Eros thought he knew everything about love. Being a Cupid and all. But that was before he met Penelope...
For nearly a decade, he's tried-and failed-to match her and her true love, Trevor. If he doesn't make the match by the ten-year deadline, he fa...
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I'm hopping around on one leg trying to fit my second one into my skinny jeans while my skin is still slightly damp from a shower when the doorbell rings.
"Hold on!" I shout as I give up and pull the jeans off—it just isn't happening. Why didn't I just wait a few more minutes?
Quickly grabbing a pair of black leggings, I pull them on, only to realize they're covered in gray cat hairs. I shoot Steve a reproachful look as I walk across my living room. As expected, the cat doesn't so much as deign me with a yawn, only watches me lazily with one eye half-open as I open the door. I stick my tongue out at him before turning my head to greet whoever is out in the hallway, only to have my 'hello' lodge in my throat as I come face to face with a very sexy-looking Eros.
It's Friday night, and I haven't seen him since we went ice skating last weekend. Shifts at the vet practice where I work have been crazy and I've come home and basically fallen straight into bed after a quick meal. He's looking very casual in a pair of well-fitting jeans and a blue cashmere jumper that makes his eyes look an even brighter blue than usual. His blond hair is perfectly styled in some sort of windswept-but-under-control fashion that just makes you want to bury your fingers in it and mess it up.
"Hi!" I finally croak, very aware of my state in comparison. Leggings with their cat hair accessory, an over-sized gray jumper that's not flattering on any body type—but oh, so comfortable!—and hair still wet, hanging loose and uncombed. To say I wasn't expecting to see anyone other than possibly a pizza delivery guy is an understatement.
"Hey." He smiles, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. My currently bare toes. I wish I was someone who had the foresight to paint my toenails. But it's January, and really, who paints their toenails in winter? Not I.
No one says anything else as we stare at each other, a little awkward after not speaking for so long after our date. Or possibly because I'm preoccupied by a lock of hair that's fallen down and is currently tickling his forehead.
"So, how have you been?"
"How are you doing?"
We both speak simultaneously, and I laugh a little too high. Why does this man make me so nervous? It might be the way he keeps watching me with those intense eyes of his. Or how I can see his biceps flex underneath the tight jumper as he lifts his arm to rub his neck with his hand.
"I was wondering if you're busy," he says, and the way his gaze flickers a little as he does makes him seem a little awkward.
I indicate my outfit with a nod. "Do I look busy?"
He chuckles, the dark sound doing nothing to settle my nerves. "Sorry, I know it's last minute... But I've rented a movie and was wondering if you'd like to join me?"
"You rented a movie? Do people do that these days?"
"Video-on-demand. There was nothing streaming I was in the mood to watch."
