Aphrodite's Secret (18 page)

She grasped the edge of the control panel, its sun-baked chrome hot against her palm. Her knees weren’t quite up to the task of keeping her vertical, but she didn’t want Jason to know that. No matter how many bells and whistles he set off in her insides, she wasn’t going down
that
road again. Best to nip this little fantasy in the bud.

She opened her mouth to tell him that, but nothing came out.

Now
, she urged herself.

This time when she tried, words actually emerged.
Good
. Always nice to have control over one’s mouth. “Listen, Jason,” she began, then cleared her throat She sucked in a deep breath, hating to hurt him but needing the record to be clear. “The thing is, you never had a family. There’s nothing to get back.”

“I know,” he said simply.

Lane blinked. That wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. “Oh.” She licked her lips, trying to decide where to go next. In her trial seminar, the professor had said to never let the jury know when a witness’s answer ruffled you.

But Lane had a feeling Jason already knew she was ruffled. So much for a verdict being returned in her favor.

“I didn’t mean to be blasé,” Jason explained. He took her hand, his fingers sliding between hers. “It’s just that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the situation. A lot more time than you, I mean. As much as I wish it weren’t true, it would be both arrogant and stupid of me to think I could just pop back into your life and pick up where we left off” He shrugged. “I mean, you’re a beautiful, bright woman. Hell, I’m surprised you aren’t already married.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that.

“We used to be wonderful friends,” he went on. “I hope we still can be.” He bit his lip, then reached out to take both her hands. “And I meant what I said. You need to do what I say. I want you safe, and losing you to Hieronymous—whether you’re my friend or lover—would kill me. You’re my
son’s mother
. No matter what else is between us, that’s forever.”

His words brought tears to her eyes. She told herself they were tears of relief. “Really?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

He was saying all the right things, and still she frowned. “I do have a boyfriend.” The words just popped out, and she cringed at the non sequitur. But Jason needed to know, needed to understand that she had another life now, that she’d found a man who fit that life—a man who wouldn’t leave her or her son to run off and battle boogeymen. “He’s fabulous with Davy.”

“That’s great,” Jason said. But Lane noticed the hint of a shadow cross his face.

She cleared her throat. “So, uh ... we’re on the same wavelength, then? I mean, I just want to be clear.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and she frowned.

“What?” she asked.

“Just that you already sound like a lawyer, and you’ve been in law school less than a year.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a quick study,” she said. She was so happy to share a light moment with him that she didn’t pause to wonder how he knew she was in law school. “But are we ... ?”

He nodded, then took her hand, his skin rough against her palm. “Absolutely,” he said. “Friends. Good, old friends. I want in Davy’s life, but I won’t push. We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, then. Great.” She took a deep breath and stood up. Certainly, she couldn’t argue with that. And everything he was saying was what she wanted to hear. “Well. Right. Okay.” She headed for the stairs leading belowdeck. “I’m glad we got that straightened out,” she said.

But in truth, she wasn’t glad. As much as she wished she were, she wasn’t glad at all. And that, frankly, had her more than a little worried.

Jason vowed to take up playing poker. If he could convince Lane he didn’t want her anymore—that he hadn’t spent years yearning for her, fantasizing about her, remembering the feel of her flesh under his fingers—then he could sure as Cerberus make five or six guys think he had a royal flush when all he really held was a pair of threes.

So Lane just wanted to be friends—no rekindling of their romance, no going back to where they’d left off. Well, if that’s what the lady wanted, that’s what he’d give her. He had made a career of starting over. And if her wishes meant starting over as friends— and working his way up the ladder from there—then that’s what he was going to do. Lane might have another man in her life, but Jason had the advantage of being Davy’s father. No matter what, that kept him in the game.

He did one more quick check of the control panel to confirm they were still on course, then set the boat to autopilot. He would have preferred to simply take a couple of propulsion cloaks and head to the island that way. But Hieronymous’s island was well guarded against Protectors and, as he’d told Zoë, any approach from the air would surely be detected. A sea approach was still risky, but Jason intended to come from under the water, not on it, and he hoped that they could find a chink in Hieronymous’s armor.

He’d already plugged the latitude and longitude from Davy’s map into the boat’s computer—it was very similar to what he’d suggested upon his escape from Hieronymous’s imprisonment—but he wanted to do some double-checking as only he could. After all, the Council had already looked and found nothing.

He killed the engine and let the boat float on the ocean’s gentle waves. Pulling off all his clothes, he tossed them on the deck and slipped into the water. Under its surface he looked around, trying to find a sea creature who not only looked adventurous but had an impeccable sense of direction.

A flounder appeared and flashed him a quizzical look, but Jason let it swim on by. Flounder had a reputation for being patently unreliable. About twenty feet below, he caught sight of a great white shark. Jason almost called out, then decided to let it pass. For the most part the beasts were reliable, but lately they’d developed a grudge against mortals. Jason would hate to hang his hopes on a pissed-off psycho shark deciding to send him on a wild-goose chase.

Finally, a Girabaldi appeared, swimming slowly, talking to itself about its plans for the day. Jason caught the fish’s attention, and it floated over. After more time than he intended—as a general rule, Girabaldi tended to be very chatty and needed a firm conversational hand—Jason got down to the nitty-gritty. Yes, there was an island where Jason suggested: the Girabaldi had swum past it the other week. It was just past the kelp bed and then there was a right turn at the sunken pirate ship—exactly as Jason remembered.

Apparently, the Council had sent an incompetent to check out his story.

Jason offered the fish a hearty thank-you and then propelled himself back to the surface. He hoisted himself out of the ocean and gave his head a good shake. Straightening, he turned around—and found himself staring right into Lane’s intent gaze.

“Forgot my sweatshirt,” she said, clutching the dark green garment she’d laid over the back of his captain’s chair. She swallowed, her gaze darting up and down his naked body. When her cheeks flushed red, he did his best not to smile.

“I was just asking directions,” he explained.

A pile of towels rested nearby. He made a point not to take one.

“Right,” she said. She stood up straighter and kept her eyes on his face. “I always knew you were different.”

He sucked in air, feeling a wash of shame. “I already apologized for not telling you I was a Protector.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s old news,” she said. Flipping her sweatshirt over her shoulder, she headed back to the stairs. “I just meant that most men won’t ask for directions.” She flashed him an innocent little smile, then disappeared, returning to the galley below.

He grinned, more amused than he cared to admit. Damn, but he adored that woman.

He wanted to follow, but he supposed that he should wear clothes. Boring was down there. And there were adjustments to the boat’s controls to be made, too. Once he was back in his shorts and the dials and knobs of the autopilot were set, Jason left the boat to its own devices and headed belowdeck. Officer Boring was asleep on one of the small bunks, apparently storing up energy for the adventure ahead.

Jason frowned, realizing he still didn’t know what special Protector skills Boring held. To the best of Jason’s knowledge, being a super sycophant wasn’t a recognized Protector trait.

Lane looked over from where she was standing, and her smile whisked from Jason’s head all thoughts except of her.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. For a small boat with an owner who couldn’t cook, the
Whirling Dervish
had a surprisingly well-equipped galley. Lane was hovering behind its counter, the heat turned up under a saucepan.

Something smelled better than ambrosia, and Jason pointed in the general direction of the stove. “Whatever you’re making would be great.”

Color immediately rushed to her cheeks. Jason had no idea what he’d said to induce such a reaction but, considering she looked positively adorable, he didn’t regret saying it.

“I’m, uh, making omelets,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Understanding dawned as a memory returned, and a low chuckle rose in his throat. “One of your omelets sounds wonderful,” he said, careful to keep his voice level. “Especially if it’s mushroom and cheese.”

She shot him a suspicious glance, but he kept his face blank.

“And a little burnt around the edges,” he added.

Her suspicion changed to a glare, but there was a hint of amusement underneath. “I
can
cook,” she said. “You just weren’t helping.”

“There was no incentive.” He slipped onto one of the stools in front of the counter. “It was more fun distracting you.”

“
Distracting
,” she said. “Is that what you were doing? And all this time I thought you were just being a pain in the butt.”

“Is that what you thought?” He slipped off the stool, then circled the counter to stand behind her. He leaned in close to peer over her shoulder. Sure enough, she’d added mushrooms and cheese.

The curve of her rear brushed him, firing his senses. The last time she’d cooked for him they’d started out pretty much this same way, but...

“Jason,” she said, her voice low and breathy. Her tone held both unasked questions and untapped possibility. He wanted to answer each, slowly, methodically, until she didn’t have to ask any more because her every desire had been fulfilled.

“What?” he whispered.

He saw the faint movement of her throat as she swallowed, then felt more than heard her answer— “Don’t.”

The word had no meaning to him. “Don’t what?” He leaned in closer, breathing her scent: vanilla, mixed with the subtle smell of the sea. It was intoxicating. Hera help him, his body was reacting like this from nothing but the scent of her?

She twisted, wriggling away from him. “Don’t
that
,” she said.

He blinked, getting his mind around the situation. Not only had his body been pressed against hers; he’d curled one arm around her waist.

He took a step back. “Sorry,” he said, even though the only thing he was sorry for was stopping. “These little trips down memory lane aren’t exactly conducive to remaining platonic.”

She licked her lips. “I can’t censor everything I say or cook,” she said. “We were together for a long time. Just about anything either of us does will strike some memory, and I can’t have you—”

“I said I was sorry.” The words came out colder than he intended.

Lane’s face lost some of its intensity as she exhaled. “It’s just that I thought we were on the same wavelength. We can be friends—I
want
to be friends, especially if you want to be in Davy’s life. But I can’t...” She trailed off, her eyes wide and unblinking. “There can’t be anything more than that.”

Then she blinked and, before she turned her head, Jason thought he saw the glint of a tear. That tear kept him from saying the words that begged to be released—
What about me? Imprisoned for years with nothing but the memory of the woman I loved? The child I didn’t know
? He couldn’t get the words out. Why? Because he knew the answer; hell, that single tear practically screamed it. He’d gone off to fight his own battles, and she was terrified he’d do it again. She was sure he would leave at the drop of a hat, go off to fight the bad guys—to battle Hieronymous. And the truth was, he probably would.

She slid the omelet onto a plate and put it between them. He looked, a little disappointed to see the egg not even slightly burnt. Not only had she grown up in the last seven years, she’d also learned how to cook.

Who the hell was he kidding? Of course she’d changed. She’d been out living her life; raising a son, trying to make a better way for herself.

He took a bite, thinking about the life he knew she now lived. “Why law school?” he asked.

A genuine smile lit her face as she took some toast out of a toaster. “Your sort,” she said. She cut a piece of the omelet with her fork and popped it into her mouth, her eyes dancing with mystery.

“My sort?” he echoed, smiling back.

“Protectors. Superheroes.” She shrugged. “The good guys.”

“I see you’re a fan,” he said, “but I’m still not sure how law school fits in.”

“Zoë‘s become one of my closest friends. So has her brother Hale, for that matter.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. Hale’s reputation for being less than friendly toward mortals was widespread.

“Oh, he’s not going to start manufacturing I-Love-Mortal buttons or anything,” Lane explained. “But there’s a few of us he genuinely cares about. Some he even loves.”

Jason hadn’t ever met Hale, so he didn’t argue. “But I still don’t see the connection.”

“Those two are always fighting bad guys,” she said, stabbing the omelet aggressively with her fork. “I started to feel extraneous. My friends were doing all this amazing stuff, but if I tried to flip a mugger over my shoulder, I’d end up in traction. The mugger would be proud owner of all my belongings.” She shrugged. “I took a kickboxing course. I lost three pounds, but I’m still a klutz.”

“A cute klutz,” he proposed.

When she frowned, he held up his hands in self-defense. “It’s an empirical fact. You’re cute. Can’t a guy tell his friend she’s cute?”