the road.

  “Yes. Well. Now that you’re here, I hardly know where to start.”

  He was very calm about it, but she noticed that his hands were shaking just a bit. Beautiful hands, she noticed, and pushed the thought away. She’d had enough thoughts about hands and skillful fingers for one day.

  “Just spit it out, sir…umm, Gideon. Just say what you need to say, and we’ll take it from there. Obviously, I want to hear it, or I’d still be upstairs.”

  “True enough. It’s just that, well, what I have to talk to you about isn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever had to say.”

  He was squirming now, and it made her unbelievably nervous. Val fought hard to avoid doing the same in her own seat, and concentrated instead on the man across from her.

  “For God’s sake, just tell me already. The waiting has got to be worse than whatever you have to say.”

  Val swore that he murmured “I doubt it” under his breath, and it really, really didn’t make her feel better about the whole thing.

  “Yes, okay, I’ll just spit it out, as you put it. As I mentioned earlier, my name is Gideon, and I need to talk to you about the request you made to Cupid. See, the fact is, I am a Cupid.”

  A Cupid? A Cupid? Didn’t that imply that there were more than one?

  Val sat forward on her chair and leaned her head in her hands. This was getting crazier by the minute.

  “All right, a Cupid. I’m inferring that you mean there are more than one of you.”

  “Oh yes, quite a few more. Thousands, in fact.” He stopped abruptly, and she guessed that it was in deference to the squeak that had escaped from her throat.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to shock you, really, it’s just that I think it’s better if I get everything out into the open now, so we can decide what path we want to take once you know why I’m here.”

  “Well then tell me why are you here.”

  She heard him sigh, and he scooted forward on the couch until their knees were almost touching. Val smelled something light and tangy, his aftershave no doubt. His eyes were intense and focused as he settled his gaze on her own.

  “The truth is, we received your request for a love. It was a very important request to us, and I was honored to be assigned to carry it out. But then there were, how to put this, complications.”

  “What type of complications?”

  Val watched as heat gathered steam in his neck and worked its way up into his face. She had a distinct feeling that whatever came next wasn’t going to be something she wanted to hear. At all. Ever.

  Gideon cleared his throat, and she involuntarily held her breath. “The thing is, I had someone lined up for you. I was there, in his presence, and was all set to go. I won’t bother you with the details of how we do it right now, but let’s just say that all of the movies and books aren’t completely wrong when they depict us with a bow and arrow.

  “Anyway, I attempted to make the match, and then something happened, and, well, everything went to hell in a handbasket.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and even the sorrowful look in those perfect brown eyes couldn’t keep down her temper.

  “Exactly what sort of complication are we talking about, Gideon?”

  “Umm, well, the thing is, I…oh, to hell with it.” He took a deep breath and grasped her hands in his own. “I shot myself with my own arrow.”

  Val felt her jaw drop, and heard what she swore was a great gust of wind sweep through the lobby of her building. There was a buzzing in her ears, and she thought for just a moment that, for the first time in her life, she was going to pass out.

  “You shot yourself? With an arrow meant for the person who was supposed to be my soul mate?” Surely the voice coming out of her throat wasn’t her own. This one was thin and reedy and held more than a small dose of panic.

  Gideon cleared his throat and looked away from her. “Yes, that just about sums it up.”

  The blazing fire of her temper flared up with no conscious thought, and she focused it upon the only person available to her. She was on her feet before she knew it, and she knew that she had to look a whole lot like her mother, eyes burning, hands shaking as she held them on her hips.

  “You’re going to sit there and tell me that you were supposed to find me someone to spend my life with and instead you shot yourself? What are you, a total idiot? Did you lose your personal copy of Cupid for Dummies?”

  “Now wait just a minute,” he interrupted, and Val could see that she’d pissed him off.

  Good, she thought, he can be just as irritated and mad as I am.

  “No, buddy, you wait a minute! I wrote that letter to Cupid, or to all the Cupids, or to whomever so I could get some help. So that you guys could do a better job of finding me someone than I’ve so far done for myself. So here you are, raring to go, and what do you do but shoot yourself instead of the target.”

  Val was practically yelling now, and she had to work hard to lower her voice. Gideon was standing in front of her, his hands waving and his face burning. A part of her almost felt sorry for him, but then she reminded herself what a piss-poor job he’d done and she worked herself up all over again.

  “So you shot yourself, and now my chances of getting any help in finding love are shot into the next solar system. Good job, Gideon, thanks for your help. Thanks for nothing. At least on my own I could bother to get my aim straight.”

  “Wait, wait, would you please just take a deep breath and listen to me?”

  “Why? So you can tell me some more about how a Cupid shot himself on assignment? I think I’ve heard enough, thank you very much.”

  He made a pleading sound in his throat, but she was in no mood to listen to it. Or him.

  “Just go away. Go far, far away, before I do something totally unlike me and slap that pretty face of yours. I think I’d better take it from here, don’t you think?” She started to stomp off, but had one last dart to throw at him on her way out. “Maybe you should try some archery lessons.”

  Gideon stood still, watching her slam her way into the elevator.

  “Well, that didn’t go exactly as I’d planned.”

  Then again, most everything he’d planned regarding Valentine Lewis hadn’t stayed on course. He ran his hands through his already mussed hair and closed his eyes for a moment of peace.

  He hadn’t told her the rest of it. She hadn’t given him a chance. Somehow, sometime soon, he needed to tell her the bad news. As if the rest wasn’t bad enough.

  Valentine Lewis was now the love of his life, and he was hers. He wondered how long it would take her to figure it out.

 
Five

  January 17, 2004

  Trinity Bar & Grille

  She was furious. Three days later and she was still madder than she’d ever been in her life.

  The nerve. The total nerve of that man, that, that Cupid, to screw up something so important. She still couldn’t believe that he’d messed up so totally, so badly, and ruined the last chance she’d had.

  Val hadn’t even been able to tell Tasha. She’d always told her sister everything, shared the highs and lows of her life with her. Tasha was her best friend, her confidante, her co-defender in the fight against the injustices of the world.

  If ever there had been a major injustice, this had to be the mother of them all.

  But Val hadn’t been able to tell her. Whether it was because she felt stupid, because that damn Cupid was stupid, or just because she didn’t feel like crying on her sister’s shoulder, she’d kept this mess to herself.

  Just rethinking it had her temper threatening to boil over once again. The horrible thing of it was, as angry as she’d been and still was, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Gideon.

  When she went to sleep at night, he was there, taunting her in her dreams. When she was at work, supposedly focusing on her latest portfolio, his face would pop into the forefront of her brain. And when she was at home, alone as always, her mind would drift away to thoughts of the man with cocoa eyes and long, slender fingers.

  That infuriated her even more.

  She lifted the margarita, her second one of the evening, and downed what remained in one long swallow. Val had come to nurse her emotional wounds at Trinity’s, a bar and grille that she usually loved and found enjoyable. Tonight, the noise was like a nail driving deep into her skull, but she ignored it. This was her night—to forget about the last couple of days, to forget about work, to forget about the sorry state of affairs that her life was currently in.

  To just forget.

  Raising her hand to catch the attention of the waitress, she ordered another margarita. They went down smooth, and she wouldn’t notice any real effects until she stood up. Ergo…she just wouldn’t stand up until she had to.