For The Love Of A God by Rosanna Leo (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

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 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."

[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