Her Own Fairy Godmother

by Marie Higgins

  The door opened. The long legs peeking from beneath a black leather mini-skirt grabbed his attention. Then a silk, rose-colored blouse that had most of the top buttons undone to show off a generous bosom came into view. His gaze traveled up the slim neck to the dolled-up face of the Italian woman who’d trampled his heart seven years ago. She’d been his first love, and thankfully, not his last. Albeit, Liza Scapolli had been the most malicious. His gut clenched. What was the backstabbing woman up to now?

  She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders and curled at the ends. The smile she wore looked just as fake as her leather skirt.

  “Damieno, my dear. How long has it been?”

  He tried to act nonchalant when he lifted his eyebrows in what he hoped would be an unexpressive look. “Not long enough.”

  Her throaty laugh bothered him, making him think she didn’t believe him. He’d try harder next time.

  She shut the door and slinked over to him. Instead of sitting on the brown leather chair, she sat on the edge of his desk, crumpling the document he’d previously unwrinkled.

  Leaning back in his chair, he linked his fingers over his stomach. “To what do I owe this...um...torture, Liza?”

  “Torture? Now, now, Damieno. That isn’t the way to treat an old friend.” She crossed one leg over the other. Her heavy-mascara eyelashes batted. “Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d come and say hello,” she practically purred.

  “Fine. Now that you’ve said hello, you can leave. I’m very busy today.”

  She pouted. “Too busy for a friend?”

  He sat up. “Friend?” He looked beyond her as if someone else were in the room. “My friend is here? Where?”

  “Oh, Damieno, you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” she drawled, then released a brittle laugh.

  “I am very busy. If you haven’t noticed, the lobby is packed with women auditioning for our ad. So Liza, please say what you’ve come to say and leave.”

  Gasping, she quickly stood. “I’m appalled you don’t believe I’m here for a little visit. Perhaps I should leave and come back when you’re in better spirits.”

  He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Liza, I know you better than to think you’ve come to see me just because you’ve missed me. In fact, I’m willing to bet you’re here because you want to talk me into becoming your partner.”

  Her eyes widened and she placed her hand over her heart. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “I’d heard you were back in town so I checked out your company. I think Herbal Sensations is worried about GIO’s new herbal lines. In fact, all analysts agree it’s a better product. Since you stole the idea from me in the first place, I’m thinking you need my help. I believe you want to form an alliance.”

  Through her caked-on makeup, her skin lost a little color. She stared at him with her dark eyes, but kept a smile. He’d been right. The little heathen was still performing. Seven years ago he’d thought the sun rose just to shine on her every morning. He couldn’t understand why the pain of betrayal was still fresh because he thought he was over her long ago. He was over her! But he didn’t like the fact she’d entered his life again. That could only mean problems.

  Finally, her lips fell into a scowl. She took a step back and plopped into the chair on the other side of his desk. She shrugged. “Damieno, you’re being very unreasonable.”

  “Ha,” he snickered. “I have every right to be unreasonable. You had said you loved me just to get information. Didn’t you think I’d catch on? Not even four months after you left, I’d heard of a new company selling herbal shampoo, and guess who’s vice-president and married to the president? None other than my ex.”

  Her delicately shaped eyebrows creased in a scowl. “That’s not how it happened and you know it. Besides, I’m not with Dale any longer. I never got over my feelings for you. I loved you—”

  “And that’s why you made the moves on my best friend?”

  “It’s not what you think. Maxwell Harrington was just comforting me—”

  He held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter now. You have your company and I have mine.” He smiled. “And my company is doing so much better than it was while we were together.”

  She glanced at her hands while she twisted them against her stomach. “Damieno, don’t you even want to hear my offer?” Her voice was low.

  He rolled his eyes again. There she went on, over dramatizing. “Not really.”

  Her gaze lifted to his and fire could have shot out of her eyes. A muscle in her cheek jumped. He recognized the early symptoms of her anger. Now he couldn’t wait to annoy her further.

  “And why not?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t need you.”

  She leaned forward. “But, Damieno, think of how much more your company could make. There’s nothing wrong with Herbal Sensations. We just need stronger backing.”

  Impatiently, he pushed away from his desk. “Sorry, Liza, I’m not interested.” He walked closer to her. “I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.”

  “But your mother seemed pleased with the idea.”

  “My mother doesn’t know you’re a blood-thirsty shark, either.”

  With a huff she stood, her body only inches from his. “You’re a very stubborn man.”

  “True, but I think you’re more upset because you haven’t been able to sink your claws into me this time.”

  “Oh!” She pushed her palms against his chest and walked past him. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

  He breathed a sigh of relief that she was gone, but knowing Liza, she’d be back, and that worried him. She didn’t give up easily.

  WAY #4—A NIGHT ON THE town. Take your man on an old-fashioned date. Fix him dinner or go dancing. While in his arms, stare into his eyes.

  Damien was just pushing his key into the front door of his townhouse when Cyndi came flying out of her front door.

  “Damien, you’re late,” she said breathless.

  He glanced down at his watch. “Only by ten minutes.”

  “We have to hurry. Max will be here in two hours.”

  He chuckled and opened his door, motioning for Cyndi to enter first. When she stepped past him, he breathed in her berry scent. He wanted to swipe the hair off her neck and kiss her skin. Inwardly, he cursed his weakness. He couldn’t think this way about her. Definitely not tonight.

  “We have plenty of time, mí amore.”

  “Have you thought of what we could fix for dinner?”

  He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wood. “No, have you?”

  She nodded. “I thought about some exotic French dish.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  Her smile brightened. “Really?”

  “Yes. I have everything we need in my kitchen.” He moved away from the door and in three steps stood in front of her. “I have French dressing to go on the tossed green salad. I have French fries that will go great with French bread.”

  She slapped his shoulder and laughed. “Be serious.”

  “Okay, I’ll be serious, but just for tonight.” He paused and gave her a nod. “I have it. We’ll fix my specialty. Cinnamon chicken and cheesy scalloped potatoes.”

  “Hmmm...sounds heavenly.” She rubbed her hands together. “And what about a vegetable?”

  “Would you rather have asparagus or broccoli?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Definitely not asparagus.”

  He winked. “Then broccoli it is.” He clasped her hand and hooked it around his elbow. “Now, cheré, if you’ll allow me to escort you into zee kitchen, ve’ll prepare zee most tastiest dish that’s ever touched your tongue,” he said in a fake French accent.

  She laughed and hugged his arm. He groaned, wishing he could tell her just what her hug had meant to him—what she meant to him.

  “First things first, we have to wash our hands.” He rea
ched over the sink and turned on the water. She grabbed the bottle of pump-soap and gave a couple of squirts before repeating the process to hers.

  He cleared his throat. “Since I have everything we need, we’ll just make it here.”

  She nodded. “But I want to cook it in my kitchen. My place needs to smell like I’ve been laboring over a hot stove.”

  He dug through his drawer-full of recipes and pulled out the one for Cinnamon Chicken. Leaning beside him, she peered at the card with him.

  “I’ll get the ingredients, and you get the chicken,” she said.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He moved to the refrigerator and withdrew the full chicken he’d planned to have for dinner. He unwrapped it and then brought it to the sink to wash. He glanced over to see if Cyndi needed any help, but she’d found his spice cabinet and had proceeded to grab the needed spices.

  When she reached for the cinnamon bottle, he realized how he could sabotage her meal with Max. Right next to it in the identical colored bottle was the chili powder. He opened his mouth to make sure she didn’t grab the wrong one, but then snapped it close. The dinner would indeed be ruined if he used the powder instead of the spice. Should he switch bottles when she wasn’t looking?

  After blotting the chicken with a paper towel, he motioned with his head. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go put on one of my aprons?”

  “Great idea. Where do you keep them?”

  “In the long closet right around the corner there.” He nodded in the direction. “And grab me one while you’re there.”

  As soon as she turned, he made the switch. Within seconds, regret hit him like a punch in the stomach, and he almost put the chili powder back, but she returned and seeing her sweet smile made his heart twist. He wanted her, and he’d do anything to keep Max from hurting her. So yes, ruining the dinner was vital.

  He proceeded preparing the chicken, holding his breath when he applied the chili powder. Luckily, she didn’t mention the smell. Of course, she stood by the sink cutting up an onion, so that helped block the smell.

  She hummed a soft love song that he recognized from ten years ago. He smiled. She was such a romantic, and if all went according to his plans, she’d be his soon.

  Setting the chicken in his roaster and placing the lid over it, he picked up the pan. “I’m going to get this cooking in your oven. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “All right. I’ll start peeling potatoes.”

  When he walked into her apartment and noticed what she’d done, his heart sank. Candles, low lighting, and what looked to be her best plates and utensils were all on a table set for two in the middle of the front room. Music played in the background, and he realized why Cyndi had been humming that song. She had on music made for romance.

  His hands tightened around the handles of the roaster. Would substituting the cinnamon for the chili powder be enough to ruin the evening? He doubted it, especially, if she planned on dressing to kill.

  He walked into the kitchen and turned on her oven. It hurt to think he knew her townhouse almost as well as his own. Yet he was just her friend. He released a heavy sigh. Tonight he must tell her how he felt about her, and especially what he knew about Max. Yet, could he confess his feelings this early in their friendship? What if she found out about Max and the revenge he had planned for the man back then? Would she think this was his way to get back at Max? He couldn’t take that kind of rejection.

  Before heartbreak rooted itself in his chest, he hurried to his apartment to finish the dinner. He explained how to fix the potatoes while he cut up the broccoli.

  Once she placed the potatoes in the casserole dish, he carried it over to her house and placed it in the oven with the chicken. She followed behind with the pan full of vegetables.

  “Do you like how I set the table?” Her voice lifted with excitement.

  “It’s perfect.”

  She turned on the stove and put the lid on the vegetables. “Would you watch these steam while I go hop in the shower?”

  He nodded.

  She took a step away from him, and then stopped. Without hesitation, she turned and launched herself in his arms, plopping a big kiss on his cheek. He closed his arms around her waist and held her body against his, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

  “Oh, Damien, what would I do without you?” she whispered in his ear.

  Her warm breath teased his skin and made his heart leap. “I don’t ever want to find out.”

  She pulled back and smiled. “You won’t.” She moved to kiss his cheek again, but he turned his head, letting her lips brush his mouth. He’d kissed her on the mouth once before, but this was different. This time she knew she was kissing him.

  Electricity shot through his blood. Would she whisper Max’s name again? Damien wanted his name to sigh from her lips.

  Laughing, she pulled back and stepped out of his arms. Her laugh seemed a little too light and breathless. Her eyes were dark with emotion, but she turned and hurried down the hall to her bathroom before he could see more. Funny, but he could swear her cheeks had turned red, too. Usually she didn’t act so shy, but just a second ago it was like she didn’t want to meet his eyes.

  Was she starting to have feelings for him? Nah.

  He sulked back to the kitchen and readied the last minute items she would need. From down the hall, her singing lifted through the apartment. She hit a few wrong notes and he smiled. It didn’t matter. He liked her because she wasn’t perfect. She was Cyndi, and that’s all that mattered.

  The next half hour passed with irritating slowness, but soon the bathroom door opened and the berry scent of her shampoo engulfed him. He hurried into the kitchen to appear busy. When her heels clicked on the kitchen floor, he turned to look at her. His breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat accelerated.

  “You’re absolutely stunning,” he whispered.

  Once again, she blushed, which made his heart sing. She fidgeted with the spaghetti straps on her white silky dress before slipping into the lavender laced short-waist jacket. She then ran her hands down the straight skirt that ended just above her knees. She looked far different than the woman who’d gone to the Christmas party, yet surprisingly, very proper.

  He shook his head. “Woman, you’re going to make Max sit up and take notice.”

  Her face flamed brighter. “Thanks. I’m glad you approve.”

  “Approve?” His voice rose. “I’m about ready to send you back in the bedroom to change into a nun’s habit, young lady.”

  She laughed while tucking a lock of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. He’d always liked it when she kept her hair down, cascading over her shoulders.

  “I look that good, huh?” she asked.

  He stepped to her and grasped her hands in his. He scanned her length, once again, and whistled. “If I was Max, I’d never let you go.”

  Laugh lines disappeared from around her mouth and blue eyes. “Really?” Her voice was lower than usual, reminding him of their kiss the other night.

  “Really.”

  She smiled and squeezed his hands. “Damien, I...I...really do love you, you know.”

  Keeping her hands in his, he lifted them to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. His heart beat fiercely against his ribs and his throat went dry. “Just as I love you.”

  Did she just catch her breath? In fact, had her breathing grown faster? His certainly had. And how long was she going to stare in his eyes before looking away? He could gaze at her forever.

  The buzzer on the oven rang through the air and broke the magical spell between them. He grumbled under his breath and dropped her hands, turning to go into the kitchen.

  Too bad he couldn’t think of anything else to ruin her date with Max. He just hoped the chili-powdered chicken did the trick. All is fair in love and war.

  There was no way he wanted her to fall in love with Maxwell Harrington.

  Twelve

  Cyndi closed her eyes and breathed deeply, tryin
g to calm her out-of-control heart rate. She placed her hand on her chest and the erratic flutter bounced against her palm. Why did Damien have to look at her like that? His eyes were so dark, his expression so serious. When he told her he loved her, it was as if he’d meant every word. Not as a friend, but more.

  The worst part of all of this is that she enjoyed it. She could have melted at his feet in a puddle of goo. Those hypnotic gray eyes of his affected her like none other. In fact, none of the men in her life could influence her the way this Italian Spice had.

  She shook away the confusing thoughts and turned to inspect her table. Everything was perfect. Except Max would be sitting here and not Damien.

  Growling with frustration, she massaged her forehead. What’s wrong with me? It had to be that incredible kiss. When she’d tried to kiss his cheek, his lips somehow got in the way. Images from the other night came drifting back making her wonder if it was truly Damien who’d kissed her. Yet the way he acted, he hadn’t been there at all.

  “Okay, I think everything’s ready.”

  Damien’s husky voice brought her back to reality. She swung around and looked at him. His gaze skimmed over her hair and face, making her limbs weak. His eyes darkened and his face softened. Hadn’t he given her that same look the other night after the Christmas party? It seemed so familiar.

  “I’ll let you do the serving,” he added with a smile.

  She nodded. “Thanks again, Damien.”

  He winked and playfully cuffed her chin with his knuckles. “But remember, I don’t wash dishes. That’s your job.”

  She laughed. When he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm. “Damien, before you go, I need to ask you an important question.”

  His brows drew together. “What is it?”

  “Um, about the other night, after the Christmas party...I need to know something.”

  Narrowing her gaze, she studied his expression, hoping to see something there, some sign that he was the man who’d kissed her and not Max. His face remained blank.