Demon Can’t Help It (4 page)

Jo frowned at her employee, really wishing in this case, she’d just let her eloquent eyebrow do the talking for her. And even then, only
after
Jo had gotten rid of Maksim.

No luck of any sort was on Jo’s side today, because Cherise added, “We don’t have room for him? Look around here. We got nothing but room.”

Jo’s frown deepened, and she willed Cherise to just stop. Stop talking. Stop standing with her hands on her hips, which meant she wasn’t messing around. Stop looking at her like she was an utter fool. To just stop.

Instead of stopping, the feisty eyebrow joined in, arching so high it nearly touched her hairline.

“If you don’t take this guy on as a volunteer, I’m going to let Lettie handle free-choice centers from now on.”

Jo’s mouth dropped open. Now that was low. Free-choice centers was the wildest part of the day for the children. They got to move from learning station to learning station and without proper supervision it was utter chaos. Not an easy time for Cherise and Jo to handle—impossible for the nearly catatonic woman slumped in the chair over there with her mouth wide open and a steady snore emitting from it. The children would destroy the place. Given the hands on the hips and the sky-high eyebrow, Jo didn’t think Cherise was bluffing.

Jo turned back to Maksim. He watched them, a smirking, closed-lip smile turning up the edges of his mouth. His vivid green eyes sparkled.

He was loving every minute of this.

Oh, she could not do this. She couldn’t let him have a position here. She stared at him for a moment, trying to think of any loophole, any possible out, that neither he nor Cherise could debate.

Nothing came. His résumé was impeccable. He’d handled the whole upchuck fiasco with grace. He wasn’t giving her any reasonable flaw to back her decision.

She was stuck. With a résumé like that…

Wait…that
was
one heck of a résumé. A dream résumé, really. He had to have faked his past work experience and references. He had to have.

Her initial opinions of him couldn’t have been so far off. He
wasn’t
a knight in shining armor.

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, taking in the newly changed, crisply clean, still expensive, still designer name clothing.

If this guy had ever worked with a kid in his life, then she wasn’t just the director of this community center, but of the whole freakin’ world.

He’d made the whole thing up. She knew it.

She smiled back at him, feeling in control for the first time since he’d stepped foot in the center.

“Cherise is right. How can I possibly turn down such a great candidate?”

Maksim’s smile deepened, although she couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes.

“Well, I am glad you came to your senses, woman,” Cherise stated, her hands no longer on her hips.

“Me, too,” Maksim said, his rich voice low, but drawing Jo’s attention back to him as surely as if he’d shouted.

Jo’s heart sped up, and something simmered warm and intense in her belly. She gritted her teeth, forcing the feeling aside.

“So, I’ll give you a call tomorrow to iron out your schedule, and what works best for you,” Jo said, keeping her voice aloof and all business.

“Any time works for me.” Again his voice was low and sultry washing over her like the humid Louisiana heat.

She nodded, determined not to let him see she was reacting to him. Damn it.

Finally, after none of them had said anything for several seconds, Maksim nodded.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Jo opened her mouth to tell him she hadn’t said she’d
see
him, but that she’d call him. Then she decided against it. He’d find out soon enough that she’d guessed at his little deception.

A Good Samaritan—yeah, right. He was looking to get laid and had no problem using small children and the goodness of others to do so.

She wouldn’t see him tomorrow or ever again, if she had her way.

And she would.

M
aksim already had his cell phone in his hand, when it began vibrating and then playing his ringtone—“Highway to Hell.” He knew he wasn’t going to have to wait long for the first call. He’d seen the moment when realization and then satisfaction had glittered to life in Jo’s dark eyes. She thought she’d found a way to get rid of him, legitimately.

“Hello, Maxwell Edison speaking,” he answered easily, all traces of his natural, deep, accented voice gone. He waited, just a tad anxious.

This was the only dicey part of his plan. He was going on the assumption that Jo would just go down the list of references in exact order. He could tell she was a systematic person. A person who liked tidiness and control. Well, he liked control, too.

So, right now, it was good he had it.

“Hello, Mr. Edison. My name is Josephine Burke. I’m the director of the St. Ann’s Community Center in New Orleans.”

Maksim liked the sound of her full name. “And I was just calling to check on a reference submitted by a Maksim Kostova, who is interested in volunteering for us.”

“Oh, Maksim, how is he?” Maksim concentrated on the task at hand and manipulated his voice, making him sound a fine Southern gentleman. “He’s truly missed here at the Chattanooga branch of the Special Olympics.”

“He appears to be—fine.”

Maksim wondered what she really wanted to say. Not fine, he was sure. He smiled.

“Well, Ms. Burke, I can safely give you one of my highest recommendations for Maksim.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then she said, “Thank you, Mr. Edison.”

“No, thank you. And please give my regards to dear old Maksim.”

Another pause. “Yes. Of course.”

Maksim hung up the phone. Demons did have all sorts of neat little tricks, such as changing voices, changing appearances. The phone, however, had actually been a little trickier, and certainly more mundane. He’d had to purchase other numbers and then set those numbers up to be forwarded to his regular cell phone number. He didn’t have that much faith in his cell phone provider, but so far so good.

Clearly he was too obsessed with this woman. Phone redirecting and fraudulent résumés were way beyond the usual effort he made for sex. But he just knew Josephine—and he did so like her full name—Josephine Burke would be worth the effort.

The phone vibrated, then ran again. This time he stepped off the street into an alley, before answering. A 6’3” man emitting a perfectly female voice was bound to gain some attention out on the sidewalk.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine Hills Day Camp. Loretta Martin speaking.”

This time Maksim gave his voice a more clipped New England cadence.

Again, Jo gave her little spiel.

When Maksim spoke again, he couldn’t help softening the clipped tone to one of fond remembrance.

“Oh, Maksim Kostova, my, my. Of course, I’d be glad to recommend him to you. Do I ever miss that man.”

Jo made a noise on the other end of the line in response.

Maksim grinned. This was fun. Jo clearly felt something for him. He wasn’t quite sure what, but he was going with attraction and maybe a little jealousy.

“He was the best—and I mean best—volunteer we’ve ever had here.”

There was a pause. “Great. That’s all I needed to know.”

But Maksim couldn’t resist adding, “Tell him I’d love to hear from him.”

More dead air, then a slight cough on the other end. “I will do that. Well, thank you for the information, and have a good day.”

Maksim flipped the phone closed. Maybe he shouldn’t have made ole Loretta so obvious, but he couldn’t resist.

A few moments later the phone rang again. He half-expected Jo to give up on the last reference, but he should have guessed she wouldn’t. He could already see that wasn’t her personality.

“Good afternoon, Eleanor Rigby.”

Maksim’s newest female persona was met with silence. Uhoh, perhaps he was getting too heavy handed, both with his praise of himself, and also with having all his fake names stolen from Beatles tunes. Eleanor Rigby. That was definitely heavy handed. He should have gone with Desmond or Molly Jones. More subtle.

Well, that would teach him to concoct elaborate plans to get laid whilst listening to his sister’s vast Beatles collection.

But after a minute, Jo spoke. “Hi, yes, I’m calling to inquire about one of your past employees. His name is Maksim Kostova.”

This time Maksim paused before answering. “Maksim Kostova.” He pretended to ponder. “Hmm, oh yes. Maksim Kostova. Let me see, I believe he worked in our organization from…” He pretended to ponder again, then said in his best kindly old lady voice, “I believe it was 2002 to 2006. Maybe 2003.”

“You were correct the first time.” Jo sounded very disappointed.

“That’s right. Yes, he did a wonderful job for us. He was a team leader for our mentoring program. Just great with the kids. A hard worker. We were very sad to lose him.”

There was another of Jo’s pauses. “It sounds like he will be perfect for us, then.”

Maksim waited for amusement and delight to hit him, but they didn’t. Instead he was almost—sorry. The resignation in Jo’s voice wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She didn’t want him there. She didn’t want him around her, period.

“Well, thank you for your time.” Jo’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You’re welcome,” he managed to say, catching himself before his voice slipped back to normal. Her end of the line went dead.

He stared at his now silent phone, looking at it as if the small device was something he’d never seen before.

What he was doing was wrong.

Then he snapped the phone shut. Of course it was wrong. He was a demon, damn it. Demons were not known for their good deeds and moral fortitude. He was the ruler of the Eighth Circle of Hell. Not Dudley-Do-Right.

Slipping the phone into his pocket, he smiled and headed back to the street. She’d come around. They always did. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t enjoy herself once he got what he wanted. She’d love every minute of it.

He’d show her the best time of her life. And surely, that made up for the uncertainty she was feeling now.

So, see, in a strange way, he was doing a good deed.

Maksim whistled to himself as he strolled back to his sister’s apartment.

Jo stared down at the résumé. That hadn’t gone at all as she’d hoped. She’d really believed these references were faked. I mean-Eleanor Rigby-really? Now she just felt rather stupid. And egotistical, too. Had she really believed he’d gone to such great lengths just to be around her?

Maybe she was too jaded. She couldn’t spend her whole life assuming all men were like Jackson. But she could have sworn Maksim was a chip off the same block. He had the same air about him as Jackson. The designer clothing, the confidence that bordered on outright conceit. The surety that he could have whatever he wanted.

And God knows Jackson never would have volunteered his time. Oh, he’d have donated money—then he could claim altruistic motivations. But get his hands dirty? No way. Jackson wasn’t into things getting too messy. She knew that very well. Somehow he always came out smelling like roses. While others cleaned up his messes.

She sighed. No matter how hard it was, she’d been lucky. She’d escaped a real disaster with that man. She was still dealing with the aftermath he’d helped create, but at least she wasn’t going to have to deal with him. The liar.

Her attention returned to Maksim’s résumé. With her fingertip, she traced the place where he’d signed the cover letter. His penmanship curled and sweeping, but unquestionably masculine.

Maybe she was putting too much of Jackson on Maksim. It really was the ultimate in arrogance to believe this man falsified references just to get to her.

She shook her head, chuckling to herself. Clearly Jackson hadn’t wounded her ego that badly.

And Cherise was right. Turning down someone as experienced as Maksim would be utterly stupid and self-defeating. They needed help. So she was going to let her own feelings about the man go. She had to give him a chance. This could be a changing point for her. A real way to get the center going on the right track.

Really, Maksim Kostova, now she knew his full name, could be a godsend.

“D
o you even know what you’re doing?”

Maksim paused, focusing on where the tiny angled straw was supposed to fit into the small rectangular box labeled
JUICY JUICE.
He narrowed his eyes as the bane of his existence gazed up at him with wide, dark eyes.

Damon, the puker, blinked innocently. Pure evil hidden behind youthful artlessness.

“Yes, I do,” Maksim muttered, returning his attention to the stupid little box. How hard could this be?

“It goes right there.” Damon reached up and tapped a dirt-caked finger on the top, and Maksim was glad he didn’t have to drink the juice after this kid had repeatedly touched it. Maksim just hoped that grimy fingernails didn’t make him vomit like yogurt had.

“I showed you yesterday,” Damon said, then followed the statement with a long-suffering sigh.

Maksim gritted his teeth and shoved the straw in as if he’d known where to insert it all along. But as he jabbed it into the tiny foil-covered hole, clear, sticky juice gushed out of the bent straw, covering his hand and the cuff of his sleeve.

Damon giggled. “I told you to cover the end of the straw too. You suck at this.”

Maksim glared at him, then shoved the juice in the kid’s direction. The little boy accepted it, still sporting a pleased smile.

Maksim suppressed a growl.

“How are things going?”

Maksim whipped around to find the reason why he’d decided to engage in this stupid plan standing in the middle of the room. Or course the reason was becoming more distant with each passing minute.

This was the first time he’d seen Jo since agreeing voluntarily to interact with these vile little creatures known as human children. It was truly a wonder that humans didn’t eat their young. And to think he wasn’t even getting paid for his hell.

But amazingly, things looked much better upon the appearance of Jo. And he now easily recalled what his payment would eventually be, and it was something far more appealing and pleasurable than money.

His eyes wandered slowly over Jo. The light green sundress she wore swished around her long shapely legs and displayed the curve of her bare shoulders.

Oh yeah, he suddenly remembered why he was here. Covered in fruit punch, and snot, and grimy handprints. Okay, he was still a little bitter, but Jo would so—so—make it up to him.

“Ms. Burke,” Damon called, before Maksim had even gathered his thoughts enough to respond to Jo’s question.

Jo immediately turned her attention to the small boy, walking over to the table, where he sat looking all wide-eyed naiveté. The little deceiver. Maksim had nothing on this kid.

“Mr. Kostova doesn’t even know how to open my juice even after I told him yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Jo glanced at Maksim, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Children were evil.

But even as he thought that, not for the first time today, Maksim forced a sheepish, yet boyishly charming smile onto his lips. “I must admit, I’ve never been good at those things.”

Jo’s eyes flickered just briefly to his mouth. Then she met his gaze, her dark eyes unreadable as usual.

“Not a big juice-box-drinker, huh?”

Maksim chuckled, making sure the sound was rich and full, designed to vibrate deep inside her. “No, not often.”

He smiled charmingly again.

Jo smiled back, although a little tentatively. But he realized that was the first genuine smile he’d ever received from her, which suddenly made the awful events of the morning much more tolerable.

“Things are going great,” he said, returning to her original question. He took a step toward her, half expecting her to back away, but she held her ground.

Jo smiled back, the gesture still reserved, but the smiles were coming more readily. Perhaps he would be able to charm her more easily than he’d thought. Though why he’d doubted that fact seemed silly to him now. He was a demon—he had good looks, and deceit on his side.

“How is your day going?” He took another step toward her.

“Great,” she said, her eyes flicked down at the space between them, clearly gauging how close she’d let him get. “I’ve been able to get a lot of paperwork done.”

He would imagine that was true. She’d been sequestered away in her office, door closed, for two days now. He wondered how much of her disappearance was work and how much was just avoiding him.

“Maksim is doing great,” Cherise called over to Jo from where she helped some of the other kids with their lunches. “The kids just love him.”

Maksim had to admit he liked Cherise. She was sarcastic, outspoken, a blatant flirt, and still his biggest advocate. What wasn’t to like?

And Cherise spoke the truth. The children did love him. To torment him. To crawl him all over him. To talk incessantly to him in lisps that were virtually impossible to understand—if he’d really wanted to, which he didn’t.

Again he plastered on a smile. “They are great kids.” His lying skills were usually impeccable, but his declaration sounded insincere, even to him.

Jo didn’t show any signs of doubting him. Again she gave him a smile. Man, he was doing well today.

“Well, I thought while the children were busy with lunch, I’d go over what days and hours you’d like to help out. It would be easier for me if you had a set schedule, if that is okay with you?” Jo said.

In her office. Alone. Oh yeah, he’d love that.

“Great,” he said.

Jo nodded, then headed toward the hallway. Without looking back, she led him to her office.

The room was tiny, which he liked. The tight space brought him into a much closer proximity to her. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a rickety, cheaply made desk with an ancient-looking computer on it. An equally old office chair covered in worn, ugly, brown tweed sat on one side, while two metal folding chairs were positioned on the side closest to the door.

Spread on the desk were several piles of paper, revealing that while she may have been avoiding him, she was busily working, too.

She gestured to one of the gray metal chairs as she slipped around the desk. He sat down, the metal creaking under his weight. She braced both hands on the arm of the desk chair and gingerly eased herself down.

“The hydraulics are broken,” she said by way of explanation to his look. “Sometimes it just drops.”

He nodded, not really interested in the chair. He was far too distracted by the delicious scent of her permeating the room—a warm, inviting perfume like vanilla and cloves that made his mouth water and his muscles tighten with need.

He fisted his hands on his knees as he looked at the pale gold skin of her bare arms, imagining that her thighs were the same color. Her belly paler, her breasts, too.

A hungry growl rumbled low in his throat, but he caught himself and disguised it with a cough.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little tickle,” he said, coughing again for effect.

She nodded, then turned her attention to her computer. Her fingers, which were long and elegant with short nails and no-nonsense clear polish, moved easily over the keyboard, somehow looking graceful even in such an ordinary action. He imagined those same fingers gliding over his bare skin, touching him everywhere.

His erection, which had risen as soon as he’d stepped into the room and was surrounded by her scent, pulsed in his trousers.

“Just give me a minute here,” Jo said as she frowned at the computer, clearly willing the archaic machinery to perform whatever action she wanted. Then she bit her bottom lip, and all his attention was on her white teeth sinking into the pink pillow.

He wanted to nip the soft, rosy flesh there. He wanted to bite her all over, to feel her skin under him, against him, around him.

“Maksim?”

He snapped his attention back to her, and away from his very vivid and very naughty fantasies of nibbling every inch of her body. He’d just reached her inner thigh, too—damn it. But he pushed the image away, which was not easy, and said, “I’m sorry. I missed that.”

Jo shifted in her seat and crossed her legs as if she knew what direction his thoughts had been headed in. South—very deeply south.

She shifted again. “I’ve made up a calendar for the remainder of this month. What days were you thinking you’d like to come in?”

He offered her a small smile, intended to put her at ease, but then followed with, “What days do you want me?” the words said quietly, full of innuendo.

Pink tinged her cheeks, but her features remained unaffected. Maybe she wasn’t going to make this easy. And maybe that’s why she fascinated him so.

She turned her attention back to the monitor, but not before he noticed her pulling in a slow breath through her nose. That could be trying to get her reaction to him under control. Or annoyance. He wasn’t sure which.

“Well, we could use your help any day. It’s really whatever is best for you.”

“Hmm,” he pretended to consider. “Let me take a look.”

Before she could respond, he rose and came around to her side of her desk. She pushed her chair to the side, offering him space, but the cramped quarters wouldn’t allow her much distance. He watched as she tucked away a strand of hair, which had fallen free from the loose bun at the back of her head. Her hand returned to the desk, fidgeting with the edge of the keyboard.

He wished he knew what was making her so antsy. Oh, he knew it was his nearness, but was it because she didn’t like it, or she liked it too much?

For a fraction of a second, he considered going into her head to find out. He hesitated, standing at the edge of her mind like a stranger outside a fenced property with a
NO TRESPASSING
sign posted. Even with the warning, he could scale the railings and jump inside. But just like with trespassing, there would be consequence. Not for himself, but for her.

For once he heeded the warning. Instead he did lean down, letting his shoulder bump hers. His cheek just inches from hers.

“Hmm.” Again he pretended to consider the calendar. When in fact he was breathing in her scent, taking it deep in his nose and lungs like a powerful hit off an opium pipe. He held it there, then slowly blew out.

His breath touched her, ruffling that strand of hair that had fallen loose again. Her fingers fiddled more quickly with the edge of the keyboard. She lifted her other hand as if to touch the stray hair his breath just touched, but caught herself. She pushed up her glasses instead.

Maksim grinned. She wasn’t oblivious to him. He leaned in closer, pointing to the screen.

“I could do every morning.” He turned to her, his mouth now just inches away from hers. “If you would like.”

For just the briefest moment—if he’d blinked he would have missed it—her gaze flicked to his lips. Then her eyes shot back to meet his. They were so dark brown they were almost black. Pink colored her cheeks further.

“What—what about your job at the bar? Aren’t you going to be tired?” she managed to say, her voice sounding a little breathy.

“It will be fine. I don’t require a lot of sleep. And being here is very satisfying to me.” Or it will be. And very satisfying to her, too.

Again her eyes flashed to his lips, then she gave up looking at him altogether and turned her focus to the computer.

“Of—of course, the center would love the help,” she said.

He smiled. Oh yeah, this would definitely lead to his satisfaction.

“Great. Then I will see you every morning.” Every night, too.

Jo breathed in slowly through her nose. What had she just agreed to? Seeing this man every day? She pulled in another slow, even breath, telling herself to shake off her reaction to this man’s proximity.

Sure, he was attractive. And he had—a presence. But she wasn’t some teenage girl who would fall to pieces under a cute boy’s attention. Not that cute was a strong enough word for what Maksim was. He was—unnerving. To say the least.

But she wasn’t interested in him. She decided that quite definitely over the past two days. Of course that decision was made secured away behind her closed office door.

But either way, she should have more control than this.

Apparently
should
and
could
were two very different things. And she couldn’t seem to stop her reaction to him. Her heart raced and her body tingled, both hot and cold in all the most inappropriate places.

“So every morning?” he said, his voice rumbling right next to her, firing up the heat inside her. “Does that work for you?”

She cleared her throat, struggling to calm her body.

“Yes—that’s great,” she managed to say, surprising even herself with the airiness of her tone. “I’ll schedule you from eight a.m. to—” she glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen, “noon?”

That was a good amount of time, getting Cherise through the rowdy mornings and lunch, and giving him the go-ahead to leave now. She needed him out of her space.

If her body wasn’t going to go along with her mind, then avoidance was clearly her best strategy. And she’d done well with that tactic—although she’d told herself that wasn’t what she was doing.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Noon is fine,” he said, still not moving. Not even straightening away from the computer. And her.

“Good,” she poised her fingers over the keys and began typing in his hours. “Then I think we are all settled. You can take off now if you like.”

When he didn’t move, she added, “You should go get some lunch. You must be hungry.” She flashed him a quick smile without really looking at him.

This time he did stand, but he didn’t move away. Instead he leaned against her desk, the old piece of furniture creaking under his tall, muscular weight.

“You must be hungry, too. Would you like to join me?”

She blinked, for a moment not comprehending his words, her mind too focused on the muscles of his thighs so near her. The flex of more muscles in his shoulders and arms as he crossed them over his chest.

She forced herself to look back at the computer screen.

“I—I don’t think so,” she said. “I have a lot to do here.”

“But surely you allow yourself a half-hour lunch break.”