Her Own Fairy Godmother Read online

  Cyndi snickered. She thought it was through their stomachs.

  4. A night on the town. Take your man on an old-fashioned date. Fix him dinner or go dancing. While in his arms, stare into his eyes.

  5. Tall buildings. In general, guys like big things. Find a place with a good view. Kiss him under the stars.

  6. Funny movies. When you can laugh together, you’re really connecting.

  7. Offer to mend his clothes. Believe it or not, most men are old fashioned and love it when a woman can do domestic housework like this.

  8. Surprise intimacy. Men like it when women surprise them with spontaneous activities for their date.

  9. Great memories. When you’re together, make it memorable. Create memories by taking pictures or writing in a journal.

  10. Tell him ‘I love you’ in a note. Leave little notes around the house, his office, in his car. Telling him you love him will strengthen the relationship.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she sighed. She’d never done any of those things for the men she’d dated. Could that be why she’d never kept them?

  The beeping of the microwave jarred her from her thoughts. She pushed away from her computer desk and hurried into the kitchen.

  Could this article be a sign on how to keep a man in her life? It wouldn’t hurt to try. But who would be her target?

  Damien’s face popped into her head. She scowled, wishing she hadn’t thought of him so quickly. He was the last person that would get involved in a serious relationship. The last thing she needed was to give her heart to him and have him trade her in for a newer version of Barbie. Not only that, but he was a pretty well-to-do man. He drove a fancy car, wore fancy suits to the office, and dated wealthy women. She couldn’t compete with those women.

  She rubbed her forehead and mentally crossed her neighbor off the list. So who would she target?

  The aroma of fried chicken wafted through the air, making her stomach growl. For tonight, she’d put off the ways to win a man and concentrate on filling her stomach.

  Tomorrow she’d find a man and with any luck, she’d make the relationship last.

  CLOSE YOUR OPEN TRAP and wipe the drool off your chin.

  Cyndi snapped her mouth shut, hoping she didn’t look like a wide-mouth bass as she eyed the blond hunk walking beside her boss. Fran Tremaine, Channel Nine’s Station Director, had made it a habit lately of picking Cyndi off her teeth every night before leaving work. It seems she couldn’t please the high-and-mighty middle-aged bombshell boss no matter how hard she tried. Walking as elegant as any famous model on a runway, Fran escorted Tall, Brawny, and Gorgeous down the hall, making introductions as they passed offices and cubicles.

  Familiarity nudged at Cyndi’s memory, but she couldn’t recall where she’d seen this man before.

  She jumped from her chair and hurried from her cubicle toward her co-worker, Amanda. Just as she’d thought, Amanda’s curious eyes followed the pair. Cyndi said a silent prayer of thanks Amanda was married, because as sure as Cyndi was breathing, the single men would always go after a beautiful redhead with sultry eyes—which was not Cyndi at all.

  After stopping beside Amanda, Cyndi bumped her arm. “What’s so interesting?” Although she already had the answer, she didn’t want Amanda to think she wanted to know about the new guy right this very second. That would make her look desperate, right?

  Her co-worker blinked and tore her gaze away from the new man and peered at Cyndi. A knowing smile stretched across Amanda’s mouth. “That’s Maxwell Harrington. He’s taking George’s place now that he’s retired.”

  Cyndi’s eyes couldn’t have opened any wider if she wanted. The rhythm of her heart took on a faster beat. This couldn’t be happening...not to her. The dream walking with her boss was Cyndi’s high-school crush. Max was the super jock, super stud, and had the super personality all the girls flipped over. Especially her.

  “Are you serious?” She looked the man again who slowly made their way toward Amanda’s desk. “He’s the new sports anchorman?”

  “Sure is.”

  “Maxwell Harrington,” Cyndi whispered in remembrance. His name breezed across her lips like soothing fingers over her skin, warming her up quickly. His name sounded just as good now as when she had sighed it dreamily in high school. He didn’t resemble the boy she’d had a mad crush on for three years. Instead, more muscles rippled on his tall frame, and his hair seemed blonder than she remembered as it swept away from his face. The years had turned him into one good-looking man, that’s for sure.

  If she’d been the least bit forward, she’d be standing by his side right now seeing if he remembered her. That wasn’t her style. Not even back in high school. Wallpaper was more her style, especially the kind that hid behind furniture and potted plants.

  Shyness had always been her biggest downfall with men, which was probably another reason the past four boyfriends had moved on to other women. With all of her failed relationships, she’d collected enough material to write a new bestseller, “Breaking Up for Dummies.”

  The closer Fran and Maxwell Harrington came, the harder her heart pounded until she thought the organ would jump right out of her chest. She should be used to this feeling by now. Give it up, girl. He’s out of your league. And if he remembers you, he’ll remember you as the class clown. Yet, with a man like that parading past her cubicle every day she would continue fantasizing about the unobtainable.

  Beside her, Amanda nudged Cyndi’s elbow, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Here he comes,” she muttered.

  Fran, a woman who had once been a model until her rich daddy had bought the television station and made his only daughter the director, stopped in front of them. “Amanda,” she began, her smile so extensive it showed most of her shiny white teeth—even the ones in the back, “and Cynthia. This is our new sports anchorman, Maxwell Harrington.”

  Cyndi hated that her boss always seemed to spit out her name. And why couldn’t she use the shortened version of her name like everyone else? Most of the time, Cyndi felt like an unruly child around her boss.

  Amanda pushed her way to the front, her arm stretched in greeting. “Hi, Maxwell Harrington. I’m Amanda Shepherd, Executive Producer.”

  A smile spread across the man’s face. “Please, call me Max.”

  His deep voice made Cyndi want to sigh. Familiar tingles ran through her. She moved her gaze from his astonishing eyes to Amanda’s hand as he shook it, wishing her hand was touching Max’s instead of Amanda’s. Cyndi boiled inside, wanting to be just as forward as her friend. Married or not, flirting was what Amanda did best.

  “So Max, what brings you to Channel Nine?” her co-worker asked.

  “I’ve been working in a Chicago station for the past six years, and thought it was time I came back to my home town.”

  Max let go of Amanda’s hand and turned toward Cyndi. She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly her brain froze, and yet her tongue seemed to swell as her voice locked up. Good heavens, what’s wrong with me? She swallowed to moisten her dry throat and began again.

  “Hello.” Her voice released an embarrassing squeak. She cleared her throat. “I’m Cyndi Randall.”

  No spark of remembrance lit his eyes, but she didn’t give up hope.

  “Nice to meet you, Cyndi.” Max’s smile widened, making his eyes twinkle. Her heart fluttered.

  He paused as if waiting for her to say something else. All she could do was stare into his brilliant, sea-blue eyes—eyes a girl could drift away in.

  “What do you do at Channel Nine?” he asked her.

  Through her hazy mind, she thought she’d heard him ask her a question. Good grief! Why hadn’t she paid better attention to the conversation instead of floating away on the billowy cloud of her girlish dreams? “What?”

  “I asked what your job is here at Channel Nine.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m the Presearch Roducer.”

  Beside her, Amanda snorted a laugh. In disgust, Fran rolled her eyes c
aked with dark makeup.

  Cyndi’s cheeks heated and the sinking dread in her stomach descended lower than the Titanic. Gads, she’d messed up her words again. It wasn’t the first time, but how she wished it would be her last.

  She cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m the Research Producer. I’m Amanda’s assistant.”

  His lips twitched as if holding back a laugh. “Well, I hope we’ll work together soon.”

  As Fran and Max continued down the hall, she released a mouthful of air, the awkward moment now past. Why did she act so tongue-tied around good-looking men? After her mind returned to normal she realized he hadn’t remembered her.

  An ache formed in her chest. Then again, why would he remember her at all? They’d never really talked in high school. She was always the shy and clumsy girl with chicken-legs who followed the jocks around like a rock-star groupie. Back then, boys like Max didn’t have time to look at unpopular, nobody girls like Cyndi.

  When he turned down another hallway out of her view, deep disappointment washed over her. “Wow. He’s one fine-looking man.”

  “Yeah.” Amanda elbowed her arm. “And you know all the available women at the station will be after him.”

  Cyndi cocked her head at her co-worker and frowned. “So? What does that mean?”

  “Well, I would hate for you to get your hopes up.”

  Cyndi folded her arms. “Explain yourself.”

  “You know your track record with men isn’t the best.” Amanda shrugged. “It’s common knowledge.”

  “Common knowledge for whom?”

  “The whole office knows you can’t keep a man longer than a couple of months, Cyndi. In fact, wasn’t Tim the longest?”

  A cold knife ripped through her chest, threatening to dislodge her heart. “Are you saying you don’t think I have a chance with Max?”

  A sorrowful expression clouded Amanda’s eyes. “Well...”

  Cyndi flipped her hand through the air. “Don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. The reason I haven’t been able to keep a man for longer than a couple of months is because I choose not to.” Stubbornly, she lifted her chin. “I was bored with the others. And well, Max is different.” Of course it helped that he didn’t remember her from school, and because he didn’t know about the other men and how she lost them.

  Amanda patted her shoulder. “But wouldn’t you lose interest in him as you did the others?”

  The shield Cyndi had tried to build around her heart crumbled, but she hid her distress behind a forced smile. “I don’t know, and I won’t know until I try.”

  “Then I wish you all the luck in the world. But watch out for Anastasia and Drizella. Because they are Fran’s daughters, you know they’ll want first pick.”

  “Yeah, of course. Like always.” Cyndi frowned. Those two dimwits had first pick on everything. And as always, Cyndi was left with scraps.

  Amanda turned and sat behind her desk. The look of pity on her co-worker’s face was obvious.

  Anger surged through Cyndi and she clamped her hands by her side. She wasn’t worried much about Ana and Driz, because eventually Max would see what idiots those women were. What bothered Cyndi the most was that Amanda doubted her ability to hold a man. How dare she? She supposed Amanda meant well. After all, her co-worker had observed all of her failed relationships.

  She turned and stormed back to her desk as her dreams of catching Max increased. As much as she wanted to believe she’d been bored with the other men, the plain and simple truth was they had tired of her. Keeping a man for a long period of time wasn’t her forte, but this time she would prove she could catch Mr. Heartthrob. And keep him.

  When the other men had walked out of her life, they’d never really explained why. Wasn’t she adventurous enough—spontaneous? Didn’t she always give in and do those activities they wanted to do even if she had wanted to do something else? Had they become annoyed with her clumsy ways as she tripped over herself to please them?

  Max was different. He didn’t remember her from school, and he certainly didn’t know the woman she was now. She could show him a better side of her personality than she’d shown before. She’d prove to her co-workers she could keep a man.

  And that man would be the boy she’d dreamed of having for three years in school. The boy she wrote about in her diary every night, and cried over when he took another girl to the dance. The boy she wore black for, for a whole month when he’d left to go to college in Chicago—the same boy she never thought she’d see again.

  Was fate finally being kind to her?

  She slid in her chair and swiveled toward the computer. Exhaling, she stirred the lock of hair over her forehead and looked at the stack of papers on her desk. Augh. Fran had given her many stories to research. That woman had never liked Cyndi, and had piled on the work from the first day they met. When Mr. Tremaine was the boss, he’d liked Cyndi’s work. She admired him for being her mentor. But when he stepped down and allowed his spoiled daughter to become Director, Cyndi’s carefree work days were over. Every day felt like torture. Once in a while, they would call her Cinderella. Yeah, sometimes she felt that way. She wondered if Fran was trying to make her quit. Between Fran and her two horrible daughters, there were several times Cyndi wanted to quit, but then she’d decided a long time ago that they were not going to keep her from doing what she loved.

  Putting those three women out of her mind, she focused on her job. Just like most mornings, she checked her email before starting work. Besides, the small television on her desk tuned on a national news station wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. She adjusted her chair then gripped her computer mouse and clicked the Internet link.

  Thoughts of the article she’d read last night lifted her spirits. What were the chances of making Max her target? She rolled her eyes. Probably as good as getting a visit from Publisher’s Clearinghouse holding a check written for ten million dollars.

  She went to her email. Thirty-one messages? She groaned. Without looking, she knew most of them came from her mother. Would that woman ever stop nagging her about finding a man and settling down? Couldn’t she at least give Cyndi better encouragement besides, there are other fish in the sea? Obviously, her mother hadn’t been fishing in a while. The water was low and the bait outdated. That didn’t make a good combination for awkward women like her.

  She checked her mail then closed out of the program. That ridiculous article lurked on the edge of her thoughts, making it impossible to think of anything else.

  Out of the corner of her eyes, Max strolled into the room that would be his office. Anastasia chose that moment to poke her head inside and say something to him. Cyndi watched his expression closely, but not once did he look appalled at Ana’s presence. He must be a terrific actor.

  Whatever Ana said to him made him smile. Cyndi’s heart leapt. She’d do anything to see him smile that way at her.

  She thought back to the ten steps in the article. Should she give it a try? She couldn’t bear thinking of another failed relationship, but with the ways on how to win a man to help her, what could go wrong?

  Perhaps this was fate’s way of telling her to go for it.

  With a firm decision, she smiled wide. Give her a couple of days and she’d figure out something intelligent.

  Watch out Maxwell Harrington. Here I come!

  Two

  Way #1—Dark Chocolates. “Milk chocolate is for kids. Dark chocolate is for falling in love.” The chemical phenylethylamine, found in dark chocolate, mimics the feeling you have when you’re in love.

  Cyndi’s hands shook with nervous tension when she opened the door to her office building. She balanced a box of See’s chocolates on her arm and withdrew her key from the lock. The clock on the wall confirmed she was on schedule—one hour before work started.

  She walked into the building, stopped and listened. The night team who ran the early morning news was still there. They were few in number, and nowhere n
ear her desk or Max’s office.

  Her heels resounded through the building like a cannon in the Sistine Chapel. She cringed and lifted her feet one at a time, sliding off her two-inch heels. After picking up her shoes, she tiptoed down the hall. Laughter of the early morning crew broke out from the break room, and she jumped. Over her shoulder she peered down the hallway, but was thankful nobody had come out.

  Another noise caught her attention and she sucked in a breath. Where is that loud incessant thumping sound coming from?

  Her ears strained as she listened closer. The noise matched her heartbeat, perfectly. She scowled. Why did the rhythm of her heart have to be so loud?

  She peeked around the corner of a wall. The rows of offices appeared empty, lights off, and doors closed. She breathed a relieved sigh. Yup, the others were all in the break room.

  With the box of candy clutched in her hands, she hurried toward Max’s office. At his door, she turned the knob and rushed inside.

  He’d been working at the station less than three days now, but his woodsy scented cologne hung heavy in the warm air and surrounded her. With every breath it invaded her lungs. She stopped in the middle of the room, closed her eyes, and exhaled a soft moan. Oh, what a man.

  Shrill laughter floated down the hall and plunged her into reality. She shook away the dreamy images and set the box of chocolates on the corner of his desk. She pressed the card open to make sure he’d see the message.

  Your sweetness makes even chocolates jealous. Signed, Your Admirer. No way was she going to sign her real name. It was too soon for him to know what she had planned.

  As she stared at the box, she visualized Max’s reaction as if it were playing out right now. He would saunter into his office in that confident way of his, dressed to kill in his form-fitting slacks and a white button-down shirt that emphasized his muscles. When he saw the box, his eyes would widen. He’d snatch the card and read it. A mouth would stretch into a smile, and his blue eyes would twinkle like stars on a clear night. He’d open the box and pop a chocolate into his mouth. The dreamy expression on his half-closed lids would let her know the chemical phenylethylamine had worked. The compound in the candy would give him feelings of love—just as the Internet article had stated.