Special Delivery Valentine Read online

  Special Delivery Valentine

  By

  Roz Lee

  Special Delivery Valentine

  By

  Roz Lee

  Published by State of Mind Publishing

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2015

  Roz Lee

  http://www.rozlee.net

  Smashwords Edition,

  License Notes

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase and additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9911687-9-8

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Come on, come on.” Gaze locked on the clock gracing the corner of her desk, Rachel drummed her fingers on the blotter. Not that she had big plans for this Valentine’s Friday, but she did have plans. On the floor beside her feet sat a stylish duffle containing her gym clothes and her new cross-trainers. She’d gladly run a few miles on the treadmill in return for getting out of the sexy but not practical boots she had on now. That, and some takeout—Chinese or pizza, she couldn’t decide—was all the romance she needed. If only her boss would get a move on so she could go, too.

  The roses, champagne, and chocolates on his desk told her he had a hot date tonight, so what the heck was he waiting for?

  At exactly five minutes until five o’clock, Damon’s private line lit up on the phone console.

  Finally. That had to be what was keeping him at his desk. “Make it quick. Make it quick.” Clock forgotten, she focused on the light, willing it to go dark. The second it did, she grabbed her tote, plopped it on top of her desk, and stood.

  Two minutes until five. Time to go.

  “Rachel! Can you come here?”

  She groaned. What now? Determined to be on her way within the next two minutes, she left the bag on her desk and headed to answer the summons. Stepping into the doorway, she found her boss, back turned, putting on his overcoat. Breathing a sigh of relief that he showed signs of leaving soon, she asked, “What’s up?”

  Damon spun around. He had his cell phone pressed to his ear and a frown on his face.

  “Damn it.” He lowered the phone and grabbed his briefcase. “I bet she let the battery run down again.”

  “Who?”

  “My date. She’s fabulous but forgets to charge her phone all the time.”

  TMI. The less she knew about Damon’s love life, the better. “You need something?”

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  A sense of foreboding settled into her bones as the expected response fell from her lips. “Sure.”

  “That was my sister on the phone. My mom slipped on some ice and hit her head. I’ve got to go. I hate to do this to you, but I have a date tonight. I’ll keep trying to call her, but I doubt I’ll get through. I bought these for her.” He indicated the giant bouquet of red roses wrapped in cellophane, a bottle of champagne, and the box of high-end chocolates sitting in the middle of his desk. “Could you take them over to her place for me? And, in case I don’t get her on the phone, can you explain about my mother? Tell her I’ll be in touch as soon as I can?”

  Not waiting for a reply, he scribbled a name and address on a sticky note bearing his name across the top. “I’ll owe you, big time.” He air-kissed her cheek as he sped past and out the door.

  She spun around. “Give your mother—” my best. “Talking to air. Again.” She loved Damon to distraction, but sometimes, he assumed too much. Turning to eye the gifts covering the blotter in the center of his desk, she sighed. This was one of those times.

  Never should have told him you didn’t have plans for tonight. Look where that got her—delivering bad news and romantic gifts to a woman who was sure to be pissed as hell. Damon was a catch, in anyone’s book. Tall, dark, and successful, he was a good listener, too. Most women liked his brand of attentiveness, but it seemed more of a curse now than an attribute, given that he’d convinced her to tell him all about her recent breakup with the woman she’d been dating for six months. Which led to her current situation—playing delivery person when what she really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and forget all about St. Valentine’s Day and the fact that she was alone—again.

  Her present circumstances aside, she couldn’t understand how her boss had managed to remain single as long as he had. Someone was bound to catch him, eventually.

  It won’t be this one. “As soon as she sees me at her door instead of Damon, that’s the end of the road for this relationship.”

  She tore the top sheet off the pad and read. Sophia Davenport. The address was a pricey, new condominium complex on the Upper West Side overlooking the Hudson. “Nice digs.” Leave it to her boss to leave a high-class dame to fend for herself on the most romantic night of the year.

  She scooped the gifts into her arms. “So much for the gym.” She stashed the champagne and chocolates inside her bag. It wasn’t like the clothes were sweaty or anything. She’d have to carry the roses. No way around that. At least she could pretend they were hers until she had to hand them over.

  Chances are she’s going to throw them back in your face anyway. That was a cheery thought.

  Waiting for the elevator, she checked the stems for thorns, just in case the lovely blooms were to become missiles hurtling toward her face later on. One couldn’t be too prepared when delivering news that registered a ten on the how-bad-is-it scale.

  Several people smiled at her as she made her way down to the lobby and out to the street. The doorman’s face lit up. He nodded and waved a cab over to the curb for her. She’d have to get a receipt and make Damon pay up next week. No way was she walking across town to do his dirty work, especially since the weather had turned from crappy to shit since she’d last been outside. February in the city was guaranteed to be cold, and she had prepared for that, but there was no way she was going to expose her new thigh-high boots to the nasty slush coating the sidewalks. Not for anyone.

  With a muttered curse, Sophia dropped her running shoes beside the sofa and headed for the front door. Whoever the hell was leaning on her doorbell had better be dying or carrying a check made out to her for a billion dollars. It was Valentine’s Day, for crying out loud. A single woman without a date should be entitled to some peace and quiet if nothing else. Ever vigilant, she went up on tiptoe to look through the peephole.

  “Whoa,” she mouthed, rocking back onto her heels. Even with distortion from the wide-angle lens, the woman standing outside her door was drop-dead gorgeous. She was tempted to open the door just to see if her lips were as plump as they appeared or if it was a trick of the lens. She’d always been a sucker for lips like those.

  The doorbell rang again, jolting her out of her musings and reminding her she had somewhere to be. Best to find out what the woman wanted or, more likely, point her to the correct apartment. Then she could keep her appointment with the third treadmill from the right. Working out had kept her sane in the weeks since she’d ended her last relationship—even if it hadn’t done a thing for her never-going-to-be-a-model figure.

  “Hold your horses!” She jerked the door open and came face to face with perfection.

  For a moment, she stared at the stranger with an armload of flowers, and the stranger stared at her. A door slammed somewhere down the hall making both women start. Sophia recovered first.

  “You have the wrong apartment.” There was no other explanation.

  “I don’t think so. Are you Sophia Davenport
?” Flower girl consulted a sticky note adhering to her palm.

  “Who wants to know?” If her ex was playing some kind of cruel joke, she’d strangle the bitch.

  “If you are, these are for you.” She shoved the bouquet of roses into Sophia’s hands then rummaged around in the giant tote slung over her shoulder. “Um, and these, too.” She held up a bottle of champagne and the biggest, fanciest box of Valentine’s chocolates Sophia had ever seen.

  “Who did you say you are?”

  “I didn’t. My name is Rachel Conklin. Did Damon get a hold of you?”

  “Damon?”

  “Damon Westbrook. Your date tonight?”

  “There’s been some kind of mistake.” She knew Damon. He worked two floors above her in the marketing department. She’d only been up to his office once, a couple of years ago, but he came down to hers about once a week, and they’d met for drinks a time or two. He was a nice enough guy. She’d even go so far as to call him a friend, but date him? Never. His species wasn’t her type. “I think you better come inside. I’ll give Damon a call.”

  The mystery woman stomped her feet on the doormat then stepped inside. Sophia caught a whiff of something floral that stirred her libido. Roses, you idiot. It’s the roses. Resigned to putting off her workout for the foreseeable future, she shut the door and followed her visitor into the living room. “Take your coat off and make yourself at home while I find out what this is all about.”

  After placing the roses on the coffee table next to the other gifts, she retrieved her cell phone from the purse she’d left sitting on the table next to the door. As she scrolled through her contact list, she thought about those lips. They were every bit as kissable in person as she’d originally thought. Don’t go there. Did you see those boots she has on? Those are fuck-me boots. Woman has a hot date tonight, probably with some guy who couldn’t find her clit with a road map. Her problem, not yours.

  “Found it!” She placed the call then spun around to face her guest while she waited for Damon to answer.

  Shit, the woman was hot. She’d taken off her coat and draped it over the arm of the sofa. Seated, her short skirt rode high on her legs, revealing a patch of black-clad thigh. Tucked into the waist of a red miniskirt was a white, button-down shirt that was both conservative and sexy at the same time. Maybe the sexy was because of the way it hugged her generous breasts and accented her trim waist. She might be going out with a dick tonight, but he was a lucky dick.

  “Not answering?”

  She shook her head. Just when she was about to give up, the call went to voicemail. She held up a finger to let her guest know she wasn’t ignoring her then left a message for Damon to call her as soon as possible. Ending the call, she gripped the phone tight. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have a date with Damon or anyone else tonight.” She mentally kicked herself for revealing that pathetic bit of information to this goddess who clearly was on her way to meet someone.

  “I know I didn’t imagine this. Damon got a call from his sister this afternoon right as we were getting ready to go home. His mother had an accident and was taken to the hospital. It sounded pretty bad.”

  “Well, that explains it. I suppose he was in a rush to get a flight to Arizona and gave you the wrong information. Though, why he would think of me boggles the mind.”

  “Why would he be going to Arizona? His mother lives in Rochester.”

  The floral scent she’d picked up earlier began to smell suspiciously like a rat. She skirted the coffee table and sat on the other end of the sofa from her guest. “His sister lives in Rochester. His mother moved to Phoenix for her health the year he graduated from college.” She knew this because he’d mentioned it when she told him about her parents moving to Tucson last year. “Unless she slipped on a stray ice cube in her own kitchen….”

  “But he said he tried to call you and your phone was dead or something. He said you never remember to charge your phone.” She held up the sticky note with Sophia’s name and address on it. “He was worried you would think he ditched you on purpose. It being Valentine’s Day and all.”

  Her voice trailed off on the last sentence. Reality seemed to slowly seep in for the delivery girl.

  “You can leave all this stuff here. Explaining to your boyfriend how you came by Valentine’s gifts from another man might put a damper on the romantic evening he probably has planned for you.”

  “Oh! I’m not…. I mean…I don’t have a date.”

  “Wait….” Sophia stood and paced to the front door and back. “Were these things meant for you?”

  “No!” She dragged the single syllable out to emphasize her point. “Damon knows….”

  “What does Damon know?”

  “Nothing. Just that I recently left a relationship, and I’m not ready to date again.”

  “That’s funny. Funny strange, not funny ha-ha. I just broke up with my par—someone recently, too.” And Damon knew all about it. Maybe he had intended to come over tonight to cheer her up. It would be just like him to do something like that. He really was a nice guy. Which begged the question. “Why do you think he sent you over here tonight?”

  Rachel wrung her hands in her lap. She was going to kill Damon Westbrook the minute she saw him. Sending her on a wild-goose chase armed with roses, champagne, and chocolates like she was on some kind of date. “Crap.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She was certain her visitor knew more than she was saying, but what was it?

  “I just noticed there’s a card in the roses.”

  Both women pounced on the bouquet at the same time. Rachel, being closer, came up with the small white envelope first. She glanced at it then held it out. “It’s addressed to you.”

  Sophia snatched the correspondence from her fingers. She took a deep breath, opened it, read the note then slipped the card back into the envelope.

  “What does it say?”

  “Here. Read it for yourself.” She handed the envelope back then sat on the easy chair opposite the sofa.

  Rachel removed the card and read, “Sophia. I hope you and Rachel enjoy getting to know one another over champagne and chocolates. Please don’t hate me. You are two of my favorite people, and I just want you both to be happy. Damon.” She dropped her hands to her lap. “That rat-bastard.”

  “My sentiments, exactly.” Sophia propped her feet up on the footstool. “Look. I want you to know, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Same here. I guess this is what I get for crying on his shoulder the last few months. I never should have told him about breaking up with…about my breakup.”

  “Me, either. Damon is just so easy to talk to, you know?”

  She did know. Ever since being transferred to the department Damon oversaw, she’d felt as if she had come home. He was a great boss, demanding but realistic when it came to a person’s abilities. He didn’t expect her to do sixteen hours of work in eight. And, he listened. She’d told him more than she should have, and as predicted, he hadn’t judged her in regard to her lifestyle choices. “I know.” She eyed the box of chocolates. “Mind if I have one? This is shaping up to be a three-alarm chocolate emergency.”

  Her reluctant hostess laughed. Lord, she was pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way. All round curves that she both envied and wanted to touch. Humor transformed the woman’s face, making her downright beautiful when she laughed. The mirth seemed to come from somewhere deep inside, as if she kept it locked away most of the time. “Go ahead. We might as well enjoy them.”

  She examined the contents. “I really shouldn’t. Especially since I’m not going to make it to the gym this evening.”

  “Is that where you were going?”

  “I thought I might be able to deliver this stuff for Damon and still have time for a workout, but it doesn’t look that way now.”

  Sophia bent, stretching out her arm. Rachel handed her the box. “I was just about to go downstairs to the gym when you rang the bell.” She selected a do
me-shaped candy then passed the heart-shaped container back. “Since neither one of us has plans for tonight…want to go to the gym for a while then come back here? We could order takeout to go with the champagne and chocolate.”

  Rachel popped the candy in her mouth, chewing the sticky concoction while she contemplated the invitation. What would it hurt to spend the evening with this woman? She was gorgeous, sophisticated, and Damon vouched for her. As pissed as she was at the man for being a sneaky bastard, she did value his opinion. “Coconut crème,” she said, closing her eyes to savor the delectable flavor. “God, I might as well just plaster these on my thighs and skip the middle man.”

  Sophia covered her mouth with her hand as she tried to chew and laugh at the same time. “My ass.” When she gained her composure, she continued. “Everything I eat goes straight to my trunk.”

  “Your butt isn’t big.” She should know, she’d checked it out while the woman was bent over digging through her purse earlier. “I have thunder thighs.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? Look at you wearing those awesome boots. No one with thunder thighs could get by with that.”

  Oh boy. Rachel shifted, trying to pull her skirt down to cover her exposed legs. Knowing the temptress had checked her out made her nervous and excited at the same time. Could Sophia be attracted to her?

  She eyed the woman sitting across from her. Sophia stared back. Awkward didn’t come close to describing what she felt. Did Damon really think she needed help finding a date? Just because she hadn’t been out with anyone since she broke up with Amy didn’t mean she was without opportunities. She just hadn’t been ready to risk her heart again so soon.

  She scooted to the edge of the sofa cushion. “I should go.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  So what if they’d been set up? Rachel was H-O-T and good company. Sophia could think of worse ways to spend Valentine’s Day than with a crazy-sexy woman, a bottle of champagne, and a box of premium chocolates. Letting her leave sounded like a waste. “Still want to go to the gym?”