Michelle Irwin

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2014 by Michelle Irwin

First Edition December 2014

Published in Australia

Digital ISBN: 978-0-9941746-0-4

Also available in paperback:

Print ISBN: 978-0-9941746-1-1

Print ISBN: 978-0-9941746-4-2

Cover Artist: Soxsationalcoverart

Cover content used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted is a model.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The following story is set in the USA and therefore has been written in US English. The spelling and usage reflect that.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquiries, contact:

Michelle Irwin P O Box 671 MORAYFIELD QLD 4506 AUSTRALIA

www.michelle-irwin.com

writeonshell@outlook.com

Dedication

To my husband and daughter, you come first and foremost in everything I do.

To my family and friends, thank you for supporting me in this endeavor. For putting up with the long hours, ignored conversations, and missed appointments.

To Jen, thank you for always putting your eyes as the first line of defense between my initial draft and the world at large. For your unwavering support and help. For reading my words so many times they must be burned into your brain. For talking me down from the metaphorical ledge more times than I can count.

To Soxie, thank you for taking my rambling suggestions and turning it all into a cover that I love.

To all my beta and proof readers: Jacky, Felicia, Isobel, Jade, Amanda, and Kylie, thank you for casting your eyes over my words and offering suggestions for improvements.

To Karen Harper, thank you for your editing assistance and guidance.

To all the blogs and people who have helped me along the way to spread the word and just for being awesome. I know if I try to name you all, I’ll miss one of you and then feel terrible.

To Belinda and Kristy, you are both new in my life, but you have both been supportive beyond measure and made me think this crazy little dream of mine might not be so completely crazy.

CHAPTER ONE

There was nothing quite as wonderful as watching requited love blossom. Or at least that was Evan's primary thought as he waited for the wedding to start.

Over the course of his tour of duty, Evan had witnessed many weddings; each one as different as it was the same. Although he had noticed that around the turn of the twenty-first century, the variance between celebrations had grown wider from bikinis on the beach to million-dollar affairs. This particular event was certainly one of the latter. It had set the bride’s parents back a pretty penny, as well as a few million ugly ones.

None of that pomp mattered to Evan though. For him the where and what didn’t matter as much as the why. No, he wasn’t there for the preening and perfection—the motives behind his attendance were much purer than that. He was just there to celebrate the love of the couple. After all, he was invested in it. He had played a more than significant part in bringing them together. Of course, they’d never thank him for what he’d done. He’d performed his task so perfectly that they would never even know that he’d been there or the way he’d interfered to unite them. It was easier that way.

The music that had played as the bridesmaids—all seven of them—walked down the aisle, swelled into a crescendo just before the doors opened once more to reveal the bride to the waiting congregation. Unlike everyone else, Evan didn’t turn to look at her.

Not yet.

There was something much more important to witness in that moment: the sight of the groom's face as he saw his picturesque bride in all her made-up and coiffed glory. That expression was all the payment Evan needed for the hard work it had taken to bring the couple together.

Almost all the payment he needed.

In truth, there was one other form of compensation he needed. One that neither the bride nor groom would miss, or even know he’d taken and would continue to draw on for the rest of their lives.

Standing as the bride neared him, Evan touched his fingertips to her shoulder in a feather-light caress. He closed his eyes for a second to enjoy the sensation of her increased heartbeat, which sped in response to his presence. The surge of love he absorbed, doubled and passed back to her through his touch was delightful. Over time, he’d come to appreciate how wonderful the union between his matches was, but it could never compare to this element of the job—the big payoff. It was what he enjoyed the most about weddings, but it was this part of his new life that he’d appreciated long before he’d been comfortable watching the happy couples speak their vows—something he’d never been able to do himself.

The moments of overwhelming joy, like weddings and births, were a big part of the reason that he’d spent the last fifty years diligently monitoring the ever-changing list in his mind. In truth, it was a combination of those moments and the fact that he wasn’t sure what the outcome would be if he didn’t follow the list to the letter, that drove him to attend these events. After an early taste of what that might be like, he’d decided that he didn’t want to risk it and had been a company man ever since. Over time, he’d become almost zealous in his efforts. Like a junkie jonesing for his next fix.

In reality, he didn’t have to be actually present at the wedding to reap the benefits. He could enjoy the sensations from miles away if he’d wanted to. With proximity though, he could amplify the emotions of the couple he’d united and make the payoff last that much longer.

Leaving his hand resting on the bride’s shoulder, Evan began to walk down the aisle at her side. If anyone else in the chapel had been able to see him, they would probably have wondered who the chestnut-haired stranger walking alongside Karen was. Evan was sensible enough to remain cloaked as he fell into step beside her though, so he was safe from prying eyes.

Besides, he and Karen were no longer strangers, at least not from his side of things. He knew her. In fact, he was quite intimately connected with her heart and soul. He probably knew her inner desires better than anyone else in the church, even the grinning groom waiting at the other end of the aisle. After all, she’d unknowingly whispered all of her secrets to Evan twelve months ago when he’d first been assigned the task of finding her perfect match. Evan had found her soul mate within a week, and brought them together within a month. Their first kiss had been just one of many wonderful experiences they’d unwittingly shared with him.

Finally, the moment was upon him.

Evan delighted in the wondrous emotions in the air when Karen’s father pressed the bride’s shaking fingers into her groom’s waiting hand. A pleasure shuddered down his spine and caused his limbs to tremble. He lifted his hand away from Karen so that his quivering fingers didn’t accidentally alert her of his presence. So close to the fulfillment of the promise to each other, Evan could taste the sweetness of the love between them that filled the air. It encircled his body, echoing through his heart. Blended with the love was the bittersweet sensation of the father losing a daughter but also gaining a son. The love in the room, from the couple and the family and friends supporting them, was, for the most part, pure. It was real, and it was wonderful.

It was the tender moments like the one he currently shared with Karen and her groom that provided him with sustenance. Love might make the world go around, but it was also what kept cupids like Evan alive—for want of a better word.

If he was pressed to explain what it was like to taste the emotions of others, Evan would have likened it to a favorite meal after weeks of starvation. At least, he might have, had he still understood the concept of food. That need had been stripped from him when he’d died, and the memory of a well-cooked steak dinner had all but faded completely in the intervening years.

Although he’d never had any need to explain what the absence of love felt like for him, Evan knew it would have been impossible to explain it to any living soul. It was a little like hunger, but also completely different. In theory, he could survive without love and the associated happy emotions. His body didn’t need like the living did; he could survive without food and oxygen. Even sleep was little more than a way to pass the time if he was bored. He couldn’t die, exactly. Although emotions sustained him, he could go months, maybe even years, without them. So starvation might not have been the best analogy.

He would survive, but a loveless life was not a fun existence for a cupid.

No, he wouldn’t die, but he would go wanting.

He’d be empty.

He refused to let that happen—again.

Turning to leave the happy couple to say their vows, Evan closed his eyes and brought up the next name on the list in his mind.

Rebecca Lewis.

He smiled to himself, secretly loving the moment a new name appeared. He would never admit it to anyone, especially not the voiceless, bodiless entities he reported to—the ones that invaded his mind whenever they desired but wouldn’t come to him when he called to them—but he was glad he’d been offered this chance at salvation. A darker, much hotter, path might have been his fate otherwise.

Taking a moment to collect himself once he was outside the church, Evan focused on the name, Rebecca Lewis, and felt her lonely heart calling to him from across the distance. In that first instant of connection, he learned enough about her to ensure he’d be able to find her: name, age, occupation, and location. Nothing that allowed him to know her though. After all, discovering desires, hopes, and dreams always took more than a brief lock-on to her soul. That took physical contact and the ability to see beyond the lies people told themselves. It could take hours or weeks, depending on the person and how willing they were to open themselves up in order to find love.

What Evan had learned was that Becca was a few hundred miles away in Flint, Michigan. She was a medical receptionist who would shortly celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday. It wasn’t nearly enough to start his search for her soul mate, but it was enough to give him something to mull over as he wandered the streets still basking in the glow of Karen’s wedding.

When he thought about Becca, he had to admit that her current location surprised him a little. It was much further than he’d ever had to travel before. The actual distance mattered little; he had his own unique way of travelling. It was just odd that it was so much further than he’d ever had to go before.

Regardless, he knew what he had to do next. He never questioned the names he was given—couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to. There was no one to ask. All he knew was that if this name was next on the list, it wouldn’t leave until he’d found her a match.

Until that time, he wouldn’t receive his next fix of energy and the emotions of his other matches that still lived within him would have to sustain him while they slowly dissipated to the level of comfort found in long-term partnerships, or worse turned to heartache when one of the pairing died. A violent shudder raced along his spine at the thought. He knew better than most that there was nothing worse than losing a loved one—even if he was just a cupid losing one by proxy.

Spurred into action by the thought of the muted ache that would surge through his body during the absence of love, he refocused his thoughts on Becca. It was a well-practiced technique: fierce concentration on her name would call an image of her face into his mind. He could then use that image to cover the miles in just a few beats of her heart.

The instant he saw her face though, his eyes shot open and he exhaled in shock.

That can’t be right.

Almost seven hundred miles to the west, Becca loaded her camera equipment into her white Mustang, taking a second to wipe the sweat from her brow. Summer was supposed to be ending and yet the day was hotter than any had been in recent weeks.

Before snapping shut the trunk lid, she ensured the bag laden with various lenses, a small digital camera, and her favorite, a ten-year old Nikon FM3A film camera, was secure. As she did, her mind wondered to the impromptu photo session she’d just had, imagining how the photos she’d just taken might turn out when she was able to find the time to develop the rolls of film she’d finished.

While the world around her seemed to have almost uniformly moved on, switching to digital cameras and the immediacy they offered, Becca preferred the image quality and intimacy of film photography. There was something about being able to use her skills with the camera, manipulating the settings as she saw fit, to produce the perfect image—bending light, shade, and focus to her will—that made her feel powerful. Especially when she combined all the elements to reproduce the images she envisioned in her mind in the moments before pressing the shutter release and capturing the image forever.

Although there were a few correcting steps she could take while processing the photos, the reality was that she had only a few precious chances to get each shot just right before it was lost forever. There was no auto-correcting, no multiple takes, no three-hundred photos to get that one perfect shot. After all, the subject could be gone tomorrow, and even with a static object, the lighting conditions, weather, even the surrounding foliage, would never exactly match what she’d encountered during any given photo session. These were the reasons why it was so exhilarating for her when all of those factors combined and it just worked.

One of her favorite things in the world was that first instant when she opened the door to her dark room—known as a basement to most normal people. She would be greeted by the slightly acrid, but somehow immensely pleasing, chemical scent of the developing fluids—the scent that never seemed to leave the room regardless of the time between sessions—before being called into the space beyond by the promise of the perfect image.

Coming a close second were the times that she was able to lock herself away to process her black and white prints under the soft red light, watching the images form and blossom under her loving attention. That delay between expectation and result was a sometimes frustrating, but always a vital, element of her particular brand of photography. It was what made her crazy when the shots failed, but it was also what made her love it. It was impossible to capture that same feeling with digital. Half of her time editing on the computer seemed to be spent deleting images rather than breathing life into them.

By the time Becca slid onto the red leather seats behind the wheel of her car, she was already daydreaming about tomorrow’s photo shoot. Imagining the compositions of the still-life shots she would take occupied her mind for the majority of the not quite ten-minute drive that would take her from the Sunset Hills Cemetery back to her house on Van Buren Avenue.

Occasionally, she wished she had someone to talk to about these photo shoots, someone who would take an interest in why she found her particular choice in location fascinating. Instead, she mostly kept it to herself because she knew that most people thought taking photos in cemeteries was macabre or depressing. Although Becca could understand that, at least a little, she found the memory and mystery that shrouded all cemeteries to be inspirational. She loved history, adored singers that were popular long before she’d been born. When she was younger, her mother used to joke that Becca had an old soul.

While Becca didn’t quite agree with that sentiment herself, she did feel more at home at the cemetery than she ever had at any nightclub or party with people her own age. Besides, she often reasoned with herself, her trips, and her photos, weren’t about death. They were about celebrating those who remained. Even when the photos were of the graves themselves, she was capturing a slice of someone’s history through the lens. The short messages of love inscribed on memorials made her feel connected to all those people who’d come before.

Sunset Hills was a particular favorite of hers, partly because a few of her family members were laid to rest in the grounds, four of them side by side, and she liked to visit them. Usually her trips ended with her at their side, talking to them like they were still around.

Aside from her familial connection, it was the lush lawns, colorful blooms, and quiet serenity of that particular cemetery that made it one of her particular favorites to visit. Although she didn’t know the names of most of the flowers in the gardens, she could point to the ones that were most striking in black and white and which could only be truly captured in color.

She also knew the places to stand in order to get the best photos of the old man who came once a week to visit his wife. Becca realized she probably shouldn’t take his photo without permission, but her photography was a hobby, not a profession. Something about him compelled her to snap image after image, week after week. She wasn’t capturing his image to share with the world, but because there was an expression he wore while visiting the resting place of what must have been his great love, that captivated her. There was sorrow, but overwhelming it was another emotion which proved enigmatic to identify. She thought it was best named reminiscence, but maybe devotion or even undying love would have been better words.

Pulling the car onto her driveway, Becca’s mind turned away from her photography and onto her next shift at McLaren Hospital, which was due to start in a little over an hour. Working out her schedule for the rest of the afternoon, she decided she would be able to process the results of yesterday’s shoot, but she’d have to watch her time in the dark room carefully or she’d end up late. Again.

She wasn’t sure how many more late starts her bosses would accommodate. Her job as a medical receptionist paid the bills and offered her some purpose, but she’d lost her passion a while ago. Some days it was as wonderful as it was frustrating, most days it was just the latter. In theory, being part of a system that was designed to help people in their most desperate times should have given her almost as much satisfaction as looking at the world through the lens, but dealing with paperwork, families, and sometimes the patients themselves, tested her tolerance levels almost daily.

She pulled up into the garage. When she saw the boxes that were still piled high on shelves along the back wall, she felt a stab of guilt. She really needed to deal with them, sort out what was important and needed to be kept versus what was just a result of her nana’s hoarding ability. With a sigh, she told herself the same thing she’d been saying for years. I’ll get onto that one day.

As she thought about the boxes, her afternoon, her photos, and everything else her life contained, the notion that miles and miles away a man existed who was about to have a vested interested in her love-life never even came close to entering her mind.

Evan stood, still trying to process the image he’d called up of Becca. There was something far too familiar about the bounce of raven-black curls on her head, about the emerald eyes rimmed with long, dark lashes, and about the full, red lips curved into a smile. The last time he’d seen all those features put together just like that was over fifty years ago, and back then it had all belonged to a woman named Rose.

Rose.

He closed his eyes as he thought about her. His Gypsy Rose, he used to call her, even though she’d hated the term. Usually he remembered very little about his former, human life. All the insignificant things like thirst, hunger, ambition, and lust, had been driven out of him; replaced by his new craving for the emotion of others. When he thought of Rose though, he could remember every little detail. He could remember her fire and passion, the way music meant more to her than almost anything else and he could recall exactly what it was like to live—to love. But also what it felt like to lose everything.

Trying to calm his racing mind, he began to doubt the image he’d seen. Even though he knew that souls were sometimes recycled—sent back to Earth to be reborn and live an actual life again, not the half-life he himself had to endure—he’d never expected that outcome for Rose. Not after the promises he’d been given. Besides, it had been too many years since her death, and he’d been certain she’d moved on to a better place after what she’d suffered.

He’d been so absolutely certain of it in fact that he grew more positive by the second that there was no possible way that face could now belong to Becca. Some cosmic wires had to have been crossed somewhere across time and space. He almost laughed at his earlier reaction, telling himself that the similarities were nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him.

Once more, he closed his eyes and focused. This time, he was intent on covering the distance that separated him from Becca. He saw the familiar features in his mind again and, although the desire to pull away was still just as strong, he focused on finding the connection between them.

One he’d located the link, the steady thump-thump of her lonely heart called him home and he opened his own heart to follow it. A second later, he ceased to exist in Hoboken, New Jersey, and appeared in Flint, Michigan.

CHAPTER TWO

Upon arrival, it took Evan all of two seconds to realize that there hadn’t been any mistake. No cosmic wires had crossed to show him the face he longed to see rather than the one his latest assignment actually wore.

It took him two seconds more to threaten physical violence against the entities that had set him up for the massive disappointment that came with the realization that his love hadn’t made it past the pearly gates. Or if she had, that she’d been snatched back out and sent back to earth.

With clenched fists, he watched the woman who bore a too-striking resemblance to the one he’d lost. On closer inspection, Evan saw a number of small differences in the actual features: a slightly bigger nose, eyes a little more round than almond, and lips a shade or two darker than Rose’s had been. Regardless of those small changes, it was clear that Rose’s soul shone out at him through Becca’s face.

The reminder of the woman he’d loved with everything he’d had was enough to propel him back to the last time he’d seen those emerald eyes. Only then, it had been hard to tell exactly what color her irises were. They’d been frozen open by the grip of death and dark ligature marks had circled her neck. She’d been snatched from him by a cruel fate and a crueler man. The months that had followed had been spent trying to cope with an emptiness that was more painful than even a loveless cupid’s life. In the end, it was too much for him to handle. On the first anniversary of that hideous day, he’d hurled himself from the closest cliff thinking that it was the only way to dislodge the monster choking him from within.

An unknown time later, he’d awoken in a vacant space. If waking was what it could be called when someone’s consciousness becomes suddenly aware again despite the last memory being a too-fast meeting between his head and a flat rock. His first thought had been that it wasn’t an empty room, because the word room implied that there was something. There were no walls. No floor either. No, well, no . . . anything. It was the complete lack of things—the absence of even his own body—that left Evan with no doubt that he was dead.

In that moment, he’d been offered a choice. He could return to Earth as a cupid in an attempt to earn his redemption for the sin of taking his own life—and join his love in the afterlife thereafter—or he could go straight to . . . the other place.

Even if he hadn’t been promised a place alongside his Rose, the mere thought of eternity in Hell had made his entire consciousness ache. If he’d actually still had a body—and a heart—at that time, he was positive that the pain would have been unbearable. Thinking it was a choice between the lesser of two evils—between Hell and Hell on Earth—he’d agreed to the tour of cupid duty.

Despite agreeing to the task, he was reluctant to do it. For the first month, he’d been determined not to follow through. He put almost no effort into matching people up. Instead, he just randomly forced together two strangers who had no commonality. It wasn’t long before he realized that even his half-assed attempts made people happier than he thought anyone had a right to be.

After that, he’d refused to do it at all. He steadfastly ignored the name at the top of his list. Her name would be burned into Evan’s mind forever: Cynthia Dean. He’d ignored it for a solid six weeks until it had gone away. He’d heard about her suicide a few days later.

Knowing that his unwillingness to help her find happiness could have been a contributing factor in her death, combined with the agony of heartache multiplied over and over through his body without any positive emotions to blunt the pain, he’d finally given in.

Before long, he’d found that the task wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d imagined it might be. Sure, the first hundred couples or so which he’d paired had caused him to wonder whether he’d selected wrong, accidentally stumbling into the real eternal damnation option. Watching the joy on the faces of those first two hundred odd people when they’d realized how they were perfect for each other had initially made Evan want to scoop out his eyeballs with a spoon.

Eventually though, he’d begun to stop seeing all of the things he’d lost, the things he’d never really had in the first place, and started to recognize in the couples he matched all of the things he’d shared with Rose, as limited as they’d been. Things like the rush of new love, the yearning of lust, and the absolute, unwavering desire to live and die for someone other than oneself. It had almost made it worthwhile, especially with the promised paradise at the end.

Now none of his reasons for making the choice or following his lists mattered, because Rose had been recycled. Fifty years of pairing up his assignments, thousands of couples out in the world at that precise moment, were meaningless to him in the face of that fact. All of the happiness he’d caused was based on a lie. A big, fat, horrifying lie. He’d been duped into thinking something better awaited him. Seeing Rose’s soul back on Earth confirmed that there was nothing. Nothing but an eternity of servitude, of constantly finding partners for people who, for the most part, were simply too preoccupied to just stop and simply say hello to one another.

A small giggle of delight issued from Becca, pulling Evan back from his thoughts and reminding him that he wasn’t alone. That he was on a case—the worst flipping case of his existence maybe, but a case nonetheless. It wasn’t Becca’s fault that her soul wasn’t originally hers. It didn’t mean she was less deserving of love or happiness—both of which were now under his custody.

He watched her move between the two long mottled gray Formica counters that were set up in her basement. Her olive skin was warm, even though the only light in the room was a soft red glow from a bulb screwed to the wall beside her. Her curls were bundled up high on her head in a messy bun, with a few loose strands curling around her ears and falling around her round face. Before long he found himself watching her actions in fascination, all thoughts of anger forgotten.

When she bent to grab a bottle out of one of the low cupboards underneath the counter opposite to Evan, he stepped forward so that he wouldn’t lose sight of her. Her black pants pulled low as she leaned forward and a hint of lacy underwear poked out the top. The sight of that small hint of material caused something to writhe uncomfortably in the pit of Evan’s stomach, and he was almost relieved when she stood again.

She navigated around the space with the confidence of someone completely in their element—someone who was certain they were alone—twisting between the two counters, and using all of the equipment and liquids that Evan was completely clueless about.

For a moment, Evan felt guilty for cloaking himself with the intention of watching her work. It was all in her best interest, he justified. After all, although no one needed a partner for their happiness, having a caring partner made life just a little sweeter. If Rose had been granted another chance at life, surely she deserved a chance at the happiness that had eluded her the first time around. The happiness he himself had been so desperate to give her before he’d failed her.

Evan didn’t have to be happy about what he had to do next; he just had to do it.

After a few minutes, Becca began humming to herself and Evan was surprised to recognize the tune. It was an old Ella Fitzgerald song, which he thought was a little strange given that it was popular in his youth, when he was alive the first time. Although of course he couldn’t guarantee that it hadn’t been re-recorded at some point over the years, he couldn’t specifically remember hearing it in recent years, not since he found himself assigned to his cupid tasks.

As she hummed a few bars, Becca closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the melody. Her humming melted into the lyrics that must have been running through her mind. In the brief pause between the first word and the second, Evan had expected her to continue with a voice that would be at home among a chorus of angels, like the one he’d heard often enough. Instead, he was treated to the sort of baleful wail that wouldn’t have been out of place coming from two alley-cats fighting at night. At the sound, he’d almost chuckled in spite of himself. It was just the reminder that he’d needed that the woman in front of him wasn’t the one he’d wanted to marry fifty years ago. Rose possessed a beautiful voice. He’d always assumed it was because her music had come from her very soul, he could now see he’d been mistaken. Regardless, the memory of the way she’d serenaded him as they danced together during a stolen moment filled his mind.

Evan shook his head, trying to dislodge the reminders of Rose that had taken up residence inside. They were from another time, literally from another life. He’d been human then and able to fall in love with anyone he chose. Now he wasn’t human and falling in love was forbidden.

He took a moment to center himself and then began to move around the space in which Becca seemed utterly comfortable, to get a better view of her actions. Moving carefully, he watched as she dipped a piece of paper into a tray of clear liquid. He was utterly captivated by her tasks, wondering exactly what she was doing.

A small smile played on her lips as she watched a picture blossoming on the bit of paper she’d been handling. At the magic she’d performed, Evan moved in for an even closer look, taking care that his footsteps didn’t make noise and being careful to remain cloaked.

After spending time working with the film from the day’s shoot, getting it ready to print once the negatives dried, Becca turned her attention onto the negatives she’d developed the day before. Because of how long it took to work through the process of setting the film, and then waiting for it to dry, she generally never had the time to process the prints on the same day. For her, the process of actually making prints from her film was like discovering a new friend. There was a particular photo she’d taken yesterday which she was desperate to see in print.

She selected the negative she wanted and set it into the enlarger, letting the image project onto the light-sensitive paper. The small glimpse that process offered her was enough to make her smile.

What she’d seen through the viewfinder, what she’d desperately tried to capture, was the play of light through the Roman arches in the memorial gardens. At the time, she’d used her film camera, which had restricted her to black and white. She didn’t have the time or equipment to develop color photographs, so she only took those with her digital camera. Where it was an option, film, and therefore black and white, was always her first choice. She’d been hopeful that the simplicity of the black and white might have captured the contrast in the shadows better than color could. It had been a gamble of sorts, but from what she’d seen, she wouldn’t be disappointed.

When she dropped the paper into the developer, a little grin lit her face as she saw the exact image she’d been hoping for blossom across the page. It was the picture she’d seen in her mind’s eye as she’d pressed the shutter release. In fact, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

She agitated the solution, letting it continue to work its magic on the print, deepening the contrast and bringing the image to life. The image darkened, and once more she was awed by the magic of the print appearing before her eyes. It never failed to amaze her. Once she was satisfied with the picture, she lifted it from the developer, ready to move on with the rest of the process. Twisting with the image secured by a pair of small tongs in her hand, she smacked into something, loosened her grip and dropped the print.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath as she knelt to retrieve the paper from the darkness underneath the counter. Once she had it in hand again, she swore. Without being plunged into the stop bath soon enough, the perfect image had continued to darken and now it was just a blackened mess on the page. It would have to be a complete do-over because there was no hope of rescuing the image. She rinsed off the chemicals before screwing up the piece of paper and throwing it in the bin.

She looked around to see what she’d hit, but there was nothing but empty space around her. In fact, it struck her as odd that she’d encountered any obstacle at all because she was fastidiously neat whenever she used her dark room. Her caution was deserved because the red light she used was always dimmed to the lowest setting and only provided just enough light to work with. If things weren’t neat, she was likely to end up tripping over something stupid and landing face first in chemicals. After checking the area thoroughly, she was certain that there was nothing to impede her movement again, and feeling more than a little clumsy for tripping over thin air, she moved to start work on the negative again.

Just as she was about to restart the process, she glanced up and noticed the time.

“Crap, I’m going to be late,” she growled, hastily tidying everything away and pulling off her apron. The print would have to wait until after work, because her bosses wouldn’t wait for her. Not again.

She raced up the basement stairs, taking them two at a time, pulling the door shut behind her. The race to get ready for work occupied her so completely that she didn’t notice the door didn’t catch behind her. Neither did she notice the light that she’d left on had turned off or that the door finally pulled completely closed seconds later.

Evan cursed his stupidity. For a moment, he’d been so captivated by the breathtaking beauty of the photo Becca had been tending to that he hadn’t noticed her start to move. Although he was cloaked from her sight and she wouldn’t have noticed his feather-light touches if he’d reached out to test her emotions, he was still a solid mass which could be hit.

The moment her body had smacked against his, he’d come back to himself and stepped away from the area, leaving her to clean up. It was a rookie mistake, one he hadn’t made since back in the very beginning when he’d had to try to figure it all out on his own with minimal guidance from above. He’d naturally assumed that if people couldn’t see him, they couldn’t touch him either. Three people had almost got into a street brawl because of that mistaken belief. Each of them thought the other had tripped them up and were ready to retaliate. After doing what he could to break up the brawl without further revealing himself, Evan had learned his lesson and was usually more careful.

Obviously not careful enough, he thought as a scowl overtook his features.

He followed Becca from the room as she fled from the basement with complaints about being late still flowing from her lips. When he heard a shower start somewhere in the house, he hovered around the kitchen area. Although he could move unseen, he tended to draw the line at using that ability to watch people shower. It seemed a little too perverse—like he was doing it for his own pleasure. Not that there was pleasure; his bits downstairs hadn’t worked since he’d awoken from death. He assumed it was part of the whole cupid deal, with the bosses not wanting servants of a higher purpose to be distracted by the pursuit of personal love and lust. It hadn’t bothered him before; he’d never had a need for it. Now though, at the precise moment when an image of Becca’s lacy panties flashed in his mind, the thought pissed him off. He wasn’t entirely ready to admit why it angered him, but he knew it had something to do with seeing Rose—Becca.

With cautious quiet, he moved around her kitchen. It was almost impossible to ignore his growing annoyance over the fact that a simple erection was beyond his reach anymore, but he tried anyway as he pulled open the wood-veneered drawers and cupboards in the small space. It wasn’t pure curiosity driving him; he was simply trying to ascertain what he could about the type of person he was dealing with. He was hoping the cramped space might reveal some small insight into the internal workings of the familiar-but-different woman who lived in the small house with a darkroom for a basement. A few words came to mind fairly fast: fastidious, neat, lonely. Chef certainly wasn’t one though.

The kitchen was tiny and the old stove looked like it might spontaneously combust if it was turned on. Most of the cooking utensils looked as though they had been purchased with good intention but then left to sit, unused and unloved. Her fridge was almost empty except for a number of bottles of white wine and two containers that looked like they contained leftover Chinese. The only item in the room that looked like it got regular attention was the microwave.

When the noise of the shower stopped, Evan grew even more cautious and stopped opening and closing everything in the kitchen. Instead, he moved through the compact house into the living room where a worn, two-seater sofa took up most of the space. A TV, significantly smaller than most people would choose, was mounted to one wall. Two wide windows flooded the space with light which made the small house feel a little less claustrophobic than it otherwise might have seemed and highlighted the purple hue of the pale lavender walls, making the room look less gray then the rest.

Next to the sofa was a small, retro side table that looked like it was old but still well used, so Evan moved to it and began leafing through the magazines that rested on top of it. Each of the magazines were specialist photography issues; there wasn’t a single gossip rag among them. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing worse than trying to find a soul mate for someone whose entire existence revolved around the love-lives of celebrities. They always seemed a little too prone to drama.

A sound nearby drew his attention and he looked up to see Becca staring at the exact spot where he stood. For a moment, he worried that perhaps he’d forgotten to keep his cloaking in place and that he’d been spotted, but then he realized she wasn’t watching him, but the place where his fingers had just been rifling through her magazines. He stood stock still, even holding his breath, while he waited for her to dismiss the sight. He knew she would, they always did.

Right on cue, she frowned and shook her head.

“You’re going crazy,” she murmured to herself before turning to leave. On her way out, she grabbed a set of car keys and pulled the front door shut. Evan gave her a few minutes to get into the car and get it moving before he closed his eyes, focused on her and materialized in the nearest empty space near her, which happened to be the front seat of her Mustang. He twisted around in the seat so that he could see her better, parking his butt on the dash and leaning forward against his knees. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but it gave him an unrestricted view of Becca while she drove and that was worth a little discomfort.

With her steering wheel between her knees, she pulled her hair up as she drove, securing the raven-colored curls with a tie that she’d held between her teeth. In the muted sunlight, he could see that her hair was more of a dark brown than the black he’d thought. It was another little reminder that for all of her similarities to Rose, there were plenty of differences. He could tell that even after so little time in her presence.

“So late,” she kept repeating to herself as if the mantra would propel the car forward faster. When she pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Evan trailed behind her, ready to watch her interactions with her colleagues and learn more about who she was as a person.

CHAPTER THREE

Becca fell into the cafeteria seat with an exhausted sigh. The hospital was a madhouse and, as usual, the reception and nursing staff had copped the brunt of it.

“So?” her friend and workmate, Cathy, prompted as Becca reached across the round metal table for the tray of food between them.

“So, what?” Becca responded.

Cathy offered her an exaggerated eye-roll. “Tell me about the date last night.”

Becca sank even further down into the chair. The disastrous date was the absolute last thing on Becca’s mind until Cathy had mentioned it.

Cathy fixed a steely gaze on Becca and raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”

“It was a non-date.”

“He stood you up?”

A slightly wistful sigh passed through Becca’s lips as she stared into almost 3-D pattern of silver triangles printed on the surface of the table rather than meeting the sea-blue of Cathy’s curious eyes. “It probably would have been better if he had. Instead, he just went on and on the whole night, crying about his ex-girlfriend. The way he spoke about her, you’d have thought she was a saint or something.” She leaned forward to pick at the sandwich in front of her. “As good as it sounds in theory to find a man with that kind of devotion, it was a little pathetic to witness firsthand.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Cathy said. “He was kinda cute.”

Becca glanced up and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter,” she said around her mouthful of food.

“It does matter. I’m worried about you, the last three dates you’ve had were all disasters and you don’t even seem to care.”

“Maybe I don’t. I just don’t see the point in all of this.”

“All of what exactly?” Cathy took a sip of her lemonade and sat back in her seat.

“This meat-market style dating scene.” Becca placed her food back on the table, brushing a sprinkling of crumbs off her lap in order to avoid meeting the eye of her friend. “Surely I’ll meet someone when I’m supposed to meet them.”

“Like destiny?” Cathy asked. The derision in her tone was all too clear and Becca resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Cathy meant well, Becca was aware of that, but sometimes it seemed as though all she wanted to do was marry Becca off to the first available bachelor. Becca assumed it must have been some unwritten law of marriage that once you were happily wed, you needed to ensure all of your friends took part in the act of coupling.

Cathy looked deep in thought for a moment. “You know what?” she asked, with a serious tone in her voice. “I think it’s time for me to invest in a cat for you. Two maybe, just to get a jump start on things.”

Becca threw a piece of her sandwich at Cathy as they both laughed. The crumbs stuck in Cathy’s auburn locks and she sat picking them out as Becca spoke.

“I’m not quite at the crazy-cat-lady stage yet. I think I just need to take some time off from dating and concentrate on myself and the things that I like to do.”

“Like visiting a different cemetery every day.”

“I don’t visit a different one every day.”

“No, that’s true,” Cathy relented, before adding in a teasing tone, “Sometimes you go back to the same one a few times first. I still don’t understand how though, those places give me the creeps.”

Becca waved off the comment. It was a long-running conversation and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to explain to her friend the peace she felt among the memories and history. On occasion, she did go just to visit her family plot, but she didn’t need to visit that particular place to feel connected to the past. It wasn’t something many other people seemed to understand and made her long for someone who would appreciate that part of her once more.

“Maybe we just need to get you a new vibrator?” Cathy continued. “Or maybe the ones you have are too good and need to be destroyed before you’ll want to try to find a man to play with instead.”

“God, Cathy, you’re so vulgar. Remind me again how you were the first one of us to settle down?”

Cathy picked up the banana from the tray, peeled it and then gave Becca a demonstration of her deep-throat skills. As she extracted the fruit from the back of her throat, she took a bite.

“It’s because I’m so vulgar,” she said through a mouthful of mushed banana.

During the demonstration, Becca could have sworn she heard the chair beside her squeak, as if someone had shifted their weight on it. It had drawn her attention away from the display and onto the empty seat.

“What’s up?” Cathy asked, looking at her with a furrowed brow and lips pressed tightly together until her pink skin had all but disappeared.

“I just thought . . . never mind.” She didn’t want to sound like a crazy person, but it wasn’t the first strange thing she’d experienced that day. The first was the encounter in the dark room, when she’d tripped over nothing. Then there was the magazine moving on its own in her living room. And now there was a seemingly unknown presence beside her. She was sure of it.

The more she concentrated on the noise she’d heard, the more certain she became that if she reached out, she’d touch something solid. Determined to do just that, she moved her hand in the direction of the sound with a deliberate slowness. She didn’t want to arouse any suspicions of those around her or of whatever being it was that was following her.

She’d always been a rather practical person, not giving much stock to ghost stories and folk tales, but now she was wondering whether perhaps she’d written it all off too soon. Perhaps there was something more—and she’d unknowingly invited it home by going to cemeteries so frequently. When her hand was at the edge of the round table, she made her move. Forcing her fingers to cover the last of the distance in a flash, they collided with the empty chair. She blew out a breath of relief, which carried a nervous chuckle with it.

“Are you okay?” Cathy asked.

For a moment, Becca had almost forgotten herself—where she was and who she was with. She’d been so focused on the certainty that there was some invisible specter following her that all logic and reason had slipped away. Patting the chair once more, she smiled to reassure her friend that she hadn’t gone completely insane. “Yeah, but we should probably get back to work. You’re due back on the ward about now, aren’t you?”

Evan stood behind the chair, relieved that he’d taken decisive action as soon as Becca’s hand had begun to shift ever so slowly toward him. That was three times in one day that he’d almost been found out. He’d never come so close to revealing himself by accident before. He decided not to push his investigations any further in the short term. With his recent luck, the next incident wouldn’t be an almost-miss.

Standing and watching Becca walk away, he recalled the stab of misery that had struck him when she’d been talking about her failed date. Although she’d been nonchalant about it to her friend, the loneliness she’d felt had echoed through his body and almost rendered him immobile with the force of it. She was a lot sadder than she let show to the world—possibly even to herself.

That every emotion of his assignment rushed through him was one of the best and worst things about being so in-tune with them. The link was forged the very moment he first focused on their name and didn’t break until the day they passed away. Even now, if he focused on any of his previous cases, he could feel their emotions and get a small hit of happiness or love to keep him going.

It was never enough to stave away the numbing pain completely though; the initial intensity of love faded over time and for every happy match, there was another suffering the fallout of an argument or going into mourning. It was why he had to keep checking his list, making the matches, and doing everything in his power to amplify the positive emotions.

Evan focused on Becca’s house and returned to her darkroom. Alone for the moment, he didn’t have to worry about being caught snooping. Once upon a time, he would’ve felt guilty pawing through her life, but over the years he’d forgotten to feel bad about intruding on his assignments’ privacy. This was simply the best way to gather intelligence about their perfect partner, which was the end goal after all.

“Let’s find out a little more about you, shall we?” he murmured to the darkened space as he moved across to a small rack to look at the photographs she had hanging to dry.

Each one was black and white and, even without an appreciation for art or photography, he thought they were beautiful. It was almost as if Becca’s emotions were printed on the paper alongside the physical print but it was the loneliness in each piece that echoed the loudest of all. She was waiting for someone to love. It made him determined to push aside the history he shared with her soul, so long ago, and find her a new match. If nothing else, she deserved that for what she’d been forced to endure in her previous life.

Evan spent the better part of the afternoon going through her house, moving from room to room and trying to find anything he could about her history. He found an old photo album with pictures of her and her parents, detailing everything for years until suddenly the photos stopped. In the last of the photos, she couldn’t have been much more than ten or eleven. He wanted to find out more, but there was nothing. Giving up on getting any extra information from her possessions, he went back to the living room to wait for Becca’s return.

When Becca left the hospital, she was beyond exhausted. Although her plan for most of the day had been to return to her dark room for another couple of hours when she finished work, her afternoon had gone to hell and made her morning look like a cake-walk. Two emergency surgeries, and the raft of paperwork they inspired, had seen her offered three hours of overtime. She’d accepted of course, knowing that the extra money never went astray.

Because of the crazy day, all she did when she arrived home was wolf down a couple of pieces of the pizza she’d picked up on the way, poured herself a generous glass of wine, and then headed for her bathroom. She rested the wine glass on a small ledge at one end of the bath and then set the taps to start filling the oversized tub with hot water. As the steam rose from the water in small coils, she squeezed a little of her favorite rose-scented bubble bath into the mix before agitating the water a little with her hand. While she waited for the tub to fill, she moved to her bedroom. She set her alarm for early the following morning. She hoped that she might be able to fit in a few hours of dark room time before her shift.

Walking back to the bathroom again, she peeled off her clothing and left it scattered in a trail behind her, dotting a line from her bedroom door, along the back of her living room and into the bathroom. She’d clean up the mess later, for now she just wanted to indulge in her wine and let the hot water relax her tired muscles.

When the floral scent that permeated around the small space reached her, she smiled.

Bliss! she thought.

The bath was one of only two things she’d changed when the house had fallen to her a few years earlier—the other was the darkroom in the basement. She’d always loved the feeling of plunging deep into the warm water as a child, but as she’d grown the tub in her house had become too small to comfortably accommodate her long, lounge sessions. Now, she had an extra deep, stand-alone tub which could comfortably fit two adults. She’d had a small nib wall installed at one end for books and wine, which completed the perfection. Truthfully, the huge tub made the rest of the room cramped, and it could be a bitch to get in and out of at times, but she didn’t mind. Not for the peace of mind it offered her.

She took a sip from her drink before returning it to the ledge. Then she stripped off her panties and bra before stepping into the warmth. Her tired and knotted shoulders relaxed against the cool porcelain, a stark contrast to the heat surrounding the rest of her body. Closing her eyes she rested her head against the top of the bath and reached for her wineglass.

“This is the life,” she said to no one in particular, unaware that someone was close by and listening—or that he’d witnessed her whole striptease.

CHAPTER FOUR

Evan had been present as Becca moved around her space, trailing just a step or two behind her with each step. When she tipped her head back and closed her eyes with a dreamy sigh, he leaned against the wall of the bathroom, feeling momentarily overwhelmed by her relaxed state.

Although he couldn’t be certain he wasn’t just imagining it, he was beginning to believe that her emotions affected him more than any other assignment ever had before.

He couldn’t help wondering about the reasons for it. Some of them were completely inconceivable. The most logical reason was purely geographic—he was thousands of miles from all his other assignments. Without exception, every other person he’d been assigned to had been concentrated around the Jersey area. They were practically piled on top of one another by comparison to how far away Becca was.

Because of the simple fact that he’d always been in the one place, he’d just assumed that cupids were a bit like Pizza Huts. That each one had his or her own predefined area of service and Evan’s just happened to be New Jersey. Of course, he’d had no basis for that assumption outside of his own experience.

In fact, he had no basis for any assumptions he’d made period. Ever since he was put back onto the earth, he’d had to pick it all up as he went. What he wouldn’t have given for an instruction book or step-by-step guide to finding a perfect match for someone, especially in the beginning. He knew it was impossible, even after fifty years and countless pairings, he was still basically floundering. There were over seven billion people in the world, and each one of them had a different idea of the perfect partner. Even the most compatible people had moments of conflict because of those differences.

While he considered the way her emotions resonated deeper within him than any previously had, he watched Becca in the tub. She sipped her wine as the water slowly cooled around her, and he wondered again what her ideal partner would be. There were methods for extracting that information from her subconscious, but he didn’t dare try any of them while she was awake—even if she was utterly relaxed. Knowing his luck, he’d tip her off to his presence again and then he’d be in even more strife, and would probably end up wet to boot. No, it was much safer for him to wait until she was asleep.

By the time Becca moved to leave the comfort of the bathtub, the water was beyond cool and was quickly sliding toward cold. All of the whorls of steam had long since dissipated and her skin had begun to pucker and pimple in the night air in a way that made the coiling beast in the pit of Evan’s stomach squirm again. When she finally did pull herself from the confines of the deep tub, Evan saw that gracefulness definitely wasn’t one of her strong points. In fact, a hippo-like groan issued from her as she practically dragged herself from the porcelain shell. To his surprise, Evan found the sound, and the sight, rather endearing.

Once she was free of the water, he blinked at the sight of her. The remnants of the bubbles and moisture glistened on her skin. With the scent of rose from the bath lingering in the air, Evan figured that the aroma would have clung to her body too.

He was struck with a sudden and desperate desire to bury his nose in her hair, right at the spot where her shoulder swooped up to meet her neck and to press himself against her skin. He imagined wrapping his arms around her waist and he could almost feel the water from her skin on his fingertips. Without thinking through what he was doing, he raised his hand to his face and brushed his fingers across his lips before suppressing the needful moan that rose in his throat. The coiling sensation started anew as it twisted around anxiously deep inside him.

Becca patted herself dry and as he watched the action, a modicum of guilt ate away at Evan for the direction of his thoughts. For the first time in a long time, he almost felt bad for intruding on her privacy. He turned his back to let her finish drying and dressing in peace. While he waited, he walked into the hallway and stopped there until he heard her draw back her sheets and climb into bed.

Desperate to see what new information he could draw from her, Evan willed her to drift into sleep as fast as possible. He paced between the bathroom and the hall as he did, trying to ignore all the thoughts that pressed on him and the twisty-achy feeling in his gut. He tried to focus solely on her breathing now and not on recollections of the events of the night. He didn’t want to recall the way the bathroom light had caressed her skin and made the soft caramel tones glow. Or how the remnants of the bubbles had clung to her as though they were unwilling to relinquish their hold on her. Of how he’d be just as unwilling if given half a chance. Those thoughts were all strange, and dangerous to entertain, and he wondered whether they were only there because of her similarity to his Rose.

Eventually Becca’s breathing evened out and she started to snore lightly, and Evan figured it was probably safe to approach her. Nearing the bed, where she was fast asleep on her side, he was struck for a moment by how beautiful she was.

In sleep, the resemblance to Rose was more pronounced. The one he’d loved wasn’t classically pretty—she wasn’t a Grace Kelly look-alike with petite, royal features or a copy-cat Bridgette Bardot model-type—instead, she’d been attractive in her own unique way. Except it wasn’t completely unique because Becca had seemingly borrowed heavily from her outward appearance as well as sharing her soul.

Even closed, Becca’s eyes were slightly larger than most people’s, lending her the appearance of a real-life Disney princess. He envisioned the green irises beneath her eyelids and his breathing sped slightly. Her nose was a little wider and flatter than was perhaps the currently accepted standard for beauty, but it balanced the rest of her features perfectly.

Unsure whether the real reason for his move was to perform his task or just because he needed so badly to touch her at least once, Evan reached for her blanket-encased shoulders and gently coaxed her onto her back. When her hair fell across her face in a bundle of curls, he brushed them gently back—his fingertips barely grazing her skin. Then he placed his hands tenderly around the back of her neck, touching his fingers together at the base of her spine. The position left him leaning across her body, his lips inches from hers. He tried not to focus on the fact that her hair felt like silk beneath his fingertips, or that her lips looked slick and delicious—the dark pink bright against her olive skin, as though she’d applied lipstick in the moments before she’d slid into bed. He tried extra hard not to focus on the fact that he was sharing her air.

Instead, he tried to concentrate on her thoughts. The innermost longings of his assignments were almost always revealed in the depths of their dreams and the fastest connection was via a bundle of nerves close to the skin on either side of the spinal column. The mental dreamscape was usually ripe for plucking information that the waking mind would never freely offer.

Closing his eyes so that he could gather the information he needed, pictures began to form. The visions that flooded his mind were innocent enough at first. Becca was out at a nightclub and met the eyes of man across the bar. Even as Evan tried to concentrate on the appearance of the man, the club dissolved. When the dream focused again, Becca was walking hand-in-hand with someone through a park.

In Evan’s loose hold, Becca’s back arched as her previously innocent dreams twisted once more, shaping to relive exploits with past boyfriends intermixed with unfulfilled fantasies. Flashes of intimate connections rushed through her mind: a warm embrace with sturdy arms holding her tightly; a velvet tongue slipping across her skin; lips pressed against lips, body against body; the feeling of being filled and stretched. In her dreams, a flush of warmth ran throughout her body as her cheeks pinked. Without looking, Evan could tell her body was duplicating the results in real life. He heard her fingernails scratching against the crisp sheets as the sensations racing through her as a result of her dream became too much to bear without actions taking over.

Evan’s eyes shot open as a near silent moan fell from her full lips as her body writhed at the stimuli her dreams offered. Her mouth pursed and her hips bucked. Evan’s lips were so close to hers, he could feel her breath brushing across his skin and thought of how easy it would be to claim a kiss. A moan was in his own throat as he struggled against an odd surge of need that raced through his body and caused the thing in his stomach to writhe once more.

When he moved closer, Becca shifted again and the blanket fell away, showing an expanse of skin far too revealing for Becca to possibly be clothed. The thought that she was quite probably naked beneath the blanket forced Evan’s moan from his lips, pushed forward by a rush of desire that coursed through him stronger than anything he’d felt before.

With a shaky hand, he trailed his fingers from the back of her neck to brush across her cheek. Then he cupped his hand around her face and shifted closer. His lips ghosted across hers. It was the softest touch but enough to change . . . everything.

At the small brush of their lips, and with his continued view into her ever more erotic dreams, Evan’s blood rushed south and caused a reaction so startling to him that he instantly released his hold on Becca and leapt away from her sleeping form.

He panted as he tried to calm his racing heart and figure out why his body had that response to the stimulus.

It wasn’t the first time his investigations had forced an assignment’s dream to turn explicit, there was a very fine line between love and lust after all. However, it was the first time one of those dreams had caused such a visceral reaction in him. The longing he’d felt the second his lips brushed over hers wasn’t an echo of her desire, it was all his own.

In that instant, every part of his body—every part, even those that had not worked since his return to Earth—had immediately stood at attention. Even from the other side of the room, his heart still raced with the thought of her honey skin wrapped in nothing but the crisp, white sheets and of her head tilted back against the pillow as the firing of synapses in her brain set off a chain reaction that pleasured her body.

It was only as his heart rate slowed, and other things returned to their normal size and position, that he realized he hadn’t paid any attention to the man in the image, which was usually the way he learned of his assignment’s “type.” He’d been far too captivated by the precise shade of pink which flushed across her cheek as her body raced toward pleasure, and the curl of her black hair as it fanned out on the pillows behind her.

It’s only that she reminds you so much of Rose, he argued with himself even though he knew he was lying. It didn’t matter how much she reminded him of his past life, that particular reaction was brand new for his cupid’s body.

In the bed, Becca tipped her head back and released another sensual moan that made his fingers twitch with need. He was struck with a sudden, urgent need to touch her again, to be the one to draw those moans from her. Instead, he remained completely motionless while watching her hands move toward the intimate parts of herself as her dreams obviously continued to provide her certain stimulation. Fighting against his desire, Evan watched as she pleasured herself underneath the blankets.

For a fraction of an instant, he wished he could strip away the bedding and watch her actions with an unimpeded view. He took a step toward her, even though he wasn’t sure what he planned to do. Then his mind caught up with his actions and he stomped firmly down on his desire. If he broke his cupid vows, he would earn himself a one way ticket downstairs. Lusting after anyone was a no-no. He wasn’t certain how he knew that, he just did.

Becca cried out as her body shook her awake. She was keyed up and her blood surged through the body as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. She tried to slow her rapid breathing and pounding heart as tremors continued to rock her body—the remnants of the desire that had twisted her dreams and woken her with such ferocity.

She hadn’t experienced an orgasm so intense in a long time, in more than a long time. She’d certainly never woken herself up with one rippling through her body. Sure, she’d had her dreams turn to fantasies before. She’d pictured various men she found attractive visiting her; and she’d imagined herself doing wild things with them, but that was a whole different experience to the rampant pleasure that raced throughout her limbs.

She turned her head to check the time, but then stilled when she saw her dream had spilled into reality and lingered in the shape of a man standing in one corner of her room. His face was shrouded by night, but his gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness to meet hers. Her sleep addled brain had just caught up to the vision and began the process of starting panic when he disappeared into nothingness in less than the blink of an eye.

As she processed the image again, she realized it was probably just a combination of a trick of light and her sleep addled mind working together to make her feel crazy. She laughed at herself for being silly.

Only as she thought about it, she wondered whether maybe she wasn’t being all that silly. There were too many incidents over the last twenty-four hours that made her certain she had some sort of spooky guest inhabiting her life and her house.

Pushing herself up to get another look around the room, she confirmed it was definitely empty before trying to relax again. A moment later, she decided that whatever the entity was, it obviously didn’t mean her any harm. At least, it hadn’t given her any real reason to fear it yet. She rolled over onto her stomach and went back to sleep, determined to look into it some more in the morning.

Becca’s alarm went off, pulling her from her sleep. With some reluctance, she dragged herself out of bed just like she’d planned when she’d set the clock. Instead of heading down into her darkroom though, she opened up the antique roll top desk that sat opposite her bed and booted up the computer hidden within. As it ran through the start-up, she grabbed the rolling office chair that was hidden in the corner of her wardrobe and set herself up for a bit of research. She typed “ghosts” into the search bar and spent the next hour looking over the websites that came up.

“Oh my god.” She read through some of the pages and even watched a video or two. “There are some real nut-bags on the internet,” she said before laughing. “Says the woman speaking to herself.”

Even as she said the words and laughed, she could have sworn she heard an answering chuckle issue from the empty space beside her. She had to check, had to know for certain.

Getting as ready to deal with a possible supernatural invader as she could be, she pushed off the wall with her feet. The action sent her rolling backward in her chair, gliding over the floorboards toward the sound. She reached the bed without colliding with anything along the way.

Disappointed, she dragged herself back to her desk and went back to her research. It didn’t turn anything up, except instructions for a sage cleansing ceremony which was apparently designed to drive away both nasty spirits and negativity. Becca wasn’t sure she wanted to risk carrying a smoking fire hazard from room to room though—especially considering her apparent propensity to trip over thin air lately. She muttered to herself, extolling the risks of that little adventure.

When another small laugh issued in the space behind her, she did the only thing she could think of in the situation: she turned her chair around and addressed the empty room. Her arms crossed over her chest and she frowned, certain that whatever—whoever—was there was deliberately playing with her.

“There’s no point hiding any longer, I know you’re there.”

Evan had never been called out before.

Never.

He’d had close calls and near-misses. He’d caused fights between strangers and had people assuming their house was haunted. However, he’d never, ever been directly confronted before. He wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with it.

He stood with his jaw slack as he considered just how badly he’d screwed up. He had no idea why he’d laughed when Becca had been sitting at her computer muttering to herself, except that it had been so cute that he just hadn’t been able to help himself.

Now, staring at her crossed arms and pursed lips, he was struggling between a desire to laugh again and a need to hide—even though he was already cloaked from her sight. He wasn’t sure what the rules were about being revealed as a cupid, but figured it was better not to try anything that might upset those upstairs.

Instead of answering her demand, he backed out of the room as quietly and carefully as he could. Truthfully, he could have left his usual way—popping between her bedroom and whatever other place he thought of—but he couldn’t resist delaying the moment he left for as long as he could so that he could watch her growing frustration at the continued silence in the room. She was almost too cute when she was mad.

After Evan’s near-miss, he was much more careful in his spying techniques. It wasn’t enough to force him from Becca’s side entirely, or to try gathering information about her in ways that didn’t involve being near her. Instead, he just ensured he stood at least three feet from her at all times and tried to evoke the reflexes of a cat as he gravitated around her.

After it had worked for an entire day, Evan couldn’t have been happier. Almost. As much as he hated to admit it, there was a part of him that wanted Becca to bump into him again. That longed for a caress between his fingertips and her skin. His head had been practically racing with daydreams about accidentally tripping her over and then being the one to swoop in and catch her before she fell. In his mind, he could see it play out. He’d sweep her into his arms, dip her deep like in the old movies, then their lips would meet, and . . .

Evan had to stop. He was letting his imagination get the better of him and it forced his libido to run rampant. He didn’t understand it one little bit, especially considering two days earlier he didn’t even have a libido to talk of. Now little Evan seemed to inflate at the drop of a hat—provided it was Becca doing the dropping.

Later that night, when Becca was asleep again, he decided to try his luck with her dreams once more. Taking his position, with his fingertip lightly resting against the back of her neck, he closed his eyes, tapped into her subconscious and prepared for the onslaught. Almost instantly, her innocent dream spun into an illicit fantasy. In her vision, her limbs tangled with another’s, her heart raced, her skin flushed. She sighed with desire and Evan breathed it in.

Risking opening his eyes for a moment, he watched her physical reaction to her dream begin once more. Her skin was as colorful as it had been in her dream, flushed with the rush of desire. Her lips parted, allowing her tongue to slip forward to slick the pink skin with moisture.

Instead of snapping away again, Evan pushed himself to watch her dream for as long as he dared. He only moved when her hand shifted from the sheet beside her to caress her own body, just like it had the night before.

He bit his lip, stepped away, and allowed her dream to run its course. With her emotion racing through him—and with his own need amplifying her urges—it took everything he had not to rush off for a private moment in her bathroom. That was if he could even have private moments anymore. The sleeping serpent might have woken after fifty years, but that didn’t mean it was back to full working order again.

It was only after he was able to will his erection away that he realized that, once more, he’d been so focused on Becca and her reactions to her dreams, that he hadn’t paid any attention to the guy she’d imagined performing her fantasies with.

He sighed. This is going to be the hardest assignment ever.

As if he hadn’t already known it.

CHAPTER FIVE

Becca was having one of the weirdest weeks of her life.

It had started with the things that went bump in the night, or well, the day. The unknown thing she’d collided with in the darkroom, the pages of the magazine moving by themselves, the strange noises at the hospital cafeteria, and the laugh while she was on the computer.

After those incidents her week had only become weirder. First there were the dreams, crazy dreams about scenes that she’d never even imagined in her wildest waking fantasy. Then there was the fact that she was starting to lust over men like a dog in heat. It seemed her raging desire was ready and willing to claim any and all members of the opposite sex who dared to enter into her field of view.

She didn’t understand the need. She’d never felt it before. After all, she had a good life—she certainly didn’t need a man to complete it. She paid her own bills, kept herself happy, and managed to feed herself often enough that she hadn’t starved yet. She didn’t need a man to fulfill her in any way, never had.

Yet every time someone even remotely attractive passed by, she could practically feel her tongue dragging on the pavement. Even Cathy had noticed her preoccupation.

Cathy had even pulled her away from a meeting with one of the senior doctors at the hospital, citing an emergency. The instant they were alone, she pounced. “You didn’t take my advice to heart and throw away all of your B.O.B’s did you?”

“That’s your big emergency?” Becca was miffed that her friend was interfering with her job to discuss her sex life—battery-operated or not.

“No, my big emergency is that you were practically humping Doctor Petersen’s leg. I just thought it was safer to pull you away from the situation for a moment before you had a sexual assault claim on your hands.”

“I was not!” Becca’s face flushed red. Maybe she’d taken a moment to appreciate the fact that for an older man Doctor Petersen looked after himself really well. Maybe she’d even sniffed him to see whether his aftershave smelled as good up close as it did when it wafted by her as he walked passed—which it did. That didn’t quite equal humping his leg. He was a married man after all, she knew that. She respected it even. That didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate some of his finer qualities.

God, what’s wrong with me? she asked herself silently.

“You have a problem. And the first part of finding a solution is admitting that you have a problem.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Becca argued, even though she could see that Cathy was right. “You say all the time that it’s perfectly fine to admire a good looking specimen. And you’re married.”

“Admiring from a distance and getting ready to offer personal services in the privacy of his office are two vastly different things.”

Becca’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “I was talking about taking photos of him and his wife.”

“Sure you were.”

“I’m not interested in Doctor Petersen that way. Our relationship has always been purely professional.”

“I know that, that’s why I’m so worried about you. You’ve been different this week, distracted almost. I’ve swung the afternoon off for you, so why don’t you go home and relax? Find a date maybe. Someone your own age and not married for a start.”

Becca didn’t really fancy returning to her house, but she figured that maybe a new photo session at one of her favorite haunts would help refocus her mind away from men and back onto the things that she had control over in her life. “Maybe I should.”

“Just do me a favor, will you?”

Becca waited to find out what it was.

“Find a man. And when you do, take what you need.” She did a new mime of her deep-throat action—clearly lacking the fruit for a proper demonstration.

“You and your fascination with cock,” Becca said with a laugh.

Cathy pressed her fingers over her mouth. “Ooh, I’m telling. Becca said a naughty word.”

Becca flipped her the bird and then lifted her middle finger to her lips, using it to blow Cathy a kiss.

With an open-mouthed smile on her lips, Cathy pretended to catch the kiss before pressing her hand against her ass. “Love you,” she shouted at Becca’s back.

With the afternoon off, plans for a photo session rushed through Becca’s mind and she pushed thoughts of strange happenings and sex-starvation out of her head. She raced home to quickly change and grab her equipment before heading back out to Sunset Hills Cemetery. She reasoned that the lack of an outlet for her creativity must have been what was causing her extra attention in anyone with a Y-chromosome.

I’ll lose myself in my photos, I’m never happier than when I am there, she thought.

Evan used his precarious position—with his butt parked on Becca’s Mustang’s dash and his feet on the passenger seat—to his advantage to carefully consider the one who was so similar to, and yet so completely different from, his long lost love. The sun streamed in through the window, warming his back to the point where he squirmed from the heat, but it also lit Becca’s features so that she almost seemed to glow from within.

As with the last few times he’d sat in the same spot, he found that the shape of the car meant he had to lean forward at the waist and use all the strength of his legs to hold himself in place. He enjoyed the chance to watch her carefully as she drove toward the cemetery for a de-stress session. Or something like that. He’d lost his train of thought when Becca’s friend had been talking about cocks, and mouths, and taking what she needed. In fact, part of his mind had been trying to figure out how to volunteer for that service.

For the better part of the last week, he'd been following Becca around, invisible and silent, trying to find out what it was that made her tick—and what she could possibly want in her perfect match. Despite the fact that a week was usually more than enough time to learn everything he needed—in fact, he’d even fixed some of his couples up within a few days and his record was four hours—he wasn’t any closer to an answer for Becca than he’d been on day one.

He knew so much about her, more than he’d ever known about any other assignment, but knowing how many sugars she took in her coffee, her favorite wine, or that she liked to relax in the bathtub just as often as she liked to play in her darkroom wouldn’t help find her a partner. Neither would knowing that when she smiled, the right corner of her lip curled just a little more than the left and that the top of her left ear was just a little more rounded than her right. The fact that she was kind and caring, generous with her time and had the patience of a saint when dealing with problems at work, all went a long way to enamor him to her, but none gave him anything solid to use to find her someone who would fulfill her dreams.

He refused to listen to the small voice at the back of his head that told him he hadn’t discovered the traits of her perfect match yet purely because he didn’t really want to know who her ideal man might be. That voice was stupid and it didn’t know what it was talking about.

Trailing her hadn't helped him decipher her needs and wants at all, and neither had watching her dreams. It was like she was a riddle twisted inside of an enigma and planted deep inside a mystery. After the third night, he’d decided he couldn't risk trying to watch her dreams again, as the first two times had been far too wonderful . . . no, dangerous. That's what it was. The reactions his body had to her were dangerous, not pleasant, not marvelous, and certainly not wonderful.

He was slipping, feeling something new, and it frightened the hell out of him.

Hell is exactly where those thoughts will lead, he warned himself.

As a cupid, he was used to experiencing the second-hand emotions of his matches, to feeding on the lust, love and happiness, and trying to shield his heart from the loss and sorrow as best as he could. Only he wasn’t just experiencing her emotions any longer, he was feeling them all for himself.

He wasn't sure where he could turn to for help on this particular case; it wasn't like there was a cupid's handbook anywhere. But there had to be someone who could help. After all, someone pushed the names on his list into his head and presumably the same someone—something—had offered him the choice of Hell on Earth or Hell itself, but he’d never had to rely on them before. Despite being certain that there was some sort of hierarchy in Heaven, or whatever intermediary dealt with cupids on Earth, he had no clue how it was structured. He didn’t have the first clue how to even try to contact them.

It all led him straight back to the fact that there wasn’t a handbook—or a phonebook for that matter—that could help him out of his predicament. He could manifest money, food, gifts—almost anything he needed—out of thin air, but that didn’t help him when it came to knowing what to do. He didn’t know how to solve the puzzle that Becca presented or what to do about the emotions bourgeoning through his body and manifesting themselves physically far too regularly.

With each new feeling he encountered, he grew more desperate to persuade himself that his attraction to Becca—and he knew it was attraction, because he had too many of the symptoms for it not to be—was purely due to the likeness she bore to his Rose and not because she herself fascinated him more than any other assignment ever had. He tried to convince himself that once he saw her happily paired with the man who was right for her, he would be satisfied and those emotions would go back to where they belonged—buried deep inside his mind where he didn’t have to try to examine them.

Evan was also forcing himself to be certain that when he found her a match, his constant desire to be by her side would fade. The need to see her smile and hear her laugh would disappear. The desperate ache to hold her in his arms and never let go would be nothing more than a memory. He was positive of it.

When he paired her, he would take his hit of shared endorphins and leave happily knowing that he'd done the right thing. Only he couldn't figure out the damn enigma of what her ideal guy might be. Sure he'd seen her eye lingering on some men, so he could gather a certain amount of information from that, but that was only physical attraction. And it seemed to be directed at almost every man at the moment.

Evan knew better than most that physical attraction wasn't love. It wasn't what made a woman walk down the aisle with a smile on her face that could light up the world. The best physical attraction and blind lust could ever do was to cause two normally sensible adults to crash headlong into each other's worlds even though they had nothing in common.

Evan began to wish he could just ask Becca what she wanted in a man. It would have been an awkward chat for sure, but it would have been a conversation. It would have also given him an excuse to approach her. It was ridiculous how just the thought of being able to speak to her made Evan's long-dead heart rap a crazy beat. He was thinking how wonderful—terrifying—it would be to voice those few first words to Becca, and just how easy it might be to approach her, when he began to feel a wistful longing to show himself to her.

How hard could it really be to try to learn more about her that way?

He'd done it before after all, regularly. Having a random conversation with one of his assignments was a way of sorting through the nuanced information he received from their dreams. It was a technique that helped him sift through the debris and picking the traits they genuinely needed versus the products of their lustful desire.

Somehow the thought of talking with Becca made his mouth both dry and sticky all at once. A tingling feeling, which started deep in his stomach, spread through his torso and into his limbs. If he couldn’t get her desires from her dreams and from watching her, it might soon become necessary to reveal himself. While he was sitting on her dash, watching her and contemplating the best way to attack the situation, he grew more determined than ever to talk to her. So determined in fact, that his shield started to falter.

Becca was almost at the cemetery when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. At first it was just a flicker, like a shadow passing through the bright sunlight, but then it happened again—for longer the second time. An instant later there was a man sitting on her dash, staring at her like she was a puzzle to be solved.

A scream rose in her throat and tore from her. “Holy fuck!”

She twisted the steering wheel sharply, pulling the car off the road as quickly as she could, getting ready to either push the man out or run from the car herself the second it stopped. When the first scream that issued from her ended, another one started. She didn’t seem to be able to stop herself or gather herself enough to open the door once the car skidded to a halt.

The man’s expression went from quizzical to concerned in an instant. His gaze met hers—which started a fresh bout of screams—and then his eyes widened.

“Can you see me?”

Becca’s screams barely stopped long enough for her to form actual words, but when she did, they rushed out. “Get the hell out of my car!”

“Shit, no, look calm down, please?”

“Get the hell out of my car!”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

Becca reached for the nearest thing to her, a pair of cute stilettos that she’d taken off after her disappointing non-date a week earlier. Clutching one of her shoes in her hand, she hit the intruder with it. She didn’t know how he’d gotten into her car, but she would make damn sure that she got him out again. Fast. With her heeled weapon providing an illusion of safety, she felt braver and her cries died away as she smacked him again and again. Each hit that landed gave her more strength to keep going.

In response, the man raised his arm and tried to shield himself from the blows as best he could.

“Becca!”

How does he know my name? she thought. Afraid that she was facing some deranged stalker, she increased the speed of her assault and asked the question again, out loud, between strikes. “How. Do. You. Know. My. Name?”

“Becca! Please! Stop!” He had both arms raised to protect himself from her onslaught.

Becca continued to rain down her shoe-driven vengeance. “Who. The. Hell. Are. You. And. What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Car?” Each word was punctuated with another blow. Despite the crazy circumstances, she was proud of herself for keeping her composure as best she could, given the circumstances, and also for her near perfect aim.

“If you stop hitting me, I promise I’ll explain.”

She slowed her attack momentarily and then remembered the scare he’d given her. Her assault started again.

“Please, Becca?”

She stopped, but held her shoe tightly in both hands with the heel pointed right at him, making it clear that any false move would cause a fresh flurry. “Who are you?”

“I’m Evan.”

“That’s not going to cut it in any way, mister. You can’t just turn up in people’s cars and declare that you’re Evan and think that it’s explanation enough for to stop them panicking. You’re still just a stranger, even if you have a fucking name."

He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll explain it all, I promise. Just put the shoe down. Please?”

She gripped it tighter. There was no way she was going to relinquish her weapon, especially not when he seemed genuinely scared of it. It was a shame to damage such a perfect shoe, but if it went down, it went down serving her and what more could a girl ask.

“Who are you?” she repeated, brandishing the heel as though she might strike again.

“Are you sure you want to damage your practically new Betsey Johnson heels? Why don't you put the shoe down?”

It struck Becca as a little odd that he knew exactly what brand of shoe she was using as her weapon of choice. She wondered if he was some sort of freak with a shoe fetish who broke into people's cars. While they were driving no less.

“Not until you tell me who you are.” Becca hoped she sounded brave and like she wouldn't take any crap from this weirdo. In reality, she wasn't sure she could release the death-grip she had on the shoe even if she’d wanted to. At least, not without giving away exactly how much her body was quivering beneath her bravado.

“Okay, I'll tell you,” Evan, said. “Although the more appropriate question is probably, ‘What am I?’”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Becca's crazy week seemed set to continue in the same vein and it was starting to cause her temple to pulse in tune with her rapidly beating heart. An eye-twitch would probably follow if things didn't ease up soon. She blinked twice to make sure it hadn’t already started.

When she refocused on the man in her car, pushing concern about brain embolisms and stress-induced heart-attacks out of her mind, he was staring intently at her. His gaze seemed particularly focused on her mouth, where her lips where parted as she breathed heavily to calm herself down. He caught her gaze and for a moment, their eyes locked.

It was testament to exactly how man-hungry she'd become that despite the inherent danger of this complete stranger in her car, she was tempted to reach out and run her fingers through his chestnut hair to see if it was as soft and feathery as it appeared. At the thought, she found herself getting totally lost in his hazel gaze until she shook her head and tightened her grip on her shoe.

“No, not ‘what’ as in 'what are you?' ‘What’ as in what in the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Evan chuckled and wiggled a little in his ridiculous perch on her beloved car’s dash.

“Honestly this is going way better than I thought it might when I realized you could see me,” he said.

“Realized I could see you? You mean I shouldn't . . .” She trailed off and her eyes widened at a sudden thought. It was impossible, wasn't it? “You—you're the one who's been at my house!”

It had started as a question but with every word she became more certain about the truth of it. That laugh was exactly the one she'd thought she’d imagined she’d heard when she’d been at her computer looking up ghosts and specters.

Evan raised his hands, appearing to brace himself for a new onslaught of heeled vengeance.

As tempting as it was, Becca held her hands still. Even though it was all so surreal, she had asked whoever—whatever—it was to come forward. Maybe this was the first time he’d actually been able to manifest properly. She didn’t know whether it was something he could control or not. She didn’t even know what he was.

I am so far out of my depth here. She swallowed down her fear. “Okay then. I'll bite. What are you?”

Evan smiled. When he did, one side of his mouth tipped higher than the other and an elongated dimple appeared to slice through his cheek.

God, I could lick that dimple, Becca thought before fighting her lust and forcing it out of her head. Seriously girl, get a hold of yourself!

“I'm a cupid.”

Becca raised an eyebrow at him. “You're Cupid? I thought you said you were Evan?”

“No, I'm not Cupid. I'm a cupid, as in one of many.”

The whole conversation was too weird to cause Becca any real fear or anything beyond absolute hilarity. Although maybe hysteria was a little closer to the mark. She started to cackle. “All right, Evan the cupid,” she said through bouts of laughter. “What the hell are you doing in my car?”

“You're my next . . . assignment.”

She stopped laughing and glared at him. “Assignment?”

“Okay, bad word choice, but it's the easiest way to describe it.”

“Why me?”

“Because you're lonely.”

She laughed. “Buddy, you've got the wrong girl. I'm happy with my life.”

He raised a skeptical brow at her. “Really? You're perfectly content and not the least bit lonely.”

She was perfectly content. She was certain she was. Maybe it would have been nice to have someone else in the house occasionally, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t happy. Certainly cooking for one was a drag so she rarely bothered, but that didn’t mean she wanted someone else to cook for. And she wasn’t really lonely . . . after all, she had good friends though—no, great friends.

Still, there were times she woke at two in the morning and regretted that she had to roll over in an empty bed. Times like that, she’d wish that someone was there for her to snuggle against.

Evan reached his hand out for her with a silent request for something. She realized he wanted her permission for something, but she didn't know what. She nodded; for some inexplicable—completely insane—reason, she trusted him. At least with her shoe-shaped weapon in hand, she trusted him. She decided a warning wouldn't hurt though. “You go for the grope and you'll end up with a heel through your hand.”

Evan's smile widened and there was a knowing glint in his eye that she couldn’t decipher. “I'd expect nothing less.”

After Becca had given her permission, Evan wasted no time in closing the distance between them and touching her. The instant his fingertips caressed the exposed skin on the round of her shoulder, a devastating sensation struck her motionless.

Instantly, she was overwhelmed with a crushing sorrow. Tears sprung to her eyes and a sob issued from her chest. It was as if all the pain she'd felt when she'd lost both of her parents at twelve and then her only remaining family—her Nana—when she was eighteen, had all welled to the surface in one agonizing moment. She sobbed again as Evan returned to his perch, his ass on her dash and his feet on her seat. The compassion on his face was enough to make her sob again.

“What was that?” she cried, unable to quell the tears he'd inspired in her with his touch. She had no idea what he’d done, or how. Or why.

“That’s your heart,” he said simply. “Crying out for love.”

Evan hated the look that crossed Becca's face when he'd forced her heart to drop the shield it had built around itself. For the first time in years, possibly ever, she was forced to feel the true agony of her loneliness. It was worse even than the ache that rushed through his own body the instant the wall was down, draining the last of the reserves he'd had from Karen's wedding. It was the easiest way to prove to her that he was exactly what he stated he was though. Above all else, he felt it was vitally important that Becca trusted him. It wasn’t required for him to do his task, but he still wanted it more than anything else. More than he probably should.

He still wasn't entirely sure where his courage—stupidity—had come from to admit that he was a cupid, but he was willing to put it down to shoe-induced insanity.

“I'm not lonely,” Becca said through her tears. “I have a happy life.”

“You do have a happy life, but that doesn't mean that you're not lonely.”

“Even if I was, what’s it got to do with you? Why would you even care?”

Evan pushed some of his last dregs of loving energy into his fingertips and brushed his hand along her arm once more, passing her the strength to re-establish the walls around her heart. Her tears stopped falling and she looked up at him, her emerald eyes glistening with moisture.

He tried to think of the best way to answer her question, figuring that telling her he’d been assigned by some unknown entity wasn’t a good way to foster trust and security. “I'm here to help.”

She pulled her arms tight against her chest. “What if I don't want help?”

“I'm here to help anyway.”

“Are you going to go away?”

Evan's heart clenched at the thought of leaving her like she was, happy but without love. “I can't. Even if I wanted to. This is my job . . . of sorts.”

“So get a new job.”

“I wish it was that simple,” he said. When Becca narrowed her eyes in question, he tried to think of the best way to explain it without having to tell her all the gory details of his life and death. “This is who I am. I'm a cupid and it's my job to love y—find love for you.”

He couldn’t believe his slip. It had been a meaningless slip of the tongue. He hadn’t meant it at all. Much.

“And how exactly do you do that? What makes you so certain you’ll be more successful at finding someone who’s right for me than I've been?”

“Because I can see the spark.”

“Ooh, the spark. You say that like it's some mystical secret.”

Evan dared to lean a little closer to her. Now that he was out in the open so to speak, he didn't have to be afraid of accidentally touching her, so he was willing to take a few extra risks for a few seconds of proximity.

“That's because it is,” he whispered against her hair. He sat back, at least as far as he could with the windshield behind him. “It’s magic and only a few people ever stumble onto it themselves. Usually it takes a little extra assistance.”

He indicated toward himself with a flourish of his arms.

Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, Becca sat and stared silently through the windshield. A few times she opened her mouth and Evan thought she was going to ask something, but then she snapped it shut again and continued her silence.

Finally, she turned to him.

“How did you know that my heels were new?”

“Because you knew they were.”

“You read my mind?”

“No, nothing that concrete. I just got the impression that they were important to you and added to the perfect condition of them, it was the logical conclusion.”

“How did you know the brand?”

He shrugged. “You spend enough time shopping with brides and some of that stuff starts to rub off on you. Besides, I could see the label.”

“Shopping with brides? You do this a lot then?”

Evan snorted. A lot? That was an understatement. Of course, he didn’t think it was wise to tell her yet exactly how long he had been doing it for. Even in his capacity as just a cupid he knew that telling a girl she was just the next player in a very long game wouldn’t go over well. He also didn’t want her to think she’d been assigned to some bumbling newbie who still didn’t know his love from his lust. Besides, he’d said too much already to completely back out of his admission. He decided to play the safe middle-ground. “I’ve done it often enough.”

“And these women, these brides, do they know you’re shopping with them?” She turned away from whatever had held her interest beyond the windshield and watched him. Evan guessed that she was waiting for his guilty reaction.

“Some of them.”

“And the ones that didn’t, why didn’t they?”

He grinned again—he liked the reaction his smile had on her, almost instantly her pupils dilated and she wiggled in her seat. He decided maybe honesty was the best policy for Becca. She already knew more than any other assignment ever had before. “Because I was cloaked.”

“And by cloaked, I assume you mean invisible?”

He nodded.

“Are you some sort of pervert?”

The question shocked him, not least because he’d actually begun to feel like one when it came to Becca. The intimate glimpses into her life, from her soaking in the tub to her nighttime fantasies, had caused reactions in him that he’d never had—reactions that made it feel wrong to stay and watch her any longer, but which made him long to do just that. He realized that he’d taken a beat too long to answer and now it looked like he was exactly what she’d accused him of being.

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t . . . cupids don’t usually . . .” He couldn’t find the words to tell her of the usual impotence of cupids. Or the fact that he was suffering from the opposite predicament lately. His gaze was drawn to his crotch and Becca seemed to get the gist of it.

She gasped. “You don’t have a penis?” The look on her face was one of not-so-mild curiosity. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the next thing to come out of her mouth was a request to see what was down there if not the usual bits and pieces.

“No. Yes. I mean, I have all the equipment. It’s physically there. It just doesn’t get inspired the way normal men do.”

“Oh.”

Evan could have been wrong but thought Becca looked oddly disappointed.

“So you are a pervert,” she teased.

“Not in the respect that touching your shoes will get me off.” He chuckled, surprised to find that the fun of conversing with Becca far exceeded his wildest imaginings. In the moments before accidentally revealing himself, he’d thought that his desire to talk to her was driven only by a need to work out her ideal man. The more he spoke to her though, the more he realized that he really just wanted to talk to her. He’d longed for it since he’d seen the fun she had interacting with her friends. It certainly wasn’t a disappointment so far.

“And how long exactly have you been stalking poor innocent women in your relentless pursuit of love?”

“It's not like that.”

“How is it then?”

“I find love for people, the love of their lifetime in most cases.”

“Like ‘Touched by an Angel?’”

He snorted again. Becca certainly kept him on his toes. “I'm no angel! I've known a few of them though. Insufferable dicks, the lot of them, with their whole 'holier than thou' attitude.”

She smirked at his statement. “So you’re not going anywhere?” she asked after a beat.

Evan shook his head. “Not even if you ask nicely.”

“Well, if you’re going to be in my car can you at least sit in the seat like a normal person?”

“Huh?”

“I had plans this afternoon and I’m not going to change them just because you’ve finally decided to show yourself.” Becca turned the key in the ignition and the engine turned over with a growl. “And no more of that cloaking crap, okay? If you’re around me, then you make sure I can see you.”

“What?” He was utterly confused by how rapidly the conversation had twisted and turned, and yet felt a burgeoning hope. First she’d stopped screaming, then she’d stopped hitting him, and now she was practically inviting him into her life.

“Well, if you’re going to follow me regardless of whether I can see you or not, I’d rather be able to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re not doing anything . . . untoward.”

Evan grinned. He’d basically been given Becca’s approval to spy on her as much as he wanted. At least, so long as she knew he was there.

CHAPTER SIX

“Your photos are really beautiful,” Evan said, interrupting Becca as she lined up another shot.

She’d been taking such care and time to ensure the image she captured was just right, and Evan’s voice had broken her concentration. She was almost positive she’d twisted the camera at the last second when his voice erupted behind her.

“I usually do this alone for a reason,” she replied, choosing to ignore the compliment even though hearing it warmed a place deep in her stomach.

If she was being honest with herself—which she really wasn’t—she would have admitted that everything Evan had said in the car scared the crap out of her. That he could bring such heartache out of her with just a simple touch would have been bad enough, but he was so nonchalant about following people around that it worried her about what he might have seen, or more specifically what she might have done in front of him.

It wasn’t just the nighttime wandering of her hands that concerned her either; although she wasn’t sure how she felt about the possibility he might have seen that even if his cock didn’t work. It was the little things that might have slipped while she thought she was home alone, her terrible singing or appalling dancing. Worse, she was too embarrassed to ask him about it. “So, while you were silently watching me, did I fart in front of you?” wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to broach.

“How’d you get into this anyway?” he asked as she pressed the shutter—causing her to jump once more and no doubt ruin another frame.

Although she’d decided that if he was going to hang around her, regardless of her awareness of him, she’d much rather be aware of it. However, his sporadic chatter while she was trying to concentrate was beginning to grate on her.

“How does that cloaking thing work again?” she asked.

“I just need to want to be unseen enough and then I am, why?”

“Does it work for your voice too?” She raised an eyebrow at him. One hand rested on her hip and her camera was balanced in the other.

“Is that a subtle request for me to be quiet?”

She laughed. “I didn’t think it was all that subtle.”

Clearly realizing his little comments were unwelcome, at least for the time being, he pretended to zip and lock his lips before throwing away the imaginary key.

Becca worked with no plan, happy to wander aimlessly around the cemetery, but as she often seemed to do, she drifted ever closer to her family plot. Usually when she found herself doing that, she would go and talk to her mother or to her grandmother, but she didn’t want to do that with her visitor by her side. Even though it was possible that he might have been there when she’d last visited and had seen her talking with them, her choosing to have a one-sided conversation with the dead while someone else watched on was entirely different. Worse, he might even try to engage her in conversation about her family and then she’d cry in front of him for the second time in as many hours.

Regardless, she moved through the space until she could see the headstones which she knew bore their names. Four members of her family were buried close together in one section of the landscaped gardens—her parents. who’d died in a car crash when she was still young; her nana, who’d passed on and left Becca the small house she called home; and one other. The first one of her family to be buried in the cemetery—her nana’s sister. She’d passed away a long time before Becca was even born, so Becca knew very little about her—only that the two of them bore a striking resemblance to each other. At least, that’s what her nana had told her.

Ignoring the call of family which usually drew her to sit between her mother’s and nana’s graves, Becca was able to finish off the rest of her roll without further interruption from Evan. She’d even managed to snap a candid photo of him while he was looking in another direction. The heartbreaking sorrow on his face as he stared at something close by had captured her interest, but she wouldn’t admit that to him or anyone else. If she’d been asked, she would have justified that she’d taken the photo because she might need it to give to the police as evidence if things went badly.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked, drawing his attention away from the statue.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he stammered. He looked at her for a moment, his gaze staring through her, before turning away again. He took a step away from her as a frown overtook his features. Unlike the blinding, dimple-laden smile he’d worn earlier, this expression looked so out of place on his face. “Actually, you know what, you go ahead.”

“You do realize I’m the one with the car, don’t you. Vroom, vroom? Surely you’re not going to walk to—” She cut herself off when she realized she was practically encouraging him to return to her house. It was a long way from being oddly okay with his presence to actively inviting him to go home with her.

She couldn’t explain it other than that he felt like a pair of comfortable old slippers—although she would never admit it to anyone else, for some reason he just seemed to fit perfectly at her side.

Why do I feel so comfortable around him? she admonished herself silently. I should have run screaming in the opposite direction by now. Maybe this is my chance to run?

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll, um, catch you round I guess.”

Maybe, she added in her mind. She hoped that he realized that if she had any hint of him creeping around her house while invisible again, she’d kick his ass—or at least beat him with her shoes again.

He didn’t even say goodbye as she walked away and she wondered whether he’d found something—someone—more fascinating to follow. She felt a little hollow at the thought.

It’s just because he’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to you all year, the practical side of her brain decided, to which her raging libido added, And he’s more than a little cute, especially with that dimple.

Evan was beyond realizing how rude he’d been to Becca as she’d left the cemetery. Instead, he was focused on a headstone that he hadn’t ever expected to see—especially not here, where his latest assignment was. He couldn’t even say what had drawn him to look in that direction, but once he’d seen it he couldn’t un-see it. The dates were right; the date of death exactly one year before his own.

Despite the years that had passed since, the name on the plaque was one that was dear to him, Rose Heron. It was the maiden name of his love, but he probably shouldn’t have been surprised at its use. It would have been an insult to her life if the surname of the man who’d killed her was carried with her through death.

Once he was certain he was alone, Evan moved to the stone and placed his hand on it, as though it would offer him the spark of love that he craved. It was just cold stone though, and beneath the dirt were just bones. Anything that was left of his love had left long ago and everything important was now in the girl he’d just let walk away.

He recalled the first time he saw Rose and a sad smile graced his lips. She’d been so young the first time they met, only fourteen, but even then she’d had the beginnings of a womanly body. Being a typical fifteen year old boy, he’d said something complimentary about her breasts, and his words had earned a punch to the nose—delivered by her delicate fist.

They’d shared their first kiss together only a couple of months later. Before long, he was forbidden to go anywhere near her by her ultra-strict father and shortly after that, her family had moved away.

He’d never really expected to see her again, but almost ten lonely years later they were reunited, albeit briefly. Although he’d never forgotten her, he’d never really expected to see her again either. He hadn’t even known she was looking for him until she arrived on his doorstep in tears. In a story that made him lament for what might have been, she told him of how she was trapped in a loveless marriage which her father had arranged in order to gain prestige. She sobbed about how she hated and feared her husband. Holding her in his arms, Evan had sworn to do everything he could to keep her safe.

Trying desperately to keep his promise, Evan did what he could to protect her, but he was one man battling two families—one with power and reach far beyond anything Evan could have ever guessed at. Before long Rose had been forced into a car and reunited with her husband. She kept in contact with Evan though, sending him letters filled with fear and longing, but warning him of her inability to leave her husband again. When the last letter he would ever receive from her had arrived, it was accompanied by a photo of her corpse.

Evan shuddered at the memory. The guilt had driven him mad. His guilt ate at him from all angles, he hated himself for not having the ability to protect her but he was also convinced that if he’d left her alone, forced her not to write to him, maybe she would have lived. They would never have been together, but she might have remained alive. In his worst moments, he wondered whether her death was a blessing for her—it had taken her away from so much pain and heartache on Earth. It was that frame of mind that had eventually driven him to the edge of the cliff.

It had taken his return as a cupid to make him see that it was her marriage to the bastard who’d taken her life that was to blame. If Evan was able to have his time over, he would have made sure she never returned to that horrid man. It was impossible to think such things though; he couldn’t change the past no matter how much he might have wished he could. All that was within his power now was to ensure the matches he made didn’t endure the same suffering she had.

He was so lost in his memory that he didn’t realize he’d started crying until he felt the moisture on his cheeks drip down onto his arm. The ache of his memories drained Evan of every bit of energy he’d had left in reserve—which had been so little after Becca’s heartache. Although he was still standing, he didn't have the strength to move. He realized that he'd be in for a world of hurt if he didn't find Becca a match soon. Even as the thought struck him, it caused the weight in his limbs to pull further downward, as though the demons from Hell which he'd once escaped through his choices were now reaching out to pull him under while he was weakened.

He pressed his fingers to his lips and then touched them to the cold stone. There was nothing left here.

Becca was the future and maybe by helping her find her match, he could be free. Almost as soon as the thought struck him, it resonated through his body as right. She would be his last. The truth of that statement, the rightness of it which coursed through him, was a shock. It was as though it was an affirmation from the bodiless—and he sometimes thought soulless—creatures who guided the destiny of humans.

Not that there was any use in being free. Not now that his promised Heaven was lost. Once again he had to choose between two terrible choices. Set Becca up with someone else and move on without that promise of a reunion or continue to wander the Earth in agony.

It wasn't really a choice—there was only one option. He just hoped he could convince himself that it was for the best when the time came to see her happy with someone else.

Resigning himself to necessity, he closed his eyes, focused on Becca and arrived on the front seat of her Mustang a second later.

The Mustang swerved to the side when he appeared. Clearly his arrival had spooked Becca again.

“Christ on a cracker! You cannot keep doing that,” Becca exclaimed. One hand strangled the steering wheel and the other pressed against her chest. “Have you been here the whole time?” she asked. When she turned her gaze off the road to look at him, her eyes were narrow pinpoints that made him squirm.

He was about to tell her that of course he hadn’t been there all the time, when her gaze softened as she considered his appearance. He wondered what he must look like in order to earn such pity.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

He was about to tell her that there was nothing wrong—a complete lie of course—but that wasn’t what came out. “I just saw something I'm not sure I wanted to see,” he found himself saying before he could stop the flow of words.

“Was it my love life?” she asked, reaching over and giving him a small nudge.

He offered her a half-smile in response to her obvious attempt at a joke. The fact that she was willing to try to make him laugh after he’d crashed unceremoniously into her life made the writhing in his belly increase. He pushed the feeling aside though, not willing to examine it while thoughts of Rose rushed through his mind.

“No, it was something from . . .” He trailed off, uncertain how to even start explaining it to her. “My past,” he finished with, knowing it was a grossly inadequate explanation.

Becca wasn't sure why, but seeing her cupid turn up in her car looking like someone had just stolen his puppy made her heart ache. She wanted to comfort him and cheer him up.

When did you start thinking of him as your cupid? she thought. You need to see a shrink.

“If you want to talk about it, I'm a good listener,” she offered.

He seemed to rouse himself and then his lips pulled up into a proper smile, one that caused that single dimple of his to slice through his cheek once more. It was ridiculous how much she liked that sight.

“I bet you are,” he said. “But so am I. And right now, I need to know what you want in a man.”

Becca laughed until she realized he was being earnest and was waiting for her to answer him.

“What I want?”

He nodded.

“In a man?” she clarified.

He nodded again, smiling this time.

“Um, I don't know. Tall?”

He raised one brow at her. “Tall? That's the only qualifying factor for a man to earn your undying love?”

“Well, I dated a few guys shorter than me back when I first left high school and it just wasn't pleasant having them talk to my boobs all the time.”

“Becca?” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Yeah?”

“All straight guys will only talk to your boobs.” He winked at her, causing her to laugh. ”They’re guys.”

“You're in a better mood than you were a few minutes ago. What gives?”

“One of my prior assignments just found out that she's going to be a mommy. The energy boost helped to ease my melancholy a little.”

Becca thought that even though the sentence left her lost, it probably made perfect sense to him. She also figured that it should make her want to run away—just like everything else about the strange man—but the tenderness in his face made her melt into a puddle of goo instead. “But how could you possibly know that?”

“I told you, I know when they know. Call it cupid's intuition. When you find a guy that makes your knees weak and your heart pound, I'll probably know before you do.”

It was a difficult notion for Becca to wrap her head around. “That's a little weird.”

He shrugged. “It's my purpose; my raison d'etre.”

“So you’re being serious? You really wanna know what I want in a man? My ideal partner so to speak?”

He might have flinched, or it could have been her imagination. “It’s not necessary,” he said. “But it will make my job easier.”

“I’ll have to think about it.” Becca barely knew what her ideal man would be. She’d never really had a type, not like some of her friends at least. For Cathy, it was blonde comedians. At least her husband, Gary, liked to think he was hilarious.

Hazel eyes and messy chestnut hair suddenly seemed more attractive than they ever had before, but Becca wasn’t willing to admit to herself why that was.

“Are you going to develop the photos you took today?” Evan asked as she pulled into her garage.

She shook her head. “For once I might actually have time, but I still prefer to leave the negatives to dry overnight.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s partly because it guarantees they’re dry and . . .” she trailed off and ducked her head.

“And?” he prompted.

She felt the corner of her mouth lift. “Well, I find waiting makes the reward that much sweeter; does that make me odd?”

Evan blinked at her, almost as if he wanted to say something more but chose not to.

“I do have a set of negatives I never got around to developing last week,” she said. “I ran out of time when something made me drop one.” Since the moment he’d appeared in her car, Becca had been certain her cupid was the one who’d been causing things to go bump in the night. It was the perfect opportunity to test him on it.

He screwed up his nose. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I was fascinated with watching you work and I kinda got in the way.”

“I knew it was you!” She couldn’t help the victorious edge that crept into her voice. “I mean, I didn’t know it was you at the time, but today when I found out about you, I knew that it was you that did that back then. You know, when I dropped the print the other day. What I mean is that I knew before you said it was you, and, well, now I know it was, since you said it was.”

“Becca?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.” he chuckled.

“Sorry.” She climbed from the car before heading for the trunk and grabbing her camera bag. Without thinking, she turned and walked into the house, allowing Evan to follow behind her. It was only after she’d unlocked the house and turned to wait for him to follow that she realized that somehow Evan had gone from a virtual stranger who’d randomly popped into her car into someone she was willing to trust in her home. An unknown entity who she was practically inviting into her life.

It’s only because he’s been in your house for a while now anyway, she justified. And he said he wouldn’t go away even if I asked.

Both of those thoughts should have caused her at least some panic, but it didn’t. Although it did bring back earlier curiosities about what he might have seen. She waited until they were in the soft red light of the dark room before confronting him about it. Her hands were buried inside a changing bag, giving her something to concentrate on other than his steady gaze assessing her as she questioned him. She could have just used the darkroom without any lighting, but the idea of being completely alone in the pitch black darkness with the practical stranger made her heart pound.

Okay, it was for all the wrong reasons, but that was beside the point. Being stranded alone in the dark with Evan was still not something she thought was wise to do.

“So, you’ve been following me around?”

“Only for the last week.”

“Starting when?” Had he seen her humiliating non-date where she’d had to listen to the sad, sad man drone on and on about the loss he’d suffered? Was that why Evan was so desperate to help her out? “I mean, what exactly was the first thing you saw.”

“The photos you were developing the last time you were in the darkroom. When I interrupted your process, I mean.”

That was the day after her disaster date—maybe she was right in her assumption that the date was the catalyst for his arrival after all.

“If you’re all into stealth and secretly traipsing around after people—which you shouldn’t be, by the way, because it’s just weird and creepy—why did you show yourself today?”

“Honestly?”

She stopped working for a moment to glance at him. “If I’m willing to sit here calmly and listen, I think honesty is the least that I deserve.”

“I didn’t intend to, it just kind of happened.” His cheeks flushed pink, almost as if he was embarrassed that he’d revealed himself to her.

“How?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking that following you around wasn’t netting any of the usual results, and neither was watching your dreams.”

She lost her grip on the film within the changing bag and it clattered to the counter. “W—Watching my dreams?”

“Uh, yeah.” He flashed a grin that would have been amazing under any other circumstances. She couldn’t help noticing how pristine and white his teeth were. “Dreams are, uh, a great way to, uh, get some information about a person’s true desires.”

“You’ve been watching my desires in my dreams?” Flashes of the dreams she’d been having lately, for the last week in fact, filled her mind and it was her cheeks turn to grow crimson. “Since when?”

He moved closer to her and brushed his finger over her cheek, trailing the red blush that spread over her face.

“Don’t be ashamed. There’s nothing wrong with the dreams you had.” His words confirmed that he knew exactly what had occurred in her dreams and yet they somehow comforted her and lessened the mortification she’d felt moments earlier. “I wish all of my assignments owned their sexuality so explicitly, even if it is just in their dreams.”

She tipped her gaze back to the changing bag, there was no way she could meet his eyes when they both were thinking about her having the best sex of her life—especially if it was all only in a dream. Searching for the film again to finish setting them into the developing tank, she suddenly realized that if he’d seen her in the darkroom and then later that night, he’d likely seen everything in between. Which meant he’d probably seen everything. For the first time since he’d managed to calm her in the car, panic over his appearance in her life struck her once more. “Have you been watching me while I’m in the shower?”

He shook his head quickly and his eyes darted away a moment too soon. She’d dealt with enough people lying to her at the hospital that her bullshit detector worked a little better than most. And there was one thing she was certain of. “You’re lying.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I swear I’ve never watched you while you’ve been in the shower.”

The last three words held far too much emphasis—they confirmed he had indeed seen her naked. She was certain of it. “In the bath then?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and she knew she had him.

“You are some sort of pervert, aren’t you? Going around all invisible-like and watching poor defenseless women while they’re blissfully unaware of you?”

“Not just women.”

“What?”

“It’s not always a woman. Sometimes I get assigned to men.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“No?”

“No, definitely not. If anything, that makes it worse. You’re just an indiscriminate peeping Tom.” She wasn’t sure why, but although she was upset her voice sounded more teasing than genuinely mad. She just couldn’t seem to rouse the correct level of rage—just like she couldn’t make herself be afraid of him even though she knew she probably should be.

He scratched his head. “It’s not like I do it for a personal thrill. How can I know who is right for someone if I don’t know them?”

“And how exactly is watching someone bathe helping you learn more about them?”

“You’d be surprised. After all, the fact that you like rose-scented bubble bath tells me an awful lot about you.”

“Like?”

“The rose scent tells me that you’re searching for romance, that you long for it and associate it with being able to relax fully. But the fact that you use bubbles and not oil tells me that you still regard yourself as young. You like to have fun.”

“My choice in toiletries tells you that much about me?”

“Sure.” He grinned again.

“So it’s not a sexual thing?”

“Definitely not.” He shook his head, but swallowed heavily. There was something more he wasn’t saying and Becca was determined to get it out of him—and she had a plan about how she might be able to.

She pulled her hands out of the changing bag, stood, and walked over to him. She trailed her fingers over his shoulder. He stood stock still, her movements left him discombobulated and Becca couldn’t deny she enjoyed leaving him a little speechless for once.

“Maybe it’s not a sexual thing,” she whispered as she brushed her hands through his hair. “But it is an intimate thing.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Evan had to do everything in his power to bite back on the moan that rushed to his lips the instant Becca’s fingers brushed feather-light through his hair. Her breath blew across his skin and Little Evan—who, until recently, had been motionless for so long—stood to immediate attention. The random thought of what it would be like to press his lips against Becca’s in a proper kiss rushed through his mind together with an image of wrapping her in his arms.

He didn’t realize exactly how close Becca was to him until her gaze dropped away from his, looking down between them to watch the spot where his stiff little soldier had brushed against her hip.

In an instant, she had pushed away from him, rushing backward until her ass connected loudly with the counter behind her.

“I thought you said you didn’t have the equipment?” she screeched.

She’d seemed to accept and adapt to the whole cupid thing rather well, so well in fact that Evan was more than a little surprised at her horrified reaction to her latest discovery. He probably shouldn’t have been though. He knew enough to realize that it was his body’s reaction to her proximity had made the difference. Trying to see it from her side of this, he understood that she probably thought he’d lied to her about the fact that cupids usually hung as flaccid as an old sock. It had to be making her wonder what else he’d lied about.

What he wanted to tell her though was that it hadn’t been a lie. There was just something different about her. He wasn’t sure how to explain that to her without giving away too much about the depth of his growing attraction though. Because if she reacted badly to feeling his erection against her hip, she would most likely flip completely if he told her he thought he might have been falling in love with her—or at least with the likeness she bore to a love from his past.

“Get out!” The way her teeth clenched around the words made them sound venomous. Rage and hatred swirled in her eyes and then, without warning, those emotions were all he felt rippling through his body.

At first it felt like someone had stabbed his heart, but pins and needles soon spread into his limbs and he stumbled forward. Her emotions overwhelmed those of all his previous matches combined. Those past whispers of love usually helped to counterbalance any negativity he experienced, and without them, his body crumbled under the weight of Becca’s rage. He was powerless, more than he’d ever been before in his cupid life—even the brief period when he’d given up the job.

“What are you doing?” she practically growled as he stumbled and fell forward onto one knee.

“Tell me about your first crush,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“Please, tell me about your first crush and then I’ll leave if you want. I just can’t right now.”

“What’s wrong?” the tone of her voice had shifted from anger to concern, but concern wasn’t enough to give him the strength he needed to overcome the sensation of being stabbed repeatedly by a thousand hypodermic needles. He needed love or happiness, something stronger that he could latch onto and multiply for his own needs.

“Please?” he whispered.

“Bobby Cole,” she said finally. “I was twelve and had only just started to find boys attractive.”

“What happened?” he asked with as much strength and volume as he could muster.

“I got over him real fast when I found out he’d kissed Sherri Cooper.”

“First boyfriend? How did you meet?”

She started to tell the story of the beginning of her first proper relationship, but Evan wasn’t listening to the words, he was searching for the emotions hidden beneath the surface. Even relationships that ended in heartbreak typically started with love—or at least some weakened version of it.

Once Becca began to radiate with that love, instead of hatred over Evan’s little omission of little Evan’s proclivity to stand ready for action, he pushed through the pain and reached for her arm.

Barely brushing his fingertips over her skin, he used the small spark that she’d found in the memory of the start of first love to give him strength. He absorbed it and sent it radiating back into her, just like he had with Karen. As the spark grew, so did Evan’s strength, until he was able to stand again.

He’d barely made it completely to his feet when Becca’s body collided with his. Less than a second later, her lips were pressed firmly against his. Taken aback for a moment by the shock of the moment, it didn’t take Evan long to wrap his arms around her waist and deepen the kiss in response. Once more, certain parts of his body reacted to her proximity in a very stiff manner.

Becca’s fingers trailed through his hair as she dragged her nails over his scalp.

Almost as quickly as she’d attacked him, Becca jumped away. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Evan tried to fight the smile that longed to grace his lips. Every nerve in his body was practically singing at the emotions swirling around him. Although he knew what caused her reaction, he was willing to imagine for a moment that it was intended for him. “I do.”

She blinked rapidly and focused on him again.

“This is going to sound strange, but I promise if you hear me out, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you want.”

He took Becca’s continued silence as an authorization to continue.

“Emotions give me strength, but they can also weaken me. When you . . . when you were angry before, it weakened me. Hate is like my kryptonite.”

“That doesn’t explain—” She cut herself off and pressed her fingertips against her lips. “Well, what happened just now.”

He was drawn to the sight of her mouth, to her lips the color of rubies nestled amongst a sea of honey-bronze skin. His tongue slicked across his own lips as the memory of the kiss stole his breath away for a moment.

“Well?” she asked, tapping her foot and raising an eyebrow.

“Love is one of the strongest emotions there is, and as a cupid I can strengthen it. You know, cupid’s arrow and all that.”

“So that’s real?”

“In a sense.”

“Every time I think I’m finally getting a handle on all the weirdness you encompass, you find some way to take it to a whole new level.”

He would have felt guilt over the confusion he’d caused in her, except she seemed to be talking to him again in a way that wasn’t full of hatred or demanding that he leave. He was willing to gloss over the anger if she wasn’t going to bring it up again.

“Feeling such a strong burst of love, especially one without direction or aim, can lead to, well, you know.” He scratched his scalp again, hoping his explanation made sense to her. It barely made sense to him, but again he felt the overall rightness of his statement radiate through his body.

“So what you’re saying is no matter how much you do something that might piss me off, I can’t get angry with you or you’ll keel over?”

“Not quite keel over, but it’ll cause a lot of pain.”

Her lips quirked upward to form a slightly-evil looking smirk. “That’s good to know.”

“Good?”

“Well now I know how to deal with you if you piss me off too much. Trust me, if you get me that angry, you’ll deserve the pain.” She winked at him.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a dangerous woman?”

She grinned. “All the time.” Her hands came to rest on her hips. “Now, about your other issue, I thought you said it didn’t work?”

He looked down at his crotch which had thankfully deflated as they were talking. “It usually doesn’t.”

“Why does it now then?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question.” It wasn’t completely a lie, and if he’d said it was because she reminded him so desperately of his long-lost love, he was certain she’d have him doubled over in agony in less than a heartbeat.

She seemed to assess him for a moment, her emerald gaze trailing from his feet to the top of his head.

“Okay.” She shrugged before walking back to the changing bag.

“Okay.” He blinked in confusion at her turnaround, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. Not now that she knew the power she could wield over him.

She gave him an awkward smile as she got back to work.

He stood and stared, not knowing exactly what to do next. Part of him longed to go back to being cloaked just so that he could avoid the occasional sideward glances that Becca gave him.

Eventually, she turned her gaze to him fully and sighed. “Look if you’re going to hang around, do you think you could at least do something useful? Like get some food?”

He could easily recall the state of her fridge—empty. “What do you want? I’ll pop out and get something.” He wasn’t sure he was allowed to use his ability to transverse great distances in the blink of an eye for his own personal benefit, but he argued that it wasn’t really for his benefit. What could happen if Becca didn’t eat? She might go into a hypoglycemic coma or something. It was for her benefit that he needed to use his ability.

“Surprise me,” she said as she buried her hands back into the change bag. She concentrated on the contents for a second before seeming to think of something else. “And none of that hopping about without a car nonsense. Take the ‘Stang. The keys are on the counter.”

He frowned. “There’s just one problem.”

She looked up from what she was doing. “Which is?”

“I don’t drive.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t drive?” The concept seemed completely foreign to Becca.

“I did once upon a time.” Another lifetime ago. “But not anymore.”

“Isn’t it like riding a bike?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’d remember how to do that either.”

“Why not?” Becca regarded him with her head tilted in confusion.

“It’s been a while.”

“How long exactly has it been since you last did either?”

Evan chewed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure whether to go for broke and tell her everything, or keep it inside and retain that air of mystery that he was failing so miserably at already.

“A little over fifty years.”

Becca chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you just said fifty.”

“Yeah.”

“Fifty?”

“Yep.”

“Fifty years? Half a century? Really?”

He could tell she was struggling with the concept. He supposed it was a long time for someone without eternity in front of them to comprehend. Sometimes it felt like a long time even with that.

“You don’t talk like someone who is old enough to have been around for fifty years.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know to keep my conversational skills in vogue with my assignments.”

“Well, I guess you’re looking good for it?”

He was certain it was supposed to come out as a complimentary statement, but her voice lifted at the end, making it sound like a question.

Screw it, he thought to himself. I’ve said too much already, I may as well tell her it all. “Yeah, I haven’t aged a day since I died.”

“Died?” Her voice was pinched and high, but it was clear she was trying to appear calm and collected. Evan would have found it funny if he wasn’t worried that she might suddenly snap.

“Yep.”

“Died. And then came back?”

“Yep.”

“As a cupid?”

He smiled what he hoped was a winning smile that would ease the information for her. He wasn’t sure why exactly he was telling her everything except that, well it felt nice to have someone else to talk to about it all.

“How—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “How exactly did . . . well, you know.”

“How did I die?”

She nodded. Her lips were tucked between her teeth and her mouth was the thinnest line across her face. She looked a little ashen, but otherwise appeared to be okay with everything he told her.

“I fell off a cliff.”

“You fell off a . . . of course. And you’re sure you died?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. Normal, living people can’t do this.” He disappeared from where he’d been standing and reappeared on the other side of her along the counter.

“Yeah, you’re right, normal, living peop—” She slid from her chair in shock. As Evan caught her, he cursed himself for sharing too much too fast and pushing her brain so far beyond what a normal human could be expected to comprehend.

Or maybe she’s slipped into that hypoglycemic coma because I didn’t feed her fast enough. Evan didn’t know whether Becca even suffered from low blood sugar, his cupid abilities only related to emotions, not medical conditions.

He was going to try to do the chivalrous thing and carry her up to her bed where she could recover in her own time. However, he couldn’t lift her. It wasn’t that Becca was overly heavy, more that even before he’d become a cupid, Evan hadn’t been the most macho man. He’d been a bit of a greaser and something of a young punk—more comfortable in a garage than a gym. Once upon a time, he’d even been intimately familiar with engines the way he now was with relationships. At no point had he ever been strong enough to sweep a girl off her feet.

Knowing that wishing for bigger muscles was a lost cause when nothing ever changed for him, Evan did what he could. He helped guide Becca’s unconscious form to the ground as gently as he could so that at least she could avoid smashing her head on the tiles. By the time she was on the cold floor, she was already starting to rouse.

She took one look at Evan and started to laugh hysterically.

When Becca had found herself prone on the floor, there had been a moment where she’d been so certain everything that had happened during the day was all a dream. That illusion had been shattered the instant she opened her eyes and met Evan’s hazel gaze. Once that had happened, the events of the day came flooding back and she wondered whether she’d gone mad.

Completely stark raving bonkers! She laughed at the thought, and couldn’t stop.

“Are you okay?” Evan asked. His concern gave her the push she needed to cut off her mindless laughter.

She pushed herself up and he helped her into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“I think it might have been a bit too much too soon. Either that or the insulin in your system isn’t self-regulating properly.”

“Huh?”

“Do you have a history of low blood sugar?”

Becca really wanted to follow the conversation, but she was lost. She’d been unable to comprehend much of what Evan had said since he’d refused to take the car. “What?”

“Never mind.” Evan helped her to her feet. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, it’s just a hell of a lot to cope with. Just this morning, I was a normal person with a normal life, and now I’m stuck with a supernatural stalker who’s been dead for over fifty years.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly be a supernatural stalker if I wasn’t dead, could I?”

In spite of herself, a half-smile crossed Becca’s lips. “I guess not. You’d just be a regular one then wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself to think that I’d be here if I didn’t have to be,” Evan said.

Although his tone indicated that he’d meant it as a joke, it echoed with something deep inside Becca, a part of herself that she didn’t like very much or acknowledge often. The part that was still a little girl screaming out that she wasn’t good enough to be loved. She exhaled heavily, blowing out the doubt, and drew an inward breath to draw in positivity. It was a technique she’d learned years ago. It was wishy-washy, but it worked for her.

He brushed his hand over her arm reassuringly. “Who am I kidding? I think I’d still be here. Although you probably would have been more inclined to call the police.”

“I probably still should.”

“And tell them what exactly?” he teased. “I’d be hidden before they arrived.”

“Exactly what I was worried about. Just so long as you know that my desire not to end up in a psych ward is the only reason I haven’t called them.”

“Sure, that’s the only reason.”

Becca realized that there were more reasons, reasons she didn’t want to examine very much and definitely would never share with Evan. She couldn’t explain it, not even to herself, but she was drawn to him. It was almost as if there were two hands planted firmly on the base of her spine giving her a hard shove in his direction—she just didn’t know why. She was willing to put it down to the fact that he was love incarnate and even though she’d never admit it to anyone else—not even to Cathy—she was lonely. And desperate. Desperate enough to trust the cupid at least.

She crossed her arms and turned to him. “You know what? If this is going to work I think we need to lay down some ground rules.” She didn’t give Evan a chance to agree or refuse before she launched into the list that was circling her mind. “One: you don’t fix me up with anyone unless I give you my explicit approval. Two: you’re not allowed to pop in and out of rooms or cars or anything else. I’ll give you driving lessons if I have to, but I can’t have you popping from place to place or I’ll probably end up having a heart attack before you find me love. Three: you can’t be invisible around me, if you’re at my side I need to know you’re there.”

“What about at work? I can’t just follow you around there.”

“Why would you need to be at work?”

“Because you never know when you might meet Mister Right. I’ve set many couples up at the workplace.”

She sighed. “Okay, you can be invisible beside me while I’m at work, but you have to keep out of everyone’s way.” And there is a sentence that I never even dreamed I’d ever have to utter. “But when we’re here at my house you’re visible. I don’t care how much you can learn about me by the type of toilet paper I use, I don’t want you to watch me pee.”

He grinned. “Actually, there’s no need to watch you in the act to determine what I need to know about you from your toilet paper habits. Although, it might be helpful if I know whether you fold or scrunch.” He laughed to show he was joking.

“You know, this is so crazy I might need to be institutionalized before it’s through, but I actually think you and I will get along fine.”

“I know we will.” Evan slung his arm over her shoulder. “So what’s for dinner?”

“How about you just order in some Chinese? I’ll finish up down here and then we can eat.”

“Sure thing.”

Evan left her alone in the darkroom, but she could barely concentrate. There was so much going through her head. While she set the two rolls of film in the developing tank, and even as she ran through the now-routine steps of pouring each of the chemicals into the tank in turn, her mind kept returning to the guy upstairs. She could hear his feet moving around and a few times it almost seemed like they paused outside the door at the top of the basement stairs, but he never entered.

Becca knew she was crazy to trust him, but she did. She also strangely wanted to please him, and so she kept running the question he’d asked her earlier over and over in her mind. Who was her ideal man? What did he look like? What were her favorite features?

Becca knew it was just a coincidence when hazel eyes, brown hair, and a solitary dimple at the edge of a lopsided smile each presented themselves as candidates for her consideration. She was certain it was an even bigger coincidence when each one earned a giant tick.

She was just finishing hanging the developed film to dry when there was a knock on the door.

“Becca?” Evan’s voice came through the wood. “Food’s here. I hope you don’t mind, I used the cash in your purse.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Becca called back as she thought about the fact that she had a new rule to add to her list—no going through her things. Not that she minded him using her cash—she figured he probably didn’t have any of his own anyway—but she didn’t need to think about him leafing through the receipts in her purse, psycho-examining her every purchase or trying to decide her ideal partner based on the brand of tampon in her bag.

After she’d washed up and was sitting at the kitchen table with Evan, she had the chance to ask some of the questions that had begun to form in her mind after the rush of new information had slowed. It gave her something to focus on beside the fact that she was the only one eating. “How many exactly?”

He glanced over at her. “What?”

“You said there were others, how many?”

He shrugged. “I lost count after the first couple of thousand.”

Becca’s brow scrunched. “That means you can’t have spent much more than a week with any of them?”

“Some more, some less. Sometimes, I’d have two or three names to match at once.”

“But not now?”

“No, now it’s just you.” He seemed confused about the direction of her questions, but there was one thing that was evident. Assuming he wasn’t lying about when he’d first shown up, he’d been with her for a week already and she wasn’t any closer to being paired off.

“What’s so terribly wrong with me that you’ve had to spend so much time on me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Becca, nothing at all. I just want to take my time to find the person who is perfect for you.”

“Why do I get extra attention?”

He cleared his throat. “No reason at all.”

There was definitely something he wasn’t saying, but no amount of coaxing would draw it from him so she gave up.

One day though, she’d find out why.

CHAPTER EIGHT

As Evan sat in Becca’s bedroom, he kept all of her rules on a loop in his mind—all sixteen that she’d come up with since their first conversation. He knew that technically he didn’t have to follow them if he didn’t want to. After all, he wasn’t bound by any agreement like he was when it came to performing his cupid duties. He probably wouldn’t end up in insurmountable agony, broiling in the pits of Hell. Then again, from what he’d learned about Becca so far—maybe he would. Regardless, he followed her rules because he wanted to and because it made her happy. Above everything else, he wanted that.

Even without the benefit of a love interest, and the additional feelings that would have stirred within her, Becca’s emotions were stronger than any he’d ever experienced before. Her simple happiness buoyed him like nothing else ever had. If he’d known it could be so fulfilling just to have a few honest conversations with his assignments, he probably would have started doing it a long time ago.

Usually when he did take the risk to approach them directly he’d masquerade as something else; something innocuous, like a hairdresser or shop assistant. He’d always choose a profession where people were almost expected to be at least a little bit nosey.

“What about this one?” Becca asked, lifting another dress out of her closet. It was a floral sundress that would probably match her skin tone perfectly. It’d look beautiful on her, but then the other four dresses she’d shown him would have too.

She’d look great in any of them, can’t she just pick one? “It’s fine?”

She stopped assessing her reflection and turned her gaze on him. Her emerald eyes were piercing and pinned him to the spot, as did the wave of annoyance that rolled through her. “Was that a question?”

“No.”

She lifted one brow, but mercifully her gaze softened before she turned it back onto her reflection. “It sounded like a question.”

“I’m just not sure what was wrong with any of those other dresses.”

“I want to look just right.”

Apparently one of the doctors at the hospital Becca worked at was putting on a BBQ for some of her workmates and their families. She seemed to think it was going to be the best chance at meeting “the one” but Evan wasn’t sure he was convinced. Or maybe he was convinced, but didn’t like the thought of someone else coming into her life anymore.

For three days, he’d had Becca largely to himself and he had to admit he liked it way more than was probably appropriate. When Becca returned to work the day after she’d been sent home, he’d trailed behind her—unseen by all others—but because she knew he’d been there, she’d uttered witty remarks and serious comments that he knew were meant for his ears alone. Then when they’d arrived home together that night, they’d joked about the things she’d seen and said.

She hadn’t even gone down to her dark room once in those three days. Evan liked to imagine it was because she liked his company, but had to accept that maybe she just needed a break from the chemicals.

Those few evenings alone with Becca were the most fun Evan had ever had. Her laugh was infectious and her smile warmed him to the core. Absorbing her happiness was a bonus, but it was more than that—he felt happiness for himself too. Felt it for perhaps the first time since Rose’s death.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather me go incognito like at work?" Evan wasn't sure whether he was overly happy about going to the event and being paraded around, but it would be Becca's choice. He was fast learning that it would always be Becca’s choice and he was weirdly okay with that.

"I'll end up spending the whole day walking around talking to myself, never knowing if you're actually there."

"I could hold your hand or something to let you know I'm there?"

Becca looked down at her fingers with a small smile, before shaking her head. "No, I think that would be too weird. There's going to be enough other people there that you'll just be able to blend. Besides, you need to have some fun too."

I've been having fun, spending time alone with you. The words were on his tongue, but he knew they were too heavily weighted with his desire for him to ever be able to speak them. "I just think that it's going to raise questions."

"Trust me they'll all be too drunk by the time we get there." She laughed. "Besides, maybe I want to show you off a little."

The amount of pride that filled Evan at her simple statement was really quite laughable. If he was a twelve-year-old girl, he probably would have squealed. As it was, he gave himself a mental high-five. "If that's what you want," he said, trying to ooze cool confidence despite the way his insides twisted with pleasure and nerves.

"That's what I want,” Becca said. She looked at herself in the mirror again. “Maybe I should wear the pink one?”

Evan resisted the urge to sigh. “Maybe you should just get dressed in something unless you want to go in those jeans and that t-shirt,” he muttered.

“Maybe you should watch yourself or I might just need to spend the day watching sappy movies that break my heart and make me cry instead of going to this thing. Or better yet remembering exactly what Bobby Dunn did after we’d been dating for three months.”

He laughed. “You would do that.”

“I would,” she agreed. “Now help me pick.”

“Go for the black one with the roses. It’s fun enough for a casual picnic but it’s flirty and—”

“Hints at romance?” she finished for him.

“Exactly. Roses equal romance.” Evan wouldn’t admit it to Becca, but for him roses would always remind him of his Rose, just like Becca herself did.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t make the rules; I just try to apply them to find love for people.”

“I think roses are tacky.” She plastered a fake smile on her face and held up her hands, miming receiving a bouquet of flowers. “Oh, a dozen roses, how . . . cliché.”

“Has anyone ever bought you a dozen roses?”

“Well, no.”

“I’ll tell you what, if anyone ever does, I want you to find me and tell me how tacky the moment was.”

“Okay, maybe tacky was a little harsh. But surely there are better flowers? Prettier, unique ones.”

He sat up straighter. “Like which ones?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you can tell how happy I’ll be when I’m eighty based on my favorite flower.”

He pushed himself off her bed, stood behind her and met her eye in the mirror. “No. I just think it’s interesting to learn new facts about you.”

Evan noticed Becca’s breath hitch and her heart speed. He needed to be careful around her until she had some direction for the love his abilities roused in her—if he wasn’t careful, he’d inspire another round of lip-locking. Not that he’d complain about lip-locking. Except he was positive it would lead to butt-kicking and a certain cupid ending up on the street.

“Wear the black one. I’ll meet you in the car in ten minutes.”

Becca stared after the cupid with her heart lodged firmly in her throat. There were moments, tiny fleeting moments, where she was able to forget what he was and why he was in her house. In those few seconds, she’d unwittingly imagine they were just a regular couple doing regular couple things. It felt natural for him to be in her house, for them to be together, Sometimes it felt as if they’d been married for years, not strangers until a few days ago. When he’d come up and stood behind her while she was appraising dresses in the mirror, was one of those moments. He’d whispered such sweet things that she longed for him just to be hers. She could have so easily twisted in his hold and pressed her lips to his. It would have been as natural as breathing.

One thing she’d noticed in the last few days was that her man-craziness had abated almost as soon as Evan had shown himself. Or maybe abated was the wrong word—redirected was probably a better choice. In fact, the kiss she’d shared with Evan had played on repeat in her dreams over and over. She was even able to convince herself that for a moment, he’d actually kissed her back—which was impossible.

She snorted while she was undressing at the thought of Evan having anything more than a professional interest in her. She’d learned over the time they’d spent together that for him every moment, every action, was an opportunity to learn more about her so that he could find her perfect match. Instead of being disappointed that his sole interest was to fix her up with someone else, she was determined to do everything she could to help him in his task. He could then find his next assignment and hopefully Becca would be left happy enough and no longer so lonely.

Pulling on the black dress with red rose print, Becca took a moment to check her reflection and she saw why Evan had picked that outfit—almost as if she could see herself in a new light. The contours of the dress hugged her figure perfectly, highlighting her hips and ass rather than accentuating them. The bust line was modest enough that she wouldn’t have to be worried about spilling out over the top, but low enough that her girls were on display in the best possible way.

Becca lifted her mass of curls off her shoulders, trying to figure out what to do with them before deciding that she’d just leave them out. Grabbing a hair-tie just in case she regretted that decision five minutes into the BBQ, she raced through the front door and made it to the car well within the ten minutes Evan had allotted her.

“I didn’t mean literally ten minutes,” he said as she raced through the garage door.

She grinned at him. “I was ready, didn’t see much point in keeping you waiting.” She threw him the car keys.

“What are these for?”

“I told you I’d give you driving lessons. Right now, I’m not in any massive hurry to get to work, or too tired after work, so I thought it would be an ideal time for you to learn. Well, relearn.”

“I don’t really have any I.D.”

“It’s a ten minute drive, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Evan looked down at the keys in his hand and she could tell he was tempted. “Maybe just this once, but I can’t become a regular chauffer for you.”

She pulled open the passenger door. “Aww, I wanted to have my own Driving Miss Daisy relationship so badly.”

Becca watched with amusement as Evan climbed into the driver’s seat of her Mustang and caressed the steering wheel like he was being reunited with an old lover. Desire practically burst from him and, for a moment, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I love that smell,” he murmured.

Becca sniffed at the air. “Armor All and old gym socks?”

“No.” He turned and gave her a soft smile. “History.”

“I wasn’t aware that history had a smell.”

“It does,” he said earnestly. “It smells just like Armor All and old gym socks.” He laughed. “Or like a stuffy old attic.”

“Are you saying my car smells like a stuffy old attic?”

“Well, you said gym socks; that’s way worse than an old attic.” Evan pushed the key into the ignition but didn’t turn it.

“Are you ready?” Becca asked when she noticed his reluctance. She was ready to tell him not to worry if it was going to be too hard.

“Yeah, I just need a minute.” He took another deep breath and then turned the engine and smiled when it growled through the cabin. “This really is a great car.”

Becca rubbed the dash. “Thanks, it was my Nana’s, she had it from new but gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. Just before . . .” Becca trailed off before she said what was on her mind—her Nana had given her the car only a few months before succumbing to illness. It was part of the reason Becca would never sell it. “She kept it in really good condition, but I put it in for an overhaul a little over a year ago now.”

Evan seemed to understand Becca’s unspoken sentiment. But then he would with that whole I’m-reading-your-emotions-because-I’m-a-cupid thing.

“So you’re telling me I should be careful with her?”

“I’m telling you that usually no one gets to drive Millie, but I’ll make an exception in your case.”

“Millie?”

“Yeah, Millie the Mustang.” Becca giggled at the memory that accompanied the name. It was a few months after she’d moved in with her Nana that her thirteen-year-old-self had decided that the car needed a name and they’d soon agreed on Millie.

“You’ve got a ’65 V8 Mustang Fastback and you’ve called it Millie?” He appeared positively scandalized.

“What’s wrong with Millie?” Becca felt slightly insulted that he seemed so disgusted in her choice of name.

“Nothing,” Evan said with a little too much speed. He’d obviously realized he was treading into dangerous territory. He stroked the steering wheel again. “It’s just . . . Millie?”

“Cars are always girls, right?”

“I guess. I just think that a tough car needs a tough name.”

“Millie can be tough.”

Evan held his hands up in surrender. “If you say so.”

“If you’re so against her name, I won’t let you drive her.”

“This was your idea.”

“I know that, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind.”

Evan brushed his foot across the accelerator and, based on the look on his face, Becca wouldn’t have been surprised if his apparently unused appendage was standing firm and attentive again. Her gaze slid over his crotch to check, but the position he was sitting in made it awkward for her to see—at least not without overtly staring at his groin. Instead, she focused on guiding him through getting the car moving and safely onto the street.

Becca decided that when Evan had stated that he couldn’t drive he was overstating it a little. The closest they’d come to any major disaster during the drive was when he’d stalled it at a stop sign. By the time they arrived at Doctor Petersen’s house—or maybe retreat was a better word considering the size of it and the facilities it offered to his guests—Evan’s smile was so wide his solitary dimple ran almost the length of his cheek.

He turned off the engine and instantly climbed from the car, moving to open Becca’s door for her, but she’d beaten him to it. Instead he offered her his arm and led her toward the house.

In the corner of her eye, Becca saw Cathy lingering around the gate into the backyard, the sunlight glinting off her auburn hair making it glow almost red. Becca swallowed down a wave of concern. Cathy had seen her arrival, had seen the fact that Evan was driving Millie and that he’d offered his arm in such a chivalrous fashion when they’d both left the car. Becca knew there’d be questions to answer soon.

After Becca had introduced him to everyone important, Evan left her side and moved toward a row of sun lounges that lined the side of the pool. Climbing onto one of the seats, he leaned back into it, willing to give the pretense of relaxing in order to be left in somewhat relative peace to absorb the emotions around him.

He watched Becca closely as she interacted with her friends. It was a great way to see what she was really like away from odd situations involving cupids and other things she shouldn't be so accepting of. At least that's what he told himself. It also offered him the perfect opportunity to let his eyes linger on her body longer than he'd allowed since he’d accidentally revealed himself to her. Against the black sleeveless dress, her golden skin glowed in the sunlight.

“So what's your story?” Becca's friend, Cathy, asked as she sat in the lounge beside him. He barely spared her a glance before his eyes searched for Becca again.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don't think Becca has ever brought a boyfriend to one of these things before.”

“I'm not her boyfriend,” he said, trying to set Cathy straight before she could start the rumor mill.

Cathy pressed her hands onto her wide hips. “If you're not her boyfriend then what's the deal?”

“We're just friends.”

“Mmmhmm,” Cathy didn't sound the least bit convinced. “Becca and I have been best friends since before we were in training bras. If you two were friends, I think I would have met you sooner.”

“We're new friends,” he explained. “We met online.”

Cathy's eyes lit up with mischief. “Ooh, don’t tell me Missy B is going online for a bit of fun?” she whispered.

“No!” He didn't know why the idea of Becca putting her bootie onto the World Wide Web bothered him so much. “We met—”

“On a photography forum,” Becca said, interrupting the conversation. “Evan was showing me how to get more emotion into my prints, and one day he recognized Sunset Hills in my photos and we realized we lived close to one another.”

Cathy's husband called her, so she gave Becca a look which confirmed the conversation was far from over before leaving Evan alone with Becca.

“Sorry about her,” Becca said.

“Sorry, I didn't know what to tell her,” Evan said at the same time.

“She was bound to be curious. After all, you did drive Millie.” Becca sank into the chair beside him and tipped her head back before closing her eyes, seemingly enjoying the sun but more importantly giving Evan the chance to study her close up and in more detail.

He took the chance to study the way her long eyelashes lifted upward just before they could come to rest against her cheeks. A stray curl of hair fell across her face and Evan’s fingers twitched with need to touch her to brush it off her forehead. It was a manifestation of his growing desire to touch her in some way, even if it was in such an innocent fashion. Finding it almost impossible to resist the temptation to reach out for her while he was watching her, he turned his body to face away.

I have to get this under control, he thought. I need to find her a match before I try to claim her for myself.

The thought caused an ache through his body—he wanted her so badly that it was downright dangerous. The closer he grew to Becca, the more time he spent at her side, the more he longed that he could be human so that he could have a real chance at being her match. He could easily imagine all the ways he’d woo her and win her heart, but he knew thoughts like that could only cause problems all around. They were all the more reason to find her Mister Right. Evan took a couple of deep, steeling breaths, and then turned to Becca. “So, have you seen anyone new here yet? Anyone that’s caught your attention?”

Becca opened one eye. “I thought you’d know before I knew?”

“You were the one who was certain you’d find someone here. You won’t find anyone if you hide away by yourself off in one corner of the party.”

“I’m not hiding away by myself,” she said, opening both eyes and meeting his gaze.

Evan was about to open his mouth to argue when she continued. “I’m hiding away with you.”

A warmth spread throughout his body, not only at the words she said, but also at the tender tone she’d used and the emotion that accompanied it. It solidified his need to find someone else for her to lavish her attention on. It wasn’t fair for her to be spending the entire length of the BBQ at his side when he couldn’t offer her anything real. It was time better invested in founding new friendships with real people who could offer her everything that Evan so desperately wanted to offer her. “Let’s see the possible candidates shall we? I think some more people arrived while you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was relaxing.”

“Same difference.”

Becca sat up and scanned through the guests. “It’s the same old people I work with at the—” A sharp intake of Becca’s breath drew Evan’s attention. “Wait a minute, who is that?”

Reluctantly, and with a feeling of dread surging through him, Evan turned in the direction of Becca’s stare. He could already tell by the sharp surge of lust that had coursed through his body that whoever it was had more than piqued Becca’s interest—he’d also sent her libido crazy. It looked like some of the more agile guests had decided it was time for a football game, and they were playing shirts versus skins.

As Evan followed Becca’s gaze, the groups on the sidelines seemed to part to give him an unimpeded view of a man that could only be described as immaculate. Shirtless and crouched in the center of the make-shift field, the guy held the gaze of everyone around him. When he looked up at his opponents, he had a smile that could melt chocolate. Even Evan had to admit that the guy was a perfect specimen of what a man should be. Muscled, and toned, and worst of all—tall.

“He’s okay,” Evan muttered.

“Okay?” Becca said, leaning further forward on her lounger as if she was preparing to launch herself across the space at the stranger. “He’s gorgeous. And he’s tall.”

The guy snapped the football back to the player lined up behind him who threw it at another player on the team. The one who’d caught Becca’s eye raced around calling out instructions which faded away in the wind long before they reached where Becca and Evan sat, but it was clear he was completely immersed in the game.

The more excited Becca grew over the mystery man, the worse Evan began to feel. It was all wrong, usually this was the point—the initial meeting—that gave him one of his first strong fixes. The emotions were all right for it, but they sat awkwardly around Evan’s body and he wanted to purge them back out again—like tainted chicken in the stomach of a normal person.

“You really like him?”

“Well, I don’t know him, but he’s certainly passed the first glance test.”

“I guess we should go and introduce ourselves then,” Evan said wishing he could take it back the moment the words had left his mouth.

CHAPTER NINE

Becca re-crossed her legs as her dreamboat jumped to catch a pass and the muscles of his washboard abs contracted in response to the action. When he ducked his head to avoid a tackle, she noticed his broad shoulders flex and she bit her lip in response. He was dreamy, but also somehow oddly familiar. She knew him, she just wasn’t sure how. Surely she’d remember seeing him somewhere before.

Despite the rich chocolate color of his hair, it seemed to capture the sun with blond highlights that were completely absent in the shade. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were with the distance between them, but she sketched in the details using the hazel-brown color that had worked its way into her subconscious lately. His smile was perfect: two rows of stunningly straight, perfectly white teeth nestled amongst plump, soft pink lips.

Could she really take Evan up on his suggestion that they just go meet the hot stranger that she wasn’t really sure was a stranger? She figured there was no reason not to. After all, she didn’t have to approach him with amorous intentions. And if she did want something more, how often did the opportunity of having a cupid at her side to give her love interest’s desire for her a supernatural boost really come around?

“We probably should go over there, shouldn’t we?” She pulled herself up from the sun lounge before turning to see what Evan was doing. Despite being the one who’d suggested forging a meeting, he seemed a little reluctant to follow her lead.

“There’s no rush,” Evan said. “He’s still playing the game.”

“Yeah, I know.” Becca brushed her curls behind her ears. “It won’t hurt to go watch the game from a little closer though, will it?” She figured his tanned skin and perfect tone would only be easier to appreciate up close and personal.

She was halfway around the pool before Evan caught up with her.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Evan sounded almost grumpy about that fact, but Becca couldn’t work out why. Ever since he’d popped into her life—literally—he’d been adamant that his mission was to find her a match. Why did he seem to be so reluctant now that someone had actually caught her eye? Or at least, someone who’d piqued her interest more than the man-hungry need that had been an undercurrent in her life for the first week after Evan had found her.

“I don’t know yet, but I’d like to find out if I might.”

Evan trailed behind Becca as she closed the distance to the make-shift football field. Just as she approached the sidelines, one of the players in shirts threw the ball toward someone else and the man Becca had been watching rushed to intercept it. Before Becca had a chance to react, he caught the ball but his momentum sent him rushing over the sidelines and into the gathered crowd. Becca watched, unable to move, as his stumbling footfalls caused him to slam bodily into her, knocking her to the ground before he tumbled down on top of her.

For a moment, Becca lay stunned on the grass, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her with the weight of the impact. Then she realized that she was a tangle of limbs with the sexy stranger and the offending football was lying just beside her head. She reached for the ball at the same time the stranger lifted his head to apologize to her. Just as he squeezed out the word, her elbow connected with his jaw. She felt as well as heard his teeth jar together and then he swore under his breath.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Becca muttered as pain rushed from her shoulder to her pinky finger, radiating from a small spot on the back of her elbow. “I don’t know why they call it a funny bone, there’s nothing funny about that.”

“Nothing funny from where I’m sitting either, sweetheart.” The stranger held himself off her body with one hand planted firmly on the ground beside her head. He used his other to caress the spot on his jaw which her elbow had claimed.

She looked down at their bodies, practically lying flush with one another. “You’re not sitting,” she whispered.

The guy looked down at the space between them—or the lack thereof—and swore again. “Uh, yeah, sorry.” He pushed himself to his feet and then offered Becca his hand.

She took it graciously, more than willing to be back on her feet so that she could stop making a fool of herself in front of a party full of her work colleagues. With almost no effort, he’d pulled her to her feet. Then his eyes widened with surprise, recognition lurking in their depths as he offered her a mile-wide grin.

Becca wondered for a moment whether her heart had actually stopped. She ducked her eyes away from his as a small, shy smile formed on her lips.

“Becca Lewis! Wow, you . . . grew up.”

Her eyes instantly snapped back to meet the dreamboat’s bluish-hazel gaze. It took her a moment to figure out just who the stranger was, but once she realized, she reached out and pulled him into a hug. “Oh my god, Andrew Petersen! When did you get back in town? You should have called me.”

Becca was so enthused by her reunion with her old school friend that it took her a moment to realize that she was pressing her face against a half-naked, sweaty man that made her squirm. He certainly wasn’t the lanky, pimple-faced boy he’d been when Doctor Petersen and his first wife divorced. Shortly after their separation, Drew’s mom had moved across the country to California and had dragged Drew with her.

Reluctantly, Becca let go of her sweaty dream man and stepped back to listen to his story.

“I got back last week. That’s the real reason behind all this.” He indicated the party around them, reminding Becca that it wasn’t just the two of them. “Dad wanted to celebrate the return of his son, the doctor, the proper way, I just convinced him to keep it quiet until today.”

His eyes sparkled with fun and she realized that despite his tone, he was happy to lap up the limelight.

“What about you? What are you still doing here in Flint? I would’ve put money on you getting out of town as soon as you graduated.”

Becca was about to respond when a chorus of voices called out for Drew to grab the ball and join the game.

“Sounds like your adoring fans are chasing you,” she joked, even though part of her didn’t want the conversation to end.

“I’ll just finish this game and then I’ll come find you, yeah?”

Becca nodded.

Drew bent down to retrieve the ball, and Becca didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over her legs as he did. Or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily when he stood upright. She could have sworn her panties evaporated the instant he met her gaze again, his eyes full of salacious intentions. “Don’t you leave until we’ve caught up properly, Becca Lewis.”

All she could do was shake her head to indicate that she wouldn’t. Her mouth was so dry that all the water in the swimming pool behind her would have barely wet it.

She turned away from the game, certain that a loopy smile was plastered on her face. Her gaze searched for Evan, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She was certain his interference was what had fostered the reunion with her now older—and way hotter—middle-school friend.

Evan was on his fifth drink, wondering whether it was even possible for him to get drunk anymore. He could vaguely recall what it was like, being so blind to the world around him that nothing could hurt anymore, but he hadn’t experienced it since his death. Just like the pleasures of food and sex, the oblivion hidden at the bottom of a bottle of booze was something denied to him. He was a paradigm for love, and yet seeing it blossom in front of him this time made him feel nauseous. It was opposite to how this moment usually made him feel, but he didn’t want to examine the reasons behind that fact.

No matter how happy he tried to be with Becca’s first meeting with the stranger—who clearly wasn’t a stranger based on the way she’d thrown herself into his arms—it was impossible. Even as the beginning strains of her love took residence in Evan’s body and provided him with the energy he needed, he couldn’t enjoy the sensation like he usually did.

He closed his eyes, waiting for something to happen. He’d been so certain that Becca had been the last match for him, that finding her a partner would be his ticket off Earth and into whatever paradise was supposed to await him—albeit without his Rose—that he’d half expected to disappear the instant he’d felt the mutual stirring in both Becca and Drew.

Drew. He sneered even as he thought the name. Drew who’d been granted everything denied to Evan in his life—good breeding, money, looks, strength. Drew wasn’t just Becca’s ideal; he was the ideal of every woman everywhere. The one that they all wanted but very few would ever get. Becca had got him though. Evan knew exactly how Drew felt and it killed him. Drew’s love for her was very nearly as strong as Evan’s own—not that Evan was supposed to be feeling that.

Evan also knew how Becca felt. With the lust surging through her and Drew’s body responding in kind, Evan was somewhat surprised they’d been able to keep their hands off each other even with the surrounding crowd.

“Don’t you have anything stronger?” he asked a waiter walking by with a tray of champagne. “Shots maybe? Lots and lots of shots.” He snickered at his own private rhyming joke.

Maybe the alcohol was having more of an effect on him than it usually did. He would have wondered why, except he was too happy to send himself toward the blessed goal of oblivion instead.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.” Becca’s voice was behind him and he turned to see her standing before him with her hands on her hips. “I thought you might have left.” Her tone made it clear that she didn’t mean she thought he’d returned to her house.

“I thought I might have left too.” It was true, ever since he realized that he wasn’t going to poof out of existence, he’d been screwing his eyes shut at random intervals to see if there was another name on his list—but each time there was nothing but Becca.

“Are you drunk?”

He shook his head. “Can’t be. Cupids don’t get drunk.”

Three people nearby turned their heads at his exclamation, which had been louder than he’d desired or expected. Becca moved over to him, linking her arm through his and dragging him far away from all the people. Even though she released his arm, she reached for his elbow, holding it in a pincher grip between her fingers as she hissed, “Are you sure about that, because you smell like a brewery and you’re talking a lot louder than you normally would.”

“Maybe, I’m just a teensy bit under the influence.” He chuckled.

“I don’t know what’s funny about that.”

“I don’t either.” He laughed harder.

“Oh god, Drew’s coming over here. Please, help me? I think you were right. I think I might really like him.”

Didn’t look or feel like you needed my help before, Evan thought as he spun around, his eyes searching for the offending sight. He was relieved to see that Drew had found some clothing and had a polo shirt pulled over his chest. Even if said polo shirt was stretched taut across the other man’s thick pecs. A quick glance at Becca confirmed she didn’t share his relief at Drew’s newly-clothed status. In fact, she looked downright disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Becca, I didn’t realize you’d brought a date.”

Evan found himself staring at Drew. Even his teeth are perfect.

“He’s not a date. He’s just a friend. We met on a photography forum.” She looked at Evan, who swayed a little while he met Drew’s perfect version of hazel irises—more blue and warm than his own muddy-brown color. “In fact, he’s gay.”

“What?” Evan’s head just about snapped off his shoulder as he spun it to glare at Becca. “Who said that?”

Becca offered a grin which said she was having way too much fun with her lie. No doubt it was payback for his drinking. The worst thing was, he couldn’t even call her on it without embarrassing her in front of Drew and despite everything, he didn’t want to do that. He’d have to play along.

“Oh, sweetie,” Becca purred. “No one had to tell me. It was obvious.”

Drew’s eyes turned to Evan and for a moment, Evan thought he felt a spike of some new emotion, but it passed quickly. It was too fleeting for Evan to get a good hold on what it might have been—especially with Becca’s emotions so close and . . . overwhelming.

“Well, each to their own.” Drew shrugged. “Are you both having a good time today?”

He turned to Becca as he asked the question, giving Evan the distinct impression that although he referred to them both, he was far more interested in her response.

“It’s been great,” Becca said, moving closer to Drew and placing one hand on his chest. “Especially seeing you here.”

Oh boy, Evan thought as he rolled his eyes.

“I know exactly what you mean.” Drew clutched Becca’s hand, pressing it tighter against his chest for a moment before lifting it to his lips. “I didn’t expect to see you here either, but I was pleasantly surprised.”

Becca giggled like a school-girl and Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. As the emotions in the air swirled around and drowned the effects of the alcohol in his system, he found himself unpleasantly surprised by the strength of the desire in both Becca and Drew and his own negative reaction to it.

I should be happy for her, Evan thought to himself. He seems like a decent enough guy. Under any other circumstance, I would consider this an unqualified success.

So why do I feel like vomiting?

“You don’t mind if I steal Becca away for a while do you?” Drew asked.

How was Evan supposed to answer that? He did mind, he minded so much that it was a physical ache. But he shouldn’t have minded. Drew and Becca had the sort of fledgling relationship that most of his assignments would have given almost anything for. He should have been encouraging it and then moving on to the next name on his list until the next pivotal moment in Becca’s life. No new names offered themselves to him though, neither could he feel any strong attachment to his previous assignments, which meant he was stuck watching Becca and Drew despite how terrible that felt.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Becca answered for him, before turning and flashing Evan a smile that was the equivalent of a thumbs-up.

He forced his face into an expression that could almost pass for friendly and nodded.

Drew linked his arm around Becca and the two of them went off to find some private corner. Evan fought the disgust that rose in his stomach at the sight of them.

“So you’ve got it bad for her, huh?”

Evan hadn’t even heard Becca’s friend, Cathy, approach, so her voice startled him.

“What? No, I told you before, we’re just friends.”

“Sure, ‘cause friends always look like someone just kicked their puppy when one leaves on someone else’s arm.”

“I don’t look like that.” He wished there was a mirror or some sort of reflective surface nearby. He pressed his fingers to his cheeks to see whether he could feel what his expression might look like. “Do I?”

Cathy laughed. “It’s a shame. I think you could be good for her.”

The statement made Evan feel instantly better. It shouldn’t have, but it did.

“See, that smile right there is what makes me convinced that I’m right. I know about these things. It’s what makes me such a great matchmaker.”

The word “matchmaker” was a bucket of ice-water tossed over his growing smile. He was there to matchmake and, intentional or not, that was what he’d done. “Seriously, Becca and I are just friends.”

“You know they’re just old friends catching up, don’t you?”

He wanted to laugh. For a self-proclaimed matchmaker she was a little blind to budding romance when it was right in front of her.

“I think it’s a little more than that.” He nodded over toward the house where Becca and Drew were edging closer to each other.

“Yeah, maybe,” Cathy relented.

Drew’s fingers trailed along the outside of Becca’s leg and it was more than Evan could stand to watch. “You know, I think I might be heading off now.”

“No, you have to stay. I’m sure there are some eligible women I could introduce you to, someone to take away the sting of a broken heart.”

You’re about fifty years too late, he thought. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m really happy for her; I just need to be getting back. My photos aren’t going to develop themselves,” he said, hoping he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

“Didn’t you come with Becca?”

“Yeah, but I’m not too far from here,” he lied. “That way Becca will be free to leave when she’s ready without having to worry about dropping me home.”

“Okay, well it was nice meeting you . . . Evan, wasn’t it?”

He mumbled out a nice meeting you too before sneaking out the side gate of the party. As soon as he was certain he was alone and no one was watching, he focused on his last bride, on Karen-of-the-lavish-ceremony, and tried to travel the distance back to her side. Instead, he found himself in Becca’s basement darkroom.

He wasn’t sure why his ability to teleport was broken, but figured it was something to do with the knots in his stomach at the thought of Becca spending time alone with Drew.

You need to get a hold of yourself, he chastised. You’re acting like a love-sick teenager.

CHAPTER TEN

Becca decided that she liked the feeling of having Drew’s hands on her. No, she loved the feeling. As they had their hushed conversation that covered the gambit of their lives—everything from the mutual friends they’d had in middle school through to what had set them on their career paths—Drew’s hands had begun to wander. Nothing inappropriate—much to Becca’s frustration—but his fingers brushed her skin in frequent, innocent caresses. Each one caused Becca’s desire to ramp up to new levels. She knew if nothing else, her dreams would be filled with illicit images once more.

Despite that, she noticed when Evan left. It was as if her body was screaming for Drew—loudly and almost inappropriately—while her heart called for Evan. She wondered where he’d gone to and started to stress that maybe he’d moved on to his next assignment.

Surely he wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye?

“Becca?”

She turned to stare at Drew’s lips. He’d asked her something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. “Sorry?”

“I was asking whether you wanted to meet for dinner after my first shift at the hospital tomorrow night.”

“Like a date?” Becca’s libido soared.

“Well, no—”

And plummeted back to the ground.

“Not like a date. An actual date.”

Before soaring to new heights again.

She ducked her head again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“I’m glad I decided to come live with Dad for a while.”

“Me too.”

His hand lifted to caress her cheek. “You really have grown into such a beautiful woman.”

“You too,” she whispered as she stared into his eyes. The blue seemed more pronounced as his desire grew.

He chuckled. “I grew into a beautiful woman?”

“No, I, shit. I meant you grew up too. I mean you grew up great.” Becca continued to stumble over her words, feeling like each extra syllable that issued from her only served to make matters worse. Her cheeks scorched hotter as her embarrassment over her tongue-tied state increased with each second.

Her babbling was silenced a moment later when Drew touched his lips to hers. Although a perfectly innocent kiss to start off with, it didn’t take long for it to ignite into something more. His tongue brushed over her pout, seeking entrance which she willingly granted. She breathed a small moan into his mouth as the perfection of what was happening stole her senses. Wow, wow, wow!

“I’ve wanted to do that since eighth grade,” he muttered as they broke apart.

“Really?”

“You had to have known I was in love with you back then?”

“I really didn’t,” she said. “It never even crossed my mind that you might like me that way. I always just thought we were friends.” Not even friends really, more casual acquaintances. He’d been in the grade above her, but had hung out with her group of friends. Now she understood why that might have been the case.

“I was so certain you tormented me deliberately.” He chuckled and the deep sound made Becca’s stomach twist and lurch in a delightful way. She squirmed slightly in her seat. He leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear. “You were the subject of many of my teenage fantasies.”

An image of him in the shower fantasizing about her as he pleasured himself came unbidden to Becca’s mind and she had to bite back the moan that almost reached the back of her throat. It wasn’t the eighth grade Drew she pictured though, with his braces, pimples and permanently greasy hair. Instead, it was the dream guy in front of her. She could easily visualize his bicep flexing as he stroked himself repeatedly. Before she had a chance to stop it, her daydream included herself joining him in the shower and she squirmed in her seat.

Doctor Petersen called Drew away from Becca, which was probably a good thing considering how ready and willing she was to indulge in her fantasy with him. Despite their history, Becca knew it wasn’t a great idea to fall straight into bed with the guy—even though she was certain he’d be able to scratch all of the itches in her body.

“Sorry, even though I’d love to sit here with you for the rest of tonight, I shouldn’t really neglect everyone else here.”

“It’s okay, I was thinking about heading home anyway.”

Drew pouted. “Won’t you stay a little longer?”

Although part of her wanted to give into Drew’s puppy-dog eyes, the truth was she was anxious to see whether Evan had returned to her house or left town entirely.

How does it work when someone finds a love connection? she wondered. Does he leave straight away?

She knew she was getting ahead of herself thinking of Drew as her love connection. They were still to go on their first date, but surely a cupid was only there for the initial spark. Anything after that was up to the couple, wasn’t it?

And what if it didn’t work out? Would Evan be back? Or was it a one-time offer. She wanted answers to all of those questions and could only hope that Evan was still around to provide them. At least, that was what she told herself when she said goodbye to Drew with a quick kiss on his cheek and a promise of meeting him for dinner for their first date.

She raced to Millie and took off down the streets with her destination firm in her mind but her heart filled with doubt about whether she’d find her cupid at her house or not. She thought it was strange that she felt such a sense of panic over the thought of him being gone. Even after such a short time, she’d come to think of Evan as a bit of a fixture in her life. Not having him on hand to digest the goings on of her day would be strange. She wasn’t up to that level of sharing with Drew, not after their brief afternoon together.

As Becca pulled into her garage, she recognized the fear for what it was—she really didn’t want to go back to being lonely. Evan had filled a void in her life that she’d barely known had existed; and he’d done it so seamlessly that it felt as though he’d always been there. Despite the short time they’d spent together, he fit perfectly into her life. So perfectly in fact that she was certain she’d miss him when he eventually had to go, even if Drew could take his place. With the losses she’d already suffered in her life, she should have known better than to grow too attached, especially in a friendship that had an expiry date on it before it even started.

Pushing the front door open, she caught Evan leaping up from the sofa and let out a breath of relief.

“I thought you might have left,” she admitted when he raised an eyebrow at her in question over her reaction.

“I thought you’d be gone a little longer,” he said in response. His tone was almost dismissive of her words, which hurt her a little.

The hurt soon raged to anger and she stalked past Evan and into the kitchen. “I thought you’d be in a better mood after my day went so well.”

She tossed the car keys onto the counter.

Evan appeared suddenly, sitting on the counter directly beside where she’d thrown her keys.

“Shit!” she exclaimed in a rush, as she jumped back from the counter. She tried to slow her heartbeat after her scare. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to do that anymore?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to find out more about your afternoon.” He rested his hands on either side of him and started to kick his legs. His heels tapped an uneven tempo against the cupboard doors beneath him, at least until she turned her gaze on the wayward limbs. Then he stopped and sighed. “You know, to improve my mood.”

A smile spread across Becca’s face and as she felt her cheeks warm she became certain that they were glowing with a blush. “It was really good. I’d barely given Drew a second thought after he left to go live with his mom. I mean, he was something of a friend in middle school I guess, but that was all.” At least, I thought that was all.

“I’m happy for you. It’s exactly the sort of connection we hope for in my business. The sort of thing that doesn’t happen very often.”

Becca got the distinct impression that although he was saying he was glad, he was really anything but. She started to doubt whether she was right picking Drew.

Does Evan know something I don’t?

“He’s a good guy, isn’t he?” She’d started the sentence in defense of Drew, but had ended it full of doubt over Evan’s attitude.

Evan nodded. “He is. He’s perfect for you.” He pushed himself off the counter and moved to walk back into the living room.

Becca’s heart clenched, thinking that he was getting ready to go. Will he leave right now? She had to know.

“Does that mean you’re leaving?” The thought was depressing. The more certain she grew that he must be leaving soon, the more the thought hurt. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye so soon. What if things fizzled with Drew? What if she still needed a cupid? Truthfully those weren’t the only reasons she didn’t want to say goodbye, but they were the only ones she could admit to herself.

“Not just yet. I’ll hang around until you’ve been on a few dates. You never know when things might need a helping hand.” He smiled, but again Becca felt that it didn’t really seem as genuine as it had on previous occasions.

I wonder what his problem is, she thought. “Does that mean you’ll be stalking me on our dates?”

He frowned at her and she wondered what was going through his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Maybe I should be going then? I mean if you don’t think you’ll need me . . .” he seemed to deliberate trailed off, as if waiting for her reaction.

“No!” The word came too fast and too loud, but Becca couldn’t reel it in.

Evan’s eyes lit up with excitement and his smile lifted whatever weight he’d been carrying around since she’d arrived home.

His happiness at her desire for him to stay made Becca even more determined to keep him in her life for as long as she could.

“I want you to stay,” she said. “I mean, if you can. Do you have someone to consult about it? A boss or something?” Her eyes lifted toward the roof. She’d never given much stock to Heaven and Hell, but now, she wasn’t sure what to believe.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “But I’m sure I can swing it.”

“I’m glad.” Becca yawned. “I think I’m going to go shower and then spend some time in the darkroom, if you’d like to join me?”

Evan gulped. “In the shower?”

“Ha ha. You’re funny, funnyman. In the darkroom. We can develop the film from the other day. I’ve been a little distracted lately and haven’t worked down there nearly enough.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been the distraction, haven’t I?”

She walked over and tousled his hair. “Yeah, but I’m not complaining.”

With a grin, she headed for her bedroom to get a change of clothes.

Evan headed down the stairs to the basement, getting ready to wait for Becca in her darkroom. He was excited about watching her work again, far more excited than he’s been about having to listen to her talk about how wonderful the almighty Drew was.

Evan wondered how he’d be able to cope with Becca and her new beau actually going on dates.

The time he’d spent alone at Becca’s house that afternoon had been enough for him come to a sudden, and slightly horrified, realization. The nauseated sensation he’d got when he was around Drew and Becca together—the one that seemed to rise again when Becca started to gush about her possible romance—was the result of an emotion that originated in Evan himself. The flavor of it was familiar, even though it had been a while since he’d tasted that particular feeling. Discovering the source of it though, had thrown him entirely.

He never really experienced emotions himself; at least not distinct from those of his matches anyway. But as he’d sat waiting on Becca’s sofa for her return—like an impatient parent waiting for curfew—he’d finally been able to put his finger on the sensation and had tried to explore it as best as his mind would allow him too.

He was jealous.

No he wasn’t just jealous, he burned with jealousy. The thought of Drew’s hands exploring Becca’s skin made Evan clench his fists and gave him a desperate desire to hit something. As a being dedicated to love and happiness of others, his body’s natural reaction to jealousy was to shun it. Only he wasn’t able to shun his own emotions and that had made him violently ill.

It had all twisted into a tangle, leading him to the other realization he’d had. He was in love with Becca. Absolutely, blindingly, and completely in love.

He couldn’t even pretend that he wanted to match her up with anyone else anymore. No, he wanted her for himself even though it was a selfish and terrible idea. What did he have to offer her after all? A forbidden love and eventual heartache.

Part of him was convinced it would all be okay. In the moments after his acknowledging the fact that he was in love with her—really acknowledging it down to his deepest core—his body had surged with the same feeling of rightness he’d had on a few other occasions. Even though he usually took that radiating rightness as a sign of approval by the formless entities that guided his existence, he knew it was wrong—little more than a trick of his mind. He’d convinced himself it was okay, only because he wanted it so badly. As a cupid, he knew how readily emotions and hormones could trick the mind and body.

Still, he wanted nothing more than to take Becca into his arms and confess his undying love to her.

Undying. he scoffed.

That was part of the problem. He was a cupid, a dead being reanimated with certain gifts to help humanity. He wasn’t supposed to feel love.

Or jealousy, he thought bitterly.

Even though he had, it wasn’t a simple matter of sweeping Becca off her feet, falling in love together, and then living a happily ever after. If he was right that Becca was the final match he was destined to make, then he would remain on Earth until her match with Drew was solidified and then . . .

He didn’t know what would happen then. It scared the hell out of him, but he knew there was no point dwelling on it.

“Evan?” Becca’s voice called for him.

He turned toward the sound of her voice, but didn’t have a chance to answer her before she spoke again.

“Why are you standing down here in the dark?”

“Well, it is a darkroom isn’t it?” He tried, unsuccessfully, to joke.

“I guess.” She flicked on the red safety light. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed a little off since the BBQ.”

No, I’m not okay. I’m madly, completely, undeniably in love with you. Only, there’s jack all I can do about it because you need to be with another human being and not some crazy, supernatural stalker. So, instead of loving you like I would like to do, I have to help you find a lasting relationship with someone else. Someone who isn’t me, but is probably better than me in so many ways. Maybe every way. He’s probably much more deserving of you, and yet I want you anyway. And it kills me that you want him instead of me.

Evan knew he could never voice the words. Becca was exactly the sort of person who would take the guilt of his emotions onto herself. She would find some way to feel responsible for his love and then he’d have to deal with the internal fallout that was sure to accompany the guilt on top of everything else. By hiding away his true feelings, he was protecting her—and therefore himself—from a lot of pain and misery. At least, that’s what he kept reminding himself each time he was struck with the urge to blurt out his feelings. Each time his mind whispered, Just tell her already.

“Yeah,” he said instead. “Some of my prior assignments are just a little out of reach at the moment, that’s all.” It wasn’t a complete lie. After all, he couldn’t sense most of his matches at all any longer. Even Karen, who should have still been burning brightly in his heart, was nothing more than a very dull sensation somewhere at the base of his skull.

“Will you tell me about them?” Becca asked as she moved around setting up little trays full of chemicals and other stuff that Evan had no clue about.

“Umm.”

“Oh wait, is there some sort of confidentiality thing? Like cupid\lover privilege or something.”

He found himself staring at her lips as she murmured cupid\lover and he liked the combination of those two words far too much. “No, it’s just there’s so many.”

Becca nodded, no doubt recalling their previous conversation about how plentiful his roster had been before her. “Well, tell me more about yourself then.”

“What’s to tell? I’m little more than what my assignments need me to be.” I’m on Earth only to match up lonely hearts—I don’t exist for any other reason. It was a pretty pitiful thought, but he couldn’t help thinking it.

He’d never really been one to dwell on the miserable side of life, but melancholy had taken residence within him at his realization that he’d done the one thing he never should have done. Once his love had broken the dam wall Heaven—or whoever it was he reported to—had built around his human emotions, feelings he’d not experienced himself for too many years had rapidly flooded into him. Love, lust, desire, and jealousy all mingled through his every thought. In fact, he was only a few sins away from owning the full collection.

“No, I mean what you were like, you know, before.”

“Before I died?”

“I wasn’t going to put it quite so bluntly, but yeah.”

“I dunno, I was just a normal guy I guess.”

“A normal guy?”

“Yep. That’s me, Mr. Normal.”

Becca was watching her hands and Evan longed for her to look up at him. “It had to have been difficult.”

“What being normal?”

“No. Dying,” she whispered the word scandalously. It was clear that she feared the word, and the probably concept behind it. It wasn’t surprising though, most people who hadn’t experienced it did fear the potential nothingness beyond the grave.

“It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be,” he answered, wanting to spare her some of the truth. The agony of death was something he was unlikely to forget. Ever. It was both instantaneous and endless all at once. He’d always wondered whether part of the sensation he’d felt had been a result of actually going downstairs for a while before being plucked up for cupid duties. Of course, he had no one to confirm that with.

If he had briefly spent time in Hell, it was most likely wiped from his mind—although he tended to get hot flushes and prickles along his skin each time he thought the word. His thoughts spiraled into a darkness which he’d rarely allowed to inhabit his life since he’d first woken to his new cupified world.

A click and an explosion of light snapped him from his thoughts and he looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

“Sorry.” Becca held her camera in her hands. It was pointed at the desk in front of her, but Evan couldn’t remember her bringing it out—he must have been more lost in his past than he’d thought. “I was just testing my new flash.”

“It’s okay. I think I was a little lost there for a moment. Now, where were we? Oh, that’s right. You were going to show me the photos from our trip the other day weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a shy smile. “But I won’t do all of them. It’s still weird having someone else down here with me.”

Evan’s heart sank. Doesn’t she want me here? Her heart was calling to him still, and she didn’t appear angry or uncomfortable, but he wanted to give her an out if she needed one.

“I—I can go if you’d prefer?”

“No. No, that’s, uh, not what I meant. It’s just that I don’t usually have anyone with me down here. It’s part of me that I’ve never shared with anyone.”

“What? Ever?”

She shrugged as if it was no big deal that she’d brought him down here to share this with her now. “It’s just that I put so much of myself into the images, and I don’t really like sharing them until I’ve seen the end results myself.”

“It’s really okay if you don’t want me here. I can see them when you’re rea—”

“Evan?” she interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and help me over here, will you?”

He was so desperate to do as she’d asked that the instant she’d issued the request, he’d zipped to her side using his special ability for the second time that evening. She gasped when he suddenly appeared inches away from her side.

“I didn’t mean that way,” she said as she tried to recapture her breath. “Walking speed would have been fine.”

“Sorry.” I just can’t seem to control myself around you.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, his gaze fell on the understated beauty of her face. The red safety light reflected lightly on her features, deepening the color of her lips and giving her a flushed and desperate appearance.

For half a second, he imagined being in close proximity to her for other reasons. He dreamed of slipping his arm around her waist, of pulling her against him, of pressing his lips to hers, and of feeling her tongue tangle with his. Realizing that his no-longer-lifeless appendage was lifting as his thoughts raced along the sordid path, he took a step away from Becca to give her some space—and to stop himself from impaling her leg with his desperate need for her.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, wishing that he could stop the innuendo that seemed to drip off every syllable. At least, it did to his own ears.

Becca didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she steadfastly ignored it. “Pick one.” She handed him a small magnifying tool, before flicking a switch. An ancient light-box hummed into action, displaying the negatives she’d developed after their trip to the cemetery.

“I don’t really know what I’m looking for,” he said. The magnifying piece was still sitting in his palm.

Becca smiled reassuringly at him before reaching and taking it out of his palm again. “You’re looking for any photos that catch your eye.”

She hovered the magnifying tool just above the negative strip and bent over to examine the photos.

Evan took the opportunity to check out her ass, at least until he realized what he was doing and shook himself out of his lust-filled stupor. He then copied Becca’s stance, leaning over the table and looking through the glass as best as he could from his odd angle. He figured they weren’t really designed for two people to look through together, but didn’t complain because his proximity to Becca gave him a chance to inhale her sweet perfume.

The light-box flickered and dimmed before Becca smacked it lightly, causing the humming to kick up a notch. The light glowed once more at what Evan assumed was the correct level of intensity.

As he examined the strips Becca had laid out, he was left wondering exactly what he was supposed to be looking at. Many of the images were just black squares with the occasional white streaks running through them.

“You have to imagine the image inverted,” Becca said. She was so close that her breath washed over him in a wave of peppermint-scented warmth.

The sensation threw his concentration completely and he had no idea how he was supposed to imagine anything other than holding her in his arms and tasting that peppermint during a perfect kiss.

“It can take a little getting used to,” Becca added.

“What’s that one?” He pointed to a square which held what looked vaguely like a person-shaped streak.

The white from the light-bed had reduced the effect of the red safety light, but it depended on the exact angle he looked at Becca from, so he might have imagined her cheeks flaming red momentarily as he pointed to the picture.

“That was just a test shot. It’s not really one I’d print. Why don’t we do this one?” She pointed to something that just looked like three grey lumps with a bit of white squiggle in a sea of black.

“Um, sure,” Evan said. He wasn’t convinced that there was anything decent on that photo, but she was the expert—well, the hobbyist.

Becca made the decision final by flicking the light-box back off again. The hum died away slowly, droning down to nothingness.

Evan stepped away, prepared to let her get to work to develop the squiggly lumps.

“No way, buddy,” she said as she reached for his arm and dragged him closer to her. “You are doing this one all on your lonesome.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing though. What if I ruin it?”

“I won’t let you destroy the negative, and it’s easy enough to redo a print if I need to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look at you getting all nervous.” She laughed. “I’m sure. There’s not really that much you can do wrong. I mean the worst the thing you can do is that you get all the chemicals mixed up and they spontaneously combust.”

He swallowed heavily.

She nudged his shoulder with her palm. “I’m kidding. The worst you can do is screw up the print, and under my careful tutelage, I’m sure you won’t even do that.”

“If you’re certain?”

“Do you trust me?” Her gaze raked over his face, he was certain she was looking for any signs of doubt.

He nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Becca guided him through the process step by step, and to his surprise it all went relatively well. At least as well as it could have gone when he spent over half the time trying to will away errant erections and the other half trying not to keep staring at her pretty pout and perfect breasts.

I really need to get my head back on straight, he thought.

When the image bloomed for him, just like it had for Becca when he’d watched her work on his first day with her, his mouth split into an excited grin.

Her emotions were buoying, dragging him back out of the darkness whenever his thoughts strayed to thinking about things that could never happen—like how good she would look in a wedding dress waiting for him at the end of the aisle.

It was only after they’d run through the whole process and had hung the photo up to dry that Evan had a good look at it. The image was a series of four headstones. One of them was eerily familiar, and it didn’t take him long to realize why.

“Becca, why did you take this photo?” he asked around the lump that was firmly lodged in his throat.

“I liked the way the sun was positioned behind that tree.” She pointed to a spot in the back of the image which demonstrated what she was talking about.

“Is that all?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“This grave. Why did you take a photo of this particular grave?”

She seemed embarrassed, but Evan couldn’t figure out why.

“That’s my family’s plot,” she said. “My mom, my dad, my grandmother, and my great-aunt.” She pointed to each of the headstones in turn.

“Rose,” Evan said.

Becca spun toward him, an odd expression on her face.

“How did you know that?” she demanded.

Evan wanted to tell her everything, his burgeoning emotions, the uncanny resemblance—which now appeared to be the result of a familial link as well as the recycled soul that resided within her skin—and the story of his Rose, but looking into her confused and worried eyes, he knew he couldn’t burden her with it all. He decided it would be best to just leave it buried so that only one of them had to deal with the burden of impossible love.

“It’s written there,” he murmured, taking the coward’s way out and pointing to the image, refusing to meet Becca’s gaze.

“Oh, of course.” She looked away from him as she frowned. “Why did you want to know about the graves?”

He scratched his hand through his hair. “I just wondered, that’s all.”

Becca’s mood seemed to drop, and with it Evan’s plummeted. Without her optimism and happiness to latch onto, he was left to flounder in a sea of darkness that was of his own making.

“I think I’ve had enough time down here for one day,” she said, even though they’d only processed the one print. “I think I might just clean up and then head to bed.”

Evan nodded as she turned away from him, feeling like he’d missed the opportunity of a lifetime—or of his half-lifetime anyway.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Becca woke the following morning feeling torn. Something had happened with Evan in the darkroom. There had been something, some truth, on the very tip of his tongue that he’d withheld for some reason. She didn’t know why he’d stopped himself from saying what he’d wanted to, but she did realize it was out of character for him. Even in the short time she’d known Evan, he’d been nothing but entirely honest with her. Sometimes a little too honest, in fact.

She wondered whether she should have pressed him for more. How terrible could his deep, dark secret really be after all?

Perhaps the secrets he was keeping were very deep and dark if he wanted to hide them when he’d revealed so much that could be considered bad. After all, she thought, he was—is?—dead.

He just didn’t seem like the sort of person—cupid—to have enemies, secrets, or a dark past.

As her mind ran through the possibilities, each one more ridiculous than the last, she sighed. The fact was, there was no way of her knowing what it was—not unless he opened up about it. Perhaps it was innocent, but terrible—maybe he’d received word of when he needed to leave and was just trying to make the most of their time together.

Despite the fact that she knew that he was keeping something from her, and despite her curiosity over what it might be, Becca was determined to not let it ruin anything else like it had destroyed the mood the previous evening. She was more than willing to enjoy her day at work as much as possible and then later her date with Drew. The thought of a proper, actual date with a real, red-blooded man who was clearly interested in her—and not likely to whine the whole night about what might have been with Miss Right who’d left him recently—was actually rather exciting.

She dressed as fast as she could and raced to the kitchen, prepared to eat whatever she could find in the pantry that could be eaten in a hurry. Instead, she found a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs waiting on the table. Next to it was a note from Evan.

“Had to go check on my next assignment. Will be gone all day. Catch you after the big date. Evan xxx.”

She swallowed down her disappointment at the words “next assignment.” She must have been right, he must have found out when he was leaving. She regretted not spending more time with him in the darkroom despite the mood that had descended on them both. The closer the moment he would leave loomed, the more she realized that she really wasn’t ready to see her personal cupid walk out of her life. Especially not when he was willing to put together hearty breakfasts and leave little notes for her. The attention he lavished on her was something she wasn’t used to but wasn’t ready to give up either.

At least it means he’s hopeful about me and Drew, she thought. Surely Evan wouldn’t be checking on his next assignment if he didn’t think she had some hope of happiness with the good doctor.

Despite the rush she’d been in to get out the door and rush to work, Becca sat and enjoyed the spoils Evan had laid out for her. Everything was perfect.

Well, perfect might have been a bit of a stretch—the eggs were overcooked and practically rubber, the bacon was somehow soft and burned at the same time, and the toast was slightly cold—but it was such a thoughtful gesture that she was willing to pretend that everything was perfect. Truthfully, Evan probably would have never known if she’d thrown it all away, but she didn’t want to do that.

While she was enjoying the breakfast left for her, she lost track of time. When she looked up to check the clock on the wall, she saw that she was running late. Again. Standing quickly and rushing to tidy up what she could, she threw all of the dishes in the sink before racing to the garage. As she rushed past the stacks of boxes she’d promised herself she’d deal with, she felt guilty again.

One day, Nana, she promised.

Throwing Millie into reverse, Becca raced to work. It was only when she was halfway to the hospital that she remembered it was going to be Drew’s first day. A niggle of doubt reverberated through her about dating a co-worker. Especially one who also happened to be the son of a senior staff member. She chewed the inside of her lip as the concern grew in her. What if something went wrong? How would she go to work every day knowing that there was not one, but two people put out by her dating choices?

It’s too late now, she thought. She’d agreed to the date and the only thing she could do was enjoy herself as much as she could. That didn’t stop her from vacillating between daydreams about Drew and thoughts about Evan most of the morning. When she sat down for lunch with Cathy, she realized she’d been so distracted most of the morning, she was probably lucky that she’d made it to lunchtime without screwing up paperwork. She made herself a mental note to recheck everything that afternoon.

“So, tonight’s the night, huh?” Cathy asked.

“Yeah.”

“You excited?” Cathy leaned forward in her seat. She wanted gossip, not because she wanted to pass it along—Becca knew she’d never do that—but because she wanted her friend to be as happy as she was in her marriage. At least, that was the excuse she’d given to Becca when she’d first started trying to find out about Becca’s non-existent love life.

“A little, yeah.”

“A little? God, if it was me going on a date with Doctor Hotstuff, I’d probably spend the day grooming and practicing rather than lodging paperwork and answering the phone.”

“Practicing?”

“Well, could you imagine going down on him and sucking at it.”

“Cathy! I’m not going to go down on him on our first date.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a shameless hussy.”

“Hey, there is nothing shameful about being a hussy.” Cathy winked at her.

“Well, you would know,” Becca teased in return.

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t rule it out.”

“Okay, so I won’t rule it out. But I don’t need to practice.”

“Ooh, she’s confident in her ability.”

Becca laughed. “Yeah, at least confident enough to know that sucking is kinda the goal.”

“Ah, now who’s a shameless hussy.”

Becca felt warmth cross her cheeks as they flamed red when she caught the gaze of three doctors at the table near the one she and Cathy were at. She’d completely forgotten that not only were they in a public place, that public place was her work.

I have to work with these people after they’ve heard me talking about what I might or might not do with Drew on our first date.

She took a deep breath, willing away her embarrassment, before meeting each of their gazes in turn and offering a confident smile. Her tactic worked when they each looked away, seemingly embarrassed to be caught listening in on her conversation.

“So that guy you brought to the BBQ is a bit of a cutie.”

“Evan?”

“That’s the one. You know he’s head over heels for you, right?”

Becca laughed. Her friend was so far off the mark on that one, but she couldn’t tell Cathy without having to explain why it appeared that way. It was just like the kiss she’d shared with Evan—it was a residual buildup of emotion that Evan amplified. She was certain the same thing was responsible for the feeling of happiness that radiated throughout her whenever her thoughts turned to him—which was more frequently than she’d ever admit to anyone.

“Why haven’t you tapped that resource earlier?”

“What do you mean resource?”

“Well, I mean his hair is kind of pretty.”

Becca found herself nodding in agreement. “Like you just know it’d be so soft if you ran your fingers through it.” Which it totally is.

“And those eyes,” Cathy prompted.

“I know. I mean, I guess hazel’s a pretty common color, but there’s an intensity in his that’s rare. Like when he’s listening to you, he’s really paying attention.”

“He’s pretty hot in that whole geeky oddball kind of way.”

Becca’s lips lifted at Cathy’s words. “He’s more than that,” Becca said. “He’s sweet, and kind, and generous. And sweet.”

“You said sweet already.” Cathy was looking at her with a clear “please explain” printed on her features.

Becca realized she’d said far more than she’d intended to. “Trust me, nothing can ever happen there.”

“Why not? Because right now it sounds to me like you’re going on a date with the wrong dude.”

“No, Evan and I, we’re just friends.”

“Why? You’re both sweet on each other.”

Becca chuckled at her friend’s assumption. “We’re really not.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Cathy, he’s—” Becca had to stop herself before she said a cupid. Although she’d come to accept that truth herself, she was smart enough to realize that saying it to other people would make her sound like a lunatic, and probably get her locked up. “He’s gay,” she said eventually, settling on the same lie she’d told Drew. At least it’s consistent.

“Really?” Cathy looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I never said there was. I just don’t believe it. Look, maybe I don’t know him as well as you do, but that definitely wasn’t the vibe I was getting yesterday. In fact, I’m sure I saw him checking out your ass more than once.”

There was no point in arguing with her, at least not without giving away the truth about what Evan was—which would just see Becca admitted to a psych ward. “Just trust me when I say that nothing is going to happen with Evan, but I am definitely looking forward to my date with Drew tonight.”

Cathy looked skeptical, but thankfully allowed Becca to turn the conversation back to the handsome doctor.

For a brief second, Evan had wondered whether Cathy had some sort of latent physic ability.

Then she’d said that Becca had feelings for him as well and he’d realized that what she had was an unhealthy desire to set everyone up into couples that she thought were fitting.

Although he knew Becca would be upset with him if she knew what he was doing, he’d decided to revert back to his old techniques until after her date with Drew that evening.

It hurt Evan to go against Becca’s explicit wishes, but he’d had to cloak himself from her. He was certain that if he’d had to face her that morning, he would have had to listen to a monologue about how wonderful Drew was and he knew he couldn’t stand to hear it. Instead, he’d cooked her the breakfast to alleviate his guilt and then hidden from her sight.

While he watched Becca consume the meal he’d left for her, he’d tried to forget that it was the day of her big date. It was impossible to completely push it from his mind though because part of his job was to ensure everything went smoothly for her.

The idea of having to be around the couple as they took their first steps into the dating world was not as enjoyable as he usually found it. In fact, it was downright detestable. He realized that was his problem though. There was nothing wrong with Drew, he was a more than acceptable fit for Becca. The two of them were compatible, that much was clear to Evan’s cupid sense. It was just that his own jealousy caused the couple’s emotions to leave him feeling drained and nauseous instead of replenished.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want Becca to be happy though. He wanted everything for her. If her happiness meant a few days of discomfort and sneaking around behind her back, then that was the price he’d have to pay.

He’d spent the better part of the morning trailing around behind her until the dreamy, dopey smile on her face had become too much for him. He knew that her impending date with Drew caused that faraway look in her eyes and the happy sighs to slip from her lips.

After the sight of her in love with someone else became too much to cope with, he’d left a soft-pink rose in her locker to let her know that someone was thinking about her before retreating to the cafeteria, knowing that eventually Becca would meet Cathy for lunch. He’d never felt so lost in all of his cupid life. He wanted to be near Becca so badly that it was almost an ache to be apart from her, but he couldn’t stand watching her daydream about another man. He didn’t know how he would cope until the time came for him to move on—but he didn’t want that date to speed along either.

Even listening to Becca gush about Drew to Cathy was torture. Evan had no doubt that his asshole bosses had planned it all that way. It was likely the crux of his punishment for taking his own life; one final trial by fire before he’d earn his stripes and gain access to Heaven. Not that he wanted that anymore anyway. He didn’t want to leave Becca’s side to go to some paradise that he couldn’t enjoy without her. It had never been the where he’d been chasing; it had always been the who. And soon she was going to be lost to him for the second time. Maybe she and Drew were soul mates and she would be lost to Evan forever.

He realized it wasn’t a fair thought. Becca wasn’t Rose, not really. She was different. Special in her own way.

In fact, the more time Evan spent with Becca, the more Rose faded way back into the past where she belonged. His attraction to Becca went way beyond the fact that she looked like the one he’d lost.

No, he knew clearly now that he was in love with more than just the shadow of his former love. He was in love with the woman he’d spent the last week and a half with. He’d fallen for the one who preferred black and white film to colored digital because the delay in gratification made things more meaningful. Who tolerated a job that she wasn’t happy with just so that she could find the time to fill her life with the things that did matter to her—photography and friends. Who occasionally snorted when she laughed and lightly snored most nights.

It was because of the way she could make him smile. The way she seemed to read his moods better than he could himself. The way she twisted the hair at the base of her neck around her fingers when she was nervous. The way her smile was always that little bigger when she was talking to him. The way she’d guided him patiently through the process of developing prints just because she wanted to share that part of her life with him. The way she just got him. There were a million little things she did that drew his attention and made him long for her—even though he knew it was wrong.

Each time he spoke to Becca he came that much closer to telling her everything, to spelling out his feelings and begging for everything. But what right did he have to ask anything from her?

She was in a shiny, new relationship but even if she hadn’t been, he was a cupid. He wasn’t human; he didn’t get to live the life they did. He could manifest almost anything he wanted to, but he couldn’t offer her anything real. If he was right and pairing her up was his final assignment, he didn’t even know how much longer he would be on Earth.

And his biggest fear of all: if he admitted all of that to her, would he be punished for his feelings? Worse, would she?

He baulked at the idea of her suffering just because he’d become a cupid unable of keeping it in his pants. Resigning himself to the fact that he’d just have to do the best job he could, he moved to follow Becca during the rest of her work day.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Becca took one last look at herself in the mirror and decided there was nothing more she could do. Her eyes were slicked with black eyeliner, making the green of her eyes pop. A variety of greys completed the smoky effect that made her eyes appear more almond-shaped than they really were. Bright red lipstick sat so thick and heavy on her pout that she was starting to doubt her choice. Only, it matched her shoes perfectly.

The make-up wasn’t exactly subtle, but it showed off her best assets. Unfortunately, it could do nothing to hide her nerves. Beneath her charcoal lashes, her eyes were a little too wild. Her pupils were already dilated and her cheeks were flushed so red with excitement that she’d completely forgone using blush to complete the look.

She smoothed down the little black dress she wore. It was a staple in her wardrobe because of how good it made her look, but really only came out on dates. It was a little too short and a little too low-cut to be entirely appropriate for anything else. Strangely, she found herself thinking about Evan as she grabbed her gloss-red clutch before slipping into the red high-heels. She wished he was nearby so that he could give her the tick of approval.

Even though he wasn’t physically there, she could still imagine him nearby. She could almost hear him being agreeable to her choice of red accessories. Red was the color of love after all.

Isn’t it?

She wondered whether it was possible to have a meltdown over the simple thought of going on a date. She’d been fine with all the ones she’d been on before Drew, but this one was different. The truth was this was more than just any date to her. It was the first time it had been something more than just a blind date, the first time she’d already liked the guy she was meeting. And she really liked Drew.

During the day, he’d taken the time to find her locker and had left a light-pink rose hidden inside. Evan was definitely right about roses being romantic in the right circumstances. Taking a moment to herself, she sat on the end of the bed and took a few deep breaths.

“Hi.”

The voice startled her and she almost went tumbling off the bed. Using one hand to steady herself on the bed, the other raised to clutch her cheek. “Evan, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “You called me.”

“No, I—” She cut herself off, because maybe she had called him, at least internally. It may have been unintentional, but she was thankful. “Thank you for coming.”

“As if I could have stayed away.”

There was something off about his smile, but Becca was willing to overlook it in her relief that he’d come when she’d been panicking. At least it meant that he’d be close on hand if there was some sort of disaster. There won’t be a disaster, she told herself uselessly.

“How is your new assignment going?” she asked. The pang in her stomach returned at the thought of him moving on to match up someone else. Or maybe it was just nerves over her date. That would have made more sense.

“I’m not really sure I can think about anyone else when you’re dressed like that,” he murmured.

Becca looked down at the black dress, his words the confirmation she’d needed that it was a good choice in outfit. “It’s okay then?” she asked.

“It’s positively sinful.”

A small grin played on her reddened lips. “Sinful is exactly what I’m aiming for.”

Evan turned away from her. “Well, you hit the mark then.”

He was halfway out the door when she asked, “Are you leaving so soon?”

He shrugged. “It’s not like you need me here. You look like you’ve got everything under control.”

“I’m really not sure I do,” she said. Butterflies swum in her stomach and she wanted to run to Evan so that he could hold her and tell her that everything would be fine on her date.

“You have it under control for tonight,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow to debrief.”

“And for damage control?” she added.

He chuckled. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but yeah, I’ll help with that if I need to.”

“Evan, I don’t think I’ve really said it yet, but thank you. For all of this.”

His mood fell again. She wasn’t sure what was going on with him—what was happening with his other assignments to make him so mercurial. “I’m not sure I really did that much.”

She climbed from the bed and walked to him. In her heels, she was almost at his eye-level so she gave him a level gaze and placed one hand on his chest. “You have.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek, before wiping away the red smear it left on his pale skin.

He opened his mouth to say something more, but the doorbell rang and interrupted the moment.

“That’s Drew, you better get it. Don’t want to keep your dream guy waiting.”

Becca thought she heard something a little bitter in Evan’s tone, but figured she must have been imagining it.

“Wish me luck.”

He gave her two thumbs up which made her stomach flip-flop as she moved to answer the door.

Once she was standing in front of the too-thin sliver of wood that separated her from Drew, she took two deep breaths before smoothing down her dress once more. Knowing she was as calm as she could possibly be, she pulled the door open and greeted Drew.

“Hi,” she murmured, wanting to say more but not knowing exactly what to say.

Her quiet utterance attracted Drew’s wayward gaze—Becca wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been deliberately looking away in a sign of forced nonchalance. His jaw dropped as his gaze raked over her form-fitting outfit.

The instant his eyes turned onto her, she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” he replied, his lips curling up in response to her grin.

“You look great.” The words fell from Becca’s mouth without thought, but that didn’t make them less true. He was only dressed in a navy blue suit, with the jacket buttons all undone, but the white shirt fitted perfectly to his well-formed body. It was tucked tightly into his pants, leaving his pecs and abs practically on display through the thin cotton.

He pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against and stepped closer to her.

“You do too,” he said as he caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand.

His long fingers dipped beneath her ear, tangling into her curls and rubbing small circles against her scalp. Even though the movements were tiny, they were sensual and spoke to places much lower on her body. For a moment, she wondered what those warm fingers would feel like touching other places with soft caresses and tender ministrations.

She was almost about to forgo the date and drag Drew straight down to her bedroom when she remembered that Evan had been down there. Although he might have left the instant he was out of Becca’s sight, it would have been difficult to explain his presence to Drew if he hadn’t—especially his presence in that particular room.

When she thought of Evan, she started to wonder whether he would stay put in her room or come out and play the part of a worried parental figure. If he hadn’t decided to leave entirely that was. Despite the man standing in front of her, her mind became filled with thoughts of Evan, just like it had for most of the day. Part of her wanted to run to her room to see whether he was still there. Each time she saw him, she was terrified that it would be the last time, especially now that she and Drew were actually going on their first date.

“You ready to go?” Drew’s rich voice pulled her from her worry over her cupid and back onto the task at hand.

She quickly catalogued everything—she had her shoes, her purse, and her cell phone—and nodded.

“Then let’s go.” Drew offered her his arm, which she took gratefully.

She was surprised how solid the muscles were considering he was a doctor and didn’t spend all day doing manual labor.

He must work out a lot, she decided, wrapping her fingers around his bicep so that he could lead her to his car.

The conversation on the drive to the restaurant was a little stuttered and awkward. There was little point asking about his day at work because she’d been there for most of it. She asked how he was finding it being back in town, but even that topic only covered a minute or two.

He pulled up in front of a small family pizzeria and grimaced. “Ideally, I would have liked to have taken you somewhere really fancy for our first date, but the selection here is limited compared to what I’m used to.”

“It’s fine.” In fact, the restaurant was one of Becca’s favorite pizza places, but now she felt a little embarrassed to admit it.

“I’m sure the company will make up for any shortcomings.” He grinned at her, and she flushed in response.

He could probably read his shopping list to her and she’d think it was sexy in that voice of his. If he hadn’t found a calling as a doctor, he probably could have gone into radio.

The waiter led them over to their table and Drew held Becca’s seat out for her.

Becca took a moment to relish the fact that not only was he attractive and kind—and into her—he was also a gentleman.

Before the waiter could leave, Drew ordered a bottle of wine and some appetizers. Becca was a little surprised not to be consulted about what would be going in her mouth, but decided it was a nice change.

“So, Becca, what are your plans?” Drew asked when the waiter had left them.

“Plans?” She was confused, hadn’t he arranged the date?

“Yeah, you know. You’re in your mid-twenties, what’s next?”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Are you going to go into nursing?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I’m just happy with the way things are at the moment.”

“Oh. Okay.” He seemed a little perplexed.

“How about you? I know you’re taking time to settle back into the small town life for the moment, but what about after that?”

“I’d like to specialize.”

“Really? What in?”

“Cardiothoracic surgery.”

“The heart?” Becca smiled to herself. Of course he’d be interested in that—just like the other man in her life. Since when is Evan the other man in your life?

Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it was followed by an image of Evan smiling at her. Reminding herself that she was on a date with Drew, and not Evan, she pushed all thoughts of her cupid and his dimples out of her mind and concentrated on her date instead.

By the third date, Becca was practically on fire for Drew. He had a way of inflaming her whole body through the softest touch. Like when he fed her strawberries dipped in warm chocolate for dessert two nights earlier and his fingers traced along the corner of her mouth. It took all of her willpower to not draw the digit between her lips and give it a little suck. Or when he’d picked her up for the evening and had adjusted the clasp on her necklace so that it was centered at the back of her neck again, his fingertips tracing a blazing path across her skin as he had.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, looking up from Drew’s soft lips to meet his gaze. He’d asked her something, but for the life of her she couldn’t hear what over the screaming of her libido.

He chuckled. It was so obvious that he knew the effect his presence had on her. “I asked what Cathy meant when she mentioned your fascination with dead people.”

“Oh.” Becca couldn’t believe her friend had said anything about her cemetery visits to Drew, especially in her way that made them sound so creepy. She felt heat rising on her cheeks and wondered whether they were flushing as red as they felt. “It’s not like that. I find cemeteries a great source of inspiration for my photography.”

“Photography? Is that something you’re looking at doing professionally? Is that why you haven’t pushed your career at the hospital?”

“Oh, um, no. It’s just a hobby.”

“The way Cathy spoke, I thought the cemetery visits must have been something that you did often.”

“Usually every chance I get.”

“Huh.” He seemed confused. “I thought you said it was a hobby.”

“Yeah, but it’s time consuming.”

“I don’t understand why you’d waste time on something that you don’t take seriously.”

She frowned. “I do take it seriously. I’ve invested a lot of time and money into my set-up.”

“But that’s just silly if it’s only a hobby. You’ve never considered doing it professionally?”

“No. I couldn’t. It’s too personal.” She didn’t even like showing people the results of her shoots until she knew they’d turned out well—and even then there were only a select few frames she’d ever shared.

“Hmm, odd.”

She bristled at how dismissive he was of her passion, but decided the best way to demonstrate to him why it was important to her was to let him in on that part of her life. “I could show you some later, if you like?”

“I’m not really into art,” he said.

“Oh.” She was inviting him back to her house for more than just photos, letting him see more than just a print, but he hadn’t seemed to understand.

He looked down at his watch. “I really should be going,” he said. “It’s going to be a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” She wanted to cry. She’d put herself on the line and felt like she’d been slapped.

When Drew dropped her off, she headed for the kitchen for a consolatory glass of wine. She’d just finished pouring it when Evan opened the darkroom door.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

She swallowed a mouthful of chardonnay. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I can’t hear myself think over the sound of your sorrow.”

She chuckled. “I’ve just got the feeling that . . . never mind.”

“Tell me?” he coaxed. “Please?”

“You’re sure that Drew and I have the spark?”

Evan seemed taken aback by the question. “Yeah. There’s something there. Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. I just . . . I wanted him to come home with me tonight, and he didn’t want to.”

Evan’s mouth pressed into a hard line. After a moment, he smiled. “Becca, even the most compatible people have to work to find their common ground.” He touched her shoulder.

Feeling the surge of love he’d intended to show her, she grinned back at him. It was like when he’d opened her heart to the true grief she’d experienced, only more wonderful. The warm, pleasant sensation flooded through her body. If that was the truth of their love, it solidified her belief in the fact that she and Drew were right for each other.

Evan knew it was wrong to sneak around the edges of Becca’s dates, and not only because she’d expressly forbidden him from following her while he was cloaked. He couldn’t help himself, or his morbid curiosity, though. He very rarely witnessed whole dates.

Usually, he was instrumental at bringing couples together in the beginning and then just returned to reap the benefits of their most heightened experience—the moments where they reaffirmed their commitment to each other. He would get a renewed fix whenever his matches experienced dizzying heights of love, like at weddings, births, and even on occasion at death, but the rest of the time, he'd leave them alone. For some reason that baffled even him, he’d just followed Becca and Drew on their fifth date.

It was so far outside the scope of what was required of him as a cupid. He’d never cloaked himself and followed his matches into restaurants before.

He’d definitely never before gotten so lost watching the way any of his previous cases ate their food—the way her lips caress the fork with each bite—that he forgot to move out of the way when a waiter came from the bar carrying a tray full of drinks. He’d also never before had to watch two people drenched with the bitter scent of alcohol laugh off a waiter apologizing after tripping over thin air with a wave of their hands.

The combination of all of those never-befores had led to him having to spend some time hiding away in the restaurant before being able to head back to check on Becca. He didn’t think that satisfactorily explained why he was standing in Becca’s garden, hidden from her sight, trying to figure out whether she’d been able to salvage the rest of her date with Drew. Evan wondered if Becca had known he’d been there, that he’d been the cause of the accident, but realized that if she had, she hadn’t given any indication of it.

He moved from window to window, trying to find where they might have ended up.

Strange noises from inside the house drew him around the corner until he was at her bedroom window—full of concern that maybe she was being attacked because of the cries coming from that direction. The sounds were increasing in intensity and volume, which made him rush closer as his concern bubbled away inside of him.

Evan pressed his face against the glass to see into the darkened room. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the sight, he stepped away from the window. He shouldn’t have been there; he shouldn’t have been intruding. Little Evan certainly shouldn’t have instantly stood at attention at the way Becca’s body glistened with a sheen of sweat in the low light of the bedroom.

Evan began to move away, but stopped when the scene repeated itself in his head. He had to double check what he’d seen because he really didn't think that human bodies bent quite like that. It had to have been uncomfortable, but then again if the look on Becca’s face was any indication, it was anything but.

Evan turned back toward the framed scene. Shifting the weight on his foot forward a little more, he leaned heavily against the window. With two hands pressed against the glass, he peered between his fingers to watch the motions in front of him.

The first thought he had after renewing his view was that Becca was beautiful as she lost herself in bliss. He’d known she would be, not that he’d spent any time thinking about her naked and desperate beneath him. Well, not that much time. It wasn’t like he’d spent every second they’d had together picturing it at least.

His vision began to obscure and at first he wondered whether his bosses were punishing his wicked spying before he realized that it was just his heavy, warm breaths against the cold glass that caused a haze of condensation. He wiped away the fog and refocused on the couple within.

Before he’d had significant time to consider the physics involved with holding Becca’s leg up at such an angle and moving inside her all at the same time, the scene changed again. Drew wrapped his arms around her torso and lifted her completely off the bed. He didn’t even use the wall for support, instead wrapping his arms around Becca’s ass and holding her in place while he pounded into her over and over.

Before it occurred to Evan that he should stop it, the question of whether he’d have the upper-body strength required to hold Becca in such a way to draw those desperate, needful moans from her lips ran through his mind. He tested the strength in his arms with a few standing push-ups against the window before realizing what he was doing and forcing himself to stop.

Turn around and leave right now, he admonished.

It was rude and voyeuristic to watch Drew drawing Becca closer to ecstasy, Evan knew that. But he couldn’t pull himself away even if he’d wanted to. Jealousy and a desire to be in Drew’s position burned through him anew. His mind absorbed all of the fodder for his own wicked fantasies.

Although he’d been able to do what he could to drown his jealousy before, he couldn’t while he was watching the scene in front of him. He wondered how they’d gone from disaster date to naked dancing in such a short time. Although even Evan had to admit the chemistry between Drew and Becca was electric, and had seemed to grow hotter by the minute whenever they were close. Especially after the increasingly romantic dates Drew had been taking Becca on. He supposed they’d done well to wait until their fifth date. And that they’d actually arrived back home first before partaking in the pleasure of one another.

Dating in the modern day was definitely different to when Evan was alive.

How could I ever compete with that? It was a ridiculous thought. He couldn’t compete. Nor should he want to. But he did. He really, really did.

A soft thump from inside drew his attention back to the framed image of his perfect woman in the arms of her perfect man. Drew had dropped Becca back onto the bed and had climbed over her. Becca’s hands fisted in the rumpled sheets, and her lips parted with cries of pleasure. She arched her back over Drew’s arm, which was wrapped around her body just about her hips. If Evan hadn’t been cloaked, and if Becca’s eyes had been opened, he would have been directly in her line of sight so he had an unimpeded view of the pure ecstasy on her features. Her skin flushed pink with need which was only amplified by the sweat slicking both her body and Drew’s.

Although Evan had no interest in what Drew was doing, it was impossible for Evan to miss Drew’s lips repeatedly pressing open-mouthed kisses against Becca’s breasts—which trembled in time with the panting breaths she took and shook under Drew’s relentless rhythm.

One of Becca’s hands let go of the sheet to clutch at Drew’s short hair, forcing him to draw one of her breasts into his mouth. Whatever he did with his tongue—or possibly teeth—drew more desperate moans from Becca, and Evan wished he knew how to do . . . whatever it was exactly that Drew was doing. Not that it was a skill he’d ever get to use.

Knowing that he could never compete with Drew, should never compete, Evan was finally able to turn his back on the scene. It was clear things were going well with Becca and Drew, so he imagined that it must have been almost his time to move on. Although he’d started to dread the outcome recently, he decided it was probably preferable to having to watch Becca any longer. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could spend around the happy couple without just coming out and telling her everything he felt.

Waiting in Becca’s darkroom, the one place he’d never seen Drew go in her house, he wondered whether it would be hours or days before he had to go. There was nothing in his mind or body to warn him that it was going to happen, but he didn’t think he’d get much warning either. He figured it would be a here one moment, there the next, type of thing. He just hoped he had the chance to say goodbye to Becca before it happened.

Part of him no longer wanted Becca to be his last match. He wanted to keep going so that he could check up on her and make sure she was still happy in six months, a year, three. He closed his eyes, almost hoping that he’d see a new name on his mental list which would have proven him wrong in his first assumption, but none appeared.

Take me now then, he thought at whoever was listening. Take me so that I don’t have to see them fall further in love. Not while I’m in love with her. It’s not fair to make me endure that.

While he begged for mercy, he screwed his eyes tightly closed. When nothing had happened after a second, then two, he sighed and opened them again. He was lost, left in a limbo between matching Becca and whatever came next.

If you’re not going to help me, I’m not going to responsible for what happens next.

Nothing. His only companions were silence and the certainty that he was completely alone in the darkroom—even though he was certain his bosses could hear him.

Screw you then, he thought.

“Why should I have to stand by idly while you scratch your asses and do nothing to help me?” he hissed at the empty space. “Maybe I should just tell her everything.”

His fingers tingled with excitement at the thought. He could picture it, the moment he told Becca that he loved her, that he craved closeness to her with every fiber of his being.

Then the reality of the situation hit him. Hard.

Before Drew, that might have drawn some sort of potentially positive reaction from her. She’d been lonely then and might have at least taken pity on him. Now though, now that she had perfection personified in her bed, it was a different story. If Evan tried to tell her that he loved her, she was likely to laugh in his face and tell him to get serious.

“I have some things he doesn’t have,” he defended himself aloud. He couldn’t name them at that point in time, but he was certain they were there. Becca wasn’t so shallow that she’d only go for looks, but then Drew didn’t only have looks. He had a winning personality—which was demonstrated on every date the couple had been on so far—and he had money. He had a fantastic career. All Evan had was love.

He didn’t want to pander to the rules of bodiless entities that didn’t give a crap about him, but he also knew that telling Becca everything would be a disaster. She would probably throw him out, like she’d gone to do after discovering that Little Evan wasn’t following the cupid rules. As hard as it was to watch Becca fall a little more in love with Drew every day, it would be harder still being forced from her side. After a bit of soul-searching, he decided that he wouldn't come out and tell Becca about his feelings. However, he’d stop trying so hard to hide them from her. If she guessed at the truth, he wouldn't deny it.

Similarly, he wouldn't come between Becca and Drew, but if she was to suddenly decide she was madly in love with Evan instead—as unlikely as that might have been—he was going to take full advantage of the situation. Screw his bosses. Screw Heaven. Screw every damn angel in the sky. He wanted her so badly it was a physical ache that twisted his stomach into knots and he was willing to go through Hell if that’s what it took to make her happy.

If all he could expect was friendship, then . . . well, he was going to be the best damn friend she ever had.

He heard a thump and a bump from the kitchen above him before a giggle travelled down the stairs. Obviously Becca and Drew were finished in the bedroom and had gone in search of a snack.

A few seconds later, the door to the basement opened, light from the kitchen beyond spilling through the gap, and quiet footsteps fell on the stairs. Just as Evan was debating hiding, or disappearing completely, the overhead lights turned on, flooding the space with light.

“Evan?” Becca gasped. “What are you doing here?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Where else would I go?”

Becca was so surprised by the desperate sorrow in his voice that she completely forgot that she was only wearing Drew’s business shirt and a pair of panties. She didn’t know what had caused heartbreak so complete. Has one of his assignments been hurt? “Are you okay?”

He shrugged.

“Is it one of your assignments?” she asked.

He nodded, drawing his arms around himself.

It seemed her pity over his sorrow was making the situation worse, that it only added to his woes. It took her a moment to realize this was probably the case. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“I’m here for you, you know that right?” She tried to fill her heart with love and happiness just like she had the last time he’d needed help. Although instead of remembering long-dead relationships, she concentrated on her time so far with Evan and everything he’d done for her.

His lips curled upward and she wondered if he knew what she’d tried to do. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing here though? What happened? Is it your new assignment?” The timing of his pain, after he’d been spending so much time with his new assignment, made her concerned that something had happened there.

“Nope, everything’s fine there,” he said, a little too quickly in Becca’s opinion.

Something more was going on, she was sure of it, but she was missing pieces of the bigger picture. She rested her hands on her hips, trying not to let any anger into her heart, while she waited for him to elaborate.

He didn’t. Instead, he changed the subject. “How are things with Drew?”

Evan’s voice was nearly silent on the last word, which struck Becca as a little odd, but she shrugged it off. Instead, she let a satisfied sigh rush from her lips. Things were great with Drew, better than great. He’d scratched the many itches she’d had so well that she knew she’d be reliving the memories over and over in her dreams. He was so strong and so different from anyone she’d ever taken to bed before. Not that there were many, but there had been enough for her to know Drew stood head and shoulders above the majority when it came to technique.

The only problem with the night was how quickly Drew had packed up and left when they were done. His clothes were still strewn over her house from when they’d stripped off after the waiter incident at dinner. He hadn’t worried about them though, just strutted to the car in a towel, grabbed his gym bag, got redressed in some spare clothes he’d had packed into that and then left, promising to grab the rest the next day when they were dry after Becca offered to clean them for him.

The thought of their tryst reminded Becca of her attire, and she blushed. When Drew had rushed off, she’d slipped into his shirt to allow her feelings of happiness and contentment linger rather than allowing the stress and self-doubt over his hasty retreat creep in. The shirt was at least dry, although it smelled a little like a cologne factory and a brewery had gotten into a fight, but she still felt closer to Drew while wearing it.

She’d planned on using a good session in her darkroom to help her calm down enough to sleep, but had been confronted with Evan instead.

“That good, huh?” Evan’s voice drew her thoughts back away from the salacious path they were traipsing down.

The melancholy had settled back onto Evan’s features and it sat awkwardly on him. She longed to see his single dimple slice his cheek once more and see the glint of excitement in his eye as they talked about simple things, like her day or her dream man. A stinging sense of loss struck her over the fact that they hadn’t done any of those things since her first date with Drew. Now, she realized she missed her time with her cupid more than she’d thought she would—and she had been expecting it to be unpleasant. She wanted nothing more than to bring back the fun and enjoy their time together until she had to say her final goodbye.

“Can you grab my camera?” she said. “I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes.”

She turned and left, not giving Evan a chance to refuse. Once she’d changed into something a little more appropriate, she headed to the car.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked, his confusion clear.

“I need to do something to calm down before I’ll be able to even try to sleep, and you need to get out of the house for a while. I thought we’d go do something fun.”

“What’s the camera for?”

“That’s the fun.” She grinned at him as she gripped the steering wheel and reversed the car out of the garage. Her grin fell when she remembered the conversation with Drew over dinner as she’d explained to him about her love of photography.

Evan seemed to pick up on the dip in her happiness and laid his hand on her arm in a reassuring gesture. Love echoed through the touch as Evan seemed to give her a gentle reminder of their conversation about her relationship with Drew. Love of that intensity was worth the teething problems. She gave him a small smile, and her heart flipped when he returned it with a genuine one of his own.

She drove to a small playground adjacent to an oval.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“We’re going to play with the moonlight.”

When it was clear Evan had no idea what she meant, Becca offered him her hand and dragged him to the swing-set. She crouched down and moved around, trying to find the best angle to capture the loneliness of the moon reflected through the dark, empty swings. Once she’d found the image she had in her mind, she snapped a couple of shots with a delayed exposure to draw as much of the light of the full moon into the lens as possible.

Obviously allowing her to get carried away with her photos, Evan climbed to the top of the ladder for the slide and sat on the platform to watch her work. When Becca swung the camera around a certain way, she saw her perfect picture.

On his perch in the moonlight, Evan cast the shadow of a lonely angel, almost like a guardian spirit waiting to watch over the children on their next visit. She took a few shots with him in the frame, smiling as she thought about how they might turn out.

Truthfully, she was happy to get some more photos of Evan. She would hate for him to disappear with almost no evidence that he’d ever existed in the first place. This time in her life was a memory she didn’t want to fade into the past. She wanted to remember that, for a time at least, she was special enough to be assigned her very own heavenly matchmaker and that she’d shared something wonderful with him while he’d been at her side. She pushed away thoughts of the time he wouldn’t be there anymore; it was too dreadful to consider.

She took a few more photos before turning around and sitting on the swing. The stillness inspired her to take a few more shots of the empty park and the trees stretching hauntingly into the darkness beyond. Once she was satisfied with her photos, she linked her arms around the chain, holding her camera securely in her hands, and kicked the ground a few times until the swing she was resting on swayed gently. Both she and Evan were quiet; the only noise that broke the night was the soft creaking of the chain against metal frame.

“Sorry, I thought this would be more fun for you,” she said as she rocked back and forth, dragging her feet along the ground.

An instant later, she felt Evan’s hands on her back giving her a gentle push. “Who said it wasn’t fun?”

She tried to calm her heart; it had started racing the instant she’d felt his warm hands press against her back. And it wasn’t just because he’d used his special gift to zip to her side that caused it to pound. Looking over her shoulder at him, she wondered whether he was lying just to make her feel better. She decided to call him on it. “You didn’t look like you were having much fun a minute ago.”

He smiled. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been having something of an existential crisis lately. I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in the middle of it.”

“A cupid having an existential crisis, that’s got to be a new one.”

“Tell me about it.” He chuckled and the sound was wonderful in Becca’s ears.

It had been too long since she’d heard his laughter, or spent any real time with him. She realized that she missed him—missed their time together.

“Are you going to fill me in on this crisis you’re having?” she asked. “I might be able to help.”

“Thanks for the offer, but it’s a little hard to explain.”

“The offer is always there. I know it’s probably going to sound weird, but I want to be there for you like you’ve been for me.”

He stopped pushing her for a moment, and the silence from behind her made Becca look over her shoulder again. His gaze was intent as he focused on her face. He looked like he was going to say something, but stopped himself.

Becca suddenly felt stupid, offering her assistance to a cupid. He was a heavenly being of some sort, or at least guided by destiny, surely he had some sort of otherworldly counselling service available to him if he needed to talk. Like angels.

Even as she thought about heavenly psychiatrists, Becca remembered Evan’s assertion that all angels were dicks. Maybe there wasn’t anyone. She wished she knew more about the world he came from.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. His voice was graveled and strained, so much so that Becca had thought that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. Before she could question him, he renewed the steady rhythm of his hands on her back, pushing her on the swing gently.

She decided she wouldn’t pry further. If he wanted to tell her more, he would.

“Why haven't you left already?” she asked instead.

His hands closed around the chain, stopping her at the height of her arc. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

She hadn’t meant it like that, and wanted to explain herself quickly so there could be no room for misunderstanding. “No, I just thought . . . well, you said you only stay as long as it takes to find someone a partner and I've got Drew now and . . . you've done everything you were supposed to for me, haven't you?”

He frowned. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“I'm not complaining,” she said, a tad too eagerly. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want me to go?” he asked. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he was holding his breath.

She shook her head. “No. It’s crazy, but I consider you a friend even after the short time you’ve been in my life.”

“Oh.”

She played with the buttons on the top of her camera in her hands. “I can’t imagine not seeing you around.” She thought that sounded a little too needy, so she added, “From time to time.”

He released the chain and let her swing freely again.

There was silence behind her again, but every few swings, his hands were against her lower back so she knew he was still behind her.

“I know what you mean,” he murmured after a moment. His hands reached for the chain again, this time stopping her when the swing was level.

He was in front of her faster than she would have believed that it was possible if she hadn’t seen his little teleporting trick often enough. She furrowed her brow, wondering what exactly he was doing as he knelt down before her.

“I know I said I’ve done this before,” he whispered. “But that’s only partly true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had assignments before, thousands of them, but not like this. I’ve never become this . . . attached before. I can’t imagine leaving your side Becca. I considered you my . . . friend too.”

She was certain he was going to say something else, but she didn’t know what. Maybe it was some term from when he was alive that he realized she wouldn’t understand. As that thought reached into her conscious, she found herself chuckling.

Evan tilted his head and his expression turned into one of a hurt puppy. Becca realized she’d probably hurt or insulted him by laughing. “Sorry, I just realized how crazy all this is. You’re dead. You’ve been dead for fifty years. You’re a cupid that turned up to set me up with someone, even though neither of us knew who it was going to be at that stage, and yet I can’t imagine the day I have to say goodbye. Most people would be glad to see the back of the craziness.”

Evan reached forward and brushed a loose curl back behind her ear. “You’re not most people.”

He stared at her mouth and her stomach did a crazy dip. For a moment she was struck by an overwhelming urge to claim his lips, to force her tongue into his mouth and just feel every emotion he had to offer. She knew it was the residual emotion thing that had struck her the last time she’d kissed him though and fought off the desire. After all, he might have been willing to stick around for her for a little while, but he was still a cupid. He was going to have to leave at some point and her kissing him when she was supposed to be happily partnered off was just likely to push him away sooner than she wanted.

She dropped her gaze to her camera and the moment was broken. Evan stood and went to walk behind her again, but she jumped off the swing before he had a chance. The night had been a rollercoaster to say the least and she felt like she needed to get off for a while.

“I think I’ve got everything I wanted to get,” she said, holding up the camera and breaking the awkward silence that had been filled with her desperate desire to kiss Evan. You were in Drew’s arms less than two hours ago, you hussy!

“Let’s get you home then.” Evan smiled sadly.

I like being around you too. More than I should. The words had been so close to the tip of his tongue, so close that they’d almost slipped out. It went against his “let her come to me if anything’s going to happen” stance though, so he stamped it down into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship that they’d just admitted to. You are so far past friendship you can’t even see friendship anymore.

It was true, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to offer Becca everything that he could—even if that was just friendship. He followed her lead and returned back to the car.

“When do you think you’ll develop that roll?” Evan asked. “You’ve barely been in your darkroom lately.” He knew because it had become his hideaway whenever he wasn’t stalking Becca and Drew.

“I know. It’s weird, I used to rely on the time I spent there to keep me sane, but now . . .” She trailed off and Evan wondered how she was going to finish that sentence. He tried not to seem too eager as he waited for her to continue. “Now I haven’t felt like I need to hide from my life in there.”

Before Evan could respond and express the sorrow he felt over her statement, Becca laughed.

“Wow, that sounded really pathetic didn’t it? I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll get back in there before too long. I still love it. It’s just that I never really had much to fill my evenings before and now I’ve got, well, you.” After a beat, she added, “And Drew, of course.”

“Of course,” he bit out through clenched teeth. He would have been happier if she hadn’t mentioned Drew at all. He tried not to pay any attention to the pride that rushed through him when Becca put his name first. He knew enough about human nature to know that it was because he was in front of her, and therefore in the forefront of her mind.

When they arrived home, Becca went straight for the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine. She held up the bottle to offer him a glass as well, but he waved her off. They took up positions around the dining room table and fell into an easy conversation. Evan tried to steer the topics away from Drew and toward her day at work and as much of her childhood as she was willing to share with him. He learned more about why her photo albums ended so abruptly and exactly how Millie the Mustang had earned her name.

Evan watched enraptured as she told him about her life while she cleaned her camera. Occasionally, he could have sworn that the flash went off, but Becca’s innocent nonchalance when he asked made him certain he was just going crazy.

It was almost two hours later that Becca yawned widely and Evan felt guilty that he’d kept her up when she obviously would have been tired after her earlier exploits with Drew.

He convinced her to go to bed, worried that she would be too tired to be functional the following day. She didn’t have to work, and could sleep in, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to waste the whole day if she had things she’d wanted to do. She packed her camera equipment into a padded bag big enough for two cameras, the one she’d taken out tonight—the one he already had realized was her favorite—was packed into the bottom section with a pair of lenses that he’d seen her use at different times. Finally, she pushed the newer digital camera into the top section of the bag before leaving it resting on the kitchen table.

Just before she left the room, she turned to him. “I know you might be gone by then, but it's my birthday in a few weeks and I've decided to have a party. I'd love you to come if you can?”

Evan considered the fact that he hadn’t moved on despite the fact that Becca and Drew were together. Then he thought about the flurry of positive emotions that were sure to be circling through the guests at a party of hers—especially the ones emanating from her—and decided that he wouldn't miss it for the world, not unless something happened before then that made it physically impossible for him to go. “If I can be there, I will.”

Her smile turned into a slight frown. “Do you think you’ll be leaving soon?”

“I hope not,” he reassured her. “But I don’t think I can guarantee anything past the next few days.”

“I understand.” Her tone was sad even though her words spoke of acceptance. “If you can come, you should know it’s a costume party.”

“Well, maybe I should take back my RSVP then.” He chuckled to lighten the mood.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare, buddy, there is only one valid excuse for not being there now. And even then, I might chase you down to wherever you go and drag you back home myself.”

It was ridiculous how much that made his heart swell.

Once Becca had showered and was in bed asleep, Evan took to the sofa. He rested across the two-seater with his back on the seat and his feet dangling over one arm rest. He wasn’t comfortable, but not because of his position—that was actually quite pleasant. Rather, it was the siren call of the blissful emotions coming from Becca’s room that made him antsy. Part of him wanted to rush into Becca’s room, to watch her while she slept and maybe even spy on her dreams, but the more he got to know her, the more it felt like an intrusion on her privacy to spy on her while she was so unguarded.

He felt bad enough that he’d inadvertently stumbled across her intimate moment with Drew; he didn’t want to deliberately intrude on her reliving that in her dreams as well. And he could tell that was the direction of her dreams by the surge of emotions filling the house and increasing his urge to rush into her room.

Although he couldn’t be certain, he figured her emotions were manifesting themselves in a positive way again within him because Drew’s feelings weren’t being forced into the mix so Evan’s jealousy wasn’t taking the feelings and twisting them into something which made him feel nauseated. He needed to get over that sensation if he wanted to spend time around Becca. It was easy to see the way his morose attitude had almost immediately dragged Becca down with him. He might have wanted her for himself, but he didn’t want to alienate her by making her feel uncomfortable to be around him if she chose to be with Drew.

It was clear what he had to do. He was going to go back to respecting Becca’s wish not to be followed around while he was cloaked—it wasn’t like he saw anything he liked when he did it anyway—and he would just limit himself to spending time with Becca outside of her dates with Drew, when it could be just the two of them. As friends.

It couldn’t be that hard . . . could it?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Becca woke to the smell of toast and fresh coffee. Stretching languidly in bed with her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and let the smell rouse her stomach. It growled and gurgled in delight.

She opened her eyes to see Evan hovering above her with toast, a mug of coffee and a small vase with a yellow rose all balanced on a tray he’d obviously found buried somewhere in her kitchen.

“What’s this?” she asked, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping through her at the thought of Evan hearing the noises her stomach had been making moments earlier.

“An apology for keeping you up so late.”

“You didn’t need to apologize, I enjoyed it.” Her cheeks heated at the thought that he’d made her breakfast again. That didn’t stop her from sliding backward to allow room on her lap for the tray. If he wanted to spoil her with breakfast in bed, she wasn’t going to refuse him.

He placed the tray onto her waiting lap as she looked at the rose. She decided she’d been wrong about one thing. Sure it wasn’t a dozen roses, and she knew there was no romantic intention behind it, but it definitely wasn’t tacky either.

With her fingers, she traced the delicate red edge that tinged the tips of the yellow rose. The mix of color was fascinating; the interplay of the darkness of the red and the delicate lightness of the yellow would be a striking contrast in black and white. She looked up at Evan, who was watching her movements with an odd expression on his features.

“I don’t suppose you could grab my camera?” she asked.

“Okay?” He seemed surprised by the request.

His reaction didn’t shock Becca though. Not everyone understood the need to capture beauty through the lens, or how she could already see how the final photo might turn out. Drew certainly didn’t understand, but neither did Cathy. She had thought that Evan might understand after two photo sessions with her though.

Evan disappeared and returned an instant later with her camera in hand.

He returned a few moments later with her Nikon FM3A. He had two lenses balanced in his other hand.

She was a little taken aback when she saw that he’d grabbed that camera, the film one she preferred, even though her digital was easier to reach in her camera bag. That small action made her feel justified in her thoughts that he’d understand her need to capture the moment.

“Can you show me what you’re trying to capture?” he asked, as he knelt down beside her and passed her the equipment.

The interest he showed in what Drew called her silly little hobby made her feel like her heart had swollen to three times its normal size. She tried not to let her mind linger on the fact that it should be Drew bringing her breakfast in bed and learning about her hobby with a piqued interest.

After fixing the correct lens for the close-ups she intended to take and placing the other gentle on her bedside table, she lifted her finger and traced it around the rim of the rose. “See the interplay between dark and light? That’s the sort of thing that black and white photography picks up better than a color image ever can.”

After snapping a couple of photos, she reached for a piece of now-cold toast.

“Can I try?” Evan asked, holding his hand out for the camera.

“Sure.” Becca gave him a very quick crash course in how to use her SLR camera.

He swung it around and snapped a candid photo of her just as she took another bite out of her toast.

“Not of me,” she said, lifting her hand. “There’s a reason I’m usually behind the lens.”

“I was just admiring the interplay between dark and light.” He pinched a loose strand of her hair between his fingers before sweeping it off her face.

Her stomach clenched in a way that had nothing to do with the food in front of her. A wide smile spread across her lips as she gathered her courage. She set the tray aside and then grabbed for the camera even as Evan tried to pull it out of her reach. She snapped a photo of Evan in return, so super close-up that his face would fill the entire frame.

Evan reached for the camera once more, willing to continue the fun which had brought such delicious, heightened emotions out to play in Becca. Instead of releasing the camera back into his care, Becca lifted her arm and scooted backward, laughing the whole time. He stalked after her, climbing onto the bed to pursue her camera, and continue their game.

The blankets still messy from Becca’s sleep tangled around his legs and tripped him up, causing him to fall forward. His face landed against Becca’s stomach and he didn’t know whether to inhale and revel in her scent or extricate himself as quickly as possible from what could be an extremely embarrassing situation for them both.

Becca’s laughter grew as she struggled to escape from beneath his flailing body, the sound of it causing him to join in. He pushed himself off her body and lunged for the camera. Without slowing, he brought it to his eye with one hand and snapped a photo of her against the sheets.

Becca lifted her hands as he went to take another photo, but he clicked the shutter anyway. An instant later, the camera was pulled from his hands and Becca was right there, her lips were inches from his. Her proximity stole his breath away. Their eyes met, and Evan was captured by her gaze and pinned in place. He couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to—which he definitely didn’t.

Electricity crackled in the air around them, just as it had when he’d been in front of her on the swing—when he’d been desperately close to making the mistake of kissing her. He didn’t want to move and break the spell, didn’t even dare to blink. His tongue slicked across his lip, and Becca’s gaze dropped to follow it. When he’d been released from her gaze, he realized how close he’d been to slipping again. He pushed away from the siren call of her mouth with a nervous chuckle.

“Your coffee is going cold,” he said as he withdrew himself from the danger of being perched over her bed with her beneath him. He hoped she wouldn’t drop her gaze to his groin where Little Evan was straining against his material prison.

“Huh?” The sound was barely more than a breath, but he felt the confusion in it anyway. There was also a hint of . . . hurt. At least, that was what it felt like to Evan, a bitter undercurrent to the joy that was slowing dissipating from the room.

Their little impromptu photo session had Evan feeling more confused than ever. He was so ready to tell Becca how he felt, but he knew it would be unfair to her. He’d seen friendships torn apart by unwanted admissions of emotion. It always confused things and he didn’t want to be a complication for Becca. He didn’t want to cause her concern.

He reminded himself that Drew was to be her match—Drew was her choice for herself and the feelings there were reciprocated.

“Your, um, coffee,” he repeated, pointing to the tray on her bedside table. “It’ll probably be cold. I can make you a fresh one if you’d like?”

Becca blew out a breath as she sat up and straightened herself out. “No, no, it’s okay. I might just, uh, go . . . shower. Yeah.” She gave a quick nod.

It seemed to Evan that she was trying to think of any excuse to get out of the bedroom and away from him, and it was probably true. He couldn’t help worrying that his actions, his immense and crushing desire to kiss her until she was utterly breathless, had made her uncomfortable somehow.

“Okay, I’ll just—” he indicated toward the door with his thumb “—wait. Living room.” He nodded, mentally kicking himself that he couldn’t get a complete sentence out.

She smiled, but there was a nervous, worried edge to it. “Yep.”

Evan escaped the oppressing atmosphere that had overtaken the bedroom as fast as he could. His experience offered no help for how to deal with the stifling tension that had enveloped the two of them. It was disappointing how one second they’d been playing without a care in the world and then it had just become awkward.

He waited on the sofa, sitting bolt upright with his arms resting perfectly straight along his thighs. His fists were curled into tight balls as he ran through the morning again. It had all started so well.

He was just starting to breathe normally again when Becca breezed out of her bathroom, dressed in a pair of light slacks and a button-down blouse. She froze when she caught sight of him. Her gaze grazed his mouth, and then she met his eye. A small smile played at the edge of her lips. It was almost as if she could feel the odd tension between them too, but was willing to do whatever it took to push past it.

“I have a few errands to run today,” she said. “Did you want to come with me?”

Evan wanted to go, he wanted it more than almost anything, but he thought the best thing he could do to put the desire to kiss Becca out of his mind was to put a little space between them—at least for the day. “Can’t,” he lied. “I’ve got to go check on my next case again.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Disappointment flooded the room with such potency that it took everything in Evan not to relent and agree. “But maybe we can meet up after lunch?”

She smiled. “I’d like that. Drew’s going to be here a little after five, but from when you get back until he arrives, I’m all yours.”

It was tempting for Evan to focus solely on the “I’m all yours” part of her sentence, but he didn’t. He focused on the name she’d uttered.

Drew. Drew. Drew. Drew. He thought it again and again until it seeped into every part of his brain. Evan had promised himself that he wouldn’t come between Becca and Drew. If he was going to stick to that, he needed to keep his rival’s name in his head as a constant mantra. It was too easy to forget him otherwise.

He met Becca’s eye and smiled. “Sounds great.”

The instant Becca had left the house, she called Cathy to try to score a shopping partner. As usual, Cathy had jumped at the opportunity for a gossip session away from the confines of the hospital. By the time they stopped for a coffee break, Cathy was clearly irritated by something and was more than ready to pull Becca up on it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s eating at you?” she demanded as she dragged Becca toward a table at the back of the small café.

Becca chewed on the inside of her cheek. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit. Something’s up.”

Becca sighed. “I just have a lot to organize with this party.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here? To help out?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“So what else is it?”

Bringing her latte to her lips, Becca blew out a breath. “I don’t know.”

Cathy sighed, leaning back in her chair. For a moment, Becca thought she was going to push some more, but when Cathy spoke again it was to change the subject. “How was your date last night?”

Becca frowned in confusion; the visit to the park with Evan wasn’t exactly a date. Then she recalled the rest of the evening, and flushed. The memory of being held in Drew’s arms while he took her from angles she hadn’t even known existed made her tingle with a rush of desire. “It was good.”

“Oh. My. God. You got lucky didn’t you?”

Becca laughed. “So lucky.”

“Yeah? So, he was good?”

“He was amazing, Cath. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone—” She sighed as the memory of Evan pressed against her during their impromptu tussle over the camera early that morning stole away the feel of Drew’s arms. She shook it off. “He was really good.”

“I knew he would be. And big I bet too. You know what they say about the size of a man’s feet after all.” She bounced her brow.

“No comment,” Becca said, giggling against the rim of her coffee.

“You know that if you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to imagine it for myself. Trust me I have a very vivid imagination.”

“Yeah, I know you do.” She leaned forward anyway and told her friend about her date with Drew. It was only as she was recounting the tale of the waiter spilling everything over her that she even considered the similarities between the waiter’s story and her own experience in the darkroom the day that Evan had arrived. For a moment, she was lost in thought over whether it was possible Evan was stalking her on her dates. She wasn’t sure whether to be mad at him for going against her wishes and not telling her that he had, or flattered that he cared enough to try to make things run smoothly—even if it was possible his interference had caused the soaking.

Maybe that had been his plan? Becca thought. Maybe the date would have ended up like the others if we hadn’t been soaking.

“And I just lost you again,” Cathy said. “Seriously, sometimes I wonder where you’ve been going lately.”

“Sorry.” Becca grimaced. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

To Becca’s relief, Cathy seemed to let it slide as they finished their coffee and renewed their search for party supplies.

Cathy knew how to shop. And she knew how to talk. She had a way of talking endlessly, but in a way which ended up drawing more information out of her companion than she managed to offer of her own. Becca had eventually spilled the beans on the photography session with Evan—although she hadn’t admitted that it happened the same night she’d taken the plunge with Drew. Cathy had hmm’d and uhuh’d her way through that part of the conversation, a knowing look in her eye that Becca didn’t want to acknowledge.

It was almost a relief when Becca was able to leave Cathy and return home.

“You look tired.” Evan’s greeting was filled with concern and fueled the lethargy that had seemed to settle into Becca’s body. With gentle hands around the tops of her arms, he guided her to the sofa so she could sit.

He knelt on the floor in front of her and lifted one of her legs into his hands. Before she could resist, her foot was in his hands as his fingers gently kneaded the sole.

It was hard, but she resisted the urge to moan at how good the feeling was after a long day on her feet. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the sofa, allowing it to cushion her whole body. “Shopping and Cathy are always a dangerous combination.”

Evan chuckled as his fingers moved to massage the top of her foot.

A few moments of companionable silence passed between them where Becca tried desperately to swallow down all of her moans of pleasure. Although she was certain some escaped, Evan was gentlemanly enough not to mention it. She was relieved to find that the awkwardness of the morning had completely dissipated.

“You sure know how to treat a lady,” she murmured as he placed her foot back onto the floor and started on the other one.

Evan didn’t respond, he was so quiet in fact that if it wasn’t for the gentle pressure on her feet, she wouldn’t have even known he was there. The thought worried her, and made her mind turn once more to a subject she’d tried to avoid like the plague but which she couldn’t ignore any longer—not if she wanted to keep her sanity in check.

“How will you know when it’s time for you to leave for good?” she asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper. It was one of the multitude of questions racing around her mind—part of what had been distracting her most of the day.

His fingers stopped moving.

She opened her eyes and looked down at him.

He blinked up at her a few times. “It’s not usually for good,” he said without conviction. “You might not know I’m there, but as long as you feel love I’ll be there.” He placed her foot on the floor and leaned forward over her legs. “I’ll be here.” He placed two fingers over her heart. Despite his words, which were the best she could have hoped to hear, he looked so sad.

She sat up and brushed a strand of hair off his face. “I like the sound of that.”

He smiled weakly up at her and then he stood to walk away. The sound of a tap from the bathroom indicated that he’d gone to wash his hands. When he walked back into the room, more of Becca’s questions were on her lips but then the doorbell rang, interrupting her.

When she pulled the door open, Drew was standing on her stoop. He looked immaculate and the sight of him reminded her of the way he’d controlled her body and drawn every ounce of pleasure from her. She was a little surprised to see him. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten that Drew was coming, but she’d just lost track of the time.

“Sorry, I know I’m late. Work was hell,” he said as he ducked his head to kiss her. His lips had barely grazed hers before Becca twisted her head to see if Evan was still standing in her living room.

She said a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t. If Drew had found Evan in her house, it wouldn’t have been a great start to her evening. In fact, it would have erupted in yet another argument about her little cupid. Drew didn’t understand why Evan was part of her life, and it didn’t help that there was so much about her relationship with her cupid that she just couldn’t explain.

“That’s okay,” she said in response to Drew’s apology. “I don’t mind.”

“We’re eating in tonight,” Drew said, presenting two salads to her.

Looking at the meagre offering, Becca’s stomach growled. She’d skipped lunch and hadn’t eaten anything all day but a piece of toast and a coffee. “Maybe we should order in pizza?”

Drew’s mouth scrunched up in disapproval. “What’s wrong with this? At least it won’t give you a heart attack.”

“Of course.” Becca gave a weak smile as she nodded. It wasn’t the first time he’d made a remark about her food choices, and more often than not on dates he ordered long before she even had a chance to look at her menu. At first it had been flattering, but now it just irritated her.

As she led Drew through to the dining table, she reminded herself of all the positives he had. He was generous and caring. He was attractive and fantastic in bed—or at least she was willing to give him the benefit of doubt on that one after his last performance. He was an amazing doctor and really cared about his patients. He cared about her.

It wasn’t really his fault that his hours at the hospital were longer than he’d anticipated considering it was such a small place. Or that his constant suggestions for healthier food choices were just a product of his interest in cardiothoracic surgery. Neither was he to blame that his natural charisma and perfect appearance attracted women to his side like flies. The fact that he grew jealous anytime she even dared to mention Evan’s name was a little more annoying, but Becca had learned to get around that by just not talking about Evan to Drew at all.

“Eat up,” Drew said, obviously noticing that Becca hadn’t started on her salad even though he was almost halfway through his. “You’ll need your strength tonight because I’ve got plans for you.”

Becca didn’t miss the wicked intent in his voice, or the way it made her body clench in anticipation. As she tucked into the small salad that was supposed to be her dinner, she decided that for the benefits she reaped from being with Drew, she could overlook a few small shortcomings.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Evan was finding it so hard to be around Becca. Every time he tried, the words “I love you” were on the very edge of his tongue ready to spill out. His lips were poised ready to either form the words or kiss her. It was only his mantra that she wanted Drew that kept him from doing either. Despite how hard it was to be near her, Evan craved it like nothing else.

Unfortunately, it was hard trying to vie for Becca’s attention around work, Drew, and her photography. Some days, he was lucky to get half an hour with her before she crashed into bed or while she finished getting dressed for her latest date with Drew.

On very rare, and very special, occasions, they spent a decent amount of time together in her darkroom while she developed some of the old negatives that she hadn’t been able to get to since Evan himself had come crashing into her life and had flipped it all upside-down. All the while, he waited for that inevitable moment when he would either be given a new assignment or taken from the Earth to be granted his final “reward.” Not that he considered anything that took him from Becca’s side a reward. Not anymore.

As the day of her birthday drew closer, she had even less time for him because she and Cathy were constantly together to set up all of the party arrangements and Drew seemed desperate to spend all of his spare time with her, taking her on dates almost every night. Despite Becca bringing him home after most of those dates, he never stayed the night though. A fact for which Evan was eternally grateful. He wasn’t sure he could have spent the night having to deal with their emotions while they slept side by side.

For the entire week before the party, Becca didn’t once go into the darkroom, and Evan didn’t see her at all. He’d wait for her at the kitchen table in the morning, only to have her call out a goodbye as she raced from the door after rising late. He’d wait by her bedroom while she got changed only to have Drew knock on the front door long before Becca was ready, cutting off their chance to talk before it really began. He hated it, and could feel Becca’s frustration rising, too.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was precisely that was worrying her, not without spending more time with her, but he did know that the emotions filling the house whenever she was home alone were filled with panic and stress.

It’ll be better after her party, he tried to reassure himself. She’s just worried about making it perfect.

Before he knew it, it was the day of Becca’s birthday party, which made him anxious for her. He’d had so much spare time in Becca’s absence that he’d already organized a costume that he thought she’d get a kick out of as well as arranging the perfect present for her, which he left in the darkroom so that he didn’t risk breaking it.

Standing on Becca’s front step, dressed and ready to go, he felt a little ridiculous. Especially with the large white wings that protruded from his back. They weren’t exactly the most comfortable things in the world. The elastic that held them in place dug into his armpits and the feathers at the tip of each wing were at just the right height to flitter in and out of his peripheral vision, causing him to pivot his head from side to side whenever he forgot that he had them on. Although he wanted nothing more than to adjust the elastic, the suit jacket which he’d received with the costume was too awkward to maneuver in, and he couldn’t quite get his arms to bend in the right way to reach the straps. He couldn't exactly go up to a stranger on the street and ask them either. Not that there had been any strangers, or even a street. He'd gotten dressed in Becca's darkroom and then had popped up to knock on her front door after making sure her front yard was empty.

When the door swung open, he was greeted by a joyful Becca. She wore a blue workman’s shirt with the sleeves torn off and had her curls tucked up underneath a red and white polka-dotted scarf. He grinned back at her; she was the personification of the poster child for feminism. With the front of her shirt buttoned as low as it was, it was almost impossible for Evan to turn away from her very feminine assets.

The thrum of stress which had weighed heavy over the house, and therefore in his heart, in the last few weeks was gone, replaced by an exuberance that he was more than happy to absorb. Even without the benefit of feeling her emotions, he would have been thrilled just to bask in the glow of her megawatt smile. For a moment, he let himself run away with the fanciful notion that her grin was for him—because of him. It was a ridiculous notion considering how many of her friends were already inside, but it made him feel good for a moment.

“You dressed up!” Becca looked like she was about to pounce on him and pull him into a hug, so he tried to make himself look as huggable as possible.

“I did.” He glanced down at his costume, suddenly feeling awkward and hoping that she appreciated it. “I got something for you too, but I, uh, I left it in your darkroom. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” she said as she pressed a quick peck on the cheek as she leaned into him. “So what exactly are you, an angel?”

Her question reminded him of their first conversation. He smiled. “No, I told you, they’re all insufferable dicks.”

He pulled the final prop for his costume from a hook on one of his belt loops. Holding the bow in one hand, he fought against the costume to reach for an arrow from the small quiver he had on his back.

The instant she realized what he’d dressed as, Becca laughed. Evan had missed the sound so much and he wanted to capture it forever. He wanted her to always be laughing and smiling, and he wanted to be the one who made her.

“A cupid? And here I thought you were going to dress up for me?” she teased.

“I thought it would make you smile,” he admitted.

“You thought right. Although, I have it on very good authority that there isn’t actually a bow and arrow, it’s all in the touch.” She pressed her fingers against his arm.

He swallowed heavily, trying not to let her see how much her gentle touch affected him. “You might be right there, but no one would know what I was otherwise. It’s always the way with stereotypes, right?”

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly earnest. “Not just for dressing up, but for being there for me. I know I’ve been crazy the last week or so, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d left, and, well, I’m glad you didn’t.” Her cheeks flushed red and her voice dropped until it was almost a whisper. “I’m really glad you’re here tonight.”

She was rambling, but Evan didn’t want to call her on it. Instead, he followed her inside and let her return to mingling with her guests. He enjoyed watching her move from friend to friend, a smile practically plastered on her face.

“Hey, stranger.” Cathy sidled up beside him. She was wearing a round yellow and black bee costume, complete with yellow stockings and a pair of antennae on her head. Her rounded face and short stature complimented the outfit choice perfectly. “It’s been a while.”

Ignoring the surreal feeling of being dressed as a mockery of a cupid, talking to a giant bumblebee, Evan agreed with her. After all, it’d been almost a month since the BBQ where Becca had fallen for Drew. It was weird that Evan had barely noticed so much time had passed. As soon as he stopped to consider it though, he couldn’t understand the limbo state he’d been in ever since.

Why hasn’t something happened? Why haven’t I been forced to move on or . . . up? He didn’t even let himself think down, he’d worked hard enough to earn his penance surely?

With Becca happy for the most part, he would have expected that he would have received either a new name or a new home by now. As he glanced across the room to where Becca stood surrounded by three of her friends, including the older Doctor Petersen, he was glad that nothing had happened. He was happy for every extra day he’d been allowed to spend near her.

“So you’ve still got it as bad as ever I see?”

“What?” Evan practically leapt from his skin at Cathy’s suggestion. Surely it wasn’t so obvious that he felt things for Becca. Eventually he was able to remind himself that this was the same woman who’d been convinced Becca felt something for him too. “No, we’re really just friends.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Cathy said, sounding absolutely not convinced in any way, shape, or form. “What are you supposed to be anyway?”

He held up the bow and the arrow which was tipped with a foam love-heart. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Well, I’d have guessed cupid but you’re a little too big and there’s that whole not-wearing a diaper thing.”

“Cupids don’t have to wear diapers.”

“That’s the image though, isn’t it?”

“It’s a ridiculous image. Why does a cupid have to be a cherub?”

“Well, because he is, isn’t he? That’s like asking why the Easter Bunny is a bunny.”

“All I’m saying is maybe all those images are wrong.”

“It’s make-believe. Does it really matter?”

Cathy’s words cut off further arguments from Evan before he could make them. He was ready to passionately defend the right of cupids the world over not to be ridiculed for being little more than archer babies in diapers. Of course, for pretty much everyone at the party Cupid was nothing more than a make-believe character, like the Easter Bunny, Santa, or the Tooth Fairy. Besides himself, the only one in the room who knew the truth was Becca.

He spoke to Cathy for a little longer before her husband, Gary, brought her a drink from the kitchen.

Gary was dressed as a giant robin, and it didn’t take long for their clever couple’s costume to click in Evan’s head. From what Evan knew about Cathy, albeit largely gleaned from conversations he’d overheard between her and Becca while he’d been following Becca around at work, the paired costume definitely seemed right up Cathy’s alley. He chuckled as the couple walked away to mix with some of the other guests.

Evan circled the party as much as he had to in order to be polite, but the whole time he kept his gaze on Becca. As if she felt his stare, she kept casting him furtive glances from across the room as well. Each time he met her gaze, she’d offer him a small smile. He wanted to go to her and spend the evening by her side, but he knew that wasn’t his place. And he didn’t want to cement the thought that he was madly in love with Becca in Cathy’s head. Sure it was true, but how pathetic did it make him look when Cathy didn’t understand the reasons why Evan hadn’t acted on his impulses sooner.

It was a mistake to let her meet Drew, he thought. Not one I’ll make again if I get the chance.

He was so beyond caring what his supervisors, or whatever they wanted to call themselves, thought about his actions, especially since he’d been stuck in the same holding pattern for so long. He was in love with Becca and if the chance arose, he would act on it. In fact, if he was given the opportunity, he would do every damn thing in his power to make sure he never lost her again. Unless of course she rejected him.

The thought was like a punch to the stomach.

Almost the instant that thought crossed his mind, he wondered where the perfect Doctor Drew was. The one Becca would never reject.

He certainly wasn’t at the party yet. Evan considered whether there was trouble in paradise, but it didn’t make sense that Becca wouldn’t have mentioned it to him if there was. Even if he didn’t particularly want to, Evan could probably have helped them get over a rough patch if they were having one. He would have, if Becca had asked. Not for Drew’s benefit, but Evan would do anything for Becca.

It was almost half an hour later when the doorbell rang again and Becca raced to open it. When she pulled it open and met Drew’s eyes, a crushing guilt and sorrow, which Evan didn’t understand in the least, overtook her. He tried not to read anything into the fact that rather than the wide smile and feelings of intense happiness she’d felt when she opened the door for Evan, Drew inspired a tight frown and terrible, chest-tightening emotions.

He wondered whether he should race to her rescue when she pushed Drew back outside and then closed the door behind the two of them, effectively locking Evan, and everyone else in the room, out of the conversation.

When the doorbell rang, Becca just knew it was going to be Drew, so she raced to make sure she was the one to get it. He was so late. She’d spent the better part of the evening looking down at her watch and chewing on the inside of her lip.

Whenever the feeling of melancholy over Drew’s tardiness had grown too strong, her gaze had searched the room for the cupid who she’d been drawing all of her strength from lately. Just one look in his direction was enough to cause the love she felt in her heart to spike. It was like a magical Prozac, and tonight she needed all the hits she could get.

She pulled open her front door to reveal Drew standing on her doorstep in the suit he’d worn for their first date.

She frowned. “I thought I told you it was a costume party.”

He rolled his eyes. “And I made it quite clear then that I don’t do costumes. We’re not in middle school anymore Becca, you have to grow up sometime.”

She pushed him outside, following him quickly and pulling the door shut behind them. Her guests didn’t need to see the build-up of a domestic argument. “I thought you might do something nice for me for one night.”

“I do nice things for you all the time,” he argued before pushing himself against her body, trapping her against the door with an arm on either side of her head. His lips caressed her earlobe. “What about that nice thing I did last night.” He scraped his teeth along the spot where his lips had been a second earlier, sending a shudder of need through Becca.

Even though things with Drew had been slightly less than perfect lately, and seemed to get worse with every date, she was willing to ignore it in the hope that it got better again soon. Besides, after the arguments came the make-up sex and that was great. Better than great. He was still the best man ever to slip between her sheets, or on top of her sheets.

Or against the wall. Or in the shower.

Becca squirmed as she thought about the sex, the one redeeming feature in their relationship at present. She knew it was wrong to ignore the issues, and she didn’t intend to do that forever, but Drew was still trying to settle back into life in a small town.

“That—that’s different,” she said, trying desperately to cling to her argument when all she wanted to do was cling to his arms.

He rested against one arm and sighed. “If you didn’t insist on having a childish party, perhaps I could have supported it a little more.”

“Even your dad dressed up.”

“Dad’s still trying to cling to his youth. The chance to build a more successful career and life is behind him now, so pretending to be young is about all he has left.”

Moisture welled in her eyes. “I don’t understand how hard it is for you to put this aside for one night and have some fun.”

“Put what aside? My desire to see you be everything you can be?”

Every conversation from the past week came flooding back into her mind. She knew Drew was coming from a good place when he suggested that she study further to try to get into nursing rather than being “just a medical receptionist”—his words, not hers. He just wanted her to have strong career goals like he did, but she couldn’t appreciate it anymore. The things he wanted for her life and her career were simply things that she just didn’t want.

She wanted a simple life, and a relatively stress-free job. She thought that maybe one day she’d even have children and stay at home to raise them. However, Drew wanted her to be a career go-getter and blaze the feminist trail. It didn’t matter how often she told him that she wasn’t interested in the money or the prestige, he wouldn’t listen. Her dream was a small life in the suburbs. It hadn’t done her grandmother any harm after all.

Although she’d never admit it to Drew, she hated the idea of a big-city life and dreams that consisted of always chasing the next big goal and never being happy in the now. After all, her parents had been desperate to do everything they could to secure a brilliant future for her, and they’d passed away too early.

There were no guarantees in life, Becca knew that better than anyone, so she didn’t want to waste hers pushing herself up an invisible career ladder that she had no interest in. She’d rather spend it doing what she loved and spending time with the people she cared about. She wanted to spend it living, not working.

“I don’t want that though,” she said, trying to force the tears back out of her voice.

“You only think you don’t want it,” he said.

She might have imagined the derisive edge in his tone, but it set her on edge anyway.

“And you know what I want more than I do, do you?” she snapped.

“You know what’s ridiculous? That you can stand in front of me dressed as the ultimate feminist and yet spout antiquated ideals.”

“Feminism isn’t just about having a career. It’s supposed to be about getting the chance to choose to do whatever you want to do. Don’t I get a say in what I want?”

“I know if you look deep down you’ll see that what I’m trying to do is for your own good. Everyone wants to be the best they can be, you don’t want to look back at your life in twenty years and wonder ‘what if.’”

She knew they could go around and around for ages. They would if she didn’t put a stop to it. She sighed. “Can we not talk about this now? Just for one night, can we put it to one side? I have guests and they’re probably wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” he said, pushing himself back off the door and giving her the space to maneuver again. “Lead the way.”

She’d barely got three steps into the party before Evan drew her eye. His concern was printed on his face and she realized he probably felt every emotion that had rolled through her in the last ten minutes—it was part of the reason she’d been avoiding him lately. She had no doubt that he’d have some sort of magical solution to her issues with Drew, but she didn’t want that. Ultimately, even though she wanted Evan to stay, the reality was that he wouldn’t be around forever. She needed to deal with her messes herself, or her relationship with Drew would definitely be doomed before it had truly begun.

She gave Evan a little nod and a smile to let him know that everything was okay.

“Why did you invite him?” Drew’s voice was sharp against her ear.

She bit back the sigh that she felt like issuing at Drew’s jealousy. “Because he’s my friend.”

“I told you that I don’t trust him. Whenever he looks at you, it’s like he’s seconds away from bursting into fucking song or something.”

“I know, and it’s hard for me to explain why that is, but trust me when I say there’s nothing for you to be worried about.”

“Because he’s gay, right?” Drew’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Becca’s nerves at the lie forced her hand into action, adjusting the scarf that held her hair in place. “Exactly.”

“You know that he’s about as gay as I am don’t you?”

She turned to look at Drew again. Over the last few days, as the arguments had increased in frequency, his hazel-blue eyes had appeared more like cold steel, lacking the warmth that she was used to seeing in another set of hazel eyes. She hated herself for making the comparison. “Please, he’s just here as a friend to celebrate my birthday with me. Can you please just leave it at that?”

“Fine,” he said, stepping in front of her to lead the way to the kitchen.

Becca was relieved that he was willing to let something go for once.

“For now.”

She sighed. Why does it have to be such hard work?

The small noise caused Drew to spin toward her again. His gaze trailed over her face and he seemed to finally see her stress. “I’m sorry.”

He gave her an apologetic pout, but she didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for: being late, not dressing up, treating her like a child, or being rude about Evan. She wanted to ask, but was too tired to handle another argument just then.

“Forgive me?” He pressed his hands together and touched his fingers to his lips, almost in prayer. As he realized she was relenting under the weight of his apology, his eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement, and one corner of his lips twitched up. “Would you like me to get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

“What would you like?”

She forced a smile. “I don’t know. Why don’t you surprise me?”

His lips grazed her cheek, sending warmth flooding throughout her before he headed through the door into the kitchen. Almost the second Drew had left her side, Evan took his place.

“Is everything okay?”

She resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment. The night had started so well, but it felt like it was spiraling into disaster. A quick glance at Evan’s worried face confirmed that, just as she’d worried he might, he’d experienced everything she’d felt since Drew’s arrival. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“It didn’t look fine.” Evan reached one hand out, placing it on her arm. “It didn’t feel fine.”

Becca turned away from Evan as tears pricked her eyes. How could she explain that it was okay, that it was just a little rough because her and Drew were still trying to find their common ground for future plans.

She was certain that given enough time they’d be able to reconcile each of their ideal lives. If she hadn’t been caught in the middle of it, she probably would have found the role reversal amusing. Only, she was in the middle of it so she just found it incredibly frustrating.

“He didn’t dress up.” Evan’s voice cut into her thoughts. She wasn’t sure whether it was supposed to be a question, but it came out as a statement—almost as if Evan was weighing judgment on Drew.

Becca turned back to say something in Drew’s defense, but was too late. Drew was already there with two drinks in hand.

“No, I didn’t,” he practically growled. “Some of us have more important things to do with our time than plan a silly costume.”

“It’s okay.” Becca reached for one of the drinks in Drew’s hand, taking it from him with a silent thank you to try to alleviate the tension between the two. “I don’t really mind.” She wasn’t sure whether it was for Drew’s benefit or Evan’s, either way she wanted to diffuse the situation.

“Drew.” Evan nodded. “Nice to see you again.” It was clear from his tone that he was anything but pleased.

Witnessing Evan’s protective streak, Becca wanted to pull him to the side and convince him that things really were okay with her and Drew. Only she couldn’t without convincing Drew that something more than friendship existed between her and Evan, which just wasn’t the case. After a moment, she decided to take the coward’s way out and pretend that Cathy was trying to get her attention. She muttered a quick apology and left.

“This was a mistake,” she said to her giant bee friend as she approached her.

“What? The party? Nah, it’s great.” Gary said, bopping in time to the soft music in his robin costume.

Becca almost snorted when she saw that his tail-feathers—which were obnoxiously long really—were tickling the back of Doctor Petersen’s back. In fact, Becca would have put bets on the fact that Gary’s dance was timed specifically to include a back-step and butt-wiggle at random enough intervals to give the doctor grief. Each time the other man stepped further away, Gary added an extra step to his backwards shuffle.

Feeling like the sight of a giant robin waggling his tail feathers against a tall, skinny version of Frankenstein’s monster was exactly what she needed to take her mind off things, Becca let the conversation she’d just been part of go. She was willing to ignore the tension between Drew and Evan. If they cared about her, they would try to get along. She refused to turn around and look at either of them, even though she could feel both of their gazes on her.

She was certain Evan at least would make an effort to keep Drew onside.

Wouldn’t he?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“You need to stay the hell away from Becca.” Drew’s voice didn’t allow for any argument, but Evan didn’t care. He wasn’t willing to listen to someone who only wanted him to stay away from Becca out of jealousy.

“Becca and I are friends. I’m not going to give that away just because you are feeling a little insecure about your relationship.”

Drew scoffed. “I am not insecure. It’s just clear that you’re obsessed with her, and frankly that worries me. I don’t know where that obsession might lead.”

“No, what worries you is that you might not be the best thing for her.”

Standing so close together, Evan could feel and taste all of Drew’s emotions as if they were his own. He wasn’t guessing at Drew’s intentions, he knew them for a fact.

“And who is? You?”

Evan’s stomach tied itself into a knot and then untangled again, before repeating the pattern. He couldn’t answer Drew though. His tongue wouldn’t allow him to speak a lie and say that he wasn’t, but how could he admit to Becca’s boyfriend the things that he couldn’t admit to Becca?

Drew’s cold-steel gaze traced over Evan. “What could you possibly have to offer her?”

“What?”

“What do you even do for a job? From what I’ve gathered from Becca it’s not a lot.”

Evan wanted to defend himself, but how could he? “I’m a cupid” didn’t exactly scream job security. “I don’t need to offer her anything. I’m her friend. Just her friend.”

“And I’m Santa Claus. It’s clear that you’ve got this little fantasy about the two of you in your head. I can practically see your illusions about the two of you printed on your face.”

Evan opened his mouth and then closed it again. It wasn’t that obvious was it? He thought he’d tried to keep it hidden as well as he could, but first Cathy and now Drew seemed convinced about his feelings for Becca.

“Just look at you, and then look at me. Only one of us is right for her, and I think we both know which one.”

Evan blinked at what Drew had said and realized that the statement was one hundred percent correct. In some ways they were similar, but Drew was the alpha to his omega. Drew was strong and muscled where Evan was slender and weak. They both had similar colored chestnut hair, but Drew’s was perfectly styled while Evan’s just hung around his head, soft and limp. Even the hazel eyes they shared were markedly different—Drew’s unique and almost blue, Evan’s just plain and almost muddy.

But despite the fact that Drew was a physically perfect version of Evan, only one of them deserved the wonderful woman that Becca was. Only one of them understood her desires and could act on them. Only one of them wanted her for the person she was, not the person she could be shaped to be with the right level of training.

“You’re right,” Evan said quietly. “I—I have to go.”

A row of perfect white teeth gleamed from within Drew’s smile. “I knew you’d see reason.”

Evan didn’t want to listen to Drew anymore. Instead he stalked forward toward the one person he needed to speak to. Despite the plans and decisions he’d made, he couldn’t be patient any longer. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t feel things for her and let her wander off into the sunset with someone who just saw her as a prize to be won. He wouldn’t be her friend if he stood idly by and said nothing about how big a dick Drew was. Sure a certain amount of it might have been jealousy, Evan wasn’t stupid enough to think that the green-eyed monster wasn’t clouding his judgment slightly, but it didn’t change the fact that Drew wasn’t right for her.

Evan was, and he would do everything in his power to show her that.

“Becca, I think I’m going to go now,” he said, as he lightly touched her arm. “But if you can talk later, I’ll be in the usual place. There’s something important I need to say.”

“What’s up?” The look of surprise on her face was evident, but he hoped she’d understand where he meant. Regardless, the middle of the party wasn’t the time or place to talk to her about what he needed to say. But he didn’t want to stay and give Drew a chance to ruin everything either.

“I can’t really talk about it right now. I don’t want to cause you any more problems tonight.”

“Is it something to do with Drew?”

Cathy watched their exchange with wide eyes and a knowing smile.

“I’d rather not say at the moment, I just really need to talk to you as soon as you’re alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. Her confusion was still clear, but he didn’t want to linger any longer. He headed for the front door, walking through it before checking the coast was clear and returning to her basement darkroom in his own special way.

After taking off his costume, and briefly popping out to return it to the closed shop, there was nothing for him to do but wait while the noise of the party continued above his head.

Becca couldn’t stop thinking about what Evan had said. She wondered whether he’d been instructed to leave by his bosses. Had he been granted permission to stay for her party but not any longer? When he said he would be going now, did he mean going for good? It played on her mind for the rest of the evening. When the party had begun to wind down, she found herself more interested in going down to the darkroom to meet him and find out what he was talking about than socializing with her remaining guests any longer.

Cathy and Gary stayed behind to help clean up, and so did Drew—although his version of helping to clean was to sit at the kitchen table with a glass of wine and bark orders at everyone else. Sometimes his “better” breeding was all too clear.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” he asked as she dragged another bag full of trash through the house.

“Well, it would be a bit quicker if everyone helped,” she replied through clenched teeth.

“You can’t expect your guests to stay behind and help, that’s not the way it works, Becca.”

She ignored the fact that Drew had completely missed her point. “Of course, my mistake,” she muttered.

After Cathy and Gary left as well, Drew stalked toward Becca like a predator toward its prey. The look in his eye left no doubt what he wanted and for a moment, Becca was sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. For all of his faults, there were certain things he was great at. Fucking was definitely one of them.

Then Becca remembered that Evan was waiting for her downstairs. The thought was like a bucket of ice-water tossed over her libido. If Evan was going to leave, she didn’t want him to go without getting the chance to say goodbye first.

“Can I take a rain-check?” she asked as Drew pulled her into his arms and attacked her throat with warm, open-mouthed kisses.

His attention slowed, but didn’t stop completely. One of his hands caressed her ass.

“Are you sure?”

She tilted her head so that she could capture his mouth and let her desire flow into her kisses, until she remembered her guest downstairs again. “Yeah, I’m sure. I have a headache.”

“You know what’s good for headaches?” His hand moved from her ass to her chest.

Somewhat reluctantly, she dragged herself from his arms. “Sorry, Drew, I’m just really tired. Tomorrow?”

He sighed when it became clear that she was definitely throwing him out. “Yeah, sure. I have a late shift though, so can I just come around after that?”

It seemed like they had fallen into a pattern of just fighting and fucking, but regardless, Becca found herself nodding.

“Yeah, that’ll be great.”

She kissed him goodbye, trying not to let herself get carried away again when his tongue stroked against hers, or when his hand caressed her back as he dipped her to deepen her kiss.

Once she was certain he was gone, she walked past the pile of unopened presents on her kitchen counter and headed into the darkroom.

She hadn’t even reached the bottom of the stairs before Evan’s stress struck her like a physical blow. She was used to feeling all of his positive emotions, but she’d rarely felt the negative. He must have been more stressed than she’d thought and that knowledge set her on edge. What could have happened?

When she peered into the darkness, she saw him pacing around the room in a series of short, sharp steps before spinning quickly on his heel and racing back the other way.

“What is it?” she asked, beginning to grow terrified about what might be causing him to react so strongly.

“Becca!” Evan leapt around with her name a cry on his lips.

She’d obviously startled him, but didn’t see how. She’d never been able to before.

“So, um, what was it you wanted to talk about?” I don’t want to know the answer to that, do I?

He rushed to her side and grabbed her hand, leading her over to her developing counter. “I was wrong.”

She pulled herself up onto the counter. “What about?”

“About you.”

She frowned.

“Specifically, about who might be good for you.”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted. “What are you saying?”

“I—I don't want you to be with him, with Drew,” he stammered.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t think he’s your match.”

Hearing a cupid telling her that her boyfriend wasn’t right for her made her doubt her choices even more. But she and Drew were compatible, she was sure of it. Even after only a little over a month, she felt more for him than she’d ever had for anyone else—ever. Sure they had some things to work out, but who didn’t after a month?

And what about the emotions Evan had shown her? That hadn’t been faked.

“Why not?” If she was going to doubt, she wanted concrete reasons for it.

“Because he’s not. He’s so wrong for you, it hurts.”

“Okay then, but who else would put up with me exactly?”

Evan turned pink. It was almost as if the safety light was on and not the overhead light. He seemed to mouth a word, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

“What is it?” she asked. “Are you feeling alright?”

He cleared his throat. “I said, ‘me.’”

“What?” Becca was certain she’d misheard again. It was impossible that Evan was . . .

That he’d . . .

She felt lightheaded and was certain the room was starting to spin. I didn’t have that much wine, did I?

Evan leapt forward, his arms in front of him as if he was itching to hold her but holding himself back. “I know I'm nothing compared to him. He's everything you ever wanted, more than you dreamed you deserved. He's Adonis and I'm Eros, and that thought kills me because you deserve Adonis. You deserve everything, but I can't stand by and not let you know how I feel. How I know that he’s wrong for you, because I’m the one who’s right. I should be the one who gets to share your life, Becca and it kills me that I can’t be.”

“Wh—what are you saying?” her world had tilted off its axis and she wasn't sure how to right it. Does Evan have feelings for me?

“I love you.”

Her stomach fluttered as he said the words. Cathy and Drew had both been so convinced that Evan had feelings for her, but she hadn’t believed them. Not the least. Hearing the words from his own mouth though? That solidified everything for her. Her mind raced through every smile, every glance, every touch. Tingles of excitement ran through her body as she considered what he’d said. Do I have feelings for him too?

She didn’t have time to consider it before he continued, “I've loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I don't want to leave your side. I’ll do everything I can to stay, but I’m sorry, I can't be here while you're with Drew any more. It makes me physically ill to watch the two of you together. And that's wrong, I know it's wrong, but I can't stop it.

“I've watched you blossom under his love, but I've also seen parts of you whither. Parts that he wants to prune so that he can shape you into what he wants you to be. I don't want to prune any part of you; I love you just the way you are. I can't lose you to another man, not again.” He hung his head as he finished his monologue.

Becca plunged her fingers into the thick curls on her head as she turned away from Evan, putting some distance between them so that she could try to come to terms with what he was telling her. There was one thing which stuck out, struck her as odd.

“Not again?” she murmured in question. “What does that mean? What are you saying?”

When she turned back at Evan's continued silence, he was looking at her with hazel eyes filled with guilt and self-hatred.

“It’s nothing,” he said, dropping his gaze and turning away from her. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“No, tell me what you meant. You can’t say something like that and just clam up. It’s not fair.”

For a moment, as Becca stared at the back of his head, willing the world to make sense again, she thought that he wasn't going to explain himself, but then he dropped his head and turned back to her.

“I lied to you,” he whispered to the floor before lifting his head slightly and reaching one hand out for her.

Becca treated the limb as if it were a snake that might bite her. She was beyond confused and her heart was almost painful as it pounded steadily against her ribcage. It didn’t help that she was still being buffeted by waves of Evan’s negative emotions. “What?”

“I told you I fell off a cliff fifty years ago, but that's not what happened.”

Evan's gaze lifted back to hers and he seemed to be imploring her to do . . . something. All she could do was stare in shock at the cupid confessing his love for her before admitting that he'd lied. “I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Why?” She hardly recognized her own voice, didn't feel in control of her own thoughts, and couldn’t understand anything in the world anymore.

“Because the love of my life was snatched from me by a cruel man who no longer wanted her for himself, but couldn't let anyone else have her either.”

“What's that got to do with me?”

“She’s you.”

“Please, Evan, I need you to start making some sense,” Becca pleaded.

“I know it's hard to believe, but she's you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Her soul was recycled, sent back to live again. And she lives in you.”

Becca felt like he'd shot an arrow through her heart, and not a pleasant one that made her feel warm inside. Recycled. The word sounded so cold and clinical. Worse, so dirty. Here was her cupid telling her that he was in love with her, that he wanted to be her perfect match, but only because of some resemblance she bore to his long lost love.

“Let me get this right, when you said you loved me just before, you were actually declaring your undying love to someone else.”

“No. I mean, yes. Kind of, but you have to understand,” he said. “I loved Rose, so much. But that’s not the reason I—”

“Rose?” She could barely say the name but memories flooded her mind. His sad, wistful expression when they’d been near her family’s plot and the sorrow that had overtaken his infectious smile. The questions about the photos she’d taken of her family’s graves.

It couldn’t be, could it?

Evan blinked at her, before starting again, obviously trying to draw her attention away from the name he’d uttered. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t just see her when I see you, not any—”

“Rose?” she repeated. She had to know whether her hunch was right. “Rose? As in my great-aunt Rose?”

He dropped his head, his silence confirming more than his words ever could.

Snatches of memories from years ago, of her nana telling her about Rose and how she’d been murdered by her husband, came flooding into her mind together with all the times her nana would hold her hand and tell Becca how much she reminded her nana of her great-aunt Rose; that their looks were so similar. Then a memory of the last time she’d seen her nana; when Becca was sitting at her hospital bedside while her nana smiled and called her Rose before closing her eyes and moving on. None of them had seemed especially significant to her before, but in light of what Evan was saying, maybe it was true. Maybe she had lived before.

Loved before.

Loved Evan before.

The thought made her stomach churn and her head ache. It was as if she’d gone straight to the hangover part of having too much to drink without really having consumed a significant quantity of alcohol.

Evan stepped closer to her, brushing his hand against her cheek, but she recoiled in disgust. He’d been the catalyst for the murder, he might not have killed Rose himself but his pursuit of her, despite her being married, was part of the reason for her death. Then he’d what? Thrown himself off a cliff in a fit of self-pity. Had he even spared a single thought for the people left behind to grieve? Did he care about his family?

And now he’s claiming that the suicide inspiring love was reborn in me?

Her stomach spun and she wondered if she was going to hurl.

“Becca?” he questioned, glancing up at her. He frowned in response to something he saw there.

She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes, but she knew what she felt in her heart. The realization that all of their time together had been nothing more than penance and a yearning to go back to what might have been under different circumstances hurt more than she’d ever thought it could.

But despite what he’d said, she wasn’t her great-aunt.

She wasn’t going to live someone else’s life. She didn’t want to be loved for who she reminded him of. She was worth more than that and deserved someone who loved her completely. Even if she had been willing to accept those terms for love, how could she ever trust him? Despite everything he’d told her from their very first meeting, he’d hidden so much from her. He’d hidden the most important stuff in her opinion.

“Get out.” Her voice was cold and quiet, absent of all emotion—even anger. She worked hard to keep it all under control so that he wouldn’t have the excuse of being in pain to stop him from moving away from her. “Get out of my house.”

“Becca, please?”

She shook her head to silence him. “Get out of my life.”

Before she’d even had a chance to blink, he’d disappeared.

If he knows what was good for him, he’ll stay gone.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The moment that Evan left Becca’s sight, she twisted around to lean on the counter while she waited for the nausea to pass. The blood gushing through her heart sped the minimal wine she’d drank during the night through her veins, making her feel even more dizzy. The thump-thump-thump of her blood echoed around her ears, causing her temples to throb and her head to ache.

How am I supposed to cope with this?

Overall, she believed that she’d been fairly understanding about the whole cupid thing. She’d certainly stopped and listened more than most sane people would have. Evan’s latest revelation was too much though.

She figured that if this day had been part of a romantic comedy movie it was probably about the time the sad music would swell, with Eric Carmon’s sultry voice belting out a few bars of All by Myself. It wasn’t a movie though, and Becca was left alone with no way of coping with what she’d been through. At least, not without being assigned to a psychiatrist. She barely understood it all herself, how could she even attempt to explain it to someone else without sounding completely crazy.

Eventually, she was able to pull herself together enough to make her way back up the stairs and into her kitchen. She ignored the pile of unopened gifts on the counter, grabbed a bottle of wine and headed for her bedroom.

By the time she’d finished the bottle, she had tears in her eyes even though she couldn’t really say why. The only thing she could put it down to was that whatever else he’d been, Evan was her friend. Or had been. Even though he’d only been in her life for a short time, they’d spent hours talking about her day, about her past, her dreams, her life. For a little over a month, he’d been her rock and her confidant. She sobbed as she realized they’d had deeper conversations than she’d ever shared with anyone, even Drew—and he was supposed to be her boyfriend. She gave herself over to a night of tears as the shock of Evan’s revelation wore its way through her system.

When she woke the next morning, Becca didn’t feel like going in to work. She didn’t even feel like dragging herself out of bed. Instead, she grabbed her cell phone off her bedside table and called in sick.

She knew it was bad form, that everyone would assume that she was simply too hung-over to function. She didn’t really care if that’s what they thought though. And besides, it was partly true.

Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen, but only for long enough to grab some painkillers and a glass of water. Then she dragged herself back into bed where she stayed until there was a knock on the door sometime in the middle of the afternoon.

The knock became a pound before she could reach the door.

“Rebecca Lewis you open this door right now or so help me I’ll come in there and make you open it!” Cathy’s voice shouted through the wood.

Becca ignored the lack of logic in the remark—if Cathy was in the house, she wouldn’t need to be opening the door—and pulled the door open before blinking in the bright sunlight that followed her friend into the house.

“What are you doing?” Cathy demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re never sick. More than that, you never call in sick after a party, especially considering you were barely drinking. And you are certainly never in your pajamas at four in the afternoon. So what gives?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Becca said, earning her a bitch-brow and a look that said, “You know exactly what I mean” in return. “Fine, I had a visitor after Drew left last night.”

It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Cathy didn’t specifically need to know that the visitor had been living in her darkroom for the better part of six weeks.

Cathy grabbed her arm and led her to the sofa.

“Who was it?” she asked, her voice full of scandal and intrigue.

“Evan.”

The corner of Cathy’s lips lifted into the beginning of a smile before she caught herself. “And?”

“And you were right.”

“He’s so in love with you.” Cathy giggled.

The reminder of the conversation from the previous evening made her stomach twist. “Yeah, apparently.”

“You know I have to say it, don’t you? I don’t get the chance very often, so when I do, I have to say it.”

Becca motioned for her to do what she had to.

“I told you so!” Cathy’s giggle echoed through the house.

It was the complete opposite emotion to the one winding through Becca’s body.

“What is it? Are you worried about how you’ll tell Drew?” The way Cathy spoke, it was like it was a forgone conclusion that she’d pick Evan.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Cath.”

“Why? He likes you, and it’s clear you liked him too. What’s the problem?”

“He only likes me because I remind him of—” Becca caught herself just in time and replaced the story of her great-aunt with the next best thing “—of an old girlfriend of his.” It was mostly accurate after all.

“He told you that?”

Becca shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“Does it really matter?”

“It might. Maybe you remind him of her just because you’re his type. I mean granted it’s not a great way to admit you love someone, but he’s a man. Men fuck up all the time.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I told him to leave.” Tears pricked at Becca’s eyes again, but she refused to let them fall.

“Oh, Becca.” Cathy threw her arms around her. “I’m sorry. I know how much you liked him.”

Becca didn’t have the energy to correct her friend and remind her once more that it was Drew she liked; Drew that she was in a relationship with. Evan was nothing more than the conduit for the spark that created that relationship.

Even as Becca had the thought, she knew it was wrong. It occurred to her that all the times she’d looked to Evan to get a hit of the emotions that she’d been so certain emanated from him in a reflection of what she felt for Drew that what she was actually feeling was his love for her—and possibly what was in her own heart. She shut down the dangerous notion before it had time to take root and tangle its way through her heart. It was bad enough to know that her cupid had apparently been in love with the reflection of her aunt in her. To consider the fact that she might have had genuine feelings for him, ones that extended just a little further than the friendship she’d thought she felt, was a little too much to cope with.

“Why don’t I go get us some coffee?” Cathy suggested.

Becca just nodded.

When Cathy returned, not too long after she’d disappeared into the kitchen, she had an armful of the gifts from Becca’s party—the ones that were still sitting unopened.

“You know, people might think you’re ungrateful if you don’t even open the wrapping before you decide that you don’t like a gift.”

The last thing Becca felt like doing was having any reminder of the previous night, but Cathy wouldn’t be deterred.

“I wanna see what everyone got for you.”

Becca could have sworn she saw Cathy rub her hands together in delight. Cathy left the room once more, returning this time with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Before Becca had decided whether or not to decline a drink, there was one in front of her.

“Open this one first,” Cathy said, passing across a small package. “That’s from me and Gary.”

Remembering some previous gifts, including a number of B.O.B.s of various shapes and sizes, Becca was almost afraid to open the parcel. At the very least, she was glad they were alone and not surrounded by the rest of her friends. In fact, that was a big part of the reason why she hadn’t opened the presents the previous evening while the party had been in full swing. She’d been friends with Cathy long enough to have a good sense of caution.

“Is it dangerous?” Becca asked as she peeled back the wrapping.

“Depends on what you mean by dangerous.” Cathy winked at her before grinning so wide Becca could swear she saw wisdom teeth.

She actually sighed in relief when she pulled out a box of massage oils.

“Since you’re all loved up with the good doctor now, Gary thought we needed to do something a bit more sensible.” Cathy actually pouted, making Becca smile. “I swear that man is getting soft in his old age. Well, not literally soft, if you know what I mean. He has no problems in that department at all. In fact—”

“What’s next,” Becca said, cutting Cathy off. Usually she was able to tolerate Cathy’s innuendos and frank conversation, but the reminder of soft cocks made Becca think of Evan and his apparent problem which had never been a problem when he was around her.

Should I have realized sooner? Everyone else seemed to. Becca had been so certain that the feelings everyone else saw were a reflection of what she felt for Drew manifested in Evan. But now that she knew the truth, she wondered whether she shouldn’t have been so blind. So certain.

What would it have changed?

He still would have loved her only for the reflection he saw of her great-aunt.

Cathy passed her another gift and for a while they were back to drinking wine, making small talk and guessing what each gift could be.

“Here’s Drew’s.” Cathy passed her a long, flat rectangular present.

“I don’t remember him bringing anything.”

“I think he ducked back out to the car to get it when you were talking to . . . Never mind.”

Even though Cathy hadn’t said the name, it echoed through Becca’s mind anyway. Evan.

She peeled back the wrapping of the gift and resisted the urge to sigh when she read the book cover.

“Influential woman in history?” Cathy questioned.

Becca shook her head. “Don’t ask.”

“What’s up with you two?”

Becca guessed that Cathy figured two glasses of wine and a bit of chatter was enough of a salve to allow Becca’s worries to flow. Instead of resisting, Becca told Cathy of the arguments between her and Drew. All of them.

Cathy’s mouth twisted as she considered Becca’s statement. “It sounds like he just wants you to be all you can be.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t the army, Cath. I just—” she sighed as she struggled to find the right words “—I just don’t understand what’s wrong with wanting to focus on family and photography more than my career.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s also nothing wrong with him wanting to see you achieve your full potential. You’re both right, really. Which means that you just need to work it out between the two of you. Assuming you want to work it out that is.”

Becca narrowed her eyes, there was a lot implied in Cathy’s statement and she didn’t want to jump to conclusions about exactly what it might be without at least giving her friend the benefit of the doubt first. “What do you mean?”

Cathy leaned forward, grabbing both of Becca’s hands in hers. “I just mean that maybe you’ve been looking for ways to get out of the relationship even before you knew how Evan felt.”

“Are you saying I’ve been self-sabotaging?” Becca shook her head. “I don’t self-sabotage.”

Cathy gave a small, chuckle which spoke of pity and compassion. “Oh, honey, you are the queen of self-sabotage.”

“No, I’m not.” Although, the instant Evan had revealed the truth, she’d thrown him out. But that had been justified hadn’t it? Sure he’d been trying to say more, but it wasn’t like there was anything that he could say to change the fact that although he’d said he loved her it was only for her likeness to another. And sure she wasn’t the sort to just go along with Drew’s plan because he wanted them, but that wasn’t the same thing as self-sabotaging, was it? “Am I?”

A knock on the door ended the conversation and Becca looked up to the clock over the kitchen door. “Crap, that’ll be Drew, where did the evening go?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Cathy grabbed the two wine glasses and the empty bottle, carrying them into the kitchen.

Just as Becca answered the door, greeting Drew with a smile, Cathy swept back out from the kitchen and continued to the door. Drew stepped out of the way to let her pass.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Cathy said.

Holding the door in place while she waited for Cathy to leave and Drew to come in, Becca nodded.

“Do you know how bad it looks calling in sick the day after you throw a party?” Drew asked. He hadn’t even moved from the doorstep.

What’s he waiting for? A formal invitation? “Hello to you too,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just had to deal with Dad grilling me about how much you’d had to drink last night. I told him you didn’t have much and that you’d been showing flu-like symptoms most of the day yesterday.”

“You stood up for me?”

Drew frowned in response to her question. “Of course I did. I care about you Becca, even when you make silly choices.”

“Yeah, of course, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Must just be because you’re so sick.” He chuckled and she gave an unwilling smile.

“That must be it. Did you want something to eat? I’m not sure what I’ve got, but I think there are some leftovers in the fridge.”

“I brought something, I hope you don’t mind?” He held up a bag of Chinese that he’d held behind his back.

“Mind?” She reached for the bag. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until the smell of the spices carried to her from the simple paper bag and made her mouth water. The fact that it was a meal loaded with carbs and salt only made it better. “I’m starved.”

“You sit back and relax, and I’ll get some plates.”

She relaxed onto the sofa wondering whether maybe Cathy was right. Maybe the problems she’d had with Drew were mostly in her head. After all, he was sweet—if a little misguided in his present-giving and career-advice techniques.

As she watched Drew walk into the kitchen, she tried to ignore the book on the coffee table as steadfastly as she tried to ignore the nagging sensation inside that something was missing—something like Evan. After Cathy’s revelation about her being a self-saboteur, she was willing to push some of those doubts aside for the moment. She made a split-second decision.

Instead of following Drew’s request, Becca followed him into the kitchen and grabbed the spare key to her house that sat on top of the fridge.

“Becca, what’s up?” Drew asked when he realized she hadn’t listened to him.

“I just wanted to say thank you, for sticking up for me, and for bringing me food. I l—” she was going to say love, but it felt awkward on her tongue. “I like you a lot and I want you to have a key so you can come and go as you please.”

His face screwed up a little in surprise. “I’m not going to move in; we’ve only been dating a month.”

“I know, and I’m not asking that. I’m just saying that maybe you don’t need to rush straight out after a date. Maybe you can stay a little while until I’m asleep and then let yourself out. Or you can drop by at any time.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Becca.”

After they’d eaten dinner, they sat at the kitchen table in somewhat companionable silence. Becca couldn’t help remembering the evenings where she’d sat in a similar position with Evan. Only Evan had nudged and prompted gently to get her to talk about her day—or about anything really. At the time, it was easy to believe he cared about her. Only now she knew that was partly a lie. He cared about who he thought she might have been in a past life.

When Drew stood and offered her a hand up, she followed him into the bedroom knowing that by ignoring all the issues that kept circling her mind she was either doing the best thing she could—or making the worst mistake of her life.

Evan had experienced the gamut of human emotions, from rage to love, from heartbreak to joy, and everything in between. Never before had he ever experienced anything as terrifying or horrid as the coldness that echoed from Becca as she threw him out of her house. It was like a spinning, howling vortex of nothing. He wanted to stay and defend himself, to justify his actions, but he couldn't hurt her like that. As soon as the word “go” had left her mouth, he’d decided that if she wanted him gone, he'd leave.

He just didn't know where.

Or how.

His best attempt to escape her anger—no, not anger. Anger was an emotion at least and she was upset with him to levels so far beyond mere human emotions; Whatever it was, it had seen him end up in her front yard. He tried desperately to concentrate on any of his past matches, anyone at all whom he could get a fix on, but they seemed to swirl through his head and heart in a blur. His vision spun as if he were strapped into a tilt-a-whirl, trying to focus on their faces as he whizzed by while they all stood motionless on the sidelines.

He tried to connect to Karen, and ended up in Becca's kitchen. Going back one further, he tried Mark, and ended up in Becca's bedroom. He gave up, focusing instead on getting out of the house before Becca found him and assumed he was deliberately trying to hurt her.

He didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't seem to escape her either.

With his unique escape ability failing him, but needing to get as far from Becca as he could to avoid ending up back at her side, he resorted to the old fashioned way of travelling—hitchhiking and a greyhound bus—to head back toward his old haunts in Hoboken.

As he travelled, he tried desperately to connect with anyone other than Becca—going forward to a future match or back to a past one, he didn't care—but there was nothing other than the gaping abyss which had sucked all happiness out of him.

It reminded him of the hole in his chest that guilt had eaten away at him until he'd seen no other choice but to end it all. Only that wasn't an option any longer, a cupid couldn't die. They could only exist or . . . not. And he didn’t know how to bring about the not.

When he arrived at his old haunt, he found his way to Karen’s place—the old fashioned, one foot in front of the other way—and cloaked himself. Lingering on her doorstep, he wondered what he needed to do to connect to her energy rather than Becca’s. He needed something to give him strength; he was barely able to hold himself upright and had been mistaken for a hobo on no less than three occasions during his journey.

He’d never had to work to forge a connection to an assignment before. The bond was always just there, simmering beneath the surface after the first time he’d concentrated on their name and started the link. Now, nothing he did seemed to help. Even standing yards away from Karen, his connection remained firmly with Becca miles and miles away. It was almost as if there was an elastic band binding him to her side that had been pulled so taut that it was ready to snap back if he stopped resisting it for even a second.

Trying to get anything more from Karen was useless, even though she appeared blissfully happy sitting on the sofa with her new husband, he couldn’t feel it—any of it. Evan crept back outside and began to wander the streets. Even though he’d spent the better part of fifty years in the city, it no longer felt like home. The small, sometimes cramped, basement darkroom in a boxy house miles to the west held that title. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the tug ready to pull him back to Becca’s side.

He didn’t want that.

No, it wasn’t that he didn’t want that.

He actually wanted it, quite desperately. He just figured that Becca didn’t want him there. He could feel the very truth of that through his connection to her—and if she didn’t want him, he wasn’t going to force his company on her. It wouldn’t help anyone. After seeing the look of horror and disgust on her face as he’d revealed the truth, he didn’t want to do anything further to displease her. Even if that meant he’d never be able to see her again. The thought was agonizing, but he’d do whatever he had to in order to keep her happy. Not for any benefit it would give him through the connection, but because he genuinely wanted her to have happiness more than anything else.

Even as the thought struck him, he threw himself at the mercy of those bodiless entities that seemed to govern his life, or afterlife as it was, and begged that they give him something: either grant him a new assignment or take him from the pain of having lost that which was most important to him.

Honestly, he no longer cared if he ended up in Heaven or Hell, just so long as he didn’t have to see that look of disappointment and anger in Becca’s face ever again. He’d performed his final match, after all. Becca was with Drew, and they were happy—enough.

Not that he wanted Becca to only be happy enough; he wanted her life to be everything she wanted it to be.

After his desperate request, he waited a moment, and then a moment more. It was almost as if the world around him had taken an indrawn breath while it waited for the decision of his future to be weighed and issued. Just when Evan was certain that nothing was going to happen, something did. A new name popped up in his mind, and he was finally able to focus on something other than Becca’s heartbreak.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The following week at work, Becca pretended everything was back to normal. She convinced herself that she didn’t miss her cupid—hadn’t wondered where he might have gone or whether she’d truly seen the last of him. That didn’t stop her from obsessively checking every empty chair nearby just in case he was sitting there, invisible and cloaked.

She didn’t want him to be. Not at all. Not even a little, itty bitty tiny bit, deep inside her heart. She hated him, after all.

He’d lied to her and let her think that he just wanted to be friends. He didn’t deserve her thoughts to flicker in his direction, worrying that maybe the reason he hadn’t come back was because he’d been hurt. Or punished. Or worse.

The cursor on the computer blinked at her as she completely forgot what she was supposed to be doing while she was so busy not thinking about Evan.

Stupid, freaking cupid.

She hadn’t been able to enjoy Drew’s presence and had actually been glad when his roster at work became busier. Of course, she’d helped Doctor Petersen set the roster, and had convinced Drew’s father that Drew was desperate for more time in surgery.

She hadn’t even had sex with Drew for four days, which was something of a record for them. One that she wasn’t particularly happy about.

By the eighth day after she’d thrown Evan out, she was sick of trying not to think about him constantly. Instead of heading home after work, she drove to the cemetery. She didn’t have her camera with her, so it wasn’t a photography session—she had a very specific destination in mind and wouldn’t be satisfied until she reached it.

She strode toward her family plot, hoping that there would be something there that offered her some sort of clarity. It wasn’t that she hoped that Evan would have visited the grave—or that he might suddenly pop out of hiding if he realized her intended destination. Her visit had nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.

Instead of Evan, she found nothing but the four headstones which had always sat there. This time, she paid a little more attention to her great-aunt Rose’s headstone, but there was still nothing. She felt no connection with the grave, which she’d thought she might have done if she was really Rose’s reincarnated soul. Even the dates inscribed on the stone bore no special significance in her mind.

There was nothing to indicate that the grave was anything more than what it had always been—or that she was any different to who she’d always been.

Lost for what else to do, she huffed, threw her hands up in the air, and turned away.

“This is ridiculous,” she said to thin air.

By the time she got home, her frustration was at boiling point. There was only one person—thing—that had the answers she was looking for, and she definitely didn’t want to speak to him. Maybe she wanted to know that he wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, but that was only her guilt reacting to the fact that she’d thrown him out without waiting to hear his side of everything. She didn’t need to know his side to know that he’d hurt her though.

Pulling into her garage, she saw boxes piled up along shelving on the back wall once more. They’d been there for years, the pile had already started before she moved in when her parents died and had only grown over the years until her nana had passed away too. Then it had all just sat there. She’d meant to get around to cleaning them out.

One day, she’d promised herself countless times.

“Looks like today’s the day,” she said to Millie, knowing that she wouldn’t get a response from the Mustang, but feeling like the statement meant far more to her if it was spoken aloud.

After quickly changing into a pair of yoga pants with a hole in the knee and a t-shirt that hadn’t seen the light of day for at least five years, she headed back to the garage with a pair of scissors and some tape to reseal the boxes she opened in her search.

Even though she hadn’t really known exactly what it was she was looking for, she found it in the third box she opened. The first two had been filled to almost overflowing with information about her and her parents. The third was an older box, the edges frayed and tattered, and the original tape brown and lifting off the cover. Sitting on top of the three-quarter filled box were a small stack of newspaper clippings listing different details about the trial over Rose’s death. Buried deeper beneath those hid some information about her death—including her death certificate—and something that looked like old, yellowed envelopes were hidden even further down. It was definitely a box of Rose’s memories, and she hoped it would give her an insight into her great-aunt’s life.

Becca carried the box into the house and down the stairs into her basement. It felt right to open this box properly down there, among the memories of what she’d shared with Evan. Not that she wanted to relive any of that friendship. Not. At. All. She just wanted to find answers and it was the most convenient place to do it.

She dug out the crinkled, rough paper that held the clippings about the trial. They were only small scraps of paper and easily lost, so she kept them all together in a neat pile to one side of the box. Digging deeper, her fingers closed around a photo and a handful of the envelopes she’d seen.

A gasp rushed from her lips as she looked at the photo—it was like looking at an aged photograph of herself. She could see exactly what Evan had seen in her, but it didn’t make her feel better. If anything it reminded her of the reasons why she’d thrown him out of her life. The love he’d offered her was second-hand, and that wasn’t good enough for her. She might have had issues with Drew, but at least he loved her.

Pushing open one of the envelopes, she pulled out the letter within. The ink had bled into the page a little, and the paper felt like it would disintegrate in her touch, but it was exactly the sort of thing she’d hoped for when she’d gone digging in her nana’s old boxes. It was a link to the past, written by the very hand which had held hers as she tried to find love.

“Dearest Rose,”

Seeing the name laid out at the top, and Evan’s name signing off at the bottom was surreal and yet it cemented everything that Evan had told her as fact.

Well, at least he wasn’t lying to me about that.

She leafed through the box, grabbing out all of the letters she could find, and then sat on the floor to devour them all. The one-sided story of broken hearts and shattered lives was enough to make her heart weep for her aunt. But more than that, her heart ached for Evan. Letter after letter had him begging Rose to leave her husband, just to get away from his jealousy. Becca wondered what Rose’s letters had contained in return to fill Evan with such a strong fear for her life.

Fear that ended up being justified, she thought as a shiver raced down her spine.

The room was almost completely dark by the time she reached the last letter and she couldn’t even read the words in the dim light. She wasn’t sure she needed to read it—or even wanted to really. Everything she’d learned already was far too much for her to understand as it was. She sat in the increasingly darkened room just waiting for everything she’d learned to filter though her mind.

After an hour of reflecting on what she’d learned, she still wasn’t any closer to working out how to comprehend just how big everything that surrounded her seemed to be. A little over seven weeks earlier, all of this would have been so far outside the scope of anything she’d ever considered possible. Now, it almost made sense in some weird way, or at least it had until Evan’s latest revelation. Even his reaction to her was a little clearer after the letters.

Her stomach growled, noisily reminding her of her need to eat, so she pushed herself up from the floor knowing there was little more that she could do but move on.

It would be nothing more than a story in her own mind. What else could she do? She couldn’t live her life in the shadow of someone else, no matter how much she might have hurt for Evan.

She stood and turned on the light, packed everything back into the box and folded the top back over, sealing it back up to push it all back into the past where it belonged. As she ran the tape along the join, she noticed something on the end of the counter—something which she hadn’t seen earlier in her rush to get into the box but which hadn’t been there the last time she’d come down to her darkroom. The handwriting on the gift tag stuck to the front of the large gift-wrapped rectangle was achingly familiar after reading the old love letters to Rose.

Drawn to the addition, she lifted the card and read the back of it, which simply said, “I know you needed a new one.”

She guessed it was the birthday present Evan had left for her on the night of her birthday party—a vague memory of him telling her he’d left his present down there playing in the back of her mind.

Unable to swallow because her heart was lodged so firmly in her throat, she tore at the wrapping. Inside was a new light box for her darkroom.

Her hands started to shake as she realized Evan had got her the perfect gift—something she needed but would never have purchased for herself, at least not while the old one was still working even a little. Her great-aunt had never been into photography, it wasn’t something they’d had in common. In fact, it was one of their stark differences.

And yet, Evan had known Becca enough to find this perfect gift.

Her stomach flipped and her heart lurched at the thought.

It was proof that even though he’d said he loved her because he saw the soul of her great-aunt, he’d known Becca too. She’d kicked him out in the middle of some explanation.

Was that what he was trying to tell me?

She wanted to see him, to force him to explain how he knew the right gift to buy her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to open that can of worms just yet. Instead, she raced around the space—her growling stomach long forgotten—set up the new light box, and then grabbed some of the negatives she’d developed but never printed.

Although she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, Evan had a somewhat starring role on each roll she’d taken since the first time he’d appeared in her car. It was part of the reason she’d been reluctant to spend significant time printing the images while he was standing right next to her. She hadn’t wanted him to think that she was obsessed with him.

Would he have confessed sooner if he’d known?

Now that she was alone, now that the memory of their every moment together was all that she could think about, it was time she saw a tangible reminder of the time they’d shared.

When the first image bloomed across the paper, one from their morning tousle in her bed, she saw his single dimple cut into his cheek in the image and she smiled in response to the reminder of his perfect grin. His eyes practically sparkled where they were focused on her behind the camera. Her stomach clenched when she saw the look in his gaze that she’d always assumed was a reflection of the way she and Drew felt for each other.

Every look, every smile, every touch that they’d shared ran through her mind and, as it did, she made a rather startling discovery.

Evan was almost disappointed at how easy his assignment had been. Instead of a few weeks’ worth of tracking and following to determine what his latest assignment wanted, he was confronted by a couple of best friends who were clearly meant for each other but who were both too afraid to take the first step.

One evening, a broken heel, a torn shirt, and a spilled cocktail was all it took to push the two of them together. Evan wondered whether they were testing him; whether they wanted to see if he could handle the simplest of matches before giving him another harder one. He wouldn’t blame them if they were. After all he’d messed up royally with Becca—so royally that he’d lost his promotion, if that’s what moving on to whatever came next could be called.

The sky was thick with clouds as he walked away from the newly formed couple. The little emotion boost from the assignment rushed through his veins, but it wasn’t enough to wipe out the effect of the heartache he felt over Becca as he made a silent request for the next name.

Rebecca Lewis.

There was a mistake.

There had to have been a mistake.

That it was an error was the only possible reason Evan could think of for that name coming back to the top of his list. Even if Becca and Drew weren’t off celebrating the fact that they were madly in love, there was no reason that those above should want Evan to help match her up again.

“Try again,” he whispered, waiting for another new name as Becca’s floated away in his mind.

Rebecca Lewis.

“I can’t go back there,” he said, hoping he didn’t look completely crazy talking to himself. “She hates me.”

The sky opened up on him, sending torrents of water rushing over him.

“You have got to be kidding me!” he shouted at the sky. “Is this your doing too?”

Rebecca Lewis.

He kicked at a puddle in front of him. “That’s not an answer!”

Rebecca Lewis.

This time the name was accompanied by an ache that almost tore his heart in two. He fell to his knees at the same time as he released his mental hold on the rubber band-like presence of his connection with Becca, snapping him back to her side in an instant.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Becca was surrounded by Evan on all sides, she’d printed a significant portion of the photos she’d taken of him and even though she knew there were a number of them—at the time she hadn’t wanted him to simply disappear from her life without her having some proof he’d existed—she didn’t realize exactly how many there were until so many of them surrounded her. She’d been working hard for a solid hour and a half; she had to stop because she’d run out of surfaces to hang them all to dry. And she’d only barely scratched the surface.

With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten how much she loved being in her darkroom. She was so completely engrossed in her task of cleaning up after her printing session, and singing at the top of her lungs like she usually did when she was alone in her space, that she didn’t hear the basement door open. The harsh overhead lights flooding the space silenced her song, and caused her to scream.

“What are you doing down here in the dark?” Drew asked.

“What are you doing here?” she asked at the same time.

“You’ve seemed a little distracted lately,” Drew said. “And Dad told me you were the one who convinced him to roster me on so much because apparently I wanted the extra experience. I thought I should check on you and see if everything was all right. If we were all right.” There was a sorrowful edge to his voice that she wanted to erase.

“Why are you down here though?” she asked as her heart began to return to normal speed.

“I was worried about you when you didn’t answer the door.”

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly. She wanted to get Drew out of the darkroom though; she didn’t think he’d appreciate her latest photography project.

Almost as if her thoughts had guided his gaze, he spotted the nearest picture. “Is that—is that Evan?”

“Yeah, he was helping me with this project before he left.”

“Project implies there’s a grand scheme, Becca. This is just you wasting your time.”

And so we come back to this. With the echoes of the warnings Evan had issued Rose in his letters, Becca viewed Drew’s statements in a new light. She was sure he wouldn’t hurt her—he wasn’t a violent man—but that didn’t mean he was right for her.

The contrast between the thoughtful gift which Evan had found for her—which proved that she meant more to him than just being a reminder of the one he’d loved before—and the impersonal one Drew had given her was so stark that it was impossible to ignore any longer. Maybe she’d told Evan to leave, maybe she’d never see him again, but that didn’t mean she could go on lying to herself that Drew was Mister Right. He wasn’t the one that she loved—she knew that know with no doubt in her mind.

Even though she was certain there was someone out there who would be perfect for Drew, she’d realized just that afternoon that it wasn’t her. Her love for him had been second-hand, and everyone deserved more than that.

I’m no better than Evan, she thought.

“Are you in love with him?” Drew’s face was lined with hurt and confusion as he continued to stare at the photos.

Becca knew there was no point denying it—she couldn’t even fool herself anymore. Somewhere along the way she’d fallen heart and soul for Evan, and she didn’t even know where he was. Even though she might not have been able to have the one she wanted, it wasn’t fair to Drew to expect him to be a substitute.

“I’m sorry,” were the only words she could find when she opened her mouth.

Becca could see the hidden heartbreak hovering just beneath the surface of Drew’s carefully constructed façade of calm.

“We could have been so great together,” he said as a frown overtook his features.

“We were.”

He nodded. “I get it.” He placed the key Becca had given him down on the counter. “I’ll let myself out.”

She wanted to ease his heartache, wanted to find some way through where no one needed to be hurt. “Drew, please—”

He stopped and held up one hand. “Just let me go, Becca. It’s clear I’m not wanted here. I don’t want to waste time with someone who doesn’t want the same things I do.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. She knew she had no right to her sorrow, but she’d never intended to hurt anyone. Especially not Drew.

“Maybe one day, I’ll accept that apology,” he muttered. “But right now, I just need to be away from all of this.” He waved his hands in the direction of Evan’s photos.

Before Becca could say another word, he’d headed back up the stairs. A few seconds later she heard the front door slam loudly shut.

“What have I done?” she asked the empty room as fresh tears rose to her eyes. She’d managed to push away the two guys she cared about most in just over a week. Her head sank onto the counter as she let her tears consume her, but snapped up again the second she heard the crash.

Becca’s heart called out to Evan with such fierce need that he didn’t care what she’d asked. If she sent him packing again immediately, he’d leave, but he needed to see that she was unharmed first. Because her hurt was sapping his ability to move or think, and because he was so desperate to just get to her, he landed in her darkroom with a heavy thud. When he tried to right himself, he bumped into a stand holding photos left to dry.

“Evan?” Becca gasped, no doubt taking in his slumped over form and soaking wet clothing.

The weight that was on him lessened considerably in an instant as her concern for him overtook her agony. It doubled again when he wondered whether Becca deliberately minimized her hurt just so that he could leave.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to come. You’re in pain. So much pain.” He pushed aside his worry that he might be thrown out. Using all of his strength, he straightened himself until he was standing upright. Even though he was soaked, the water was the least of his concerns. Becca was his primary focus. When he took a second to look around the room though, he saw himself staring back at him from a number of angles. For a moment, he was too surprised to speak—or to even think.

When he finally found his voice, he asked, “What is this?”

“It’s a project.” Becca’s words were a reflex, but he was willing to let her try to convince him that’s what it was—especially if it meant that she wasn’t throwing him out again straight away like he’d feared.

Her words drew his gaze to her. She looked terrible. Well, she looked beautiful, but the ravages of sorrow and stress had played havoc on her face—her skin was red and blotchy, dark circles ran under her eyes, and her lower lip trembled as she looked at him.

He spun on the spot, taking in all of the photos. It was a little disconcerting seeing himself from so many angles. Many of the photos were from places where he didn’t even realize she’d photographed him or times when he’d been certain that he’d seen a flash, but she’d denied it.

He swallowed heavily. “What sort of project?”

She frowned. “I didn’t want to lose you. For a while, I was worried that you might just disappear out of my life when I started seeing Drew. I see now why you didn’t.”

“I think there might be more to it than either of us imagined,” he said, knowing that the suspicion he had was growing stronger by the minute.

“What do you mean?”

“When, well, when I first woke after, you know, I was offered a choice.”

She nodded, he’d explained a little about that.

“I chose to be a cupid because I was promised paradise if I did.”

“So?”

“So, I think you’re tied into it somehow. I don’t think I was sent to match you up with someone else, I think—” He couldn’t voice what he thought, how could he? The last time he’d tried to admit that he loved her, she’d sent him from her side.

“You think this here, between us, is why you’re here?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m certain the answer is here at your side. I want you so badly it hurts, but I can’t do that to you. I know you think that I only want to be here because of Rose, but it’s not that. It’s really not.

“I loved her so much, and it hurt like you wouldn’t believe to lose her. But it hurts more to be away from you, Becca.” He took a step closer to her, before stopping himself. It was like there was an invisible cord drawing him to her, a cord which he resisted with everything he was worth—he didn’t want to make any mistakes that might see him thrown out again. “Even though you share a soul, you’re a different person. I—I know that and, well, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I love you.”

A small smile grew on her lips.

“Just you. Becca Lewis, you’re the only one I have room for in my heart now. And I know I can’t expect you to leave Drew and take a chance on a cupid. I don’t have anything to offer you except that love, and I don’t—”

She’d moved closer to him as he’d been talking and pressed her finger lightly against his lips to cut him off. “As of about five minutes ago, I’m not with Drew anymore.”

The timing of her agony made sense. “Did he leave you? Is that why you were in pain?”

She smiled sadly and reached for Evan’s hand. It was almost like she was as desperate to touch him as he was to hold her.

But surely that can’t be the case, he thought, trying to quell the hope that was building in his chest.

“Neither of us did the leaving really,” she explained. “I think we just both came to the realization that it wasn’t working.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I think we both discovered the same thing today.”

Evan’s heart raced and he couldn’t tell which of the emotions swirling inside of him were his and which were Becca’s. “Which is?”

“That I have feelings for someone else.”

Evan couldn’t even dare to hope that she meant what he wanted her to mean. His voice was cracked and broken as he asked, “Who?”

“Ask me again,” she instructed instead of answering, pushing him lightly and trapping him against the counter.

Evan was confused by her question and overwhelmed by her nearness. The spark of love racing through her body didn't even need his influence to be brighter than any he'd ever felt before. “Ask you what?”

“What you asked me when we first met.” Her voice was a breathy whisper and he focused on her hooded eyes and parted, pouting lips. “Ask me about my ideal man.”

She was so close, so intoxicating. He would barely have to move to close the distance between them and claim her in a kiss. “What’s your ideal man?”

Her lips stretched into a knowing grin as she leaned over him until her breasts were pressed against his chest and her mouth was next to his ear. She shook her head. “Not what. Who.”

“Who?” He barely even heard the word that he'd uttered.

She didn't answer. Instead, she did what Evan had been dreaming of only moments earlier, closing the last of the space between them and pressing her lips against his.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A week had passed since their first kiss, a blissful week for Becca where every day was a fresh date. With nothing else to do with his time, Evan seemed to have all day to come up with wonderful experiences for her. She’d find flowers in the most random places, not just roses but primroses, lavender, jonquils and peonies. She found them in her locker at work, on her bedside table when she woke, taped to the bathroom mirror in the morning.

She probably should have felt guilty about being so indulged, but she didn’t. She just felt adored. And not just for what she looked like on the outside—for the similarities she shared with his first love—but for who she was inside.

On the first day, he’d home-cooked a menu that would have put a five-star restaurant to shame. Well, in Becca’s mind it could have anyway. There was something extra special about someone with limited cooking ability taking the time to learn and then apply techniques to make a three-course meal that was entirely edible. The cheesecake parfait was her favorite. Based on the way Evan squirmed as he watched her eat, it seemed it was his favorite too.

After dinner, they’d shared a few lazy kisses and then had gone their separate ways. Becca to her bedroom and Evan to, well to wherever else in the house he wanted to go while she slept. Probably her darkroom.

On day two, he’d arranged a quiet movie night. He offered Becca the choice between four different devastating chick-flicks that she knew would break her heart and make her cry.

“Is the idea of us together so torturous that you want to do this to yourself?” she asked, holding up the cover for Atonement.

“No, I wanted to show you that I’m happy to be with you, whatever and wherever. I don’t know how long we’ll have before I’ll be—” He cut himself off and frowned.

Becca’s heart ached more at the thought of him leaving than at the thought of watching any of the movies. Even though she’d realized she loved him during her map-cap darkroom session; she was somehow falling for him even more every day and couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. In fact, the few times she’d imagined it, Evan had doubled over before racing to her side to see that she was okay.

Despite the certainty with which he’d told her that the answer to his salvation—his prize—was with her, nothing more had happened. He hadn’t been called away, but nothing had changed with him either. They seemed to be stuck in a weird limbo state and neither of them knew whether they’d have years together—or days.

Evan took the DVD from her. “I just want to prove to you that I’m happy to be at your side, and that I can take whatever life throws at us.”

Instead of inflicting agony on Evan the way Becca thought the movies might, he’d sat with one arm around her as she’d snuggled against his chest while he radiated joy and love. Whenever she’d stolen glances at him, he looked absolutely at peace.

“Why didn’t that hurt you?” she asked after it had finished.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a smile that featured her favorite feature of his. “Did you want me to be in agony?”

“No, of course not, I just wondered. I mean, how does it work exactly?”

He smiled. “The last few days, being here with you like this, it’s like living at a Vegas buffet. It’s been a smorgasbord of all the best emotions.”

“I’m a Vegas buffet?”

“Mmhmm, a tasty one.” He nuzzled into her hair and kissed her neck.

She attacked him with kisses that stole both their breaths away. Although she could feel his need pressing firmly against her hip, he made no move to take it further than the tender kisses they shared.

The rest of the week continued in the same vein—with Evan coming up with ever more elaborate dates in her own home. Anything from blissful massages to another romantic candle-lit dinner. And although work had been a little awkward having to cope with the fallout of the breakup with Drew, knowing that Evan would be at home when she got there, and finding his little gifts at random intervals, made it much easier to cope with it all. She wished she could do something to ease Drew’s mind, but knew the best help she could give him was not to look too happy—something she worried she failed at constantly.

Besides the uncertainty they were living with, the only thing that was starting to wear her down was the lack of progression between them. Each night, she wanted nothing more than for Evan to sweep her off her feet, carry her into the bedroom and have his way with her. Only, it never happened.

She could see, and feel, that he wanted her, but something seemed to be stopping him from taking it further. She’d even had to resort to a B.O.B. as her frustration over the need he inspired within her reached a boiling point. She tried to remind herself that for all his modern bluster, he was a little more old-fashioned at heart. But that didn’t stop her from craving his touch everywhere.

When, on the seventh day after their first kiss, he presented her with a huge canvas print of the photo she’d been developing the first time he’d seen her—the photo that had been ruined when she’d crashed into him—it ignited her desire for him to a level at which nothing else would be able to satisfy it. It was in that instant she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands, and not with a vibrator.

With a confidence that Evan hadn’t expected, Becca grabbed his hand and led him toward her bedroom. Throughout all of the dates that he’d organized, he’d been so desperate to show her that he genuinely loved her—that it wasn’t just a desire to bed her that drove him to please her—that he hadn’t wanted to initiate anything physical. Almost every kiss had been her idea, and now this too had to be her choice. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy every blissful second of it though—or that he hadn’t been hoping and longing for it with every fiber of his being. Especially those fibers that she’d inadvertently reawakened the first time he’d ever seen her dreams.

He swallowed heavily when she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his in a fierce kiss. He returned the kiss with all the vigor he could, hoping that it felt as good for her as it did for him.

Truthfully, there was another reason he hadn’t tried to seduce her into the bedroom. He was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to compare with Drew.

Part of him was certain that the first time he took Becca to bed would be the last, that she’d run screaming in the opposite direction. Worse, that she’d run back to Drew’s arms because he was the only one who could satisfy her needs in the bedroom.

Evan’s entire experience when it came to women boiled down to the number one. Not just one woman, but only once with that one woman. He was bound to be terrible at it. He didn’t know all the acrobatic tricks that some other men—Drew—seemed to.

“What’s wrong?” Becca asked, running one hand through his hair.

He shook his head, unwilling to admit that on the cusp of their first time, he was thinking about Drew. “It’s just . . . been a while.”

“It’s like driving a car,” she said.

He frowned, unsure where her analogy came from.

“No matter how long it’s been, you never really forget. If you take your time to warm up the engine and then take it slow enough to ensure no one gets hurt, it’s easier than it looks. And it’ll be much more enjoyable than you expected.”

He laughed, realizing she was talking specifically about the first time she let him drive Millie, not just driving cars in general.

“That’s the Evan I know and . . .” she paused and Evan’s heart stopped. She hadn’t said the “L” word yet. The closest she’d come was when she told him with her lips that he was her ideal man. That had been enough for him.

Now, he was desperate to hear the word that was on the tip of her tongue. He hadn’t really realized how desperate he was until the pause she’d given, but he silently urged her to say it. He knew she loved him, could feel it with the certainty that only his unique view into her emotions being a cupid could bring. But knowing and hearing were two different things. He wanted her to be willing to admit it out loud, to him, but also to herself.

It was her turn to swallow. She seemed to realize the importance of the moment between them just as Evan did.

She caressed his jaw. “I—I love you, Evan.”

He smiled so wide and basked in the sensations that those few words brought to him that he completely forgot to say it in reply. It was only when her disappointment seeped through her love that he realized his error. Her fingers left his skin and fell to her side.

Reaching to take her hands in his, he stood a step closer to her until their bodies were completely flush.

“Becca, I love you.” He basked in the sensation of her enjoyment of that word. “But more than that, I am completely, absolutely, head over heels in love with you.”

“You had to outdo me didn’t you?” she teased.

With a chuckle, he drew her arms around his back. When she linked her fingers together, holding him against her body, he threaded his fingers into her hair. He rested his forehead against hers and took a moment to share her air before slowly pressing his lips to hers.

Her mouth opened to allow his tongue entrance and he willingly took it, stroking his tongue over hers in slow, languid strokes. It was the sort of kiss they’d shared often enough over the last week, but it was loaded with a weight of expectation that made it eclipse any other. Evan could feel it from Becca as much as from himself. Both of their bodies trembled slightly with need.

While Evan dragged his hands across her skin, teasing the hair at the nape of her neck, and just generally enjoyed the sensation of finally living the visions he’d had for so long of being with Becca, her hands were busy. When they broke apart to catch their breath, Evan realized that all of the buttons on his shirt were undone.

Becca’s fingers trailed a path along his pecs and down across his stomach. The soft ministrations of her fingertips caused his muscles to twitch and flicker as his nerves frayed in the very best way. Her gaze was focused on the places her hand stroked and her lips parted with desire. Her captivation was one of the sexiest things Evan could ever remember seeing. It made him as hard as stone.

Drawing in a deep breath, Becca placed both hands on his chest and pushed his shirt off his arms. He reached for the hem of her sundress and pulled it over her head in one swift movement before reclaiming her lips.

She pulled at his shoulders, forcing him closer to her and he wrapped one arm around her waist, lifting her bra-encased chest against his naked one. He used his hold to guide her backward until they stood just to the side of her bed.

“Are you sure—” He couldn’t get out the question because his voice was cut off by a new kiss as Becca reached for the button on his pants.

Taking her actions as a definite “yes,” he reached for the clasp of her bra, using both hands to pull and poke at it to get it undone. When his attention left the kiss to focus on trying to undo the demon-designed fastener that refused to release, Becca chuckled. In a deft movement, she twisted one arm behind her back and flicked the hooks and eyes apart in an instant. The material over her arms and chest loosened instantly.

A shaky breath flowed from Evan as he dragged the straps along her arms, the action causing the cups to fall forward and reveal a little more of her skin with each inch.

As soon as her breasts were free, he moaned. He could still remember the sight of them from the time she’d stripped naked for her bath in front of him, but now he was free to touch. He could feel; he could taste.

With shaking fingers, he caressed one of her breasts, rolling his fingers over the nipple. Becca’s needful moan was like music to his ears and spurred him to dip his head and draw the puckered skin between his lips. His tongue wrapped around the little bud and Becca’s hands fisted into his hair.

“Oh god,” she exclaimed as his other hand copied the action with her other breast.

He laughed and pulled away. “Evan will do.”

Panting with need, she smiled wickedly. “Okay, Evan, let’s do this then.”

She grabbed his shoulders, twisted and pushed, sending him crashing onto his back on the mattress. Her hands were tugging at his pants instantly, pulling them down over his ass, thighs and then off completely. She stood and pulled off her panties before reaching for his boxers, yanking them down to free his desperate erection.

“I thought you said cupids don’t have the required equipment,” she said as she leaned over him and placed an open-mouthed kiss on his thigh.

“Uh, they generally don’t.” His voice was strained and desperate. “I’m . . . oh god!”

He was going to say he was special, but Becca had taken him into her mouth as he was trying to talk.

She lifted away, but not before dragging her tongue along his length on her way up. She chuckled as his body shivered and his cock twitched in response. “Becca will do.”

He smiled, but it soon dropped away as his gaze trailed over her naked body.

“Come here,” he said, with a rough voice dripping with need. He held his arms out for her. She climbed over the bed until her head was level with his and then she placed soft kisses over his mouth and jaw.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he tipped his head back to absorb all of her touches.

Her fingers played lightly on his stomach and he let his fingertips trail along her hip. As Becca’s soft little kisses transitioned into deep, desperate ones, he was overcome with a need to be inside her. He waited though. He wanted Becca, so badly, but he didn’t want to rush anything. If he did, it would be over before it began.

He pulled her closer to him and twisted so that he was hovering over her. With tender strokes, he brushed the hair off her face and stared into her eyes. He was being driven mad by need but wanted to make sure he satisfied her completely first. He kissed her mouth and as he broke away, he pulled himself into a kneeling position.

Starting with one hand, he trailed light kisses down her arm. She giggled as the light attention tickled her skin. When he reached her shoulder, his kisses lingered longer over her body. He lavished attention on her breasts once more, taking the time to draw each nipple into his mouth in turn. He experimented with a combination of gentle scrapes with his teeth and soft strokes of his tongue.

Each time Becca issued a soft moan, or a needful sigh, he repeated the action that had caused it.

“Evan,” she cried, reaching for his chin to guide his eyes back up to hers. “Evan, please, I . . . I need . . .” A shuddering sigh ran through her body as she squirmed beneath his touch.

He glanced up at her face and realized that his touches had become torturous for her. The desperation on her face made him feel powerful and spurred him on. He ran kisses down across her stomach, smiling as her skin flinched with each touch of his lips.

When he reached her hips, he pressed a kiss on either side. Before he had a chance to satisfy some of her need, she stilled him before sitting to kiss him. “There’s time for that later,” she murmured. “Right now, I need you inside me.”

Evan was shocked by her direct approach, but it made him harder—the thought of acting on her words made him ache.

“I need that too,” he murmured.

She placed her hand on his chest and guided him back onto the mattress. She disappeared for a second and when she returned, there was a ripping sound and then her hand was on him, rolling a condom down his length.

He grunted at the feeling of her warm hands touching his cock.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

A grin lifted his lips. “Safety never felt so damned good.”

She chuckled as she moved over him. She placed her lips near his ear. “That’s nothing,” she whispered as she sank over him.

The sensation stole his breath away. It was so much better than anything he’d imagined. He clutched at her hips and looked up at her body as she started to move over him.

Holding onto her hips to keep her in place, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her lips back down to his.

He brushed her hair back off of her face so that he could have an unimpeded view of her gaze as he moved inside her. When he was buried deepest, her eyes widened slightly and her lips parted with a silent sigh.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tipped her head back. The position left her chest exposed and Evan couldn’t help himself. He nipped, and licked, and sucked until Becca came apart around him.

As waves of pleasure rushed from her to surround him completely with bliss, she leaned against him, pressing her whole weight against his chest. Proud that he’d made it through their first time without blowing it by going too early, Evan adjusted Becca in his arms and let her relax into the mattress with a goofy smile.

“That was . . . great!” She sighed.

“What do you mean, was?” he growled as he hovered over her. “We’re still going.”

Her back arched off the mattress as he moved inside her again, timing the action perfectly with a tremoring aftershock of pleasure that continued to course through her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Evan held Becca tightly as she drifted into slumber. Personally, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He could rest—not sleep, because cupids didn’t really ever dream and it wasn’t recuperative at all. But so many emotions crashed through his system that he wasn’t even sure he could relax. He’d never expected for a simple act of physical intimacy to feel so, well, so intimate. Twisting his head, he pulled Becca closer to his side and buried his nose in her hair.

Eventually, he felt his eyes drifting closed as a weariness unlike any other he’d ever experienced dragged him into something that very closely resembled sleep.

When he woke, it was to nothing—the same nothingness that he’d awoken to prior to being offered the choice to become a cupid.

He panicked.

Has my time come?

He couldn’t leave Becca, not now. Not ever. He didn’t want to.

“Take me back,” he demanded. Just like the last time, he had no voice but he knew those entities which he could feel around him could hear him anyway. “I need to go back.”

You have made your final match.

The words echoed around him, through him, the nothingness suddenly bursting with a voice that didn’t form words as much as implant the thought straight into his mind.

“You can’t take me away from her. I love her, and she loves me too. We’re meant for each other.” His panic rose with each word he tried to voice. He wouldn’t leave Becca if he had any chance to stay. He would fight for her—for them both—until the bitter end if he had to.

You will not go anywhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You are free.

“I don’t understand!”

You are free.

The words raced around him on repeat, coursing through his body like the echoed rightness he’d always assumed was the permission of these entities. Or entity. It was hard to know plurals from singular when it applied to nothing and to everything all at once.

You are free.

“I don’t want to be free though. I want to go back!”

Becca stretched languidly as she woke slowly from a great sleep—the best sleep she’d had in a very long time.

She couldn’t remember her dreams, but she could recall the feelings they’d left her with. The memory of a voice calling to her lingered for a moment, but she couldn’t remember the words. Her bed was empty, which wasn’t unusual because it was always empty in the morning, but it still struck her as odd for some reason.

She frowned and fisted her hands into her hair as she tried desperately to bring her dreams back to the front of her mind. It was like trying to shift sand with an open hand, all the individual grains rushed away even as she tried desperately to drag them all closer to her. The voice had uttered something about love, or loss, or something. It faded completely as she roused herself fully awake.

When she did, she took in the rumpled sheets, her naked state, and the trail of clothing that led to the bed and she realized why an empty bed was wrong.

Evan.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms, something she hadn’t done with anyone ever before.

But he was gone.

Why’s he gone?

For a moment, she held her breath and listened for any sound nearby that would indicate that he was still there. A footfall, a clatter of cooking utensils, a shower, anything. There was nothing. Only silence reached her waiting ears.

Where could he be?

She was struck by the inescapable fear that he’d left. That the voice in her head during her dream had been him telling her goodbye. Her heart ached at the thought of him going.

Not now, she thought. Not after that perfect evening that she wanted to relive again and again.

Not ever.

She climbed from the bed, hoping that she would find Evan sitting quietly at the kitchen table like she had so many nights where they were alone together. She grabbed her robe and wrapped it around herself before tying the sash around her waist to hold it in place.

“Evan?” she called as she made her way through the small house. There were only so many places he could be, but no noise came from any of them.

“Evan?” her voice was louder as her fear that he’d left grew.

Had they crossed some line with their actions the night before? Was he being punished for it now?

The sound of her garage door lifting grabbed her attention and she raced toward the noise. Just as Becca threw the side door open, Millie’s engine rumbled to a stop.

Evan glanced at Becca through the driver’s window, clearly confused by the look on her face. Once he’d taken it in, he climbed from the car as quickly as he could. Worry coated his features and she was certain he could feel her panic.

The instant he was out of the car, she was in his arms.

“Oh my god, I was so worried that you’d left!” She peppered kisses over his face.

“Why?”

“You were gone and I . . . I got worried that maybe they’d made you leave.”

He brushed his hand across her cheek. “Never. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He said it with such conviction that she knew something had to have happened.

“Something changed last night. I don’t even know how to begin explaining it, but what I can say is that I’m in this for life. Our life, if you want?”

“You’re not going anywhere?” She almost didn’t dare to ask the question, being that it was so loaded with hope and the potential for disappointment.

He shook his head. “Not unless you want me to.”

She fought a smile. “How do you know?”

“I had a dream last night, and well, let’s just say my contract has definitely expired.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s different now. I’m different.”

“What are you saying?”

“That I’m not a cupid anymore. In fact, I think I’m—” As he spoke, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The action caused her robe to rise up at the back so that when he hugged her, his fingertips brushed across the skin at the back of her thigh. He gently tugged at the collar of her robe, exposing a sliver of her breast. “Are you naked under that?”

“Aren’t we all naked under our clothes?”

“What I mean to say is are you telling me that all that’s between me and that beautiful body of yours right now is this flimsy bit of satin?” He swallowed heavily.

“It could be even less than that, if you want,” she purred in his ear.

He pressed his nose against the curve of her neck. “As tempting as that is, and you have no idea just how tempting it is”—she had an idea because she could feel him straining against his pants—“there’s something much more important I need to do right now.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it comes back to what I was saying before you distracted me with your nudity.”

“Near-nudity,” she corrected.

He nodded. “Near-nudity. Well, what I was saying is that I think, in fact I’m almost positive, that I’m human ag—”

She cut him off again. “You’re human?”

“Completely, ordinarily, human.”

She felt a slight pang of disappointment that he’d given up everything he’d known just to be with her. “Are you okay with that?”

“Okay? Becca this here”—he motioned between them—“a life with you, if you’ll have me, that’s my reward for my service to love. This, you, it’s my paradise.”

She smiled. “A girl could get used to hearing things like that.”

“Well, you should. I’ve been given a second chance at life, and I’m going to spend every minute of every day of it reminding you just how beautiful you are, and how precious you are to me.” His fingers trailed along the collar of her satin gown, and for a second the more important things he’d been talking about earlier seemed to have slipped his mind.

His stomach growled and he gave an embarrassed smile before reaching into the car for a paper bag.

“But right now, I need this.” He held up the bag that obviously contained whatever food he’d gone in search of.

“Are you hungry?” Becca was almost disappointed that she was losing the battle of attention to food, at least until his next words.

“Hungry? I haven’t eaten in over fifty years. Becca, I’m famished.”

The End

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Also by Michelle Irwin

Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire Book 1) - Available Now.

Besieged by Rain (Son of Rain Book 1) – Coming February 2015

About the Author

Michelle Irwin has been many things in her life: a hobbit taking a precious item to a fiery mountain; a young child stepping through the back of a wardrobe into another land; the last human stranded not-quite-alone in space three million years in the future; a young girl willing to fight for the love of a vampire; and a time-travelling madman in a box. She achieved all of these feats and many more through her voracious reading habit. Eventually, so much reading had to have an effect and the cast of characters inside her mind took over and spilled out onto the page.

Michelle lives in sunny Queensland in the land down under with her surprisingly patient husband and ever-intriguing daughter, carving out precious moments of writing and reading time around her accounts-based day job. A lover of love and overcoming the odds, she primarily writes paranormal and fantasy romance.

Comments, questions, and suggestions for improvements are always welcome. You can reach me at writeonshell@outlook.com or through my website www.michelle-irwin.com. Thanks in advance for your correspondence.

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