Duping Cupid (A Valentine's Day Short Story) (2 page)

“Of course not.
You’re what I’m looking for.” She glanced up from the glossy photos on the pages, her expression bland. “How exactly did you get started in this line of work?”

Vivi
shrugged. “Same way you wound up here, seeking my help. Some unfeeling jackass stomped on my heart.” Julian Bruno, dirtbag extraordinaire.

In her pre
-Cupid life, Vivi had been a paralegal, and her boyfriend, Julian, was about to be named a partner in the law firm where she worked. After three years of dating and two of actually living together, Julian got his partnership. The supportive girlfriend, she’d waited, hopeful, for her Christmas present that year, expecting a huge diamond and a chance to plan her dream wedding. Instead, he gave her a gym membership. When she confessed her disappointment, he said to think of the gym as an incentive. If she dropped thirty pounds, she’d get her engagement ring. After all, he told her, a partner’s wife had to look a certain way, had to show she maintained self-control.

Inspired by his offer, she lost
two hundred pounds by moving out of their shared apartment. She also lost her deposit and the remainder of her half of the rent, but gained perspective. No man would ever use her heart and discard her again. And no one—man or woman—would ever make her feel inferior because she didn’t fit into the media’s bizarre standard of beauty. She had a huge heart and an appetite for life that a skinny figure couldn’t contain. Given the choice between munching on a carrot stick or spending time with friends over wine and cheese, she’d take the fun option every time. No regrets.

After the holidays
that year, the entire office was expected to attend a celebration at the Water Club, honoring the new partner. Pride warred with self-preservation. If she didn’t go, her boss would assume she wasn’t interested in advancing in her own position. But how could she go and face Julian—especially since, before the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve, he’d begun dating some skinny blonde with an IQ lower than her dress size? It was one thing to tell herself she didn’t need to be a size two to be happy; it was another to face Julian’s new bombshell girlfriend for the first time in front of all her coworkers.
No one
had that much self-confidence.

“Knock, knock!”

Vivi’s reverie exploded at the sound of Sebastian Lawrence opening the door to her office.

Correction.
Only one person had that much self-confidence. Her hero from that promotion party, her best friend and silent business partner since that one memorable evening, strode inside and did a double-take. “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t know you were with someone. I came to take you to lunch.” He leaned a hip on the windowsill to her right, his profile perfectly lit up by afternoon sunshine.

Despite the fact
Sebastian would turn thirty-nine this coming spring, he still exhibited the stellar looks and musculature that had made him a heartthrob on a hit television series back in the nineties. Tall, broad-shouldered and blond, with blue eyes that rivaled the waters of Lake Tahoe, he had turned his back on acting years ago, but never lost his star quality.

“
Ohmigod, he’s
perfect
,” Ava exclaimed. “I’ll take him.”

Vivi
turned her attention from Sebastian to the notebook on her desk. “Which one?”

Ava jabbed a finger at Sebastian.
“Him.”

He and
Vivi exchanged confused looks. Sebastian wasn’t a
date
, hadn’t been anyone’s date since that partners’ celebration eight years ago. “I’m sorry. There must be some mistake. This is Sebastian Lawrence. He’s not one of our agents. He’s a friend of mine.”

“I don’t care who he is.” She tapped a finger at the glossy photo of sexy med student, Dylan Ashcroft
, on page eleven. “These are...boys. I need a
man
. And I want him.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Vivi,” Sebastian said with a knee-weakening smile aimed straight at Mrs. Bannerman. “If the lady wants me, the lady can have me.”

He was kidding. Whenever he showed up when she had a potential female client, he turned on the charm to flood levels as a way of soothing the victim’s bruised ego. Soothed clients tended to view their Cupid experience with a better attitude. But a woman like Ava Bannerman wouldn’t allow harmless flirtation to remain a simple
innocent dance.

“Bass,”
Vivi murmured. “She’s looking for someone long term. All winter, in fact.”

He shrugged
, but never turned his gaze to her. “No problem. I’m available all winter.”

“Yes, but—”

Ava cut her off. “If you want my business, you’ll agree. “ She jerked her platinum head in
Bass’s direction. “If he’s willing, what possible argument could you offer?”

“For one thing,”
Vivi retorted, “he’s not an employee.”

“Make him one.”

This woman had a set of brass ones. Ava Featherstone Bannerman probably never heard the word, no. Until now.

“No,”
Vivi said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair. “I’m afraid it isn’t that easy.”

“
Vivi, it’ll be fine. Maybe even fun.” Sebastian pierced her anger armor with a barb of humor and a wink.

“But, Bass—” This time, s
he cut off her own argument.

A happy Ava Bannerman would pay well for her Cupid experience, but an unhappy Ava could destroy everything she had worked so hard for so long to establish.
If Bass wanted to help her out, why argue?

Maybe b
ecause she wondered why all of a sudden he had an interest in becoming some rich socialite’s boy toy. Not that she had any claims on him. She and Bass weren’t married—or even dating. They both had suffered third degree burns in love and had sworn off all romance that wasn’t profit-related.

“You know what?” she said at last. “You’re right. Sebastian is witty, intelligent and successful in his own right. If you think he’s perfect, I can’t argue with you. In fact…” She rose from her chair and swept a hand toward her best friend. “Bass, have a seat. You two can hash out the details of your relationship between you.”

Her legs shook as she strode past him, but not quite as much as her trembling hands. What on earth was wrong with her? Maybe she’d come in contact with some virus on the subway this morning. How unlucky could she get?

At least, Ava Bannerman was no longer her problem.  Bass could handle her.
Vivi’s stomach pitched, but she strolled into the lobby as if everything was perfect in her world. “I’m hitting the ladies room,” she managed to say through her dry throat. “Back in five.”

****

Sebastian watched Vivi leave her office at a scared rabbit’s pace, his brain buzzing with confusion. What had he said? He always flirted with the clients. None of them ever took him seriously. This woman had called his bluff, but he wouldn’t back down. He’d done this gig before—for Vivi when that superficial moron, Julian, had broken her heart.

He’d first met
Vivi at a New Year’s Eve party a week after her breakup. While everyone else had paired up for the evening to make sure they had lined up their midnight kisses, she remained alone and aloof, which contrasted with her pale pink sequined dress that pretty much screamed, “I’m here!” After years of dating shallow models, Bass found the shiny pink sparrow a puzzle he longed to solve. Filching two champagne flutes from a passing waitress, he approached and engaged her in conversation. To his surprise, his famous name and infamous charm didn’t bowl her over. She was polite, cool, and unimpressed. So he tried harder. Hours passed between them until, finally, sometime after midnight, he managed to get to the heart of her story. When she confessed her fear of looking like a fool at the partners’ dinner, he’d volunteered to be her totally devoted and adoring date.

That evening turned out better than
Vivi’s wildest imagination could have dreamed up. Bass’s good looks and fawning attention had drummed up envy and curiosity, overshadowing the new partner’s celebrity. Drunk with success, Vivi had quit her job and cashed in her 401K to create a new business venture. With Bass’s contacts and additional financial backing, she’d launched Cupid To Go. Neither one of them had ever looked back.

So why did she think he couldn’t handle this
particular job?

Shaking off annoyance, he took
Vivi’s seat behind the desk and turned on the charm.  “I’m Sebastian Lawrence,” he told the well-dressed and coiffed woman. “My friends call me Bass.”

“Not anymore,” the woman sniffed
as she perched on the edge of the chair across from him. “It’s too undignified. If you’re going to be my escort, you’ll go by Sebastian at all times.”

Ah
a. Vivi’s hesitancy made sense after all. She didn’t worry that he couldn’t handle the gig. She worried he might kill this woman before the winter was over, and the possibility did exist. He should have known better. Well, he’d stepped into the fray when she’d tried to protect him. No way would he abandon her now.  “May I ask your name? I’m afraid Vivi was remiss in the introductions.”

The woman grin
ned, calling to his mind a barracuda zeroing in on a tasty tidbit for dinner. “Ava Featherstone Bannerman.”

“Ava.” Thank God he hadn’t lost his
acting skills. He took her hand and placed a soft kiss at the base of her palm. Nothing. Not so much as a smile on her frozen face. Recovering quickly, he reached for the standard paperwork. “Once we go over the contracts, we’ll have you happier than you’ve been in years. For the next four and a half months, I will be your devoted slave.”

She took the stapled packet, folded it, and shoved it into her purse.
“Not yet, you’re not. I have to be careful. I can’t afford to look foolish. Not only will I have this reviewed by my attorney, I’ll also be hiring a private detective to thoroughly investigate you. If you have any skeletons in your closet, now’s the time to let me know.”

He relaxed, easing back in the chair.
A woman on a power trip. How unoriginal. “No skeletons. My life’s an open book.”

“Not too open, I hope,” she remarked.
“Your picture isn’t routinely splashed on tabloid covers, is it?”

“No, of course not.”
“What exactly do you do for a living, Mr. Lawrence?”

“
These days? Real estate. I own several lucrative properties in Manhattan.”

“Before that?”
“I was an actor on
Our Small Town
for eleven years.”

No reaction. Wow. Normally, women bounced on their toes and shrieked when they realized he’d played the hunky Dr. Morgan Reed on the
successful television series. This one just sat there—like a barracuda—cold, deadly, with soulless eyes.

“
What’s your current marital status?”

And the questions kept on coming.
“Divorced. Fifteen years ago.”

“Why?”

None of her business. Jeez, did all of Vivi’s clients demand so much personal information? Never having been in the hot seat before today, he had no idea if what she asked was standard.

“I’m waiting, Mr. Lawrence.”
“She found someone else.” An understatement, but all the information this barracuda deserved to know. In truth, his ex-wife had left him for a
woman
, a blow from which his ego had never fully recovered.

“Any children?”

“No.” He’d wanted them, but his ex, Jenna, an actress in her own right, refused to consider ruining her figure or sacrificing her chaotic lifestyle for a child. After the divorce, he’d realized her stubborn refusal to start a family had actually helped them avoid additional tragedy. The one good thing to come out of the whole ugly mess.

“And what’s your connection to that Maxwell woman?”
“Vivi? We’re friends. For almost ten years now.”

“Nothing more?”
She quirked a penciled brow. “Have you ever slept together?”

“No!” The denial came out fast, not because the idea was abhorrent, but because…well, because they were
friends
. Both scarred from romantic entanglements, they’d never considered ruining their relationship with sex.

“I didn’t really think so,” she replied airily.
“A big girl like that. No wonder she’s single.”

Now, wait a minute.
Anger welled up inside him. He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she never gave him the chance.

“Shame, too. She has such a pretty face...”
Frowning, she glanced down at her flawless French manicure.

“She’s also funny, generous,
and the best damn friend I’ve ever had. And I think she’s beautiful inside and out. You know nothing about Vivi, what she’s been through, and how special she really is.”

Her focus snapped back to him, that barracuda smile fixed in place.
“And you love her.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “She’s my friend.”
Craning his neck, he looked past the woman and out toward the lobby to make sure Vivi hadn’t returned from her trip to the ladies room. She might pretend not to care when some skinny know-it-all commented on how pretty she’d be if she only lost a little weight, but Bass knew how much those well-meaning insults belittled her. Silly, really, since, in his eyes, she was pretty much perfect, size-wise and in every other way.