Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series) (7 page)

“What next?” Apollo scanned the list Artemis had given him: Ways to gain the love of women in this new age. “Suit—done.” Cassandra wouldn’t need flowers, not when she had him for her eyes to feast upon. “No flowers.”

Perfume? He shook his head, dismissing the idea. The woman’s scent made his mouth water. Why hide it? “No perfume.”

Chocolate? He’d meant to ask Artemis about the form of that gift, but became distracted when she said he needed shearing. His golden waves brushing his shoulders were his crowning glory. How many women had twisted their slender fingers in his long mane while they wrapped their legs around his hips in ecstasy? He smiled at the memories. No. That he refused. He would never come to Cassandra shorn of his beauty.

Apollo scanned the list. “Listen.”

That must be important. The goddess had written it in large, gold characters. That he could do. He’d make sure Cassandra listened to him. When he finished speaking, there’d be no doubt in her mind that she belonged to him. The list continued for another page, but Apollo folded the paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Enough for now. No need to overwhelm the girl. She’d fall into his arms, declaring her adoration for him.

His uncle was a fool to wager against him. Apollo opened the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt and breathed in. He despised restraints. Physical freedom was part of the joy of being a god. How difficult to live as a mortal prone to illness and death. Fear ruled humanity, shackling them to the illusion of safety at the cost of greatness and freedom. Most wasted their short lives too afraid to follow the seed planted in their bosom urging them toward more, listening instead to other defeated souls as their guides. He shook his head.
Such a dark and slight existence
.

Cassandra desired more of life. Passion burst from her. He felt it each time she argued with him. She fought to nurture her true self against her parents and the world. Her courage in Troy had won Apollo’s case with the gods and gained her spirit’s release from Hades. Few mortals displayed god-like virtue. Courage and determination were part of what he loved about her. And to have them bound together in soft olive skin, and expressive violet eyes with the power to heat his loins were gifts close to divine. Worthy of a god.

Her courage and beauty were rivaled by her stubbornness. Each night as he kissed and caressed her in dreams, she’d let down her guard, and take part only to deny her passion in the light of day. He’d brought her repeatedly to the pinnacle, her body writhing upon the silk, panting, screaming her release. And without breaching proof of her maidenhood. That he’d take at her insistence and when she was fully awake. Apollo glanced once more at his reflection in the mirror. He must love her to go to such lengths.

* * *

Cassie considered the woman who’d bore her and doubted the genetic connection. Her mother stood before Cassie’s open closet. “Wear a dress.” She plunged into the back of the walk-in depths. “Where is he taking you? Some place nice, I hope.” Her mother emerged. “Wear the black number. Oh, and your diamond and sapphire earrings.”

Cassie stared at her mother, holding the black lace dress above her head, shaking it in rabid insistence. “Mom, what I’m wearing is fine.”

Her mother crinkled her nose and pressed the padded hanger into Cassie’s hand. “Be serious. Men are visual creatures attracted to beauty.” She tilted her head. “What are you doing with your hair?”

“Nothing. I like it loose.”

“Then curl it.”

“John likes me as I am.” Cassie hoped that was true.

Her mom snickered. “Oh, the intelligent ones all say that. Every man wants a goddess on his arm. Why not oblige him?”

Patience ran short and the word
goddess
irked Cassie. “I’m not sure how I feel about John. Why should I work to impress him?”

“You’re serious.” Her mother’s eyes widened. “You never know who you’ll meet when you’re out. Maybe this young man won’t measure up, but another might see you across the room, be captivated by your beauty and seek you out.”

Cassie couldn’t believe her mom’s words. Nancy Priam was a modern woman, a respected dermatologist, and way too focused on appearance. Unfortunately, not much of a surprise.

“I want to be loved for me,” said Cassie, her fingers tightening on the hanger until her knuckles ached.

Her mom’s shrill laugh filled the room. “A man needs a reason to invest time to know you. After he’s fallen for the pretty package, you can unveil your idiosyncrasies—not before.” She made a clucking sound and shook her head. “You have it so backward, dear. No wonder you young girls have trouble finding a man to marry.”

Cassie flinched at the cruel remark. Her mom could be so clueless.

Dr. Nancy Priam lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean you, Cassie. You’re too young for anything as serious as marriage. It’s just that your generation is bombarded with advertising and few of you know how to market yourselves.” She threw up her manicured hands. “Unbelievable.”

The entire conversation was unbelievable. “I’m not a product for sale.”

Her mom’s red lips tightened. “It isn’t a question of whether we’re for sale or not. It’s haggling over the price.”

The shock of her mother’s words shot through Cassie like Greek fire. Did her mom believe what she’d said? In what way had Dr. Nancy Priam sold herself and to whom? Cassie took in her mom’s shaking hand as it again pushed the black dress at her, the harsh lines around her mouth and desperation darkening her blue gaze. Her mom could be the poster child for misery. For the first time in Cassie’s memory she felt sorry for her.

* * *

Sawdust and peanut shells were strewn about the floor of the Cattle Rustler’s Bar and Eatery. Cassie followed John through the conglomerate of truckers, family parties and servers, burdened by trays stacked high, to their table in the corner. She slid into the brown vinyl-covered booth. A beer bottle dangled above the table with a bulb screwed into the cut bottom, creating a crude lamp that glowed indifferent light.

John grinned at her and pulled a peanut from the tin bucket on the table, cracking the shell in his large bronze hand. “Great place. Best steaks and ribs.” He popped the nuts into his mouth and chewed. “Hope you’re hungry.”

The server, a thin young man decked in a black t-shirt with the words “Cattle Rustlers do it better” in beefy script over his chest, handed them menus. Cassie squinted at the offerings under the dim beer bottle and was glad she’d ignored her mom and worn jeans.

“We’ll have two beers and the Stampede Platter,” said John.

“And what dressings for your salads?” The server focused on her with quick green eyes. 

“Ranch on the side,” she said, irritated that John had side stepped her in ordering. “And no beer, just water.” The server nodded and left.

“You don’t drink?” John crinkled his brow. “I knew you were brilliant. Are you a prodigy, one of those kids that finished college by sixteen? I’ve never been good at guessing a woman’s age. You are legal—right?”

Cassie considered giving him a hard time and let him think he was out with jailbait. Served him right. He deserved to sweat it out for a while “That depends on what you mean by legal.”

His gaze focused into a leveling stare. “You’re full of crap.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He drummed his fingers on the glossy wood table. “I’m an information geek. You’re over 21 and no boyfriend. I checked you out before I took you to lunch.”

“Okay. Now I’m uncomfortable.” And his reference to “boyfriend” caused her to wonder if Apollo would barge in. Not that he was her boyfriend, but he didn’t seem to listen to her on that point. She casually glanced around the room for blue eyes emitting fire.

“Why? Everyone does it. I’m just honest about it.” That lopsided grin spread over his mouth. “Like you didn’t look me up before tonight?”

“Maybe a little.” He did have a point. “How much digging did you do?”

“Enough to know that you’re a quiet girl, a serious student, and someone I’d like to know better.”

All true. But she was still annoyed by his need for control. “Do you always order for your dates without asking them? And what is the
Stampede
?”

John tossed peanut shells onto the floor. “Just habit on the order. The Stampede is a platter stacked high with ribs, grilled steak and chicken. I’m a carnivore.”

Habit? Did he bring a lot of girls here? Good thing she wasn’t a vegetarian, she’d starve with this guy. Cassie dropped her paper napkin in her lap feeling irritation roll in her gut. “Do you frequent this place?”

John shrugged. “It’s close to my apartment and I like the décor. Very low key.”

Low key didn’t begin to describe the design. Cassie glanced at the stuffed two-headed calf displayed on the far wall and shuddered. “It’s unique.”

“I thought you’d like it.” John grinned and crumbled peanut shells between his fingers, littering the table with fine dust. “You’re not like other girls.”

She felt another of his flirtatious
lines
coming on. It was flattering that he bothered, but she preferred honesty and a direct approach. “How am I different?”

“I’m not sure, but there’s something about you.” He tossed a shelled nut into his mouth. “You’re sweet, for one thing, and you know how to dress for a first date. None of that fancy outfit ‘I’m trying to impress you’ garbage. Jeans say ‘take me as I am’. I like that.”

What a dichotomy, an ambitious man that avoided pretension. “I didn’t realize I was making a statement.” She scanned John’s green marine t-shirt. His tan biceps bulged beneath the short sleeves. “What are you saying with your shirt, that you’re an ex-marine?”

His lips widened to that lopsided grin. “Nope. That I need to do laundry.”

Cassie couldn’t help but smile. John’s teasing fed her need to play. It had been far too long since she’d relaxed with a man and had a good time. Who said it had to become a
relationship
?

The server brought their salads and the band started up.

“These guys are perfect,” said John. “What they lack in talent they make up for in volume.”

“You like them?”

“Sure.” The twang of country guitar reverberated from the small stage.

“What?” This wouldn’t work. “I can’t hear you,” she mouthed.

John snatched his plate, left his side of the booth, and scooted in beside her. “How’s this?”

His hot breath tickled her ear, sending shivers down to her toes. John was cute, fun, and a lifeline to normal. She nodded, afraid her voice would squeak a reply. His clean scent wrapped around her like a warm towel fresh from the drier. Breathing in, she filled her lungs with him and memorized the perfume of rugged man and soap. Cassie stared at his eyes, but her gaze drifted to the space between his firm jaw and straight nose. His mouth intrigued her as he spoke, but she couldn’t focus on the words. Each movement of his delectable lips distracted her mind. Imagination took over and she visualized how his mouth would feel on hers. Would his kiss be soft or firm and demanding?

“Well?” John stared at her, apparently expecting an answer.

Damn.
In her stupor she’d missed everything he’d said. Heat crept up her neck. “Say again?”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “You didn’t hear anything I said, did you? My bad. The music is too loud. If it’s okay with you, we can get the food to go and enjoy a quiet dinner at my apartment.”

He had her full attention. “Your place?” Imaginings of his soft lips pressing hers, crowded her mind. She swallowed. Visions of his strong arms around her and that longed for moment when he took her to his bed. Damn, she was doing it again. Focus. Hadn’t she been hurt enough by men? Did she have to act like an out of control teenager? Get a grip.

She shouldn’t consider a relationship with John. Somehow she’d drive him away just as she’d done with every other guy. He’d leave her with a fresh, gaping wound to her self-esteem.  Did she have a talent for picking men unable to commit? Not a pleasant thought. And there was that red flag, his need to make connections. He’d denied that his objective was to meet her dad, but she’d been lied to before. Eric had lied. Or could her mom be right, and men wanted a goddess that looked like sex on stilettos rather than someone real to build a life with?  Her stomach sank. She hoped not.

Cassie took a long look at Mr. Hottie. He was ambitious. Ambition didn’t guarantee that he wasn’t interested in her. What if John was different from the men in her past? She could give him a chance. If he were still around in another month, she could sum up her feelings and see if a relationship added up. For the time being, her bruised ego could use some male attention from a normal guy. She scanned left and right and listened for that domineering god to object. Nothing. Not so much as a whisper. She let out a breath in relief. “Going to your apartment is a great idea.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Apollo unbuttoned his navy jacket and scanned the restaurant for Cassandra, wincing when a man on stage bellowed lyrics to a depressing tune. Did this noise pass for music in this new age? He didn’t care for it. Too loud. It lacked the serene appeal of the lyre or the jovial lilt of flute and drum. His ears throbbed. Oh, that Zeus would allow him to remove offensive mortals, and then the musicians’ assault would end. Still, a god had some options. Apollo glared at the man as he tortured another song. The mortal coughed, gasped and fell silent.
Ah, peace
. Rendering the players mute for an hour would do no harm.

Scanning the space, the debris on the ground made him wonder if they kept livestock within. The shreds on the ground didn’t look like straw and no offensive animal odors filled his nostrils. Apollo smelled beer and charred meat, and underneath it all, the soft scent of almond oil. He honed in on the tantalizing fragrance, knowing it must belong to his wayward Cassandra. He rolled his shoulders and strode toward the compelling aroma. He spied her. Cassandra’s lovely mouth formed an “oh”. Apollo licked his lips.
Such a mouth needed kissing and so many other activities.