Utter Cupidity

by Toni L. Meilleur

  “He’s got your panties in a bunch doesn’t he?” Lindie giggled.

  “No, he doesn’t bother me at all.” Brea feigned nonchalance as she looked at Lindie’s amused dark eyes.

  “What you have there is not a cup of coffee, but a cup of diabetic shock.” Lindie tilted her head at Brea’s coffee. Lindie pushed it away from Brea in disgust.

  “Why does he want to go out with me anyway? Clearly you were more than willing to date him.”

  “He’s old school, Brea. He likes the chase.”

  “Well, I’m not playing. Let’s go. We might as well sightsee while we’re here.”

  “Oh good!” Lindie brandished a tourist map from her purse and slapped it on the table. She already had places on the map marked off in bright red. Brea caught a glimpse of some of them and winced. An old cider mill? Old Indian caverns? The actual bay that Ashe Bay was named for? Oh Lord, she was in tourist hell. The date with Jordan seemed a lot less torturous.

  Five: The best offense is a good defense

  “She couldn’t be a shape-shifting barracuda. I don’t think the devil spawned her. But there might be some truth to your belief that the Council has it in for you by picking this particular woman.” For the last half hour Hermes had been trying to convince his best friend all was not lost.

  “You didn’t actually talk to her, Herm, if she were any more venomous she could have poisoned me from across the room—without biting me.”

  “You can’t be poisoned, Cupid.” Hermes drawled, seeming already bored with the line of conversation.

  “You know what I mean. She agreed to the date because she had to. I really don’t think she is just going to give in and play nice, no matter how much she wants those paintings.”

  “Would you listen to yourself? No wonder the Council is picking on you. You’re whining. Since when did a woman get you this upset?”

  “Since my immortality depended on it.” Cupid snapped, still pacing the floor in the art shop furiously.

  “But you’ve been seducing women for centuries. You’ve helped less skillful mortals seduce others. This should be nothing for you.”

  “I know, I know. But something about this woman gets to me.”

  “Well, I have no advice for you other than go with your gut. Now if we’re finished here, I want a beer.”

  “No can do, I need to speak to Arachne. Brea is without question going to take some pre-planning to get around her defenses.”

  As Hermes vanished from the room, Cupid’s attention flashed on the plush rug Brea had tripped over. He couldn’t help himself to an eyeful of her backside as she had pulled herself up on all fours. He called Arachne to him. It was best he didn’t torture himself with all the positions he would like to see her in.

  Brea wished she could somehow mentally will the man to speak faster, but no, after every word or two it seemed mandatory that he take his baseball cap off and scratch his head before he could finish a sentence.

  “Now what year…” Cap off, scratch, scratch, cap on again. “…did it dry up? Let me think here…” Cap off, scratch, cap on again. Brea was going crazy. Even Lindie looked regretful that she had enlisted him as a spur of the moment tour guide.

  “Really, sir, it’s not that important. But what you’re saying is there is no actual bay?” Brea asked, trying to speed up the most boring tour she’d ever been on.

  “Nope. We just keep the name…” Cap off, scratch, scratch, cap on again. “…to draw visitors.”

  Yeah, right, they’re flocking to Ashe Bay like flies to garbage. Brea stared at the swamp-like land in front of her and seriously doubted there had ever been a bay anywhere, at anytime. The man stood there with a grisly gray beard, one eye heavy with cataract, the other trained on her, looking with an interest that made Brea sick. He had to be kidding.

  “So, what are you girls up to tonight?” He took his cap off. This time he held it between his hands as he looked at Brea and smiled. Yep, she’d won the bet. He had four teeth; Lindie said at least seven.

  “I have a date.” Brea couldn’t say it fast enough. He turned to look at Lindie with hope in his ancient face.

  “I have to help her get ready. She’s awful on her own. Well, thanks.” Lindie pushed a couple of bills in his hand and the girls scurried off as fast as they could.

  “I can’t thank you enough for that tourist experience, Lindie.” Brea burst into laughter as soon as she got inside the car. Within moments they were heading back toward the cottage.

  “Well, okay, it wasn’t Disneyland, but didn’t you learn something?” Lindie implored. “I’m not yet ready to admit that the whole tourist thing had been a waste of time and a bad idea.”

  “Yes. I learned don’t ask the locals to act as tour guides. Especially ones who are sitting outside the bar whittling wood.”

  “He looked authentic. Like he knew stuff.” Lindie snickered a little.

  “Like how far he could spit a wad of tobacco?” Both girls shivered in disgust at the memory of seeing the brown juice being continuously spat out.

  “Well, Jordan should take away any unpleasant memories.” Lindie eased into the topic.

  “Don’t remind me.” Brea groaned. Like Lindie had to. It was the one thought that kept running through her mind the last few hours. Well, that and getting away from her tour guide.

  “Really, Brea, you should try to enjoy yourself for once. Every guy isn’t Terry.”

  “You’re right, every guy is some form of Terry.”

  “Look, you don’t have to marry the guy, just go out on a date. Have fun, no strings attached.”

  “Ah but there are strings attached.”

  “He just used the paintings to get you to say yes. I thought it ingenious. For God sakes, Brea, have a fling! You can’t spend the rest of your life celibate.”

  “Says who?” Brea looked out the window at the passing scenery. Lindie took a deep breath and fell silent, leaving Brea to her thoughts.

  Brea didn’t like being backed into a corner. She didn’t like to be told what to do, and she certainly did not like being attracted to that control freak, Jordan Areson. She had to give it to him; he’d won this round, making her go out with him. But round two? That was hers.

  “Hey, Lindie, before you take us back to the cottage, stop by the mercantile store. I want to pick up something for my date tonight.”

  Lindie beamed at her, switched the CD player on and began singing along with Rob Thomas. Brea knew what she was thinking—that she had come around to resigning herself to enjoy her date, and she was right. She had every intention of enjoying herself.

  “Brea, come on. I want to see how you look before Jordan gets here,” Lindie whined for the fourth time. She’d been instructed to stay in the car when Brea got out to make a purchase at the store. Brea didn’t even show her what it was once they got back to the cottage. They watched a DVD Lindie had brought along just in case they had time on their their hands, and she couldn’t help eyeing the bag throughout the whole movie. It was eating her up inside to know what was in the plain brown paper sack. Brea had kept it close to her at all times, refusing to show Lindie what it was. After the movie, Brea had dragged her luggage to the bathroom and refused to come out until she said her look was complete. Whatever that meant. Lindie hoped Brea was letting her guard down and would go out and have some fun. The doorbell chimed at exactly nine o’clock. Lindie ran to the bathroom door “He’s here!” she screeched, trying to keep her voice low.

  “Well, go let him in,” came Brea’s muffled response.

  Lindie hightailed it to the door and threw it open. His beauty knocked the air right out of her lungs again. He was dressed casually in a dark blue dress shirt with a button or two undone and black slacks. His hair was tied neatly in a ponytail; his blue eyes twinkled as they looked at her, admiring her beauty as well.

  “Well, hello again, Lindie.” His sexy voice wrapped itself around her, making her knees want to just give out. “Is Brea here and ready to go?”


  “Yeah, she’s just putting on the finishing touches. She’s been getting ready for you for the last hour. Wouldn’t even let me help her,” Lindie spilled out. Words just tumbled when she was nervous.

  “Did she specify I wait out here?” he asked in amusement.

  “Oh, gosh no. I’m sorry, please come in.” Lindie stepped back so he could come in, berating herself for not asking him in. No sooner had he come in, then the bathroom door clicked open and Brea stepped out. Lindie and Cupid both stared in disbelief.

  Brea smiled at them as she approached. She sported two very neat, ponytails on either side of her head. Her face was scrubbed clean of any and all makeup, though that didn’t detract from her beauty one bit. But the extra-large Mickey Mouse fleece top and bottoms swallowed her statuesque figure. It was the outfit that Brea wore around the house to be comfortable, and she was now wearing it on her date. Lindie’s eyes bugged out as she looked at Brea’s feet. She now knew what was in the brown paper bag and why Brea wouldn’t let her see it. Because Lindie would have burned the super-fluffy, pink rabbit boot slippers (complete with floppy ears) that Brea wore. Upon closer inspection, the slippers had those googley eyes that moved around when you walked, and right now, they were cross-eyed.

  “I’m ready to go,” Brea announced. Lindie yanked her by the arm, begging Jordan to excuse them for a moment.

  “What are you doing?” Lindie whispered, anger in her voice.

  “Going on a date,” Brea responded in innocence.

  “You look like you’re going to a slumber party filled with teenage girls,” Lindie shot back. “In case you haven’t noticed, that is one hundred percent prime male over there. Oh, wait!” Lindie gasped as realization set in. “You want him to not want you. Brea, you’re sick.”

  “No, I’m comfortable. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She brushed past a blustering Lindie and grabbed her newly purchased, and equally tacky, Ashe Bay tote bag that she was using as a purse for the evening. “Are you ready to go, Jordan?” She held her arm out so he could hook it. Without a beat he took her by the arm and bade Lindie a good night.

  He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh as he hadn’t laughed in a very long time. She was incorrigible, if tonight was anything to go by. She would be many things, but boring would not be one of them. Even with her outrageous attire he found her breathtaking. She’d said nothing at all since getting into the car. If she thought for a moment she could deter him, she was sadly mistaken. Too much was riding on him seducing her. There wasn’t a woman alive that he couldn’t seduce and walk away from, Brea would be no different once he accomplished his task.

  “Aren’t you curious as to where we’re going?” he asked, maneuvering the cherry red Corvette. He drove way past the speed limit, which was about five miles per hour in this neck of the woods.

  “Not really,” she said icily.

  “So you’re saying you’re up for anything tonight?”

  Brea caught the dark meaning but refused to react to his words, instead she opted for bored.

  “Within reason.” She picked at her nails, trying desperately to ignore him, but it was hard. He looked edible. She wanted to rip the tie out of his hair and run her fingers through the baby-soft locks. No, she wasn’t bored at all; she was a bundle of nervous energy.

  “I’m taking you someplace special.”

  “That’s nice.” She flicked at imaginary lint on her sweat pants.

  Cupid allowed her to wallow in silence; he had just the thing for her. He cut on his CD player and within moments Sarah McLachlan’s haunting voice oozed out of the speakers. She turned her head to look at him in shock.

  “You don’t like the music? I can play something else if you like.” He kept the smugness out of his voice, trying to appear accommodating and sincere.

  “No, I love her, she’s my favorite.” Brea grudgingly admitted. “I never pegged you for a fan.”

  “She has a beautiful voice. I appreciate beauty in all its forms,” Cupid responded and realized he was telling the truth. The woman did have a beautiful voice. Brea had good taste in music. Arachne definitely had her uses.

  “Is that what got you into selling art?” Brea asked.

  Oh boy. Cupid had to think. One of the rules was not lying. She was looking at him intently; she could smell a lie a mile away.

  “Art was a way for me to acquire a certain beauty that I wouldn’t have had any other means of securing.” She seemed to think about it for a moment then let it go. Cupid let out a breath he’d been holding. Minutes later they turned onto a dark road, so pitch black the headlights could barely cut through it.

  “Where are we?” She sat up in her seat, squinting to no avail. She wondered for a second if she’d allowed herself to be kidnapped by a serial killer. But the sound of music drifted to her ears the deeper they drove into the darkness. Then, out of nowhere, a huge structure loomed. White, string lights decorated the outside. Expensive cars were parked to the left of the building. It took Brea a second to realize that the building was in fact a house—a large house that had been converted to a business. A club.

  “One of the most exclusive places in the world believe it or not. By invitation only. High rollers, politicians that sort of thing,” Jordan informed her with a sly smile.

  Brea looked aghast as they pulled to a stop in front of the valet. Jordan got out first and came around to open the door for her. Brea sat there as women beautifully dressed walked by. She looked down at her own attire, and realized she had made a grave mistake, and the look on Jordan’s face told her he was well aware that he had won round two as well…

  Six: The road to hell

  Brea hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. She stared at his bronzed, muscular arm reaching out, waiting for her to grasp it. Briefly she wondered at the golden tattoo of a bow and arrow on his inner right wrist before she made up her mind. She was not going to become a shrinking violet just because she wasn’t dressed in a Donna Karan dress, or Jimmy Choo shoes. It didn’t matter that her face wasn’t exquisitely made up with fine cosmetics from Sephora. Wasn’t bothering her one bit that she had not one trinket of Tiffany’s gracing any part of her body. At least that’s what she told herself as she exited the Corvette and sniffed to herself, trying to get courage when she was running on empty.

  Instantly, he pulled her close to his body when she stood. A rather possessive gesture, but her irritation vanished when he leaned in and whispered close in her ear, “You have no need to be self-conscious. Your natural beauty far outshines any dress or trinket these women wear.” The flip-flop her heart did could not be ignored. His warm breath against her ear caused a shiver down her spine she’d never experienced. It took everything in her not to collapse against him and beg him to whisper more into her ear.

  “Thank you,” she replied rather demurely.

  The path from the makeshift parking area to the house was lined with lights. As they came closer to the house she could see a lake behind it. A soft breeze blew fresh and sweet. She inhaled deeply. She had always loved the smell of the lake. When they entered the house, a man in a tuxedo stood waiting by a coatroom to take whatever wraps they had. Jordan nodded and tipped him, though they had no use of his service. He flashed a huge grin and bid them welcome.

  “What’s the name of this place?” Brea asked, looking at the glossy wooden floors. The place was decorated with antique furnishings. Some people were draped over the furniture, others were in small groups, laughing and talking.

  “It has no name.” Jordan winked at her. Brea noticed he still had not released her arm as they walked. “It is a club for the powerful and affluent.”

  “That exclusive huh?” Brea smiled. Sometimes people had too much money.

  “Exactly. You must understand even the rich like to party and not have it on the front of a news rag. Those who are important enough or have the means to frequent this place know where to find it.”

  “So selling paintings is that profitable for you?�
�� Brea asked, wondering just how much money this man had. Did that make him think he could acquire anything he wanted—like her? Again, he seemed to hesitate before he answered.

  “No, it is only a means to an end. Would you like to dance?” He stopped then, looking her fully in the face, waiting to see her reaction.

  Now Brea found herself hesitating again as she looked at the huge dance floor they came upon. It was a beautiful dark cherry floor that reflected the soft lights from the chandelier above. People were watching dancers while seated at the candlelit tables surrounding it. Some even enjoyed scrumptious elegant meals, while drinking from crystal wine flutes. She glanced down at her bunny slippers, which while in the store looked funny as hell because they seemed to stay perpetually cross-eyed, now looked childish and stupid. Talk about a plan going awry.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” she murmured, feeling her insides turn to mush at the thought of all eyes being on her and her bunny slippers, and oh lest she forget, the Mickey Mouse get-up. Her outfit clashed with the Old World elegance of the club. Tuxedoed waiters brushed by seeing to the every whim of the patrons. She had on an ensemble that would go over well at Chuck E. Cheese.

  He led her onto the dance floor and Brea could have sworn she heard a hush go through the crowd. Of course it could have been her overactive imagination coupled with her low self-esteem made for quite the combination tonight. When he circled her waist with his arm and firmly held her hand with the other, Brea gasped. She couldn’t get used to the reaction her body had to him.

  “Breathe,” he said into her ear. She’d never been so nervous in her life. “You’re a beautiful woman, Brea, surely physical accessories are not throwing you for a loop?”

  “No. Uh, well, maybe a little,” she admitted, letting out a deep breath. She was being silly. “It’s not like I know any of these people, right?” She forced a laugh.