Tall, Dark and Divine (17 page)

“No, thanks.” Ariadne’s voice was steady. “I don’t want him.”

Eros nodded. “In that case, you should probably stop staring at him.”

She shot him an outraged glare. “I’m not staring!”

“Not right now. But you look at him all the time. Even Annie noticed.”

Ari bit her lip. “About Annie…”

He should have known better than to bring up Annie. Not only because Ari would use it to change the subject, but because he didn’t want to talk about her. “None of your business.”

“So it’s okay for you to ask me about my love life, but it’s not okay for me to ask you about yours?”

“You have a love life?” a new voice murmured nearby. “Something you’d like to share with me, gorgeous?”

Ari’s face congealed. “No. I wouldn’t like to share anything with you. Especially my love life.”

The god of wine turned to Eros with a plaintive look—and a smirk that was almost, but not quite, hidden. “She’s so cruel.”

Eros shrugged. “You done with your latest conquest enough to be able to give us something to drink?”

“Sure,” Dion said easily, with a dismissive glance at the young woman she wouldn’t have appreciated, had she seen it. He got a glass and a bottle of white wine out, to pour Ari her usual. The goddess of the maze avoided the ambrosia and drank her wine neat, like a mortal would drink a soda. “Where’s Annie?”

“None of your business,” Eros growled.

“On a date with Harry,” Ari said and reached for her glass.

“Ah. Better make it a double.” Dion pulled out the ambrosia and poured. Eros wanted to insist he didn’t need it—especially not a double—but the truth was, he was looking to get drunk tonight. Maybe that way he could stop imagining her smiling at Harry, and kissing Harry, and making love with Harry.

Dion put the glass down in front of Eros. “How’d you manage to fuck that up so badly in just three days?”

Eros growled but didn’t answer, just tossed back half the contents of the glass in one swallow. The concentration of ambrosia and hard liquor was strong enough to set his throat on fire and bring tears to his eyes.

Dion turned to Ari. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. I thought things were going well. She baked him cookies.”

“Oh-ho!” Dion’s eyebrows crept halfway up his forehead. “What did you do to deserve homemade cookies, bro?”

“None of your business,” Eros growled.

“I think we can both guess,” Ariadne said primly. “Then last night, he set her up with Harry.”

“The jackass? Why?” Dion looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“She’s mortal. He’s mortal. They belong together.” And it annoyed him that Ari was able to mouth the words right along with him before turning back to Dion.

“It didn’t go well. Harry took her to the dog park and bought her a hot dog for dinner.”

“Oh, man!” Dion shook his head. “What kind of idiot does that to a pretty girl?”

“An idiot like Harry Mitchell,” Ariadne said. “So of course she ended up with Ross again last night.”

Dion nodded approvingly. “More cookies today?”

“Hardly. This morning he comes down the stairs with the bow and arrows.”

Dion turned to him. “Have you lost your mind? I thought you weren’t gonna use those anymore.”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why? That sweet little thing couldn’t have scared you that much.”

Actually, she had. Or the fact that he wanted her had. That he could see a future where he made love to her every night and woke up every morning—or at least some mornings—to fresh-baked cookies.

And if his mind could go there after only two days, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with her, and then have her be gone. Somehow he suspected the loss of Annie would be even more devastating than the loss of Psyche. That after thirty years, he’d miss her more than he missed Psyche after three thousand. And that was the really scary part. Especially after just two days.

“She’s mortal. She needs to be with another mortal.”

“You didn’t used to be such a stickler,” Dion said.

“I learned my lesson.”

“Right.” Dion nodded. “Well, I hope you’re happy. You had a chance at something good. Some of us never get a chance like that.”

Ari muttered something, and he glanced at her and added to Eros, “Some of us never get a second chance. You did. You screwed up with Psyche, and you got a second chance with Annie. What kind of idiot would you have to be to throw it away?”

The kind of idiot who couldn’t imagine falling in love again, only to lose her in a few decades.

Except it might already be too late for that, if the ache in his chest were any indication.

He lifted his glass again. “Leave me alone. Go back to the hussy. Just make sure you keep the drinks coming.”

“She’s actually a very nice woman,” Dion said mildly. “An elementary school teacher.”

Ari snorted and Dion glanced at her. “Don’t knock it, sweetheart. We’re not all happy to be alone.”

“We’re not all happy to change partners the way some people change undergarments,” Ariadne shot back and slid off the barstool. She picked up her glass. “Excuse me. I’m going to sit with Silenus.”

They watched her walk away, her back ramrod straight.

“Good going,” Eros remarked.

Dion shot him a look. “Not sure you have any room to talk, bro. What the fuck happened?”

“I told you. She’s mortal. She—”

“Scared the mess out of you, didn’t she?”

Yes, she had.

“Here,” Dion said, and put the bottle in front of him. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.”

“If you get too drunk to walk, I’ll pour you into a cab at the end of the night.”

“I won’t be too drunk to walk.” Just too drunk to think. Or remember. He reached for the bottle.

“Enjoy,” Dion said and walked away, to let him drown his sorrows in peace.

…

The French restaurant was everything Annie had imagined and more. The food was outstanding, the service even better, and the company…the company wasn’t actually bad, either.

What a difference from last night!

She still couldn’t quite figure out what had happened between then and now, but it seemed as if Harry was actually sincere in his desire to want to be with her. He asked her questions about herself and seemed genuinely interested in her answers, and he did his best to entertain her with stories about his family back home in Ohio and about Fiona. He didn’t bat an eye when she ordered
pâté a foie gras
as her appetizer, just smiled fondly as he watched her devour it, and after the main course—seared duck breast with dried cherries and port—he even encouraged her to order dessert.

After a while, she forgot to wait for the other shoe to drop.

And he kept giving her compliments. Telling her how beautiful she looked, how smart she was, what a great smile she had, and how amazed and grateful he was that she’d agreed to go out with him tonight, especially after the way he’d disappointed her last night.

“What about Brita?” she asked at one point, as they were lingering over coffee and crème brûlée.

Harry’s brows drew together. “What about her?”

“I thought you were going out with her tonight.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. I mean, maybe I was. I can’t really remember. After I saw you—have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?—I knew I didn’t want Brita; I wanted you. I have no idea why I didn’t see it earlier. It was like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like lightning struck me from a clear blue sky. I looked up, and there you were. Like an angel. And I knew there’d never be anyone else for me.”

His eyes were—amazingly—completely sincere behind the glasses. They were practically gleaming with sincerity. Or was that gleam something else?

Annie leaned closer. Something wasn’t right here. Had Ross hypnotized Harry? Or drugged him? Shot him up with roofies or something, so he’d be pliable, and then told him he wanted Annie, not Brita?

What would happen when the hypnosis—or the drugs—wore off? Would he still want her? Or would he revert to being the same jerk he’d been for the past two nights running?

It wasn’t something she could ask him, she supposed. He probably had no idea he was doing it.

No, she needed to talk to Ross.

Tomorrow morning. Before she saw Harry again.

They took a cab back to Queens. It dropped them off outside Annie’s apartment building.

“I’m going to walk home from here,” Harry said when she looked at him.

“But it’s raining.”

He grinned. “It’ll help to clear my head. I feel drunk.”

He wasn’t. He’d only had a glass or two of wine with dinner.

“It’s the company,” he added, fumbling for her hand. “You make me feel this way.”

Sure.

She glanced from Harry to the door and back, wondering if she ought to invite him upstairs. For coffee or something else. Did he expect her to?

“I want to see you again,” Harry said. “As soon as possible. Are you free for brunch tomorrow?”

If she kept this kind of dining up, she’d end up as big as a house. At the same time, it was impossible to say no when he looked so sincere. “Sure.”

He smiled, big and relieved. “Great. Is nine too early?”

“It’s fine,” Annie said and waited for him to let go of her hands.

He didn’t. “I don’t expect you to invite me in. It’s too soon for that. And I want you to know that I respect you.”

Right.

“But…” He blushed. “Would you mind if I kissed you good night?”

He was actually asking for permission?

Clearly he was, because he just stood there, watching her and waiting, his eyes warm behind the glasses.

“Um…”

She thought about saying no. It would serve him right, after the way he’d treated her before. But he seemed so nice now, and so determined to make her believe he really liked her. He wasn’t Ross, but Ross didn’t seem to want her. Still not over his ex-wife, she supposed. She and Harry might have a shot. She’d have to kiss him eventually; it might as well be now. At least she’d figure out, sooner rather than later, how he affected her.

“Sure.”

She tilted her face up and waited for his to descend. His eyes fluttered closed just before his lips found hers, so she closed her own, too. His lips were soft, undemanding, but not unpleasant. They didn’t awaken any kind of desire to rip off his clothes, but then it wasn’t that kind of kiss.

His lips seemed reluctant to let go, but when he stepped back, he was smiling. “Thank you. That was nice.”

“Thank you,” Annie said primly. “For everything.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”

She nodded. He headed down the street before she turned to the front door, fumbling with her keys.

Chapter Twenty

The scuff of a shoe on the bricks behind her came out of nowhere. She hadn’t heard anyone approach and hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone. Her heart felt like it jumped up into her throat and continued to beat there. For a second, she thought about pushing the door open and escaping inside, hoping whoever was behind her wasn’t near enough to be able to follow…but then she heard his voice.

“Annie.”

“Ross?” She turned and squinted into the darkness.

Yes, it was him.

He.

Whatever.

That heart in her throat made it awfully hard to get words out. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” He came a step closer, into the light, and she saw that he was dressed in just the same white shirt and dark slacks as earlier. No jacket, in spite of the rain and the chill in the air. The shirt was wet across the shoulders, and raindrops sparkled in his hair where the light caught them. He looked a little less suave than usual, and not just because he was wet and almost bedraggled, or because she knew he’d stood outside in the rain waiting for her to come home—but because of the look in his eyes.

The words were out before she’d had time to consider them. “You’ll catch a cold out here. Come on upstairs and I’ll get you a towel and something warm to drink.”

She pushed open the door. He smiled. “I’ve never had a cold. But I won’t say no to a drink.”

From the looks of him, he’d already had several. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve never had a cold?”

She held the door until he’d walked past her into the hallway. “I’ve never had a lot of things,” he said softly.

She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she didn’t ask, just let the door close behind them both. He didn’t offer to carry her up this time, maybe because tonight, she suspected he was drunker than she was. It wasn’t anything about the way he spoke or even the way he moved—he was as graceful as always, like a big cat, barely leashed power hidden underneath smooth movements—but his eyes glittered and…well, he was here. Standing in the rain outside her apartment building.

The question was, why?

…

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are tonight?” Eros asked when they were upstairs in her hallway and she’d shrugged out of her coat without waiting for his help. His reflexes were shot to Hades tonight—the result of that bottle of ambrosia he’d enjoyed at Dion’s before coming over here.

She glanced at him, and the look in her eyes was difficult to decipher. Wariness, mixed with a hint of hurt, and maybe some embarrassment. And a smidgeon of defiance. “You didn’t. But Harry did.”

Ouch
. He winced, but he couldn’t blame her. He deserved that.

She brushed past him into the kitchen, and he turned to stare after her, once again just a beat too slow to anticipate her next move.

“Coffee or tea?” She reached for the kettle on the stove and went to the sink to fill it with water.

Tea sounded good, but coffee would probably be more helpful. The ambrosia had made his head muzzy. Then again, that was the effect he’d been going for, so maybe he shouldn’t ruin it by getting rid of the buzz too soon. “Tea.”

She nodded and put the kettle on to boil. That done, she pulled a mug out of a cabinet, a teabag and sugar out of another, and a spoon out of a drawer, and put it all together on the counter. The mug had doggie paw prints on it.