Page 2 of Cupid Loves Curves

“Cheers,” I say, tasting the wine, which is unexpectedly good. “Anyway. I’ve been working on going through everything, especially everything in the attic. I was going through a box of mail, and I found letters addressed to this woman. I knew it was a longshot, but I wanted to deliver the mail to the person it was addressed to.”

“This is absolutely fascinating. Who is the letter addressed to?”

“Eunice Paine.”

“Oh! That’s my grandmother! She’ll be thrilled. Can I see?”

“She’s still alive?”

“Of course she is. But where would she be?”

“But… You’re here.”

“Oh!” The guy laughs. “I’m just housesitting until she’s back. She’s on a trip down to Florida with her friends, because she keeps threatening to buy a condo down there. Wait,” he says, his dark eyes drilling into me and making me feel weak. “Did you think this was my house?”

“Well…”

He nearly falls on the floor laughing, and I can’t help but laugh along, too. He has such an easy way about him, but I feel totally comfortable with him. And then it hits me. I don’t even know his name.

“You’re funny, you know that?” He asks, a beautiful smile playing across his sensual lips.

“I don’t know about that. Though I did just realize that we haven’t introduced ourselves.”

“Where are my manners?” He exclaims, putting his wine glass down on the table and extending his hand to me. “Lance Clayton. At your service.”

“Bernadette Higgins. Pleased to meet you,” I smile as I shake his hand in a mock-formal way.

The moment our fingers touch, the entire world shifts and goes lopsided. Electricity zips through my body and something deep inside of me knows – knows that he’s The One. The way his eyes flare slightly, I swear he feels this, too.

“Actually, let’s eat first. Then we can look at the letters. Dig in.”

I take a bite of food, and then freeze. This is the worst lasagna I’ve ever tasted. I’m not even sure if I can swallow it.

“Oh,” he says, his voice suddenly serious. “That doesn’t look good. Is it bad?”

He winces as he waits for me to respond. Should I be polite, and try to swallow it? Or should I be honest? I mean, maybe he thinks he’s a good cook. In the end, honesty wins.

I try to smile a little, but it’s impossible. I look at him and shake my head and try to convey how sorry I am that I don’t like his cooking.

“Dammit! That’s what I was afraid of. You don’t have to eat it if it’s that bad.”

I look at him, wondering if he’s serious. Most people aren’t exactly thrilled if you say they’re a terrible cook. The idea of swallowing this charred food makes me cringe, so I pick up my napkin and spit the food into my napkin as discreetly as I can.

“Shall we have more wine?”

CHAPTER 2

LANCE

This has been the most frustrating and unexpected day of my life.

First, my latest attempt to make my grandmothers lasagna is once again an unmitigated disaster.

Then, a bombshell of a woman knocks at the door and now we’re having dinner together. Or, we’re drinking wine together, because this lasagna was once again inedible. It’s a mystery why it’s so hard to make lasagna, because it seems like it should be easy. Layer pasta, meat, cheese, tomato sauce. It sounds easy.

The moment I saw this woman, a seismic shift happened in me. She’s all curves and sweetness, and there’s a magic about her. My grandparents always told me I’d know the moment I met my future wife, and they weren’t wrong. In my forty years on this earth, I’ve never met a woman that made me even consider settling down.

My Army buddies keep telling me to tomcat around, play the field and have fun. But that’s not my style. I haven’t even been thinking about dating or trying to find a woman, butBernadette? A woman like Bernadette is not a woman you let get away. You do not let that chance slip through your fingers.

---