Her Own Fairy Godmother

by Marie Higgins

  When she reached her cubicle, she slid into her chair. It rocked to one side and tilted. On the brink of plowing face first into her desk, she grabbed the edge and steadied herself. Phew. She peeked from underneath her lowered lashes. No eyes had turned her way, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

  Resting her elbows on the desk, she leaned her face into her hands and massaged her forehead. Yesterday at church she did a lot of soul-searching. At least she hoped that’s what it was called. She didn’t listen to one word of the sermon because Damien and Max occupied her thoughts. Mainly Damien. Since the night of her attack when he had rescued her, she had thought of him in a different light. Little by little, she’d let him into her heart. Would God look down on her if she decided he was the man she wanted instead of Max?

  Within minutes, other workers entered the building. As always, they dragged their feet to their desks for a Monday...all except one. Max. When that man finally entered, there was a bounce to his step and his face glowed. His smile could have melted an iceberg.

  Right away, his gaze moved to her desk. She held her breath. He raised his hand and waggled his fingers, his smile widening.

  She grinned—at least she hoped her expression was pleasant since shock pretty much vibrated through her body, but she returned the wave. He chuckled before turning and heading toward his room.

  What was that all about? She was almost afraid to ask. Why had he looked at her that way? Unless...

  She caught her breath and almost choked. Her heart thundered in her chest and she placed her hand on it to keep it from jumping out.

  Had she taken Max to her place Friday night after the party and kissed him? Damien seemed to think she had. She didn’t dare jump to assumptions. Not yet. Not before she talked to Amanda.

  Two hours passed with the office buzzing with the latest news reports from around the world. When the office slowed down, the employees of Channel Nine had left their desks and seemed more concerned with socializing than the news. Some gathered inside cubicles, others wandered outside for their break. It wasn’t hard to find Amanda. Cyndi rolled her eyes. That woman always stood in the midst of a group of men.

  Cyndi hurried over and yanked on her elbow. When Amanda turned, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Cyndi!”

  Why had Amanda greeted her that way?

  Am I still in my pajamas? She glanced at her clothes to double check, running her hand over her mid-section. No, she was dressed in a white blouse and gray slacks.

  Maybe she forgot to brush her hair. She reached up and touched the side of her hair, then tucked a stray lock behind her ear. Everything seemed to be in order. So why did Amanda and a few of the others gathered around look at her differently right now?

  She met Amanda’s wide eyes. “We need to talk.”

  Amanda excused herself and kept in step beside Cyndi as they walked to her desk. Once they were out of earshot from the others, Amanda giggled.

  “Cyndi, you’re the talk of the office today. Everybody’s discussing the Christmas party, and especially your performance.”

  Her heart sank. Oh, dear! What were they saying?

  Amanda clasped Cyndi’s hands. “Are you going to tell me every juicy detail about Friday night?”

  Cyndi scratched her head. “I was rather hoping you could.”

  Amanda’s brows lifted and she let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you’re funny. Why do you think I’d be able to tell you?”

  “You were there, weren’t you?”

  With squinted eyes and brows pulled together, her friend gave a quizzical stare. “Cyndi, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing, here.”

  Cyndi took in a deep breath, clearing her head so she could communicate better. “I want to know what happened at the party.”

  Amanda laughed. “Oh, let me guess. After tasting your first champagne, you realized you had to have more then became drunk?”

  Cyndi scowled. “I wasn’t drunk! I had taken a decongestant before coming to the party. I think that’s what made me act so loopy.”

  Amanda cocked her head. “Actually, that fruity drink you were consuming had a trace of alcohol in it as well.”

  Cyndi’s heart plummeted. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Not at all.”

  She groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Why didn’t someone tell me?”

  “Probably because you looked as if you enjoyed yourself.”

  Cyndi frowned. “Not funny, Amanda.”

  He co-worker shrugged. “If you say so. What do you want to know about Friday night?”

  “I want to know who I left the party with.”

  Amanda tipped back her head and laughed hard, holding her sides with her arms. Cyndi gritted her teeth, counting to ten slowly under her breath. This was not a laughing matter. Her memory was at stake here, and the truth could either make or break her. If she didn’t find out who’d kissed her so tenderly, she’d go crazy.

  Wiping away the tears gathered in her eyes, Amanda shook her head. “I don’t know who you left the party with. I was gone before you were.”

  “Really?”

  “So, you don’t remember anything?”

  “I recall some things, but as the evening dragged on, my memory becomes fuzzy.”

  “Oh, I wish I could have been a fly on your wall that night.”

  “What night?” a male voice asked.

  Cyndi jumped and swung around. She gasped. Max! How long had he been standing there?

  He leaned his elbow on the corner of the cubicle wall, his relaxed stance enhancing his good looks. Of course, he always looked good in light colors. Today faded Levis hugged the lower half of his body, and the light brown cotton shirt stretched across his chest. She also enjoyed the way his gaze moved over her, from her ponytail down her silk blouse to her creased slacks, making giddiness bubble in her chest. When his blue eyes met hers again, his smile grew.

  “What night?” he repeated.

  She couldn’t let him know! She’d rather die from humiliation first.

  Cyndi released an uneasy laugh and flipped her hand in the air. Her fingers accidentally connected with Amanda’s face. Her friend yelped and stepped back, holding her nose.

  Cyndi cringed, her face burning. “Oh, Amanda. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem,” Amanda mumbled behind her hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Turning sharply, Amanda hurried down the hall toward the restrooms.

  Max laughed. “Way to go, Cyndi. If you wanted a private moment with me, all you had to do was ask her to leave.”

  Her stomach rocked with uneasiness. What’s that supposed to mean?

  His expression softened, looking extremely relaxed. She wished she could feel as comfortable.

  “So, about Friday night...”

  She swallowed hard. “What about it?”

  “I think I should apologize.”

  I did take him home! Her jittery stomach caused a wave of nausea to erupt. “Why? Didn’t you...um...enjoy yourself?” She bit her lip. Why did I say it that way?

  He nodded. “I did, but I don’t think you did.”

  “Of course I did.” She forced a laugh. “Why would you think differently?”

  “Well, considering all the alcohol you drank...”

  Her limbs shook, so she sat on the edge of her desk and folded her arms just to keep them still. “Actually, I didn’t know it was an alcoholic drink. And on top of that, I’d taken a decongestant before coming to the party.”

  “Decongestant?” He dropped his arm from the corner of the cubicle and stepped closer. “Well that certainly explains why you were acting that way.”

  “Yes, unfortunately. I’ll never do that again.” She shrugged. “Apparently, I gave quite a show, if I recall.” Recall? I can’t remember much of anything!

  “Yes.” He stroked his finger down the side of her face, his gaze softening. “You did give quite a show and said some amazing things.”

  Her palms moistened. She tried acting casual as she wiped
them on her slacks. She must stay strong. Confident. Encouraging, but mostly, she must not mess up.

  “Did...um...would...” She took a deep breath, trying to gather her wits. “Would you like to see a repeat performance?” Now why did I say that? She scolded herself, wishing she would think before she spoke.

  His eyebrows rose. “Are you asking me out, Cyndi?”

  She gulped. “I...I suppose I am.”

  “What about your heart-throb, Giovanni?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “We’re more like good friends.”

  “I see.” He smiled. “Then my answer is yes.”

  Her heart leapt to her throat. “Great.” Her voice squeaked.

  He chuckled. “Is the dance included in our date?”

  He wants to go dancing with me? “Umm...okay.”

  “How about dinner first?”

  Her thoughts screeched to a halt when she recalled the article on how to win a man. Way Number Four—an old-fashioned date.

  She nodded and smiled. “Dinner first, but I’m cooking.”

  The corner of his lips lifted higher as his gaze ran over her body again. “You sure are.”

  Her face flamed hotter from his compliment. The room seemed to close in around her, making it difficult to breathe. “No, I mean, we’ll have dinner at my house.”

  He nodded. “How about tomorrow night?”

  “Sounds good. Does seven o’clock work?”

  “Works for me.”

  He leaned forward and she held her breath. Was he going to kiss her right here at work? He withdrew before she had a chance to pucker up. Thank heavens. She didn’t want to appear overeager.

  He turned and strode back to his office. When she’d actually moved from the corner of her desk to the chair, she stared at her blank computer screen. In the reflection, she wore a smile. As her mind finally began to work, she realized Max never really did confess he’d kissed her. All the hints were there, but he’d still left her wondering.

  This was all she needed. Well, she’d make certain she didn’t take any cold medicine or drink anything with alcohol in it. She’d also wait for him to make the first move.

  What could she make him for dinner? She groaned and rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t a chef—that was Damien’s specialty. He was always cooking up something special for all his women friends. She could smell it from her townhouse all the time.

  She snatched up her cell, quickly punching in Damien’s number. Drumming her fingers on the desktop, she let it ring four times and was about to hang up when his deep voice answered.

  “Hello?”

  She sighed. “Oh, Damien, I’m glad you’re there.”

  “Cyndi? What’s wrong?” His voice rose in quick response.

  “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is right.”

  “Why?”

  She giggled and relaxed back in her swivel chair, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “You’ll never guess who’s coming over to my house for dinner tomorrow.”

  There was a long pause. “Me?”

  She sucked in her breath. Had she heard him right, or did she detect a sense of hopefulness in his voice?

  “No, silly. Max is coming.” After she said the words, her chest tightened. Why did she wish Damien was coming instead? She shook away her thoughts and focused on their conversation. “Oh, Damien, I actually carried on a normal discussion with him and nobody got hurt. Can you believe it?”

  “No.” His voice came soft.

  “Yeah, me either.” She chuckled. “Actually, I did smack Amanda in the nose while Max was talking to me, but that doesn’t count.”

  “So, what are you planning to fix? TV dinners?”

  “Ha-ha, very funny, but you’re also very right. That’s all I ever eat.”

  He laughed, his deep voice sending chills up her arms. She rubbed the goose bumps away, trying to focus on Max instead of how she currently reacted to Damien.

  “Anyway, I need your help. In the Internet article, Number Four says I have to give him an old-fashioned date. So, I want to cook him a meal.” She paused briefly, and then added, “I mean what could be more old-fashioned than that?”

  “How about snaring a jackrabbit and cooking it over an open fire?”

  A hint of sarcasm laced his voice, and she hoped she’d heard wrong. Her chest ached again. Why did he sound unhappy about this? “Does that mean you won’t help me?”

  Another long period of silence followed on the other end, and with each second, her heart sank. He didn’t want to help, but she couldn’t do it without him.

  A heavy sigh came across the line and he cleared his throat. “Yes, Cyndi, I’ll help you. I’ll do anything for you. You know that.”

  She exhaled in relief, smiling wide once again. “Oh, Damien. You’re a lifesaver.” If he were standing in front of her now, she’d throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck...

  No. Thinking that way was unhealthy. She had to stop thinking of Damien in romantic terms when she was working on Max. But Damien’s mesmerizing scent did crazy little things to her stomach as if the butterflies inside were putting on their own production of The River Dance. Not only that, but she loved the deep timbre of his voice when he called her mí amore.

  “Yes, I know,” he said with a catch to his voice.

  Wrenching emotion called to the deepest part of her. For a single, endless heartbeat, the sound of his breathing came through the other end of the phone. She wanted to rush to his side, to see his face, and to know if he hurt as much as he sounded.

  Her throat had turned dry and she swallowed. “Thanks, Damien. I’ll love you forever for this, you know. What would I do without you?”

  His chuckle was weak. “Hopefully, I’ll never have to find out.”

  DAMIEN CLUTCHED HIS briefcase and stormed out of his shareholders’ meeting, straight toward his office. Women filled the lobby from wall-to-wall. He dodged around the ones stepping in his way to get an introduction. GIO Products had a new promotion going and was looking for a woman model. An assortment of perfumes wafted heavily through the air, but none came close to smelling like Cyndi’s berry scent. None of them stirred feelings in his chest—a longing to pull that woman into his arms and keep her there forever.

  When he passed his secretary, she held up a hand to stop him. He ignored her and hurried inside his office, closing the door behind him. I need some privacy.

  He set his briefcase on his desk and walked to the wide window that overlooked the city. As he gazed at the busy traffic, he pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply.

  That woman disturbed my thoughts...again. During the hour and a half meeting with the shareholders, he probably only heard six words...good morning and have a nice day.

  Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Cyndi? And why did his gut twist the longer he thought about her and Max together, alone? Their date was tomorrow, and she expected him to help her make a meal for them. He didn’t think he could do that.

  Jealousy gnawed at his gut like a starving piranha. He couldn’t allow Max to be alone with Cyndi. She’d said she loved him. Although right now she only loved him as a friend, he’d change that as soon as possible.

  No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t tell her how he felt. He needed to know if she truly wanted Max, or did she want him because she thought there was nobody else for her?

  He’d promised he would help prepare dinner, and he was a man of his word. It just wouldn’t be what she expected. Yes, call him vindictive, but he wanted Cyndi for himself. Seeing Max out of her life was his main priority.

  So far, Max hadn’t given any signs of being different. The man Damien knew in college went after women who belonged to others, and the night at the party proved Max was still up to his old tricks. Max had responded perfectly to the jealousy setup, going after Cyndi when it appeared she’d been with Damien. What would stop the sports anchorman from going after the next attractive conquest he saw? Cyndi didn’t need to be hurt aga
in, and he’d see to it Max wouldn’t be the next man to break her heart.

  He walked to his swivel chair and dropped into the seat. Out the window and across the street, the tall building came into sight, blocking his view of the park nearby. From what he could see, the blue sky held only a few clouds, but a storm soon headed toward them. By the way the limbs on the trees waved, the storm would be here quicker than he expected. He’d always liked winters. Colder weather made cuddling with a woman near a roaring fire more enjoyable.

  He smiled and pictured Cyndi in his arms as they sat on the bearskin rug in front of a fireplace. It could happen. Although he didn’t have a fireplace in his townhouse, his cabin in Colorado had three. It’d been a while since he’d been there. Perhaps it was time to take Cyndi and show her how the real Damien Giovanni lived.

  The knock on his office door jolted him out of his daydreams. The door opened a crack and his secretary peeked her head inside.

  “Mr. Giovanni? There’s someone here to see you.”

  He glanced down at his opened day planner. “I didn’t forget an appointment, did I?”

  “No. She’s been waiting since right after your meeting started.”

  He creased his forehead. “Who is it?”

  Maryann hurried to his desk and handed him a business card. “Says she’s the vice-president of Herbal Sensations.”

  Their competitors? “Really?” He glanced down at the card. As his gaze skimmed the name, Maryann spoke the words aloud.

  “Her name is Liza Scapolli.”

  Eleven

  Damien drummed his fingers on his desk and clenched his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might break. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to see Liza. Not more than ten seconds ago, he’d nodded to his secretary to allow that woman into his office. What was he thinking? He’d gone this long without talking to her, so why couldn’t he go another seven years or more?

  The clicking of heels outside his door caused him to glare in that direction. He fisted his hands on the desktop, crinkling the paper beneath. Realizing he’d picked up an important document, he hurried and smoothed out the wrinkles then moved it out of his way.