A Demonic Bundle (46 page)

She actually had to suppress a sigh.

See, she told herself, that was why she needed to let last night stay what it was—a great time with no strings. And if she was smart, leave it at a one-time event.

“I can’t,” she said, keeping her voice level, feeling like even lunch would be too tempting for her. “I have a meeting.”

So what if the meeting with the quilt lady wasn’t until three this afternoon?

He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read her reaction. She gave him a brief regretful smile.

He finally nodded. “Okay. Well, I guess I will head out for the day.”

“Okay,” she said readily, trying to stay as cool as she could.

He nodded, his smile disappearing behind a composed look of his own, but he did ask, “I’ll see you later?”

She couldn’t miss the longing in his tone. She also couldn’t ignore the yearning that rose up in her instantly in response. She squashed the feeling down.

“I’m actually going over the Erika and Maggie’s tonight.”

His expression grew almost grim, his beautiful sculpted lips compressing into a line.

“Okay, then.” He lifted a hand in salute, then left.

She watched the door being pulled closed behind him and fought the urge to call out to him. To stop him.

This was for the best, she told herself. What was the point of going forward with this relationship—even on a purely physical level? It would have to end sooner rather than later anyway.

As soon as the door clicked shut and she was alone again, she dropped her head to her desk. What the hell was she doing now? Hadn’t she learned her lesson yet?

This was for the best.

It was.

I
s you a player?

Maksim sure as hell didn’t feel like a player at this very moment. He felt—rejected.

He made a face. Rejected. Him. Unheard of.

He refused to think that. But one thing was for certain, he wasn’t acting like a player. Flying without a net. That was the better description of what he was doing. And it was pissing him off. A lot.

He was used to not being able to read preternatural creatures’ minds. He knew how to accept that, and most of the time paranormal beings were easy to understand. Jo, however, was a total mystery to him. And he was not pleased that he couldn’t read her mind.

Not that he knew that for sure.

He’d debated jumping into Jo’s head again just now. As soon as that damned unreadable mask had fallen back into place, he’d been irritated beyond belief. But still he didn’t jump in.

And that pissed him off, too. What was stopping him? Was it the fear that he’d discover he couldn’t read her mind again? Or was it the fact that he didn’t want to hurt her?

Which idea bothered him more?

He was ruthless in getting what he wanted. And he wanted to keep having sex with Josephine Burke. After last night, he definitely wanted to have sex again. Yet, here he was walking away.

He should have just jumped in her head and mucked around. He wanted to know what she was thinking. About him. About her sister. About everything.

But he’d held back. He’d walked away.

Maksim Kostova, a demon known as Malebolgia, ruler of the eighth circle of Hell, didn’t walk away from anything he wanted. He was known as a seducer, a flatterer, a deceiver. He always got what he wanted by using these abilities. These sins, as some saw them.

But instead of walking back to the center and taking what he wanted, he found himself wandering into a bar on Bourbon Street. He sat at a table in the corner and ordered a double whiskey on the rocks—how dreadfully human of him. Drowning his rejection in drink.

He was pathetic.

“Maksim is what?” Erika stopped slicing cheese and gaped at Jo.

Jo didn’t look at Maggie, but she heard her wineglass hit the kitchen table with a loud clink.

Jo drew in the condensation from her glass of ice water, making wet swirls on Erika’s sunshine yellow kitchen table. “He’s been volunteering at the center.” She tried to sound blasé.

“Jo,” Erika said, her voice full of warning. “Do you think that’s wise?”

Jo stopped water-doodling and glanced back and forth between her friends. Both women stared at her, and for some reason their shocked expressions irritated her. Even though she knew this was the reaction she would get.

“I had my doubts, too. But he’s doing surprisingly well.”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said, shaking her head.

“He’s not a good person, Jo,” Erika added, leaving the counter to sit at the table with Maggie and Jo.

Jo was surprised at the bluntness of her friend’s statement. It wasn’t like Erika, but instead of increasing her concern, it made her oddly protective—in Maksim’s defense.

“You two are acting like the man is Satan himself.”

Maggie coughed, choking on the sip of wine she’d just taken. But Jo’s attention was distracted by a brushing around her ankles. Erika’s cat mewed at her as she looked down.

“That was wrong of me to say,” Erika said, once Maggie’s coughing fit calmed. “We don’t mean to pry or make you feel uncomfortable.” She reached down and picked up her cat, who yowled in protest.

“Silly Boris,” she murmured to the cranky black cat, stroking his fur.

The cat looked sullenly at Jo.

I hear ya, cat.

Her friends’ reaction wasn’t a surprise, but it still rubbed her the wrong way. She wanted to share with her friends. Her best friends. But she got the feeling they would be somehow disappointed in her. She was disappointed in herself.

She began drawing with the water again, getting lost in her thoughts about, well, everything.

Maggie reached out and placed her hand over Jo’s, stopping her drawing.

“What is he helping with?” Maggie asked quietly as if she knew Jo was conflicted, the she needed her friends to understand.

Jo sighed. “He’s helping with the daycare.”

“The daycare?” Erika and Maggie said in unison.

So much for the understanding.

Jo laughed, although it was sounded flat even to her ears. “Yes. He’s been up to his designer-clad neck in paste and finger paints and sticky fingerprints.”

Neither of her friends said anything for a moment, so Jo added, “And surprisingly, he’s good at it. The kids love him.”

“Really?” Maggie said. Her brows drew in over her eyes as if Jo’s assertion was the most puzzling thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes. He actually has pretty amazing past work experience with children. Better than mine as far as the community center goes.”

“He does?” Erika also looked as if she’d never heard such a strange thing.

Jo nodded. She took a sip of her water, then she got up to grab a piece of cheese and a cracker from the platter Erika had been preparing, before Jo dropped the Maksim bomb.

She leaned on the counter. “He’s been a Big Brother and worked with mentally challenged children.” She took a bite of her cracker, chewing thoughtfully. “He’s worked with terminally ill kids.”

Erika and Maggie exchanged looks again, but for once, Jo didn’t find the shared glance suspect or confusing. She knew exactly what they were thinking.

“Believe me,” she said, “I didn’t expect that about him, either. In fact, I didn’t believe it to the point I thought he must have manufactured his résumé. But I was wrong. His recommendations were wonderful. I checked them all.”

Maggie and Erika looked at each other again, clearly dumbfounded.

“I find that hard to believe,” Erika finally said.

Boris picked that moment to meow, jump out of Erika’s arms, and begin twining through Jo’s legs again.

“I did, too,” Jo told them, looking down at the persistent feline. Then she shrugged, irritation rising up in her, but she refused to show it. Instead she busied herself with eating her cheese and cracker, debating why their reactions were bothering her so much. Just a week ago, she’d have agreed with them completely.

Just a week ago.

God, a week ago she wouldn’t have contemplated sleeping with him, either. Okay, she might have contemplated, but she wouldn’t have done it.

She was a mess, and she was taking her own issues with herself out on the wrong people. Erika and Maggie loved her, and they just worried. Of course, there was no sharing the fact that she had slept with him. Her friends were pretty accepting, but that would do them in.

She did consider telling them about Jackson. Who would have thought bringing up her married ex-lover would be a welcome change of topic?

But Maggie spoke before she mustered the courage of opening that can of worms. “You look good. Are you feeling okay?”

Jo finished chewing the cheese she’d just popped in her mouth and nodded. “I’m feeling good. Not as tired.” Not after the satisfied sleep of last night.

“I’ve heard the tiredness passes pretty quickly,” Maggie said with a smile.

But Jo frowned. “What?”

Maggie blinked. “I—I thought you might have had a touch of a flu that has been going around.”

Jo studied her friend for a moment, trying to tell if that was really what she’d meant.

“Maybe that’s what had me so tired,” she agreed. “But I have to admit having Maksim around has really helped me out. And I’ve been able to sleep better.” Boy, was that an understatement.

“Well, if he’s a help,” Erika said without finishing the sentence as if the idea was so unlikely it didn’t even merit completion.

Jo didn’t add to it, either. Instead she changed the topic to Erika’s work, a commissioned sculpture for the New Orleans Library. Then they talked about what Jo planned to do at the community center. They talked about the new furniture Maggie and Ren had bought, and about the trip to Italy they were planning in the summer.

By the end of the visit, things had gotten back to an easier, more pleasant place. Jo still hadn’t told them anything about Jackson, or everything that had gone on between Maksim and herself. She was still holding back, but at least Erika and Maggie had let go of the fact that Maksim was working at the center, and that Jo wasn’t going to get rid of him right away.

“I should head home,” she finally said, after suppressing the third yawn in as many minutes.

“Are you sure?” Erika asked. “You could spend the night here.”

Jo laughed. “I only live a few blocks away.”

“We will walk you home,” Maggie said, rising from her chair.

“No. I’m fine. It’s not even late.”

“New Orleans can be dangerous,” Maggie said, still not returning to her seat.

“I know, and I will be fine. It’s only ten o’clock. And I’ll stay on Royal all the way. It will be fine.”

Both of her friends looked as if they wanted to argue, but they didn’t, perhaps worrying they’d disagreed with her enough for one night.

“And I have my cell. I will call you if I get the least bit nervous,” Jo promised.

“Okay,” Erika agreed. “But call Maggie’s phone if you need us. You know my phone has a mind of its own. I really need to get a new one.”

Jo laughed. Erika had been saying that for years.

“I will.” Jo gathered her purse and headed for the door. “Okay. I’ll talk to you both soon.”

Maggie came forward and hugged her. “You do know we’ll support anything you do, don’t you?”

Jo studied her friend, getting that weird sensation again that she somehow knew more than she was telling. More than she possibly could.

“I know,” Jo said—and she did. Jo just couldn’t deal with talking yet.

“We are here for you,” Erika said, joining them in their hug. Jo laughed, although tears suddenly threatened to choke her.

Man, she was a mess.

“Okay,” she said, blinking to hide her reaction. “I think I’m hitting the wall. Off to bed with me.”

She opened the door and Boris darted past her as she did.

“That cat,” Erika said. “He’s been acting so weird for days now.”

“Cats are always weird,” Jo said, watching the animal in question pace back and forth in front of the porch door, waiting to get out into the courtyard.

“Call when you get home,” Maggie said, clearly still not pleased with the idea of Jo walking home alone.

“I will. ’Night.”

She waved to her friends and headed out into the courtyard. The air was still balmy and if Jo listened carefully she could hear the revelry from Bourbon Street. The nice weather and nearness of so many people made her feel at ease taking her evening stroll home.

Boris scampered through the courtyard, his dark fur making him appear as nothing more than a shadow before he disappeared totally in the lush greenery.

Jo dug around in her purse looking for her key ring. She found it and unlocked the large doors that led to the street. Once outside on St. Ann Street, she could really hear the music and partiers on Bourbon.

She hummed a little, recognizing the strains of an eighties rock classic as she relocked the doors. She tossed the keys back in her satchellike purse and turned in the direction of Royal.

It was then that she saw her. The woman Jo had seen in Maggie and Erika’s courtyard a few days ago. The woman whom she’d now written off as one of the bizarre lucid dreams she’d been experiencing of late. She’d even convinced herself that she had dozed in the lawn chair and dreamed the whole event.

But there she stood as clear as day by one of the posts supporting the gallery balcony on the front of Ren’s building. Her black hair fell down her back in waves; her eyes were pale and almost seemed to glow in the lamplight. She watched Jo as if she was waiting to see if she noticed her.

Jo didn’t move, and she didn’t look away from the woman.

“Hello,” Jo called, and again Jo was struck with the notion that the woman seemed to expect her to be talking about someone else. She didn’t look behind her like she had the first time, but she seemed a little startled by Jo’s attention.

The woman didn’t move, so Jo took a step toward her.

“Can I help you?” Jo asked.

The woman frowned, the wrinkling of her forehead doing nothing to mar her ethereal beauty. Then she nodded.

“Are you in trouble?” Jo got the feeling she was. Not that she looked frightened or panicked. More like sadness wrapped around her.

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

Again she nodded.

“Can you give me a name?”

Another nod.

Then the woman mouthed something. Jo shook her head, unable to make out what she’d said. She stepped closer, trying to get a better look at her face. Shadows from the balcony above played across her lovely face, making it hard for Jo to see her clearly.