For The Love Of A God (8 page)

If Nemesis tried anything else...

"How did you ever catch me?"

He struggled for an answer which would make him sound like a normal person. It wasn't as if he could confess he had felt danger around her and had materialized just in time. “Oh, I'm just blessed with good hand-eye coordination, nothing more."

Suddenly shy, Maia pulled away. “Look, Eric, I can't thank you enough. You've been awesome, but I really should get home."

Yes, you should. With me.

Whoa, he thought. Where did that come from?

Surely his possessive feelings emanated from a need to keep her, a weak mortal, safe from harm. Surely it wasn't because he wanted desperately to make love to her for hours on end.

He couldn't. But maybe he should keep an eye on her. If nothing else, she was a valued employee, he reasoned.

"Have a good night,” she whispered and turned away.

He reached for her hand. “Wait. Maia, this'll sound strange, and I swear my intentions are good. But I'd feel a whole lot better if you let me come with you and hang out at your place for a while."

Her eyes widened. The little blue vein under her eye seemed to throb with her quickened heartbeat. “Why?"

His throat felt thick as he responded, still holding her hand. “I've known a lot of really bad people in my life. You said you were pushed down the stairs. I just don't like the idea of you being alone right now.” He stared at her, willing her to agree, willing her to want him. Even just a little.

He waited for her to object. He waited for her to scoff. He waited for her to call him out for what sounded like the worst come-on in history.

But she didn't.

To his infinite surprise and relief, Maia just nodded and said, “Okay."

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"Well,” Maia declared, stepping into her little apartment. “Here we are."

He was really there. In her home. Eric freaking Lord. Hotter than Apollo and just as buff.

Okay, he was just a man. A smoking-hot man who was being really nice to her all of a sudden. She still wasn't sure why, but was curious to ride that train into the station.

God, she shouldn't even want him here. Why did she ever say yes? Why would Eric care if she got spooked after a clumsy fall down some steps? Although she was sure she'd felt two very strong hands on her back, pushing hard.

A shiver went through her as she remembered, and another as she looked at Eric. If she was honest with herself, she'd admit she'd said yes to him because she just didn't want to leave him. She wanted to see where this would go, even if it was horribly wrong.

He was her boss, for Pete's sake.

He grinned, taking in her cluttered mess. “You have a cozy apartment."

"Hmm. Now you sound like a real estate agent. I know what it is. It's tiny and messy.” Mortified, she spotted a pile of underwear she hadn't managed to put away and hurried to pick them up. “Sorry. I wasn't really expecting any guests."

Like ever.

"It's very ... you,” he said kindly, smiling at the sight of all her colorful underwear strewn about. “I especially like the purple thong draped over the rainbow sofa cushion. It's very eclectic. Artistic."

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed the thong. “Gee, thanks.” With her free hand, she knocked a pile of books off a chair. “Well, if you can find a seat, feel free to take one.” She strolled into the bedroom and quickly buried her pile of panties under another pile of clothing.

She watched from the other room as Eric wandered around the small space, touching some of her menagerie of items. She knew she had a lot of ... stuff. Tons of souvenirs from different countries. Little plaster pyramids from Egypt. A model of the Parthenon. Big coffee-table books littering every surface including the coffee table. And photos. Lots of photos of her and her dad on digs all over the world. Eric smiled as he glimpsed Maia at different ages, archaeological implements in hand, covered in sand. “I like this one,” he said, picking up one photo. “You look as happy as Friar Tuck at a medieval banquet."

"I'll order some takeout,” she said as she moved into the tiny galley kitchen. Within moments she was on the phone with a Chinese restaurant, trying to make them understand she wanted combo number four and not number five.

Trying at the same time to ignore the aura of sensual heat emanating from Eric's corner of the room.

Eric continued to peruse the apartment, wondering how someone with her orderly brain could function in such clutter. At work, he'd seen her be methodical and precise. Perhaps there were two Maias after all. One who lived for order and another who was impetuous. Sensuous. Devil-may-care. It was a tantalizing thought, and he wondered what it would take to bring out her hedonistic side.

He turned in an attempt to hide his massive hard-on behind a floor lamp. When he spied a grouping of dead plants on her window sill, he grinned. Poor ferns never stood a chance amidst her chaos.

He glanced up to make sure she wasn't watching and touched the brown tips of the parched plants. Immediately, the ferns moved, as if inhaling a breath of fresh air. They swelled and turned a bright, healthy green.

Hearing the click of the phone, he moved away from the revived greenery.

Maia approached. “Well, food's on its way.” She immediately noticed the plants and ran a finger along one of the succulent leaves. “Wow. These things were really dead this morning."

"Really dead,” he teased, “rather than just dead?"

She glared at him, but he caught her hidden smile.

"Your thumb must be greener than you thought.” He led her, still shaking her head, to the couch. “So, are you happy about your father?"

She turned to him. “I don't really know what I am. Cautiously optimistic, maybe? People don't just recover from MS."

He gritted his teeth, wishing he could tell her not to worry. “Maybe it was a miracle. They do happen from time to time."

"Yeah, right. But this isn't a case of seeing the Virgin Mary in a plate of mac and cheese."

"You're a skeptic, aren't you, Maia? A true nonbeliever.” Eric narrowed his eyes at her, trying not to feel so disappointed.

"I have a background in art but also in science. My dad taught me not to believe the things I couldn't see. I would have thought you'd feel the same."

"I do,” he replied. “But I guess I still allow for the possibility there's something bigger out there than all of us. Your science can't disprove it."

"Or prove it,” she countered. “Anyway, like the doctor said, it's too early to assume he's in the clear. Look how strangely he acted when he saw you! What was that all about?"

"Must be the meds,” he responded quietly.

"Anyway, they'll be observing him for a while.” She scrunched her forehead, stymied by everything she had seen. For a moment, she just sat there quietly, staring at her hands in her lap.

Then, reality kicked in and she remembered she had Eric sitting with her. Stud-muffin Eric. Sex-god Eric. Blushing, she looked up. “Look. I'm fine now. You don't have to babysit me. I'm sure someone like you has places to go."

"Someone like me?” He grinned as he asked it. “Meaning?"

Yeah, someone like you
, she thought. Manly. Sexy. The sort of person who did not generally end up in her apartment unless he knocked on the wrong door. “You know. A big shot. Shouldn't you be in a fancy boardroom right now, scowling at someone's PowerPoint presentation?"

Eric laughed. “Don't worry. I have a bunch of people to do my scowling for me. I've assembled a good team."

"Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I've seen your ‘team.’ She's tall and blonde and wears a size zero, except in the region of her fake boobs."

There was an amused light in his eyes then, as if he recognized her jealous tone and was excited by it. “You mean Sarah? I'll have you know she has excellent qualifications for the role."

Maia stared at him, her dark eyes hooded. “I'll bet she does."

Eric continued as if he hadn't heard her. “Besides—” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “—I've never been drawn to blondes.” He looked at her. “I've always been a sucker for brunettes."

She swallowed, and noticed how his gaze lingered on her throat. God, she must be so transparent to him. This was a man who was no doubt accustomed to sophisticated women. Elegant women. Not women who still dressed like girls and were ignorant of the finer points of seduction. Eric Lord must think she was such a love-starved fool!

So why was he here with her?

She managed, albeit clumsily, to change the subject and steer the conversation toward the one little thing they had in common: their love for all things Greek. She asked about his research, and he asked about all the digs she'd gone on with her father. Before long, she had her photos laid out before them, and they were reminiscing about favorite sites and cities.

Soon, the Chinese food arrived and he paid for it, much to her chagrin. They dug in, both of them surprised at their huge appetites. Between bites of chicken balls and bok choi, Maia asked about Eric's family. “Tell me about your parents."

Eric looked uncomfortable for a moment, but the shadow in his eyes passed. “There's not much to say unfortunately. I don't see them much. And they're basically estranged from each other.” He offered up a sad little grin. “My mom and dad love each other passionately. They just can't live together."

He thought of the willful Ares and the vain Aphrodite. He could never tell Maia the truth. She'd die from shock.

"But that's so sad,” she persisted. “Can't they get over their differences?"

"You don't know my parents.” Actually, she probably did know everything she needed to know. The myths were all based on truth. Aphrodite was as much the love-struck tease as Ares was the hard and impatient man of war. As their progeny, he saw it as his duty to temper and control those two warring sides of himself. He could never allow himself to loose the rein on the emotions stirring just below his surface.

"So, you don't see them much?"

She seemed so upset for him. Her concern was adorable. “It's okay. It's better this way. I hate to say it, but there are some destructive influences in my family. A lot of ... addictive personalities. I prefer to keep away from them. Stay on the straight and narrow, you know?” He chuckled.

"What is wrong with the Lord family?” exclaimed Maia. “Can't they even get their acts together for their son?"

"What about your mother? You've never mentioned her."

"Oh,” she said quietly. “That's because I don't know her. I was almost five when she decided she didn't want me anymore. Didn't want us."

Eric stared at her, stunned into silence. Didn't
want
her? Who wouldn't want her?

"My mom was an artist. She came from a totally different world than my dad. She tried joining him on digs at the start of their marriage, but just wasn't interested. He says they were too different to be compatible. They had this whirlwind love affair, and then I came along. Soon afterward, my mother decided she wasn't ready to be a mom and wife. She just walked away.” Maia's face broke into a pathetic, crumpled grin which didn't mask her pain. “I've never heard from her. Not a single birthday card. Not one phone call. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere and I wouldn't know."

Eric put down his plate of fried rice and frowned at her. “If it's any consolation, your mother's a fool."

"Well, I'm lucky I had my dad. He was the best. He always has been.” She turned her head and grabbed her Holly Hobby bag from where she'd draped it over the couch. “He gave this bag to me after my mom left. I carried it everywhere I went as a child. It became my security blanket. Years later, when dad got sick, I found it in a box with some things I'd put away. I haven't been able to put it back. I know it's pathetic. I'm a grown woman and I carry a security blanket. I'm Linus."

"No, you're not. And your mom was the pathetic one. You're special, Maia."

She brightened a little. “Thanks. Now I really just feel sorry for my mother. She missed out on a lot. I'm sure one day she'll realize it."

He smiled at her, wanting to hug her. So many people in her situation would blame themselves. Maia was smarter than they. In many ways, quirks aside, she was better adjusted than he was. And he had a whole arsenal of special powers at his disposal.

She was starting to charm the pants off him, this intriguing young woman.

They continued talking about their lives and about Greece, late into the night, like a couple of geeky grad students. At one point, Maia produced a dusty bottle of white wine and poured out two glasses before he could object.

No
. He couldn't allow himself to drink with her. It would be a disaster. He'd only end up looking at her through a wine-fogged haze and see her in a way she didn't deserve. As a warm body he desperately wanted to fuck.

She pushed the glass toward him. “Come on, boss man. You've stood watch over me all night. The least I can do is offer you some wine."

He looked at the glass, suddenly thirsty. And then he looked at her, suddenly hungry. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed from the start. Maia Douglas was beautiful. She was unthinkably gorgeous. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. Her body looked so relaxed sitting there with him. Ripe for the picking.

If he put his mind to it, she wouldn't even protest. He could slide her capri pants and panties down over her hips and lower his mouth to her heat and give her a pleasure she'd never known. It would be so easy.

And he'd hate himself later. “You know, maybe I should go."

"No!” The word popped out of her mouth so quickly he wasn't even sure it had registered in her head. “I mean, we're having a good time, right?"

"Yes."

"And,” she said, obviously fishing for the right words, “I still feel weird about the push on the steps. I really don't want to be alone tonight. Maybe you could crash here with me?"

There. She'd said it. She'd asked him to stay the night, just as he'd been hoping she would. Okay, she hadn't begged for sex as he'd wanted her to do, but she'd asked him not to leave. That had to validate his presence there. It gave him a much-needed excuse not to leave. He could kiss her for it.