For The Love Of A God Page 6

  She suspected the Douglas woman was just a momentary distraction. After all, how could the glorious Eryx be tempted by such a mousey creature? He'd turned her down—her, Nemesis, who had stunned mortals for centuries with her cold brand of beauty. Maia Douglas couldn't hold a candle to her.

  Fortunately, Nemesis had had the brilliant idea of assuming a role at the museum. One which would allow her to observe Eryx and this Maia. No one suspected a thing. No one guessed she might be anything other than what she purported to be. And even though Eryx was a god like her, even he could not see through her disguise.

  For all intents and purposes, she was invisible. Just another museum staffer.

  If there were any true feelings between him and the little slug, she'd discover it soon enough. And then she'd take action.

  The little push on the steps had merely whetted her appetite for revenge. If Maia Douglas got on her bad side, she'd unleash the powers of hell on her.

  For now, they could enjoy their little flirtation, such as it was.

  But soon enough, Eryx would be hers. She'd waited an eternity for him to come to his senses, and would not be denied. She was willing to wait a little longer, but not forever.

  Smiling to herself, she retreated back into the museum. She had work to do.

  Eric led her into the hospice, conscious of how her pace was slowing down. She was terrified. Scared to allow hope to bloom only to have it ripped up from the roots.

  "I appreciate you bringing me here,” she said.

  "No big deal,” he grinned.

  She turned to face him. “It's a huge deal. You don't understand. This isn't an easy place to visit."

  It was true. With all the gurneys and IVs and frail patients haunting each room, it was dismal at best. He reached for her hand, anxious to comfort her.

  "My dad's in rough shape,” she continued in a little, soul-searing voice. “He was always this big man, the noted archaeologist who lived for the dig. Full of life and energy. To lose the use of his hands was pretty much a death sentence. He gave up, and his health just went downhill."

  Eric remembered seeing pictures of Jim Douglas when the Eryx statue was discovered. He had indeed looked larger than life, passionate about his work. To hear he'd been brought so low grieved him too. “Let's go see him, Maia."

  She stopped outside her father's door. She was squeezing Eric's hand so hard his heart swelled for her. “It must be a mistake. What the nurse told me."

  He smiled down at her, wanting to tell her everything would be okay. “Go in. You can do this."

  Impulsively, she asked, “Will you come with me? I know I have no right to ask."

  "Maia, I'm right behind you.” She looked so small and fragile, and he tried to shake off the temptation to kiss her again. It was very hard, now he'd permitted himself those two small, exquisite tastes.

  She sighed, as if relieved to have his assurance, and opened the door. She poked her head in and gasped.

  Jim Douglas was not in a hospital bed. He wasn't even in a wheelchair. He was standing, and a team of doctors were huddled around him, each one looking more befuddled than the last. Jim looked robust, despite the weight he'd lost over the years, and there was a healthy, happy glow in his eyes. He looked ready to take on the world.

  He spied her. “Maia, my sweet pea! Look!” For her benefit, he spun around, and then made some jabs in the air, as if pretending to be a boxer. “I'm cured.” His voice was hoarse from not being used for so long, but otherwise enthusiastic.

  Maia just stared, as if waiting for him to fall down.

  "Now, now, Dr. Douglas,” one of the doctors interjected. “Let's not be hasty. We're still running tests."

  "Tests, schmests.” Jim waved him off. “I've never felt better in my life. Come ‘ere, sweet pea. I haven't been able to hug my girl properly in years."

  She crept into the room, clutching Eric's hand. “Daddy?” And then she ran to him and hugged him.

  Eric watched them, overjoyed at his handiwork. He'd been a self-indulgent bastard for most of his life, absorbed in his own pleasure, but he'd given her this moment. And he couldn't believe how good it felt. Sure, he wasn't really supposed to mess with the cycle of life and all that crap, but if he couldn't use his powers for good, what the hell use were they?

  Besides, it wasn't as if he'd raised Douglas from the dead, which was a no-no. He'd merely revitalized a sick man.

  Jim looked up over Maia's shoulder and spied Eric leaning against the back wall of the room. His eyes widened, and he loosened his hold on his daughter. “You."

  "Oh.” Maia looked up, embarrassed, and wiped her eyes. “Dad, this is my ... new boss. His name is Eric Lord."

  "No, it's not.” Jim narrowed his eyes and stepped toward Eric. His expression was not one of suspicion, but wonder. “I know who you are."

  Eric stood silently, gazing at the man.

  Maia looked between the two men and then back at the team of doctors. “Um, Dad, maybe you need some rest. You don't want to tire yourself out.” She pulled on his arm.

  Jim would not be dissuaded. He continued to stare at Eric, took him all in with a smile of joy. “You did this. Thank you."

  Eric didn't say a word. He just smiled at Jim and then at Maia.

  "Dr. Douglas,” one of the doctors said. “I must insist you come back to bed. Let's not take any chances."

  With a laugh, Jim gave Maia another hug and returned to his bed. “Don't worry, Doc. It's just a little miracle."

  The doctor went over to Maia, and Eric watched as they spoke quietly for a few moments. This was where he would tell her not to get her hopes up, to expect a relapse of some sort. Eric knew there would be no relapse. Jim was indeed cured, but the doctors would never discover how.

  After a while, they left, and Maia stood still outside her father's door. She was shaking, and he couldn't resist encircling her with his arms. Upon his touch, he felt her body tense and then relax, as if she somehow belonged there and had just realized it. He ran his hands over her hair, breathed in her baby powder fragrance, and kissed the top of her head.

  She felt so good. He almost didn't know why he was fighting against this so much. Maybe there was a reason for Maia Douglas being in his life. And if he couldn't use his godly powers to make her happy, why be a god at all?

  If only he knew what had happened on the museum steps. He didn't like it. His heart wanted to believe she'd taken an innocent tumble, lost her footing, but he recognized the handiwork of Nemesis. It was a threat, plain and simple, intended for him as much as for Maia. So like Nemesis. He'd seen her indulge in such petty, dangerous pranks before. It was just her style. A sneak attack.

  "So,” he said quietly, tilting her head up to his. “That was quite the fall earlier at the museum."

  Her eyes clouded over, remembering. “It's so silly. I could have sworn I was pushed."

  "Really.” He felt his jaw clench. So help him, he'd roast Nemesis on a spit if she hurt Maia. It was just like the vengeful witch to interfere.

  The sheer ferocity of his feelings startled him, even as his brain sought to understand what was happening. He shouldn't care about Maia, but he did. More than he'd expected to.

  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 el
se, 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."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eight

  "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 pho
tos 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."