Cupid's Target Read online

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  Forbidden Publications

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  Copyright ©2007 by JT Schultz

  First published in 2007, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CUPID'S TARGET

  A Forbidden Publications production, JANUARY 2007

  Forbidden Publications

  PO Box 153

  East Prairie, MO 63845

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  CUPID'S TARGET

  Copyright © 2007 JT SCHULTZ

  Cover Art by DAYNA HART © 2007

  Edited by DAYNA HART—No copyright assigned.

  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 an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: Not Assigned.

  Cupid's Target

  By

  JT Schultz

  Chapter One

  "You're a disappointment. You're reckless and selfish.” Zane Cupid's father announced as he paced the white living room carpet. “I can't believe you're my son."

  Sitting in the lavish room usually reserved for entertaining listening to his father rant wasn't the way he had planned to start his morning. It was obviously a Monday. He hated Mondays. They were evil and wicked—as was this talk. The same talk his parents insisted on having every February just before Valentines Day. Some people weren't Christmas people. They were the Scrooges of society. Zane was not a Valentine's Day person. In fact, if there was an anti-Christ, he would be the anti-Valentine. The day sucked more than an anteater.

  "Honey,” his mother cooed and leaned over from her seat on the white sofa to gently rest her elbows on her knees. His father stole a look at her cleavage, and Zane rolled his eyes. “I think your father is just a little disappointed you aren't showing any interest in the family business."

  Zane threw his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Oh yeah, it's a Monday—a Monday from hell. He tilted his head back and grabbed a cinnamon heart candy from the crystal dish on the glass coffee table. He popped it in his mouth and stared at his father in disbelief. “I spend every waking moment at the department store. Heartrings is doing better than ever."

  "Not your mother's family business, mine! The same one my father had and his father had and so on, since the beginning of time."

  His mother scrunched her nose and shook her head at his father. “Lovell, you shouldn't get so stressed, you know you shed your wing feathers when you do."

  "Maybe that's the problem dad. I'm more mortal like mom. I don't even have wings."

  "A birth defect,” his father snapped and continued to pace. Sure enough, every time he turned to stomp in the other direction, he lost a feather or three. His father stopped. “I think it's great that you run that store like a tight ribbon tied box of chocolates, but there are other matters that prove you are selfish."

  This should be good. “Like what?"

  "Have you married and settled down?” His father looked at him and crossed his arms across his chest.

  Lifting his arm Zane glanced at his watch. “Look at the time. I have to get to work.” He stood and grabbed his suit coat from the back of the plush sofa.

  "Not so fast!” his father halted him with a wave of his hand.

  Zane hated it when his father used his supernatural powers. His feet were frozen and trying to move was futile. “Dad, I'm a little big and too old for this."

  His father walked over to him. “You're a baby. You're only thirty-five."

  "If you were a woman you would be past your prime to find a suitable man."

  Trust mom. What do I expect from a former Playboy Bunny?

  Narrowing his gaze, his father studied him. “Your mother and I have been talking. We think you are hitting the arrow right on target with your mother's family legacy. However, you have been sadly neglecting your responsibilities as a Cupid. With that said, we've decided that we are cutting off your spending account and revoking your trust fund."

  "You can't do that!” True, he sounded more like a sixteen year old who had just lost the car keys than a thirty-five year old business executive who drove a BMW, but this was serious.

  "Actually, little heartbeat, we can.” His mother chided sweetly.

  "Please don't call me ‘little heartbeat'.” This is now the first layer of hell.

  "But that's what your father and I called you when you were still in my tummy."

  "It's hard to believe that we met thirty six year ago on Valentine's Day.” His father wiggled his brows in his mother's direction. “You were the prettiest playmate at Hugh's party."

  "Can we skip this story and not hear it for the hundredth time? Tell me how I can prevent you from ruining my life."

  Sighing softly, his mother then giggled. “He's so dramatic. He gets that from me."

  "Certainly not a Cupid trait.” His father looked back to him. “This is the way it's going to work."

  "Speaking of work, I'm going to be late."

  Clearing his throat, his father resumed pacing. “You, Zane, are going to help a lonely soul find true love before Valentine's Day."

  Officially, the elevator has reached the second layer of hell. “That's less than a week away."

  "I, of all people, know when it is. Now this year there is a certain lady at the store that is going to require a little more attention than some of the others on my list."

  I already hate where this is going.

  "Oh, is it the chubby one at the perfume counter?” His mother guessed like it was a game.

  Third level of hell and descending fast.

  "No not Dora, she is on next year's list.” His father smiled demonically. “I was thinking about Charity Patterson."

  "I don't know Charity Patterson.” Zane sighed and racked his brain. “The name is familiar though.” He thought harder. Nope—wasn't one of the hotties in lingerie, or the jewelry department? He scrunched his face and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no idea who she is."

  "Well, go change out of your suit into something you can get dirty."

  "Tell me she isn't a cleaning lady.” Not that there was anything wrong with them, he just ... Okay, I'm a snob and I admit it.

  "No, she is a window dresser. Now run along. One week, one true love or bye-bye big bank account.” He waved his hand and released the freeze off Zane's feet. Zane straightened and glared at his father. “This is a joke right?"

  His father rubbed his chin and lifted one white brow. “Nope. Now run along. I'm going to make a cupid out of you yet."

  Pivoting on his Gucci dress shoe Zane headed towards his room to change into jeans and another shirt. He was furious. This was blackmail. His father was giving him an ultimatum.

  This is the seventh layer of hell. I believe the elevator just crashed.

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  Charity Patte
rson stood in the lingerie department and glanced at the racks of sexy and expensive lingerie. The kind she herself would own, if she dated anyone for more than two dates. She glanced down at her black oxford shoes and then back around. Inspiration, she needed it fast. She had two windows to dress tonight and no idea what to do in them. It was almost Valentines Day. Not that it mattered to her. She had to work so a few of the other girls could go out with their husbands or boyfriends.

  She sighed and spotted Eric Lowman from menswear. He smiled and drew closer to her. He was so good looking with his blonde hair and big blue eyes he was positively dreamy. Dreamy and most days didn't know she took in breath. “Hi Eric.” She smiled and quickly ran her eyes over his well defined body and expensive tailor-made suit.

  "Just the girl I'm looking for."

  I couldn't be that lucky. “What can I do for you?” Anything, just ask.

  "Actually, Charity, I was wondering..."

  Ask me out, ask me out, please, ask me out.

  "I was wondering what the hell you were thinking when you created the display in the window for menswear. For Christ's sake Charity, we are trying to show success, power, and with Valentine's Day a week a way, seduction."

  Oh boy! “I would be happy to redo it.” Okay, so hunky department manager is slightly miffed. She studied Eric's handsome face. Nope, he is really miffed.

  "Yes, you are going to redo it. I suggest you move your ass over there and stop it from resembling a funeral.” He smiled, he didn't yell, but he came across as less than sincere.

  Sighing, Charity glanced down at her faded jeans and back up at Eric. “Actually Eric—” Why am I so nervous? Her cheeks burned and she knew she was blushing. “I'm actually off. I only came over to the lingerie department to see some of the new stock so I could put some thought into the window for—"

  "So you put thought in the lingerie window, but not the one for menswear.” He lifted his dark blonde brows and pursed his lips. He looked like a fish. Sexy, but still a fish.

  "I did."

  He leaned on a rack and checked out one of the sales clerk's legs as she went by. He wiggled his brows then winked at her. She giggled and walked off. He turned back to Charity. “You did what?"

  "I put some thought into the menswear window and—"

  "I don't want your excuses. Unlike you, I work on commission, and I am not going to make any sales with the window looking like that. So fix it, or I go to the owner. I'm sure Mr. Cupid would love to know that you aren't doing your job.” He forced a smile and walked away. “Fix it soon, Charity."

  Charity turned, her gaze followed him as he walked through the store. He smiled at the pretty clerks but any one less than perfect, he ignored. As if they didn't exist. She placed a hand on a rack and leaned slightly to see Eric disappear over by one of the make up counters. She leaned a little more. The rack she was touching tipped. By the time she tried to right it she lost her balance, falling back onto her butt. The rack of silk chemises fell over on top of her.

  She sat up, tossing the silk off her and met the eyes of the pretty, blond clerk that Eric had noticed. “Nice one Charity.” She scowled. “Those are expensive. I hope you didn't get them dirty."

  I'm fine, unhurt even. Thanks for asking. “I'm sure they're fine.” She pulled herself up off the ground. She picked up the rack and turned to the blonde. “I'm sorry."

  "Well sorry isn't going to cut it. You made the mess, and you can clean it up.” She turned on her pointy, expensive, designer shoes that Charity was sure gave the elves at Santa's workshop a run for their money.

  She looked down to the ocean of silk on the floor and shook her head. She glanced around and noticed a couple of the other sales clerks rolling their eyes at her.

  Sighing, she bent down and picked up the chemises and started hanging them back up on the rack. This was turning out to be a very bad start to what would no doubt be a very bad week.

  I hate Mondays.

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  Zane was completely speechless. He looked at his father. They were standing off to the side and out of sight from most eyes. He had watched Eric snap at Charity and the humiliation of her blushing and stuttering talking to him. Eric was a wannabe, and nothing but a manager, yet by her clumsy nervousness, you would have thought he was a god. “Tell me you are kidding. No. Find someone else. There is no way.” He frowned. “There is someone else right?"

  "Zane, my boy, what did all the women you date have in common?"

  "Taste, class—I mean they dated me. They were all beautiful and...” he thought a moment.

  "They were also shallow.” His father suggested.

  Okay, there was that. Heck, they weren't all that smart either, but they were beautiful. Did they really need a brain? “So? What's your point?"

  His father fidgeted, his wings no doubt cramped under his suit jacket. His father hated having to tuck them in to appear normal. He was a Cupid after all. Such things at times seemed beneath him. There was no dispute as to where Zane got his snob-like tendencies. “Just watch.” He pointed in the direction where Charity had started a slow shuffle towards the exit. An elderly lady dropped her bags and three of the ‘short skirts’ brushed past her. The ‘short skirts’ were the hot women that worked in the store. They wore short skirts and knew they were beautiful. He liked raised hemlines. He was a leg man.

  Charity stopped and talked to the elderly lady and picked up the bags for her. The lady looked grateful, and Charity smiled. She's nice. Interesting.

  No sooner did the thought enter his head, and the little old lady was on her way. Charity turned and stepped right into a pyramid of boxed chocolates. The pyramid toppled and red velour boxes scattered everywhere. She rolled her eyes as a sales clerk stormed over and threw a full fledged tantrum.

  "She is a walking wrecking crew. How has she not killed herself?"

  Chuckling, his father patted his back. “She just hasn't met her destiny. She is a special lady. Good luck son. Your bank account depends on it."

  He turned to his father. “Dad, she's hopeless and—"

  "You're a Cupid. You'll figure it out.” In the blink of an eye, his father was gone, and Zane was standing in the shoe department. He slowly maneuvered through the racks to where Charity was picking up the velour hearts.

  I can't believe this. How am I going to find her true love? She dresses like its nineteen ninety five. She needs grace, a make over and good lord, confidence. He stopped dead in his tracks. She was exactly the opposite of him. He almost felt sorry for her. She picked up the last box and smiled at the clerk, apologized again and stepped away. So she can smile during adversity. He found himself admiring that.

  "Excuse me, are you the manager?” A soft frail voice asked.

  Zane turned to the elderly woman Charity had helped prior to the destruction and mayhem. “I'm the owner, what can I do for you?"

  "I just wanted you to know that the young woman I see in the windows sometimes was the nicest anyone has been to me in a while. Don't be mad at her for knocking over the display."

  "I won't, and thank you, for letting me know."

  "I have been shopping here a long time. She is one of the good ones."

  Zane glanced in the direction where Charity was moving towards the exit. She opened the door for a woman with a stroller. Zane noted several people had passed the young mother without offering a hand. “She is one of the good ones.” He turned to the woman, but she was nowhere in sight.

  He looked back to the door as Charity stepped outside to the walk. He shook his head and moved after her. This was never going to work. Though if he honestly believed that why was he breaking his neck chasing after her?

  He had to admit it. “I'm curious."

  He also didn't want to lose his trust fund. Maybe she just needed a little work. He spotted her on the sidewalk. Not walking or standing, but butt planted on it and wearing what he guessed was someone's coffee with cream. Okay, maybe she needs a lot of work.

  Chapter Two />
  "I hate Mondays!” Charity looked down at her sweater. This was turning out to be a very bad day, indeed. She placed one palm on the cold cement and went to stand when strong legs in fitted jeans stood in her line of vision.

  She allowed her gaze to run up and over very nice hips, noticed the way the denim fit across the groin. He was certainly packing. A soft dark blue shirt tucked in at his narrow waist and accented a flat stomach. It stretched up over broad shoulders. The man's body was strictly designed for sex and sin. She met dark brown eyes staring at her through long jet black lashes. She blinked, noting the solid jaw, defined cheek bones and a gorgeous face. She blinked again and realization dawned. The well built hunk was the owner of the department store—well the son of the owner.

  Oh hell, my boss!

  "Charity, can I give you a hand?” He extended a strong, well-manicured hand.

  I was about to offer you the same thing. “That would be great, thanks.” She placed her hand in his and heat spread up her arm and over her body. She glanced quickly to their hands then returned her gaze to him. She was thankful she allowed herself to splurge regularly and get her nails done. He pulled her easily to her feet, but the spark at the heat coming from her hand in his threw her a little off balance, and she came forward slightly. His other hand caught her upper arm, and he frowned.

  I'm so fired.

  "Not having a good day are you?"

  Oh yeah, that's the perfect intro to ‘Charity you're fired'.

  She forced a smile. “Not really. Am I fired for knocking over the rack and the boxed heart chocolate pyramid?” She shook her head. “Or the really bad display in the menswear window that resembles a funeral?” She blinked and noticed he was still holding her arm and hand. Heat was moving up her hand through her arm and warming her skin. Especially her cheeks, which were burning. That meant she was blushing. Why did she have to have a hot boss? “Not that I put a coffin in the display window. I think it was a metaphor as opposed to literal."

  She withdrew her hand. She sounded like an idiot.