A Taste of Greek (Out of Olympus #3) (2 page)

“You look like you could use a latte,” Vivian said, bustling back to the counter.

Penny tore her gaze from the handsome men and looked over at her friend. “Make it a double.”

It would help her focus, because for certain she had no time to be distracted by a good looking man. She needed to keep her mind on her job and her research.

“
Now there’s a tasty morsel I could sink my teeth into,” Hermes said, watching the dripping woman standing by the fireplace with amusement. Her cream-colored blouse and slacks were completely soaked and sticking to her skin in a very provocative manner.

“I do say the woman has impeccable taste in undergarments,” Triton agreed, a wide smile spreading his lips.

“Don’t let Sophia hear that,” Hermes cautioned his friend.

“I’m married, not blind,” Triton responded, but Hermes barely listened, because his eyes already feasted on the woman.

The delicate lace bra barely held her plump breasts, and did little to hide the tight rosy buds pushing against the fabric. Just staring at the fullness of her bosom made his mouth water. The poor woman was freezing and drenched. He should do something to make her more comfortable. Like get her out of those wet clothes and into his bed. He started to rise, when Triton placed a hand on his forearm.

“As we were saying?”

Hermes reluctantly turned back to him. “Saying?”

“About Sophia’s party.”

“Surely this little soirée planning can wait until this evening? That poor woman is in desperate need of warming.”

“It can’t,” Triton said, shaking his head.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Hermes complained.

“A woman like her would require more than an afternoon of your attention,” Triton replied. “And you don’t have that kind of time right now. The party is this Saturday, and at the speed we’re working right now, Sophia will turn fifty before this party is on its way.”

“You exaggerate, as always! Just call the servants and have them . . . ”

His words died in his throat as the woman in question seemed to finally realize the delicious view her wet clothes were providing and turned the most becoming shade of pink. She quickly spun around and faced the fire, in turn providing him with a beautiful view of her ass and the thin thong lacing the seam between her cheeks. His admiration for this century’s idea of women’s underwear rose—just as his cock did.

“Hermes,” Triton said, his voice becoming insistent.

Hermes groaned and turned back to him. “You’re right,” he relented.

If he got his hands on that sweet body, he wouldn’t want to stop until he was buried deep within her, and she was screaming for mercy. Yes, he would require more than an afternoon to satisfy himself on each of her delicate curves and hollows.

“I promised I would help throw your adorable wife a surprise party and I will.” With regret, he gazed one last time at the lovely woman by the fire, then turned his attention back to his friend. “Now what were we saying?”

For what seemed like an eternity, Hermes tried to focus on Triton’s ideas—something about finger foods and desserts. If anybody asked him, his friend had become way too domesticated. Sophia was enchanting, but Hermes could never see himself tied down like that, handcuffed to the point of spending an afternoon discussing cheese and chocolate, instead of diving under the covers with creamy skin, lace panties and long, dark ringlets framing high cheekbones.

Hermes looked back at the woman who had planted wanton thoughts in his mind. She still stood in front of the fireplace, warming her palms on a large mug of frothy coffee clutched between her hands. The way she held that cup with such ardor . . . She took a drink from the brim, her eyes meeting his, and darkening slightly. She was attracted to him. Not that he was surprised; most mortal women were, but he realized the magnetic pull between them was strung as tightly as one of Eros’s bows. And he couldn’t wait to pluck it—or rather
her
.

She set the cup down on the mantle, her sweet tongue peeking out to sweep the foam off her lips. He heard a soft sigh of pleasure leave her mouth, and it sent a bolt of desire straight to his loins, thickening his cock, making him wish he could take her right there on top of one of the wooden tables, in front of that roaring fire.

As if she could read his thoughts, color once again filled her cheeks. In a soft flutter, she raised a hand to her chest. He saw the quickness of her breath by the soft rise and fall of her breasts. Yes, she was a very passionate woman and she was right there, ready for the taking.

“Hermes!” Triton’s voice rose in conjunction with thunder booming overhead. “Your father is calling,” he said with a smirk, slipping into Ancient Greek, their native tongue, which nobody apart from the gods and a few scholars spoke these days.

Hermes rolled his eyes. “Why the old man can’t get with the program and use a cell phone like everyone else, I’ll never know.”

“Because it’s much more fun to summon you the old-fashioned way. Is he still on your case?”

“Like a dog with a bone. Now that you and Dionysus have settled down—and are really cramping my style if I may add—he wants the same for me. As if that will ever happen!”

“How very hypocritical of him,” Triton said dryly.

“You know it!”

“Maybe you should humor him and give it a go?” Triton hedged, a glint of humor in his eyes. “You never know, you might just like monogamy. Falling in love. Living to make the woman of your dreams happy.”

“Another word and I’ll shove it right back down your throat,” Hermes barked. “It’ll be a cold day in Hades before that will ever happen. Mark my words!”

“Hold your ponies there, bad boy. All I’m saying is that I know how you feel. I was the same way, and Dio was the biggest cad of us all—”

“That remains to be seen,” Hermes interjected.

“The point is we both found something—someone—who fulfilled us even more than our bachelor ways. And you can, too.”

Hermes leaned forward, catching Triton’s eye and holding it. “I’d rather be Zeus’s goat.”

Triton burst out laughing, drawing the attention of both women on them. Both were now standing by the fireplace, their heads together and their voices low.

Hermes couldn’t help wondering what the two were talking about and had to admit he hoped it was him. “Are we done here? I’d better go see what the old buzzard wants.”

“Baaaaa. Fine.” Triton stood. “I’ll get Dio’s help with the wine and cake.”

“Ah, before I forget. I saw Michael the other day.”

Triton’s eyebrows snapped together in irritation. “Sophia’s cousin? He knows not to go anywhere near her!”

Hermes held up his hand to calm him. Triton was very touchy when it came to Sophia’s no-good cousin. After all, he’d made several attempts on her life in order to get at her inheritance, a plan that had failed, thanks to Triton.

“And he didn’t. He was nowhere near your house. Turns out he’s working for some company that installs safes in people’s houses.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! How did he pass the background check?”

Hermes shrugged. “Beats me. But it looks like he’s
apprenticing
in another profession, since his embezzling scheme didn’t work out so well. Better keep an eye on him just in case he’s up to something.” Hermes rose, snatching his half-finished drink from the table.

Triton stood. “Thanks for the heads-up. And make sure you’re at Sophia’s party on Saturday night at seven.” He motioned to the fireplace behind Hermes’ shoulders, then added, “Bring a date!” as he headed out the door.

Hermes turned to give his friend’s suggestion more thought and collided with the pretty brunette, spilling his iced coffee down the front of her now-dry blouse, and soaking it all over again.

At her cry of distress, he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face. “Oh bummer, sweetheart. Now I’ve done it.”

He snatched a napkin from the table and proceeded to pat her slowly and thoroughly dry, paying particular attention to the wet spots covering her breasts.

3

Penny gasped as iced coffee drenched her breasts, then froze as embarrassment heated her cheeks. This gorgeous man was rubbing her boobs! Trying to sop up the liquid, yes. But he was
rubbing her boobs!
Her nipples weren’t just standing at attention, they were saluting with every aching stroke.

Desire tore through her, weakening her knees and filling her with intense need. She drew in a ragged breath then took a quick, decisive step back, bumping into a chair and almost knocking it over.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, reaching for her again.

Another minute of this and she would be stepping forward, ripping her blouse off, and begging him to do it again—this time without any fabric impeding his action. She righted the chair, then quickly looked back up at him.

“It’s okay. Really. I’ve got it.” She reached for the towel she’d left on the table earlier and pressed it against her chest, covering the way her nipples were showing through the thin silk fabric. The measure offered a modicum of comfort.

“Let me at least pay for the cleaning,” he offered, still staring at her chest.

Her cheeks continued burning as more heat rose to her face. “It’s fine. Hand washable. No problem. Really,” she stammered, though the God-honest truth was she wanted to feel his hands on her again. The juncture between her thighs was practically begging for him to take her.

“I’m Hermes,” he said, extending the hand that only moments ago had lit her on fire.

And he hadn’t even been trying. What if he had? Her throat closed over a low moan. Melting brown eyes caught hers and for a moment, her brain could barely process what he’d said. Then his words came rushing back, and the wheels in her brain began to spin.

“Hermes?” she blurted. “As in the Greek god, Hermes?” A high pitch of surprise lifted her voice. He was named after Hermes? Her dream god? How many times had she stared at Hermes’ statue, at the long patrician nose, strong jaw, and oh-so-kissable lips carved out of alabaster marble? How many times had she wished he’d come to life just for her?

He shrugged, giving her a smile that almost stopped her heart. She pressed her fist against her chest.

“The one and only,” he said, taking a step closer to her and stealing all breathable air.

Darn, it was getting hotter in here. Vivian was overdoing it with the fireplace.

“My mother was a bit of a romantic,” he said, the low timbre of his voice turning the skin on her arms into gooseflesh.

“Oh, yes,” she said as words failed her. Why give a baby a name he’d most likely be bullied for? Where had his father been when his mother had chosen that name?

“I feel really bad about this. How about you let me take you out to dinner to make up for my clumsiness?”

“Dinner?” she repeated, feeling like a parrot that could only utter single words. Over his shoulder, Vivian’s head was bobbing up and down, urging her to accept.

Could she do dinner with this man? Two hours of trying to make conversation where she didn’t sound like a complete idiot, while all the time wishing he would sweep her off her feet and whisk her to the nearest bed? That was the last thing she needed. Right now, she needed to focus on her career, on keeping her job and coming up with an article that would knock the voting committee’s socks off. Not go out with a man who was sure to knock
her
socks off, and her pants, bra, and panties.

“Uh . . . ”

“Well? What do you say?” he pressed.

That was just it. She couldn’t seem to get anything past her dry lips except low guttural moans. Mr. Dreamy-eyes was short-circuiting her brain. No, he was a distraction she didn’t need. Not now. Maybe after she’d saved her job by getting tenure. Definitely after . . .

Thunder rolled overhead and, for a moment, Hermes looked up at the ceiling, annoyance crossing his face. Then, just as quickly, the look was gone, and he was staring back at her again. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Penelope,” she said.

“Penelope,” he repeated, rolling her name over his tongue as if it were a sip of full-bodied red wine.

“Penny,” she corrected, still feeling a little breathless. Which probably accounted for the lightheadedness that made her feel like a high school girl who’d just been asked out by the most popular guy in her entire school.

“So will you do me the honors? Dinner?”

No, sorry
, she tried to say, but instead her head was nodding in the affirmative before she could even form the words to explain why she couldn’t or shouldn’t go out with him. Why it was a bad idea. Because it
was
a bad idea. A terrible idea.

“Wonderful. Where should I pick you up?”

“Here?” she said in a small squeak, wanting to back pedal, to just say no, to get out of it, but her body wasn’t cooperating.

“Perfect. Eight o’clock?”

She was nodding again. What was she doing? She was crazy. She should tell him no. Tell him she couldn’t. That she was busy. That she had to wash her hair or rearrange her books in alphabetical order.

But then he leaned forward, his lips grazing her cheek, sending her heart soaring, her nerve endings crackling, and her throat closing up over any protestations that could possibly escape.

A girl had to eat, right?

“It was wonderful to meet you, Penelope. Ta léme syntoma,” he said softly.

“Yes, soon,” she answered automatically, her fingers instinctively touching the spot on her cheek where he’d kissed her.

He raised his eyebrows at her response, when she realized his last words had been spoken in Ancient Greek. All of a sudden he looked even more interested in her than he had before. If that was even possible.

She watched him leave, then collapsed into the nearest chair.

“What was that?” Vivian asked, rushing over to her.

“Me, swooning. Good old-fashioned, Scarlett O’Hara swooning.”

***

Hermes walked into the soaring marble room, barely looking up at the towering dome above him, covered with intricate Fresco paintings and etched in gold curlicues. The entire room, with its polished marble and towering statues stolen from various temples over the centuries, had always been too garish for his taste. But he did love the antechamber with its wall-to-wall windows looking out at a meadow of green, peppered with ancient oaks and split with a flowing ribbon of blue water.