Read Cupid's Mistake for Free Online

preferred them, since she was so tall herself—and it was
hard to gauge his full height behind the table, but he might be one of the
tallest she'd been out with in a while. Every inch of him radiated a dangerous
sort of sophistication. He wasn't Wall Street by any stretch, but he could
probably chew up a suit or three for breakfast, then play a round of golf with
the fourth.
    A little snap of sexual heat sizzled across her pulse
points. She resisted licking her lips.
    He sat again, those incredible eyes narrowed and glued to
hers. There was something familiar about him, something. . . She couldn't put
her finger on it. It was probably just his Cupid's Cavalry membership photo
tripping her up, but his expression was definitely off. He didn't look remotely
happy to see her. Men were always happy
to see her.
    How odd.
    Mesmerized, she stared and stared, as though she were
looking down a tunnel, unable to tear her gaze from his. Bells rang and
fireworks exploded, just like the women in her family had always claimed. The
rest of the restaurant and its patrons faded into soundless white mist at the periphery
of her vision. For several long, hard beats of her heart, they were the only
two in existence.
    "Miss. . . Kelly?" the man said, and she shivered.
His voice echoed down the silent tunnel, rough and deep. The rumble slid inside
her bloodstream like molten lava, igniting tiny flames atop every nerve ending
it touched.
    Crap-crap-crap.
    Licking her suddenly dry lips, Allison nodded, her field of
vision widening slowly to take in the rest of him. And oh, what a vision. A
weathered face of granite-hewn features carved by a master sculptor, a strong
neck, and militarily-erect posture. Deep-set, boldly green eyes, and even
deeper grooves alongside his wide, unsmiling mouth. Surely those grooves meant
dimples, if he'd only smile. A hard, square chin, those lips. . . And a body
designed for the spectacle of the Colosseum.
    "Miss Kelly?"
    Oh, my.
    "A-Allison, please," she stammered, willing her
voice to work. "And you're Benjamin."
    He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Ben," he
said, the firm line of his mouth kicking up at the corner in a slight smile.
"Ben Turner."
    Wow.
    His deep voice slid along her skin like a caress. Rapid-fire
images of a lifetime spent with this man flashed behind her eyes—a baby
in his arms and another hanging off his shoulders. Teaching a toddler to ride a
bike, high school graduations. Insanely passionate lovemaking. An entire
history. It made her dizzy and breathless, even as her mind shouted at her to
stop the insanity.
    Overheated, she grabbed the glass of water at her place
setting and sipped when she wanted to gulp it straight down and grab his, as
well.
    Cupid's Cavalry hadn't done his membership photo justice,
and she must have skated right over his stats. The man was enormous, all broad
shoulders and bulging biceps outlined beneath his close-fitting black sweater.
His chiseled features and deeply tanned skin spoke of many hours spent
outdoors. Was he in construction? Her mind had blanked. His name floated alone
in the emptied space between her ears, the only concrete bit of information she
could grasp.
    No, military! He was ex-military. And he liked to swim. That
explained the shoulders.
    Sharp cheekbones jutted high and smooth, paler than the
upper half of his face, though they looked slightly sunburned. His hair was
gorgeous. Silky and full, perfectly cut, it waved back from his face like a
glossy pelt of many colors—chocolate, russet, bronze, gold, deep red. An
urge to run her fingers through it swept across her skin, making her fingers
tingle.
    "H-how do you do?" she managed.
    What the hell was wrong with her? She was the seductress,
the man-magnet, the woman who snagged her selections from a never-ending parade
of available men. They flocked to her. She graced them with her
presence—or not—on her whim. Yet here she was, stammering like a school
girl, dangerously close to a blush, her