For The Love Of A God (3 page)

Security cameras would not capture the image of a naked man in the Gallery of Greece. They would not register the sight of him snapping his fingers, magically clothing his hard body in a designer suit.

And no one would notice as the man slipped out of the museum. On the front steps of the building, Eryx scanned the length of Yonge Street and took a deep breath. His nostrils were filled with the fragrance of sauteed onions and street meat. His eyes took in the weaving mass of color which was the shoppers rushing to and fro. He took a step and joined the crowd in the summer night.

It was time to put his alter ego Eric Lord to work.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Maia arrived at the museum on Sunday morning, way before opening, and was astounded at the number of staff in the cavernous foyer. She could hear angry whispers as people huddled in small groups. A couple of women from Etruscans and Romans were crying quietly. Others just looked spooked.

Before she ever got past the foyer, she spied her friends Sheila and Dino. They were colleagues in the conservation office and had worked with Maia for years. In all probability, they were her only real friends. She hurried over to their little huddle.

Sheila Flynn's blue eyes were ablaze with excitement. “He's here!"

"Who's here?” Maia lazily slurped some extra-strong coffee from her eco-friendly travel mug, hoping it would wake her up.

"Maia, honey,” Dino Di Iorio said, his tweezed brows arched. “You look like shit. And I just know it's not because you got fucked last night."

She turned to him, eyes wider than they had been all morning. “Do you have to be so vulgar all the time?” She frowned and sipped more coffee. “Besides, how do you know I wasn't ... screwed last night? Maybe I was. And maybe it was fantastic."

In a sense, it was. But it had all been in her head, as it had been for weeks.

"Ah, honey,” Dino commiserated. “Did you have another sexy dream last night? About your statue?"

"He's not a statue in my dreams, trust me,” she answered quietly. Her sleep had been perforated by intense, sexual dreams featuring the god Eryx. It had been happening for weeks, and she couldn't remember the last good sleep she'd had.

Last night's had been particularly vivid. She'd been wearing an ancient Greek costume, a
peplos
. He had come to her, removed her clothing, and made love to her with his glorious nude body. Done things to her she'd never done with anyone. Eryx had been so blond and beautiful and hungry for her. Insatiable. When she'd woken up, her panties were down at her ankles and she'd somehow wriggled out of her ratty Monkees T-shirt. And she'd woken up in a frustrated sweat, her body uncomfortable and aching with aborted passion.

"Well, at least you're getting some action,” Dino said.

Sheila shook her head and her auburn spiral curls bobbed. “Hello, people. Back to the topic at hand.
He
is here."

Maia looked at the groups of staff members wandering listlessly through the foyer. She could see the nervous looks on their faces. For a moment, she forgot about Eryx and his Greek god body. She felt a distinct chill down her spine, and her head was starting to pound. Something was wrong. Her quiet sanctuary, her museum, never bristled with such anxious electricity. She didn't like it one bit. “What are you talking about?"

"The new director! Eric Lord,” Sheila whispered. “Don't tell me you've forgotten. He's already fired someone, and he hasn't even sat in his chair yet! Didn't you get my text this morning?"

"No,” Maia said, stunned. “I've been unplugged for the last ten hours.” It was true. She'd spent her evening thinking about Poseidon's testicles and about the strange voice she'd heard coming from the Eryx statue. And then, of course, she'd been a little busy with the god himself, in her dream.

She shivered as she remembered the dream again. He'd been so sensuous, so persuasive. With a shiver, she realized she could still feel the softness of Eryx's blond waves as they brushed against the skin on her neck and her stomach. Between her thighs. She could still see his green eyes clearly as they searched hers, aching, pining. And his touch...

She banished the raunchy image and forced herself to concentrate on Sheila's words. “Okay, wait. You said he's already fired someone. How do you know?"

Dino piped up. “He canned Mark from Etruscans and Romans. We all saw him leave first thing, box in hand. He was walked out the door by security."

Maia stared at them, incredulous. “Mark? He's been here for twenty years. He's published, for God's sake!"

"And now he's redundant,” said Sheila. “Look, Maia, there's more. People have been whispering all morning. There's a rumor he's been asking for you."

Maia felt her heart start to palpitate. “What could he possibly want with me?"

Sheila was about to say something, but her face paled. Maia watched as Sheila's eyes, then Dino's eyes, slowly travelled to a point over her shoulder. Behind her, Maia could hear the clicking of a man's dress shoes on the floor. Her heart fell promptly into her crocs.

Then she got mad. Who was this Eric Lord anyway? What made him think he could arbitrarily fire Mark, a respected leader in his field? And what made him think he could come after Dr. Jim Douglas's daughter? She'd give Eric Lord a piece of her mind.

Maia turned with a huff, hands on hips, ready to put the dictator into his place. But when she saw the man approaching them, her hands dropped. And then her jaw dropped.

If the elastic on her Hanes underwear hadn't been so strong, her panties would have dropped too.

It was him. Eryx. Or, at least, the closest she'd ever seen any man come to the image she'd created of him. The image haunting her delicious dreams. As he walked toward them, she gawked.

He was everything she'd ever imagined Eryx would be. Wavy, dark blond hair. Arresting green eyes. A tall, perfectly built body. A sensual face with full lips, although they were currently taut, giving him a serious expression. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and had the wardrobe to match. His suit was dark and elegant, cut from an expensive cloth, and his pale green tie accentuated the unique color of his eyes. Everything about him was smooth and calm and seemed calculated to make you trust him.

Or fear him. The perfect executive.

He looked so slick. Even with his hands clenched into fists, so tightly she could see the whites of his knuckles. Even with flared nostrils, almost as if he were breathing her in.

She felt her eyelids flutter as he drew close. She could already smell him. He smelled like ... heaven. Like her dreams.

He stopped in front of her and stared down at her for a moment before speaking. “Miss Douglas?"

Maia's heart was pounding. She had trouble breathing. And when she tried to respond, the only thing which came out of her mouth was a loud, “Holy crap!"

She listened to her cuss reverberate through the marbled foyer.

Mortified, she clapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to have such an outburst. But his voice sounded like the voice of Eryx. Deep and resonant, like the voice she'd heard in the Greek gallery. Like the voice haunting her dreams.

The man paused. Someone snickered. She thought she saw the director's eyes light up with sudden amusement, but she wasn't sure. He was frowning so hard at her.

"Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Eric Lord. May I steal you away from your colleagues for a moment?” He began to walk away, expecting her to follow.

"Don't you mean ex-colleagues?” Maia whispered the comment, but realized too late Lord had heard her. She didn't think it possible, but he looked even sterner as he turned back to glance at her. His brows were so knit together, he might have been creating an afghan up there.

Maybe Eric Lord just didn't get enough fiber in his diet.

The man inclined his head with impatience. “Let's take a walk to the Greek gallery, Miss Douglas."

She shot a parting look at Sheila and Dino and walked away with Lord. Her face colored bright red as she heard Dino say in a not-so-quiet voice, “Did you
see
the man's ass?"

Embarrassed, she snuck a peek at the director. A faint light of amusement seemed to be back in his eyes. He was biting his bottom lip, as if trying not to smile.

As his teeth released their hold on his full lip, she felt a queer little quiver run through her.

God, he looked just like Eryx. It was all there. Even the honeyed stubble dotting his strong jaw. The stubble which had been rasping against her inner thighs in her recent dream.

Maia gulped as he turned to her. “So,” he said. “I hear you're our resident Greek expert."

She held her head up. Uncanny resemblance notwithstanding, sexy, god-like features notwithstanding, she wouldn't let this man intimidate her. He'd fired Mark! Okay, so Mark hadn't done any real work in about fifteen years and was coasting on his dated reputation, but he had a wife and kids. “Yes. I know the Greek exhibit better than anyone working here presently."

He raised a perfect manly eyebrow at her. “No false modesty, I see."

"No need. It's the truth. Ask anyone."

They turned a corner and headed toward the Gallery of Greece, still hidden beneath its coverings. “Good. I'll be paying a lot of attention to the new gallery. As it happens, I'm a bit of an expert in ancient Greece myself."

"I know,” she allowed. “You have an impressive pedigree. I read your grandfather's paper on the spread of Hellenistic civilization. It's brilliant. I referred to it a lot during my studies and my work."

Eric Lord stopped walking for a moment, and stared at her, apparently stunned. “You read that? It was written years ago. I would have thought a young person like you would have turned to some newer research."

"Young person?” she scoffed. “I'm twenty-eight, and you look all of thirty."

She wouldn't have thought it possible, but the director blushed.

"Besides,” she continued, trying to be nice. “Your grandfather's arguments are still completely valid. And I like his style of writing. He made it sound as if he were on intimate terms with the ancient Greeks."

He cleared his throat.

"Is your grandfather still...?"

"Gone. He's been ... gone for years."

"Oh. I'm sorry.” Maia stared at him. He seemed to have let his guard down at little, and she did truly admire his grandfather's work. But she was still determined to hate him. He'd fired what's-his-name, and she still didn't know what he wanted with her. “Look, Mr. Lord. I'm sure you didn't bring me here to reminisce. If you're planning to fire me, could we get it over with sooner rather than later? It'll take me a day just to clear out the crap on my desk."

This time, he did laugh. His top-model face split with a huge grin, as if he were enjoying her discomfort tremendously. And even though his laugh irritated her, it also reached inside her body, like a manly finger seeking out her most private places. It tickled and teased her.

"What's so funny?"

"You, to be truthful,” he replied.

She bristled. “Well, laugh if you want. I'm used to it. People have been laughing at me for years. I assure you it doesn't bother me anymore.” But there was a time when it did. When she was the overweight, pimply girl in high school, it had bothered her a great deal. She might have been the student who won all the academic awards at graduation, but the other kids had only laughed at the “statue hugger."

His green gaze hardened, as if he had somehow caught a glimpse of her former sadness and didn't like it. “I mean no disrespect. I just don't think I've ever met anyone quite so ... frank. I'm not sure if I find it refreshing or not.” He paused, staring at her the whole time. “Look, I didn't bring you here to fire you, Miss Douglas. If that were my plan, you'd already be out the door, clutching your Holly Hobby purse."

She looked down at her satchel. It was her turn to blush.

"Actually, I have some plans for this gallery. Your knowledge of Greece is good, if not quite as extensive as mine. Even still, I thought I'd bend your ear a little."

Her knowledge wasn't as extensive as
his
? Who did he think he was talking to?

Maia's heart started to palpitate again as her brain whirled. What plans did he have? The Greek gallery was set up exactly as her father had set it up years ago. Yes, they'd been doing some minor renovations, but the design was the one her father had created years ago. Everyone at the museum agreed it should remain. It was her dream to retain her father's vision for the gallery.

Especially now, with her dad sick as he was.

"Plans?” she murmured.

He grinned at her again as they reached the entrance. He held back the drop cloths for her. “Yes. Sweeping changes, actually. Museum styles change, as you know. The gallery is outdated, crammed tight with every possible artifact on display. I want to see something more streamlined, less busy. Right now, it looks like a hoarder's basement.” He wet his lips, noting how her eyes dropped to watch. “Some sculpture will have to go. Starting with the statue of Eryx."

She could barely push enough air through her windpipe to say, “What?"

His eyes narrowed on her. “Eryx. Greek god of love."

Maia's eyes burned. “I know who he is! What are you doing with his statue?"

"I know some people at the Hermitage. They'd like to display the Eryx and I'm interested in a few of their items. You know, a little trade to freshen up the collection."

"The Hermitage? The Russian Hermitage?” He was sending her Eryx to Russia? She fought the overwhelming rush of dizziness as she attempted to squeeze another labored breath through her thickened throat.

"It's just a temporary change, Miss Douglas. Eryx is already down in storage. Don't worry, though. We'll bring him back, in about two years or so.” He stared at her.

"No,” she whispered. Without waiting for Eric Lord to respond, she hiked up her long skirt and ran toward the spot where Eryx had stood for twenty-three years.

As she careened around the corner, Maia didn't even hear the footsteps behind her. All she felt was the horrible, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach and the trail of her tears on her cheeks.