A Demonic Bundle (50 page)

Falling for Maksim Kostova was destined to be doomed.

M
aksim watched Jo dart down the hallway, and he fought the urge to enter her head to understand what the hell had happened to her in the course of a few hours to make her so wary of him, so on edge, so unwilling to even look at him.

He glanced down at himself, then raised his eyebrow. He was nude, but that certainly hadn’t bothered her last night. He turned and entered her bedroom. But he knew he wouldn’t jump into her head. He was already afraid that he might have caused her damage.

What if her fear last night had been somehow related to what he’d done to her? He had to consider that. And while he wasn’t pleased with her reaction this morning, he wasn’t willing to hurt her.

He paused while pulling on his jeans. Why was he doing this again? Why was he putting his concerns for this mortal woman above his own desires? He tugged his jeans up and fastened them.

He needed to think about all of this. And he really needed to get a grip. Tugging on the rest of his clothing in abrupt, irritated movements, he decided he needed a break from this woman. She was making him crazy.

He shoved his feet into his shoes and headed directly back to the kitchen. Jo stood, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter. Her arms were folded around herself in an almost protective way. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Her dark eyes were distant, distracted.

Everything about her stance annoyed him. Where was the warm, open, and uninhibited woman from last night?

After a second, she looked at him. “I think we should talk.”

Mmm, he didn’t have to be a genius to know that wasn’t a good announcement.

“About what?”

“About this situation.” She turned so her whole body faced him, although her gaze moved around the room. Everywhere but on him.

“Okay. Go ahead.” He didn’t want to hear her words, but he didn’t think she would be stopped.

“I think this needs to end. It’s too complicated.”

Maksim tried to remain calm, cool, which was hard given his blood had come to a slow, steady simmer. She was ending things? When they’d barely begun? After how they’d both reacted last night?

Humans were certifiable. No wonder he usually had little use for them. She was lucky to have his attention. His lust. She was lucky, and he should be the one calling the shots, deciding when things would end.

But instead of saying any of that, he asked, “Why is it too complicated?”

Jo didn’t answer. She tightened her arms around herself, and stood so straight, she looked as if her spine could snap in two with just a little pressure.

Finally, she said, “I just think it’s for the best.”

He stared at her. That was it? That was her whole answer?

He gritted his teeth. You know what? He didn’t give a shit. He got what he wanted out of her. Twice.

Sure, he’d have liked more. A lot more.

A lot more of what he got last night, he clarified to himself. He didn’t want anything else from her. But he was damned if he was going to pick through a woman’s mercurial moods just to get a little ass. He knew that already being damned kind of took some of the emphasis out of his declaration, but he really did mean it.

Chasing human tail was beneath him.

Not his style. Period.

“Well, I guess I should head out.”

Jo came back from the faraway place where she was, tightening her arms around herself again. “Okay.”

Maksim’s teeth ached as he gritted harder, furious at her vague response.

What the hell had happened since last night?

No! No. He wasn’t going there. It was time to cut out and focus on what mattered to him.

“See ya,” he said, his voice sharp, laden with sarcasm.

He shut the door behind him with more force than necessary when no reply came, irritated with her and more so with himself that he cared.

Jo barely recalled walking to work, or answering her e-mails or anything else she’d done when she got to her office. In fact, she’d been sitting with her fingers poised on her keyboard, doing nothing but thinking, for about twenty minutes or so now.

And she likely would have continued to remain lost in her thoughts of Maksim and the disaster her life was for another twenty, if Cherise hadn’t appeared in her doorway. The larger woman’s telltale eyebrows were furrowed together, concern thinning her lips.

“Have you heard from Maksim?”

Jo shuffled around a few papers on her desk, trying to make it look like she’d been doing something, anything besides fixating on the man in question.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, he isn’t here. And that’s not normal.”

Jo’s heart skipped slightly at Cherise’s words. What if he didn’t come back? What if he was gone for good? The chances of that were almost 100 percent, if she had to guess.

But she pushed away her thoughts, trying to keep her voice cool and calm. “Maybe he had something come up.”

Cherise shook her head. “He’d have called me and let me know.”

“How can you be so sure? He’s only been here for a week. That hardly makes you an expert on the man.”

One of Cherise’s eyebrows rose up. “Well, you can just tell these things.”

Jo bristled, straightening in her rickety chair, aggravated that the other woman was so willing to defend the man’s work ethic. Which wasn’t rational. After all, he had been working hard for the center. But she didn’t want to worry about whether he’d be back again. And she didn’t want to think about what drove him away.

Her.

“I think you should try to call him,” Cherise said. “Just to make sure he’s okay.”

No. Jo wasn’t going to do that. Not with the way things ended this morning. No way.

“Actually, you know,” she said, turned to her computer and clicked on the calendar icon. “I think he did tell me he had something going on today.”

Jo even went to the extent of looking at her entries as if there would really be something written there. Another explanation aside from the real one as to why Maksim was absent. All that stared back at her was…Maksim, 8
A.M.
to noon, in bright red letters.

But she managed to keep her voice steady and convincing as she said, “Oh yep, it does say that he had an appointment today. He wasn’t sure if he’d be in or not.”

Jo looked back at Cherise, forcing herself to meet the woman’s dark gaze directly. “Sorry. I forgot.”

Cherise’s eyebrows indicated that she didn’t believe her, but then she nodded and left the doorway, heading back to the ruckus in the daycare room.

Jo closed the calendar, unable to look again at the day labeled with Maksim’s times.

And here was another bad effect of her decision with the man—she was going to lose her only decent volunteer.

And someone who she had to admit she really liked.

“Great,” she muttered, dropping her head into her hands.

“Jo.” Erika grinned as soon as she saw Jo on the other side of her door. “What are you doing here?”

Jo laughed, the sound even a little brassy to her own ears. “Well, it is Friday night. I thought you’d be up for hitting Bourbon Street.”

“Really?”

Jo frowned at her friend. “I know I’ve been a bit of a homebody since I got here, but is it really that shocking I’d want to go out?”

Erika studied her for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I…no, of course not.”

Jo smiled, but the smile dissolved as Erika added, “Are you feeling okay, though?”

Jo attempted to suppress her annoyance, though she knew that she probably wasn’t doing a great job.

“You and Maggie are giving me a complex. I feel fine.”

Which was a lie. She was tired, frazzled, sick of thinking about Maksim and her future. Sick of wondering if things could be different. Sick of worrying about the fact that she was apparently seeing things that weren’t really there.

She forced a smile at Erika. “I really do feel fine. Just not wanting to be alone tonight.”

Well, at least she could say that in all truth. She’d stayed late at the center, determined to do some work, the work she hadn’t managed to do all day. But when the center emptied and grew quiet, and the sun sank low, casting long shadows in the hallway, she’d had to leave. Her nerves got the better of her.

And heading home didn’t seem any more appealing. So she’d gone for a decaf latte at a coffee shop on Chartres. She’d lounged in an overstuffed wingback chair, sipped her coffee and read about the trials and tribulations of Hollywood’s A List. And while that helped calm her nerves, it didn’t keep her mind from returning again and again to Maksim.

Even the announcement of Brad and Angelina’s twentieth pregnancy couldn’t keep her mind from wandering. So she’d given up on the showbiz mags and went in search of human distraction.

She needed to be with her friends.

“Come in,” Erika said, realizing she’d been blocking the doorway and leaving Jo standing on the porch. She ushered her in, and for the first time, Jo realized that her friend was getting ready to work.

Her dropcloth was spread on the dining room floor. And one of her sculptures, just a barebones metal frame, sat on top of it. Once Erika started working with polymer and other sculpting mediums, it would take become something completely different, something lifelike and breathtaking.

“I’m sorry. I’m interrupting you.”

Erika waved a hand. “I’m thrilled to be able to avoid working for a while. And I’d love to get the chance to hang out with you. I know we just saw each other a couple days ago, but I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to really talk.”

Jo nodded, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to
really
talk. She wanted company and a distraction, but she didn’t want to think anymore—not about what was real in her life, although, honestly, she was starting to wonder what was real. Everything seemed to be a weird fantasy.

And she wasn’t about to tell Erika that she felt like she was losing her mind. That would open a line of conversation she could do without. She’d just keep her insanity to herself. Thanks.

“Is this piece commissioned or for a show?” Jo asked before Erika could ask her anything that might be difficult to discuss.

Erika walked over and touched the metal framework fondly. She loved her work, every creation one of her babies.

Jo breathed in slowly through her nose, wrapping her arms around herself, watching, trying not to think.

“It’s for a gallery on Royal. The owner asked me for two new pieces.” Erika stopped regarding her art and turned her full attention to Jo. Her gray-blue eyes dropped to Jo’s stance, focusing on the arms folded over her stomach.

“Are you okay?”

Again with the “are you okays.” Jo forced a smile, dropping her arms to her side. “I told you I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“Listen, let’s go see Maggie and the guys play.”

Erika pursed her lips, and for a moment, Jo thought she was going to say no. Then she smiled, the curve of her lips transforming from worry to impish delight.

“Okay, let me change.”

Jo smiled as her friend scampered down the hallway to get gussied up. Jo glanced down at her own black jumper with a white T-shirt underneath. Hardly Bourbon Street attire, but she thought the short length and the Empire waist made the style younger and sort of hip.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and this style was cooler and more comfortable than the type of thing she would have normally worn out for a night on the town. She supposed the lack of her usual style was a minor concession preferable to being hideously uncomfortable.

She wandered over the sofa, sinking onto the blue velvet cushions and letting her eyes close. She was tired, but suffering a little sleepiness and a few yawns at a bar was much more appealing than sitting home alone. Not sleeping, anyway, because her mind wouldn’t let her.

She stretched and willed her eyes open.

A noise rumbled beside her, startling her. She turned on her sofa cushion to see Erika’s cat sitting on the arm of the sofa. Golden eyes watched, then disappeared behind a face of black fur. Then they slowly opened and Jo seemed to be held captive by their ochre yellow depths.

They stayed that way, feline and human locked in an unwavering stare.

“What do you think?”

Jo started, actually jerking at the sound of Erika’s voice, the connection between herself and the black cat with the hypnotic eyes broken.

“Oh,” Jo forced herself to smile at her friend. She managed to focus on Erika’s outfit. “Oh, you look great.”

Which Erika did. Her legs were encased in a pair of skinny jeans, which showed off their length and lithe shape to perfection. A graphic tee clung to her subtle curves, making her torso look long and feminine. The ensemble was topped off with a chunky belt and high-heel boots. Plain silver hoops adorned her ears.

“You look great,” Jo said again, this time with less preoccupation in her tone. “The quintessential rocker chick.”