Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love

by Mary Hughes

  Heavens, he’s even more gorgeous in person. Her lips ached to touch those austere features, her tongue, to trace them…

  Stuttering to a complete stop on the sidewalk, Cin fought to get herself under control. She reminded herself he wasn’t that handsome, not really, not with his rounded chin, giving him a sweet, not sexy, look.

  But there was something about him, his straight nose or razor cheekbones or noble forehead, that made her breath come faster as she stared.

  Something that tugged on the strings of her heart.

  Something almost…familiar. Her yearning dissolved in confusion. His profile reminded her of someone she’d seen before, in real life or newsprint or glimpsed on television as she worked, or somewhere…

  His head tipped, as if he sensed something, and began to swivel toward her.

  A surge of adrenaline kicked her away from the window. She scooted for the door, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring and possibly drooling.

  Inside, he sat at a small table by the window, staring outside, exposing his injured cheek. Sympathy flooded her anew, seeing how extensive his scarring was.

  His eyes swung suddenly toward her—electrifying cobalt blue hitting her like a sucker punch. Her breath went out with a whoosh, and none came to replace it.

  Damn.

  “Cin!” Seemingly unaware of the effect he had on her, he stood, beaming his familiar car’s-grill grin at her. “Nice to finally meet in the flesh.”

  In the flesh. A bolt of desire shuddered through her. His voice was deeper than she’d expected from his chat head’s impish grin; a man’s voice, not a boy’s.

  She managed a croaked, “Hi,” as she unbuttoned her coat. “Thanks for agreeing to come…” Come. Another shiver of lust threaded her. Good grief, was that her brain talking, or had her dampening sex taken over her vocal cords?

  Rafe pulled out the empty chair, the one nearer the door. “I have to admit, I was surprised when you changed your mind about meeting.” He stepped aside and waited.

  It was really an inquiry, and, considering how selfish her reasons were, an opening for her to confess. But she wasn’t quite ready. Besides, she still hadn’t taken a full breath since catching sight of him.

  Thankfully, when she stayed silent, he simply grinned again, and nodded at the waiting chair.

  “Thanks.” She meant it for both the courtesy and the pass he was giving her on an explanation. With a deep, deliberate breath, she prepared to go hang her coat on the back of the chair.

  She sucked in expensive cologne and warm man. The chair was suddenly a mile away.

  Her legs wobbled as she crossed in front of him to reach her seat, becoming starkly aware of his sheer size. As a chat head, he had the same dimensions as anybody, and was mostly grin. As a real person, he was broad-shouldered and tall. Every cell in her body stood at attention, while her belly executed a classic-heroine swoon.

  She more fell into the chair than sat.

  Fortunately he was busy waving down the waitperson and didn’t see her splat-land.

  “I ordered a couple coffees. An Americano for you, right?” He shot her a smaller version of his grin.

  “Yes. Thanks.” Free caffeine was one of the perks of working at the sandwich shop. But she could rarely afford espresso drinks.

  He cared enough to know one of her favorite treats. She loved her image of him but couldn’t have named one thing he liked beyond dogs and cars. It made her uncomfortably aware of how selfish she was being.

  The steaming mug the server set before her, wafting the scent of stout espresso with just a hint of cocoa, hammered it home.

  You want to know why I changed my mind? Not to connect with you or because we’re friends, but because I need you to do me a favor.

  She had to come clean. “Look, about why I agreed to meet you—”

  “Hold that thought?” Still standing, he shifted his weight back on one leg, fingers to chin, a frown on his face, considering her. “I can see you’re tense. Let me do something about that.”

  Confusion, reprieve, and a breathlessness mixed inside her. “What?”

  “Nothing scary. Put your hands around the mug. Let the heat seep in.” His beautiful baritone radiated calm. “Close your eyes.”

  Trusting him, she wrapped her fingers around the ceramic mug and let her eyelids slide shut.

  Without sight, her awareness expanded. The heat of the mug ate away the chill in her fingers. The hiss and burble of the espresso machine punctuated the buzz of friendly conversation. The scent of her Americano stung her nostrils, the bright scent zipping almost directly into her blood, sparkling along her nerves, making her acutely aware of the truth of what he said. She was incredibly tense.

  Until his fingers touched her shoulders.

  Her awareness zoomed to the narrow points where his flesh pressed against hers, only a thin T-shirt between.

  The moment sang with intimacy.

  “Just relax,” he whispered into her ear, breath warm on her sensitive skin. She shivered with delight.

  He began to knead gently, warming her muscles, slowly working the first knots out. Aches she hadn’t even been aware of receded. She groaned.

  At the sound, his fingers dug more firmly into her muscles, working out deeper knots. Stress and tension dropped from her, chunk by chunk. Pain disappeared.

  She moaned. “That’s sooo good.”

  His answering chuckle rippled, dark and sexy, through her belly.

  All her conflicted emotions fell away, replaced by one bell-clear thought—Rafe was an amazing man.

  Whatever fancies she’d made up, he’d helped her, through tutoring, to be a better person. And now he was taking care of her, making her feel better physically. Her emotions transformed from the junior-high oh-my-God-I-like-him into something much more serious.

  He might not feel the same for her, but he was worth risking the next step—finding out if he and she could become a them.

  He finished rubbing every kink out of her shoulders. She thought he was done and opened her mouth to tell him how she felt. “Rafe—“

  “Just relax.” His fingers began to work up her nape.

  She cracked one eyelid. “I am relaxed. I’m so relaxed I can barely keep myself upright.”

  “So don’t.”

  What a radical thought. Her eyelid shut, and her neck muscles yielded as, with a sigh, she let her head fall forward, chin against chest.

  He spread his fingers, pressing against jaw and temple and forehead, and massaged her whole face with tiny circles.

  “Oh. Oh, my.” The words were slightly mushy as her jaw loosened and tension poured from her. Her scalp and teeth and arms and legs and every cell inside her unwound in one giant kerwhang.

  “There. Good.”

  His magic fingers departed, and a moment later, she heard the scrape of chair.

  Reluctantly, she straightened, closed her mouth, and opened her eyes.

  He watched her over the rim of his coffee mug, cobalt eyes twinkling. He knew exactly how badly she’d needed that massage. Exactly how much she’d enjoyed it.

  He’d known…even though she hadn’t.

  Her heart beat faster. He knew things about her, not just how she liked her coffee, but important, secret things.

  Rafe wasn’t simply the nice boy-next-door tutor. He wasn’t well-meaning but bumbling.

  He was dangerous.

  A little thrill sang through her. She immediately squelched it. His breathtaking awareness would make being a couple wonderful—but he’d make a terrifying enemy. If she ever got on his bad side, he’d know exactly how to crush her.

  Be brave, Cinderella. And start small. “Can I confess why I wanted to meet now?”

  “Confession?” He tipped the mug and sipped. “Sounds like fun. Absolutely.”

  Hesitantly, she told him. But as she explained, he didn’t seem to be hurt or angry or any of the things she’d expect.

  Instead, he already seemed to know.

 
; Somewhat confused, but with greater confidence, she ended with, “Is that something you can teach me?”

  “Probably.” He tapped his lip with a thoughtful finger. “It’ll take some pretty intense, one-on-one work, though.” One black brow raised in challenge. “Are you up for it?”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work. Are you up for it?” Daringly, she raised both brows in return challenge.

  The corner of his mouth curved, on the scarred side, crinkling his grin into a rakish, devil-may-care expression. “Hours of intense work, one-on-one, with you? Oh, yeah. I’m up for it.”

  The way he purred “up for it” implied things beyond study. Physical things that sent Cin’s stomach swooping. Her pulse pattered rapidly in response.

  Then his eyes dropped to her mouth and heated.

  Her whole body went boom.

  She trembled, her heart pounding, her breath sawing in and out, on the cusp of bright truth. Her stepsiblings’ jealousy had taught her to cover herself in bad makeup and baggy clothes and work, the contemporary version of sacks and ashes. But Rafe, looking at her as if he was not only attracted to her but was on fire…God. She wanted to tear off her rags and shine.

  Clearing her throat, she managed, “The only problem is where.”

  “Where? Where what?” His heated look was replaced by blinking confusion.

  “Where can you and I study? I’m afraid we can’t use my place, and the public library is probably out—since I’m sure we’ll get loud on occasion.”

  “Loud?” He gave her a quick grin. “Well, maybe sometimes.”

  Does he mean…?

  She swallowed hard. “Presentation will be difficult enough to teach without having to worry about Peeping Toms…” Yikes. She coughed and tried again. “I’d suggest the technical college, but most of my free time is after eleven at night. The college is too far away for me to get there easily that late.”

  “So, we need a place that’s nearby, open late, and has rooms where we can be alone—loud?” One raised brow echoed the question mark.

  He had meant what she thought. A blushing heat rose up her neck to her cheeks. “Where we can talk, yes. Since I assume coaching me will involve a lot of talking—”

  “Relax.”

  He bent forward and silenced her with a finger gently pressed to her lips. All the air left her lungs. His skin was warm and his finger felt nice pillowed against her mouth.

  “I know what you meant, and I also know exactly the place.” He released her to pick up his backpack. Taking a card from one of the pockets, he wrote on the back.

  He handed her the card just as a jangling started in her backpack—her cell phone.

  Her breath returned in a rush. Her employer, Manny, had insisted each employee carry a phone to receive scheduling texts. The only way she could afford it was by begging her stepmother to add her to the family plan. Ten dollars a month, added grudgingly, paid for by Cin—and every questionable phone number on the call detail challenged stridently by Mrs. Wikkid—but Cin had considered it a gift at the time.

  Something told her she was about to pay for that gift. She asked Rafe’s pardon with a sheepish expression and received a grin and a nod in answer. Extracting the phone, she saw MANNY in the caller ID window. Not as bad as her stepmother, but it could only be for one thing. With a sigh, she answered, “Cin Wikkid.”

  “I wouldn’t call if I weren’t desperate.” Manny had a gravely, long-haul voice from years of smoking and over-the-road driving. He’d bought the sub shop franchise with hard-earned money and had worked just as hard to earn his employees’ respect.

  “I know.” Even as she answered, she knew what was coming. “But I’m in the middle of a meeting—”

  “Brenda called in sick, and Amy’s down with the flu. I really need you here.”

  “Now?”

  “Actually, ten minutes ago.”

  She raised her gaze to Rafe.

  His expression was so kind and understanding she wanted to weep. Covering the phone with a palm, she said to him, “I’m so sorry. Can we meet another time?”

  “Sure.” But even as he said it, he shot to his feet and turned away, shrugging into his jacket.

  Is he really angry with me?

  Cold invaded her chest. With him busy with his jacket, she couldn’t see his expression. Not knowing what else to do, she said into the phone, “Okay, Manny. I’m coming.”

  Limbs icy, she creaked to her feet. Rafe still wasn’t looking at her. Just as she’d finally worked up the nerve to meet, was ready to risk admitting her feelings, she’d pissed him off. She stowed her phone and his card in the front pocket of her pants, sighed, and turned to put on her own coat. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Me, too,’ he said, and her heart sank. Until he added, “But can I walk you to work?”

  She spun around and gawked at him. He was zipping his jacket, grinning openly at her, warming her chill into pleasure.

  “Oh. Yes. I’d like that.”

  As she shouldered her backpack, he held the door open for her. Another flush of pleasure made her hot.

  The winter wind outside bit through her warmth and her coat until Rafe came alongside her. His big body blocked the worst of the chill. Then his arm came around her shoulders, and cold fled entirely. His arm is around me. Is this a friendly gesture…or something more? If she shivered now, it was with happiness.

  They chatted the whole six blocks to the sub shop, but she couldn’t remember a word they’d said.

  Just outside the store, she turned to him. “Thanks for your company. I—”

  “Shh.” Gripping her shoulders, he bent.

  She blinked in surprise at his face, coming closer. Is he…? Could he possibly…? Her instinct shouted to turn her face up, to put her lips at ground zero.

  But years of the Steps made her doubt. What if she was misinterpreting? What if he intended a friendly peck on the cheek? Fear kept her frozen an instant too long.

  Rafe hesitated. Then he straightened and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, a pained expression on his face. “Sorry. I thought maybe…but I was wrong.”

  She was still confused, breathless at the almost-kiss. “Wrong about what?”

  “Nothing. It’s okay.” He jerked a shrug. “I get it. Most women are turned off by the scars.”

  His tone was abrupt, businesslike, as if it didn’t matter, but she could see it did—it mattered a lot.

  Then he floored her with, “It’s okay that you don’t want me to kiss you.”

  “Wh-what? No, that’s not what I…look, I was just surprised that you were…I mean, we don’t know each other that well, except of course we do, but… I was just surprised. I don’t mind kissing you. I-I’d like it.” She searched his face, knowing her own hope sat stark on hers.

  “Oh? Oh.” His pained expression transformed into a smile, not his usual toothy grin, but soft and satisfied. “Right.”

  Wrapping her in both arms, he kissed her.

  His mouth was warm, beguiling. Her temperature quickly rose.

  She’d been kissed before, but pecks stolen in high school hallways and under random mistletoe didn’t count, not compared to this sweet teasing, this delightful taste of male breath and skin.

  All too soon it was over, but he kept his arms around her a moment longer. “When are you off?”

  Her head whirled. “Off what?”

  His chuckle rumbled against her. “Off work.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can go over the basics of presentation.”

  “Oh. Oh.” She mentally slapped herself a couple times, bringing her brain back online. “Tonight? Eleven, but I still have to do the grocery shopping. I can meet you my next day off. That’s a week from today.”

  “Perfect. Come to that address I gave you, the one on the card.”

  Releasing her, he turned and sauntered away, whistling.

  Cin wrestled the card out of her pocket and stared at it. N183 Downer Street, #301. “Rafe?�
� she called after him. “What is this place?”

  He threw her his trademark grin over his shoulder. “My apartment.”

  Her stomach dropped onto the sidewalk.

  Chapter Three

  March first. A new month. A new phase in her life. Cin told herself that was all she was excited about.

  Deliciously aware of, but ignoring, the real reason.

  She stood outside N183 Downer Street and gazed up at the three-story brick building, stars twinkling around it like sparks of delight. Smiling, she checked the bent, worn card in her hand once more. Not that she needed to, not really. She’d memorized Rafe’s address in the week since seeing him last. Hell, it’d been seared into her memory the first instant she’d looked at it.

  No, the reason she pulled the card out of her jeans this time and all the others was the tiny thrill, the swoop of her stomach, that greeted her seeing the pasteboard was real.

  The card was real, Rafe’s apartment was real. It was all real. Her feelings were real and maybe his were real, too.

  And she really was here…at Rafe’s apartment.

  There were no stepsisters, no stepmothers, no customers, no children playing in the park. Just her and Rafe.

  Alone together.

  There went that trill of excitement again. She shushed it as she stuck the card in her pocket, reminding herself that he’d invited her here, not so they could kiss again, but to go over mock-hearing procedures.

  But a gal could hope.

  Rafe buzzed her in with a cheery, “Cin! so glad you could make it.”

  His exuberance gave wings to her feet. She skipped double-time up the stairs, her heart tripping almost as fast.

  Yes, she was here to study, but they would be alone with each other, could kiss.

  Do even more.

  Study comes first, she admonished herself. Work hard Cinderella. Be a good girl. Her mother’s teachings resonated down the years, chiding her. With only a month, Cin would need every second of coaching she could get.

  But rebellion, for the first time, scratched at her nerves. As she knocked on the door of Rafe’s apartment, she didn’t want to put work first. She wanted to throw away plans and play with him.