Page 16 of Cupid Loves Curves

“No. I know better than to give him the money unless he signs a contract and puts the master recordings in my hand. I loved my mom more than anything in the world, but she was too trusting and completely not business-minded in how to manage her creative career. Because of that bastard, she barely made ends meet by doing shift work in a factory and then singing in lounges at night.”

I let Abby finish talking. Unfortunately, this kind of story is all too common. There were – and still are – a lot of nefarious motherfuckers in this industry. Morris Orange was before my time, but what Abby’s saying sounds exactly like him and the way he ran this label. He was gone before I took over as CEO. It’s a point of pride that I’m fair with my artists. I’m not a pushover, but I give credit and rewards as they’re earned and due.

“What can I do to help? I can talk to Mor—”

“No!” Abby turns around in a flash, the contracts now crumpled from being held so tightly in her hands. “Sorry, but you really can’t expectmeto trust a label executive, can you? I need to do this, or try anyway, myself. I don’t care if they don’t get airtime or much press, but I want to release my mom’s songs. The world deserves her songs.”

“Look. I won’t butt in if you don’t want me to. But know that if you need help, I will do anything and everything in my power to help you.”

“Sure,” she says, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Even though I know it’s wrong, I’m turned all the way on by watching her anger. She has a pure passion in her that resonates with me. She clearly loved her mother and is willing to fight to protect and reclaim what she loves.

“Can I ask what happened to your mother? You said you lost her last year.”

Abby looks at me and the anger inside her just falls away. Her face crumples a little, then she comes and sits back down on the couch, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Breast cancer.” Her voice is small and the urge to protect her and to make things right stirs the essence of my soul.

“I’m incredibly sorry, Abby. I truly am.” I touch her shoulder, wishing I could relieve even a small part of her pain.

“Me, too. I miss her every day. She’d…she’d have a lot to say about me working here, even as a temp. She always wanted to go to the Rockin’ Hearts Ball. Morris Orange promised her she’d be the showcase performer.”

“Abby, I know you’re mad at me and mad at Ace Records, but believe me when I’m sincere with what I’m about to ask. Would you do me the honor of being my date for the annual Rockin’ Hearts Ball?”

CHAPTER 3

ABBY

Excuse me,what?” I’ve been yelling myself out of a job, then nearly crying myself out of a job, and he asks me on…a date? A date on Valentine’s Day? What the actual fuck is happening? Mr. Bryant is the sexiest man I’ve ever been close to, but how could I trust him andenjoytime with him? “I’m sorry. I knew that accepting this job was a mistake. I’ll get my things and leave.”

Moving as quickly as I can, I turn my back on Mr. Bryant to leave his office. My agency will scream at me for walking out on a contract, especially one like this, which other temps would give their eye teeth to have.

“No!”

The force of Mr. Bryant’s voice startles and stills me. He gets up from the couch and comes over to me. The voice inside my head screams at me toflee now, but…there’s a look in Mr. Bryant’s eyes that stops me. He’s not angry, but more…scared? It doesn’t make any sense.

“Look,” I say, bracing myself for whatever is coming, “I don’t want your pity and I sure as hell don’t want to be your poor pity date. Besides, I’m pretty sure Cheyenne and Lisette are expecting you to ask one of them.”

“It’s not like that at all. You’re…you’re different, Abby. I like that. Do you know how long it’s been since someone stood up to me and was truly honest with me? A really fucking long time. Everyone in this office goes out of their way to do what they think I want them to do. I swear to God sometimes I wonder if any of them have anything resembling a backbone.”

“Are you actually serious?” My resolve wavers and a vague sense of discomfort settles on me. Going to the Rockin’ Hearts Ball would mean more than he could even imagine. It’s only the biggest music industry event of the year. I’ve dreamt of going since my mom first told me about it when I was little. My ultimate dream was to go as her plus-one when she performed there.

“Dead serious, Abby.” The look in his green eyes makes me catch my breath. His intensity makes him even more compelling and sexy. How is it that this man, with a chiseled face and equally chiseled body is dead set on taking me – frumpy Abby Moore me – to the Rockin’ Hearts Ball?

“I…I don’t really have anything to wear to something like that. Plus, saving money…”

“Not a problem,” he says, waving his hand. “I’ll have a private shopper contact you today. Dress, shoes, everything, it’s covered. No need to repay, no expectation of anything. Consider it a small effort in trying to do right by you and your mother’s memory.”

“Well,” I pause, uncertain about how I feel about this. “Thank you.”

The idea of a personal shopper and no budget is the stuff dreams are made of. The idea of trying to find something that fits and flatters my curves? That’s the stuff of nightmares. It’s hard enough to find regular clothes that fit well, much less fancy clothes.

“Good. If you weren’t already aware, the event is on Friday. I’ll have Cheyenne contact a stylist today, so you have what you need.”

I can’t wait to see the look on her face.

Even before we’re introduced,I know exactly when the stylist arrives to meet me, because I can hear Cheyenne from across the office, asking if the stylist can hook her up with a dress, too. I was hoping that I could just meet her somewhere after work, but when we spoke on the phone, she insisted on coming by to take my measurements and ask about my style. She said she plans on having some dresses ready for me to try on tonight, so there is more time for alterations.

“Here she is,” Cheyenne says, her voice filled with disdain. “As you can see, she might be…challenging.”

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