When Candy Met Cupid

  When Candy Met Cupid

  By

  Amanda McIntyre

  What Candy thought…

  It wasn’t the first time she’d seen those finely honed buns in boxer briefs. Candy’s heart stilled. This wasn’t happening. She curled back from the doorway and managed to breathe. She knew she should’ve called ahead to make sure her friend’s cabin wasn’t occupied—and with that man, of all people. “Damn,” she muttered as she struggled to quietly collect her suitcase and purse and sneak out the door.

  Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

  “Candy?”

  She sighed and looked back with a grimace. Yep, there he was. The man she knew only as Tucker Garrison. The man who’d sent her body into realms she’d never known existed, at least on an earthly plain. He leaned against the doorway, coffee cup in hand with a shit-eating grin on his face. She wished she didn’t have a weakness for snap shirts, faded jeans, and boots—none of which he had on now.

  “A little surprised to see you here. Then again, I kinda thought you might show up.” His smile was sexy, entirely too comfortable in displaying that body sculpted for sin. She knew firsthand, having sampled it before.

  “Yeah, surprised to see you, too.” She tried to keep her voice calm, not let him think that he affected her in any way whatsoever. Her treacherous body, however, didn’t buy into her apathetic façade.

  Damn girl parts.

  “So, then, what brings you up this way?” he asked, leisurely raking his hand through his shoulder-length, dark-brown hair.

  She averted her gaze, wanting to look at anything else in the room but him. Huge mistake. She needed to get out of there—fast. “Um, thought I’d take a few days of quiet and rest before I head back to work.” She hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend Roan didn’t mention there’d be anyone here.”

  The corner of his mouth curled. “Funny, I just spoke to him a few moments ago and he didn’t mention you coming, either.”

  Damn Roan. He’d told her about his private cabin after she’d confided in him about the date that had crushed her heart. Said a few days in the middle of nowhere would rejuvenate her. And, lo and behold, if Mr. Honky-tonk Heartbreak wasn’t right here in the same cabin. She smelled a set-up. “So, you know Roan…how?”

  He grinned. “Oh, we go way back. I introduced him to his wife. Cute couple. Expecting, I understand. Gotta love procreation.”

  “So, I’m guessing he doesn’t have a clue you’re here?”

  Tucker shrugged. “Let’s just say that once I discovered your rather unique birthmark, I knew I had to meet you again.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sweetheart,” he said with a cocky smile, “you’ve got to admit it was dark, and leisurely wasn’t exactly the theme for the night, as I recall. I noticed your special birthmark the next morning.”

  She’d tried for days to push the hot and sweaty memories from her mind without much success. “Wait, that thing about the mark is true?”

  The same day she’d been whining about her huge mistake and the missing cowboy dilemma, she and her friend Roan had been working together on a recent museum disturbance. He’d found a book on Greek lore and suggested that perhaps her seemingly uncontrollable attraction to Tucker was due to being skewered by a cupid’s arrow. “It’s spring. Prime time for celestial love pranks. Didn’t you mention something once about a weird birthmark on your butt?” Roan had asked.

  “Lower back,” she corrected, searching a medieval book for a spell that would shrink a man’s jewels.

  “Does it have a particular shape?” Roan asked.

  “Kind of resembles a heart,” she responded absentmindedly.

  “It says here that through the centuries, human females bearing the ancient mark are sought by Aphrodite’s legion of celestial lovers.”

  “Do you hear yourself? What do the gods need with humans, anyway?”

  “You’re going to love this.”

  Candy doubted it. Already that damn natural stamp grew warm. This was ridiculous.

  “Says here that when the earth’s romance energy begins to wane, the Goddess of Love sends out her legions to find her daughters. It’s said that those with the mark are of her lineage.”

  “How—”

  “Says it has to do with your birth year, the date, time, and moon phase.”

  “Of course.” Candy folded her arms, listening now.

  “These Celestial lovers--Cupids, if you will, are required to have sexual relations with Aphrodite’s kin no less than three times during the phase of the full moon. Says something, too, about music being part of the ritual.”

  “Ridiculous.” She slammed her book shut. But even as she tried to deny it, the tune that her cowboy kept humming as her body took flight tickled the recesses of her brain. “Give me that book. Even if what you’re implying has any merit, I still have a choice, right?”

  Roan peered over his glasses. “We are talking about deities here—gods and goddesses—fairly good at getting what they want.”

  Yeah, but they haven’t met me.

  That had been over a week ago. Still, it was as good an explanation as any for why she’d ended up in Tucker’s bed. Candy blinked away the brief memory, her resolve firmer than ever.

  “Ah, I see you’ve done your homework. How serendipitous. Less time wasted.” His smile displayed the dimple on his unshaven cheek.

  So, he could read her mind. Big whoop. “Not interested.” Mark or not, she’d not let this guy back into her heart. She grabbed her luggage and headed for the door.

  A warm hand covered hers as she reached for the doorknob. The heat from his body standing close caused her breathing to falter, her palms to sweat. How does he do that?

  “Why don’t you stay and maybe we can work out an arrangement,” he suggested.

  She glanced over her shoulder and let out a short laugh as her gaze collided with those glittering hazel eyes. She reminded herself of how she’d been powerless to resist him, how he’d all but snapped his fingers and she’d removed her clothes. “Sorry, bad idea.” True, his country-boy good looks and his smooth tongue had taken her in once before. Candy clamped her eyes shut, willing herself not to think of his other skills with that tongue. A soft touch to her cheek caused her eyes to pop open. His knuckles gently stroked her jaw.

  “Don’t you want to stay with me a little while?” His voice held a lyrical quality she found hard to resist.

  “No,” she answered, even as her head bobbed up and down. Dammit. She summoned her willpower. “Listen, I’m not interested. So, you just put away your whole lady’s man vibe, ok? N.O.”

  He raised one dark brow. “What are you talking about?”

  She stepped away, fisted her hands at her sides, and steeled herself against the desire welling inside her. “You know very well what I mean,” she countered, hoping to get him to fess up to who he really was. He seemed to know more about her, and she wanted to hear directly from him why she seemed drawn to him like a bloody magnet.

  He studied her a moment. “You appear tense.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Maybe I should put on some clothes,” he suggested.

  “Good. That’d be an excellent start.”

  He stepped around her. Candy exhaled from the enormous stress building inside her. As someone who studied the unexplainable for a living, she’d seen and experienced a multitude of odd things—things she never knew existed. This, though, had blindsided her. His smile, the way he held her, softly singing as they danced. The mere memory sent tingles straight to her core. Ghosts, she could handle. Tucker was different—he’d either spiked her drink or used magic on her. What other explanation was there for how she’d behaved with a total strang
er?

  “Neither is true, you know.”

  Startled, she faced him. If possible, he looked even sexier barefoot in jeans and that ratty old T-shirt.

  “Thank you.” His smile was adorably coy. “You, by the way”—he looked her over from head to toe—“look good enough to—”

  “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Don’t you dare say another word.”

  He held her gaze and shrugged. “I’ll get you some coffee.” He turned on his heel and headed to the kitchen.

  Candy hurried close behind. “I’ll get my own, thanks.” She sure as heck didn’t need him sprinkling any of his charm dust in her drink.

  He held his hands up in surrender and tossed her a ‘you’re-kind-of-a-crazy-bitch’ look before he sat down at the breakfast table.

  Taking a calming breath, she filled a mug. Never mind that it had pink hearts splattered all over it. Keep calm. “Tell me again, exactly, why you’re here?” She leaned against the counter, glad for the warm cup in her hand. The rich aroma steadied her thoughts.

  He glanced at her, those gorgeous green eyes having a debilitating effect on her brain. “Same reason you’re here, I hope.”

  “Oh, then, rest and relaxation?”

  He rubbed his palm over that delicious mouth.

  Her fingers itched, and she balled them in a fist, reining in her wayward thoughts. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her.

  His slanted grin was confirmation enough. “I assume you’ve been thinking about me.”

  Candy blew across the top of her coffee and pretended to look out the window.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen. We can do this the easy way, or we can circle each other until you give in. It’s your choice.”

  “Choice? I have a choice?” Candy’s ire crackled. She pierced him with a look that wiped the smile from his face.

  “Hey, I didn’t plan this.”

  “Really?” She stopped him cold. “And who was it that seduced me?”

  “That was before I knew who you were,” he stated calmly.

  “Oh, well, that makes it all right, then.”

  He held his palms up. “Believe it or not, I saw this hot girl in the bar and knew I had to have her. Destiny was never a thought.”

  “Charming.”

  “Just being honest.”

  She held his gaze in a battle of wills, then blew out a sigh. Her life had been turned upside down these past few days—starting with some random birthmark that somehow implied she had Aphrodite’s blood running through her veins. And while it might well explain her irrational emotions about romantic movies, the rest was far harder to swallow. For example, that her destiny—her greatest service to mankind—was that she and Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick (who, by the way, had broken her heart) were going to save romance on planet Earth by doing the horizontal mambo to some song. Come on, really?

  “You do realize how long I’ve been looking—waiting—for you, right?” He sauntered over and placed his hands on either side of her, caging her against the counter.

  “No, no. I’m not doing…this...again.” It had torn her heart in two, not to mention confused her, to awaken that next morning in her bed, alone—wondering how she’d gotten there and left thinking the whole thing had either been a dream or one massive mistake.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you. I was afraid you might think I was some sorry ass who just wanted to get into your pants.”

  Damn, if Mr. Sorry Ass didn’t smell as good as he looked. “Isn’t that the truth?”

  He had the decency to duck his head before he spoke. “Yes, but you wanted me every bit as much as I wanted you.” He smiled, turning up the sexy.

  “You”—she faltered and pushed him away, finding her courage—“hurt me.”

  His expression sobered. “Was it the ropes? Were they tied too tight?” He grabbed her wrists and studied them.

  She yanked away from his grasp. “No, you imbecile. In here.” She tapped her chest.

  “Hurt you? I don’t understand. Was it not pleasurable?”

  She wasn’t going to go there. “Ok, let’s just say I have a little more information under my belt than I did then. It’s been a bit much to realize that I have some goddess blood in me somewhere—”

  “Certainly the temperament,” he muttered and tossed her a smile. “I’d just as soon that stayed between us, if you don’t mind.”

  She ignored the comment, determined to finish her rant and, with any luck, turn on the light bulb in that thick celestial head of his. “But I’m human and with that comes feelings…emotions. Don’t you get that?’

  He glanced away. Maybe he was assessing his actions, or maybe just avoiding her tirade.

  “Of course you don’t,” she said. You’re not capable of human emotion. All you know is seduction.”

  He looked at her, his gaze steady. “You may have a point and, had things on earth not reached such a critical stage, I doubt the fates would’ve allowed us to meet. However”—he stretched his arms over his head—“the fact remains that our job is to rekindle humanity’s romantic mojo.”

  Good lord, just the thought of having her hands all over that body caused her to reconsider her defiant stance. “Okay.” Candy cleared her throat and tried to calm her shaking hands as she rinsed her cup and placed it in the sink. Get the facts. “So, you and me? I mean, it sounds a bit far-fetched. How is this even possible?”

  He grinned and damn if it didn’t make her believe in the Easter Bunny and Santa.

  He leaned toward her and spoke calmly. “I have the album.”

  His news caused her insides to quiver, and she didn’t even know why. But he’d been humming some sex-infused tune over and over that night until her body had all but thrummed with it. She swallowed. “Album?”

  He smiled, getting his groove on as he started soulfully singing “Let’s Get It On.”

  “Okay, stop. That album.” She recognized the song and immediately clamped her hands over her ears before she found herself laid out like a Thanksgiving turkey on the table. Mission or not, she couldn’t slip into his sexual karma, knowing that she’d wake up alone and have to go on with her miserable life. One night with him and already the bar had been set dangerously high. What mere male on earth could ever compare? She’d never truly find happiness with anyone else.

  His dancing slowed and the flirtatious smile on his face dissolved. “Look, I know you didn’t exactly choose this. But I promise to make it everything you ever wanted or needed.” He took her hand and pulled her into his warm embrace. His hands slid down her back, drawing her hips to his. Candy breathed in deeply, pressing against his hardening length beneath those faded Wranglers.

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. What chance do I have of ever being happy? I mean, with an ordinary man?”

  He leaned back and searched her eyes. “Fair enough. Maybe I could see about erasing your memory.”

  She pulled away. “Great idea. Give me the best sex that I’ll likely ever have, then obliterate it from my brain? You guys really don’t get the whole romance vibe, do you?”

  “I don’t make the rules.”

  Candy crossed her arms and walked to the window looking out over the remnant of winter’s cold, barren world. In a few weeks, it would be spring—rebirth and renewal for all of earth’s inhabitants. “And what if I refuse?”

  She felt him at her shoulder viewing the same world she saw. No flowers, no leaves, no color—no brilliant contrast of life—just brown dormancy and death.

  “Let’s just say that Punxsutawney Phil better watch his back.”

  She glanced at him. “Is this the real you?” She assessed him head to toe. “I mean, shouldn’t you have wings or something?”

  “What? You mean this Tucker meat suit?”

  She made a face at his analogy, then nodded.

  “The wing thing is really more Hollywood than reality. How I appear is real for you.” At least he was honest.

&
nbsp; “My ideal, you mean?” she said. “At least in a physical sense.”

  He looked puzzled. “I can slip into someone more suitable to your tastes if you prefer.”

  “Uh, no,” she responded. “No need for that.”

  “Okay, then, the full moon is tonight. What would you like? Cuffs? Feathers? Body cocoa?” He ran his hands up and down her arms.

  “What I want is to get to know you better.”

  A wry grin appeared on his handsome face. “Doubting my capabilities, even after our night together?”

  She gave him a cautious smile, careful not to let her heart venture any further than it already had. The truth was, she’d already started falling for him as they danced. If that made her shallow, so be it. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  His eyes lit up and he started to pull his shirt over his head.

  “Alone.”

  He paused and let the hem and his hands fall away from their task. “Fine, then. I’ll just…uh.” He glanced around, seemingly at a loss.

  “Make us some lunch?” she offered. “Then maybe we could watch a movie, play some cards?”

  “Oh, I’m good at strip poker.”

  His grin alone made her knees weak. “I just bet you are.”

  ***

  What Tucker thought…

  Tucker had to grin as he listened to her attempts at singing in the shower. Still, more than once he had to force his focus on chopping tomatoes to erase the image of those frothy bubbles cascading over her naked body. He needed no further enticement to carry out this mission. She was indeed beautiful, with curves in all the right places. He licked his lips and refocused on his task.

  Things were getting tense upstairs. The celestial powers that be expected better. Humanity’s romantic mojo seemed to deplete faster with each century. Humans focused less on love and laughter and more on doom and gloom. It’d gotten so bad that the heavens had to send out a legion of cupids—just to keep the romantics of the world inspired. He thought about his near-catastrophic last mission. Could he really fault himself for the late sixties?

  It was nothing short of tumultuous—war, riots, Woodstock. It was hard enough to find a daughter of Aphrodite in all the chaos. Not to mention the feminist movement he had to deal with. By the seventies, he was nearly at his wits’ end when nothing short of a miracle came out of a place called Detroit. A mortal by the name of Marvin Gaye released a song, “Let’s Get It On,” that set the earth ablaze with the mantra of “make love, not war.” It didn’t take him long after that to find his mate. Free love, no strings attached made it easy to convince her of her duty to karma, and for a long time the magic held tight. However, as is always the case with humanity, greed—the unabashed root of all evil—got in the way and tangled up the good vibes.