Dating Cupid

When his secretary buzzed him to announce his one and only ever disgruntled client had come calling, Maverick had braced himself for a lot of things, including the fact that whoever he’d face would probably have an ugly exterior to match her attitude.

Instead, breathtaking perfection walked into his office.

Perhaps not beautiful by modern day definitions, but most certainly by his. Her model height—a perfect match for his—was enhanced with heels. But whereas today’s models were bone racks, this beauty was lush in all the right places. From her juicy lips, to her tightly harnessed bosom, to the indent of her waist that flared out into womanly hips, she reminded him of the rubenesque beauties of old. An old style, plush frame where a man could lose himself in softness and never want to leave. In other words, the type he preferred.

Stunned, he said and did nothing even as he knew his lack of reaction must appear odd. She broke the spell and, at her approach, he circled his desk and extended his hand.

And lightning struck.

A sense of rightness hit him with the weight of a freight train and sucked the air from his lungs. He was glad to see her eyes open wide, the effect apparently not one-sided.

Maverick pulled his hand away with reluctance, peeking quickly at his unblemished skin. He saw no sign she’d pricked him, not that he expected one given his reaction before he’d even touched her. But, he’d certainly check himself thoroughly later for any signs of another accident.

I won’t go through hell again like I did last time I accidentally poked myself with my own curse of love.

As Cupid, descended from Venus and Mars, also known as Aphrodite and Ares, he’d bestowed the gift—in his mind, curse—of love for thousands of years. Only once before had he fallen victim to his own brand of magic, something that he’d paid dearly for and had no intention of ever repeating.

Love is for mortals. Me, I’ll take peace and quiet, thank you very much.

Realizing he was wool gathering again as Ms. Fortuna eyed him with a blush, he waved at her to take a seat in one of the comfortable arm chairs he had set in front of his floor to ceiling windows. The view was magnificent and caught her eye as she sat down. Unfortunately, he’d seen it thousands of time before, so instead, he found himself captured by the sight of her skirt pulling up over her stocking covered thighs, plump thighs that he could so easily imagine himself between.

Jumping up from his seat with a semi hard-on, he called over his shoulder. “Would you like some coffee?” Whether she said yes or not, he needed something to occupy his hands and thoughts. Where is my legendary control? Apparently gone to his cock, which roused by the sight of the luscious Ms. Fortuna, refused to lie down and play dead.

“Yes, a coffee would be nice, thank you. Black, please.”

Somehow, he’d known she wouldn’t take it with cream or sugar. Straightforward and rich to the taste, just like her. Maverick wanted to bang his head on the wall. He needed to stop thinking of her in terms of sex. I’ve got to get her out of here and visit my mother. Maybe she can get this spell off of me. He didn’t believe for one minute his intense attraction was natural. Not when he’d sworn off women, especially human ones.

Maverick carried the brimming mugs back, almost scalding himself when the fleeting touch of her fingers jolted him. He heard her intake of breath and knew she experienced it, too. She grabbed the mug, her light touch brushing him again and shooting his iron control to hell and back.

Maverick sat down hard and forced himself to look out the window even as her magnetic presence kept attempting to pull his gaze back to her. But it was if Fate—his mother’s friend—herself was against him, for he could see Ms. Fortuna’s reflection in the glass. He couldn’t look away as she flicked her tongue out from between her luscious lips to test the brew. He found himself riveted when her throat moved as she swallowed a mouthful—he could so easily picture her swallowing something else. And he almost groaned aloud when she smoothed her skirt down, her hand brushing her sheer black nylons. Is she teasing me on purpose?

“Tell me what you want?” he asked brusquely. Say me and I will strip you naked right here and now to lick every inch of your body.

To his relief—and his cock’s disappointment—she replied, “I think your dating service is a sham.”