Stealing Cupid's Bow by Jewel Quinlan Page B

said it anyway. How could he be so jaded?
    “The shooting of an arrow is a very serious matter.”
    What was that supposed to mean? “Does that mean you won’t even try?”
    “If I thought it would help, I would. I’m not convinced that it will.”
    Frustration rose up inside her. Why did it have to be him? If it was him , anyway. He was so stubborn on this topic.
    “But you’re a god. The god of love ,” she said. “You have the power to make it happen. Who else could help them but you? This is your area isn’t it?” she argued. Could it really be such a big deal? Didn’t he do this sort of thing for his clients all the time?
    “It is my area and I’m telling you, Raine, even if I were to help, it wouldn’t last anyway. You’d just be putting off the inevitable.” His tone told her that his mind was made up.
    She stayed silent, feeling deeply disappointed. His words disturbed her down to her very core.
    She decided drop it for now.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, “I know you were hoping for something better.”
    “It’s all right,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. It most certainly was not all right. But she couldn’t think of a way to change his mind right now.
    She remembered, long ago, her mother going round and round with her father trying to convince him that they needed a new car. Her’s had been towed to the garage, for the tenth time, for repairs. Her father had been adamant that the car could be fixed. It was a paid-for car and he didn’t want to spend money on another one.
    When she’d asked her mother why she kept arguing with him about it, she’d explained that determination and finesse were necessary when trying to change a man’s mind. “He’ll come around,” her mother had said. “Just you wait and see.” And he had. A few months later a new car sat in the driveway. She wished now that she had paid more attention to her mother’s strategy.
    The memory gave her a new determination not to give up. Alexander might be a god, but he was also male. And, if there was one thing she was, it was persistent.
    Alexander was watching her. “Do you still want to see my wings?”
    She nodded. Of course she did, she needed to see proof that he was Cupid. If there was any possibility that this was all a hoax, she would be relieved. Then she could completely disregard anything he’d said.
    He eased himself from the couch and removed his jacket. Her eyes latched onto his hands as he unbuckled his belt and slid it from his hips. She flushed; the moment was becoming decidedly intimate. He untucked his shirt from his pants, released the buttons at his cuffs, then reached for the top one near his neck. Her breath caught, disappointment forgotten, and unable to look away from his fingers as his shirt slowly came undone. With each new peek of skin that was revealed her blood warmed a few degrees. She resisted the urge to fan herself.
    His eyes glittered in the dim light.
    She forgot that he was simply going to show her his wings. The energy in the room had heightened to an almost tangible level of sexuality. Pectoral muscles and a highly developed abdomen were uncovered. His skin was a light gold tan and she could tell that, if she were to lay her fingers on it, it would be soft and supple.
    Peeling the shirt away, he removed his arms from the sleeves and flung it on the couch next to his coat. Standing there, gorgeous in his tailored black pants, he watched her with his intense sky-blue eyes.
    And then she noticed the white feathers unfurling from behind him. They appeared first as white curves above his shoulders. She watched in awe as two sleek, giant, wings unfurled and stretched to their full wingspan, framing his silhouette.

 
     
     
Chapter Eleven
     
     
    His wings were not what she would have expected from all the drawings and sculptures she had seen throughout her lifetime. They didn’t look like the fluffy wings cherubs or Victoria’s Secret models had. They were glossy and sharp and