Aphrodite's Flame

Even Bad Boys

Since his father was the world’s most super villain, Mordi was used to being bad. He’d helped his sire in countless plots, and only recently freed himself from the man’s evil influence. But now his father was turning over a new leaf, joining the good guys, just as Mordi met the woman of his dreams. How lucky was that?

Fall in Love

Bad boys!? Isole wasn’t used to them. At least not in
this
way. Usually, she’d freeze ‘em cold, but this time it was hard enough just keeping her cool. For years she’d been a Protector, a super-heroine, but a dark presence was trying to sway her allegiance. Worse, the best thing in her life since her first propulsion cloak was Mordi: a dark-haired hunk whose sweet green eyes belied a past and a pedigree of evil. He was gorgeous, and someone she could love. He made her burn with desire, and nothing she did could put out the flames.

FIRE & ICE

Mordi focused on Izzy. She was frowning at the Henchman she’d frozen solid with her superpower, concern etched on her face.

But was it really concern? Or was it all an act? He didn’t like it: the woman was the most intriguing he’d ever met, but he still couldn’t discount the possibility that there had been no other attacker, and that Izzy was simply trying to cover her own tracks.

Inside the auditorium, applause crescendoed. They were running out of time. “Call in a retrieval team,” he said. “And be ready.”

While she watched, binder cuffs at the ready, he gathered his power, took aim, and—quite literally—fired The Henchman defrosted, first blinking, then writhing about, bellowing at the top of his massive lungs. By that time Izzy had snapped the cuffs on him and jumped back. She looked at Mordi, her gorgeous eyes wide, and mouthed one word:

“Fire.”

He nodded. “Ice,” he said, referring to
her
power. And he didn’t have to say that the two didn’t mix.

Other
Love Spell
books
by Julie Kenner:

APHRODITE’S SECRET
APHRODITE’S PASSION
A MOTHER’S WAY ROMANCE ANTHOLOGY
APHRODITE’S KISS
THE CAT’S FANCY

LOVE SPELL NEW YORK CITY

To KP, for always reading the “Mordi bits.”

ISBN 0-505-52575-5

VENERATE COUNCIL OF PROTECTORS
1-800-555-HERO
www.superherocentral.com

Protecting Mortals Is Our Business!

Official Business
Hieronymous Black
Outcast
Internet Delivery; Location Unknown

Greetings and Salutations:

The Venerate Council of Protectors is in receipt of your Form 849-7A (filed in triplicate) seeking re-assimilation into the Council and eradication of your status as an Outcast pursuant to the Outcast Re-Assimilation and Immunity Act (codified at Part III, Title 9 of the Protector Code of Conduct). As you are most likely aware, all Outcasts seeking re-assimilation shall be assigned a Re-Assimilation Counselor; you will receive notice of the date, time and location of your initial Meeting and Assessment (along with your counselor’s name) within ten business days. Please complete the following forms and bring them with you to the initial meeting with your counselor.

It is highly recommended that you read Circular 147B, So You
Want To Be Re-Assimilated!
Further in formation may be found on the Council website,
www.superherocentral.com,
on the Re-Assimilation Procedure page. Prior to sending questions or comments to the Council, we suggest you check the FAQ section to see if your situation has been covered.

Again, thank you for your interest in returning to a productive and helpful life as a Protector.

Sincerely,
Phelonium Prigg
Phelonium Prigg,
Assistant to Zephron, High Elder

jbk:PP
enclosure

“Nothing but bills today,” Burt Foster said, smiling as he handed Isole Frost a stack of mail. The mailman’s skin was baked to a golden brown, a testament to the recent beautiful weather that had soundly defeated whatever rain, sleet, snow, or hail might otherwise have tried to keep him from his appointed rounds.

Izzy took a good look at him as she fingered the bundle. Burt was about forty, with a round face and a receding hairline. His wife had passed away three years ago after a lingering illness, and when Izzy had met the man at the beginning of the summer, he’d seemed haunted and alone, giving off the scent of mild depression with just a hint of restlessness.

Now, though, she was picking up happiness combined with—what? She lifted her chin, sniffing slightly.
Ah, yes. Self-satisfaction
. The conquering hero. Virility mixed with tenderness.

No doubt about it. Mr. Foster had got himself a girl.

Izzy put on her work face, determined to hide her smile. “Thanks for bringing this up to the house,” she said, sounding casual. She’d ease him into a discussion of his love life. No sense being pushy. “Of course, you could have thrown in the
TV Guide
, too. It’s my last day of vacation, you know. I plan to veg out and do some serious channel surfing.”
That
was a far cry from the ice cold professional veneer she clung to at the office, but at home with her father she could be herself without any repercussions. And today, “herself” wanted to lounge about in sweats.

A frown cut across Burt’s features. “Aw, now, that’s a shame. We’ll be sorry to see you go. So will your dad.”

Izzy nodded. Leaving her dad was the hard part. She’d taken the entire summer for vacation, spending lazy days on his Colorado property, just reading and watching him tinker. But while she’d enjoyed vacation and spending time with her father, she was thrilled about going back. A new job, new responsibilities. She couldn’t wait.

She leaned forward, happy to share her news, even if Burt couldn’t know
all
of the details. “I’m actually excited about going back,” she said. “I got a promotion!”

The mailman beamed. “Congratulations! You’re some sort of counselor, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “They
should
give you a promotion. A woman as perceptive as you. Hell, they should give you your own TV show.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” It meant a lot, actually, that Burt believed in her. Other than her father and her uncle, it was hard to find someone in the hallowed halls of the Venerate Council who believed Izzy knew what she was doing ... much less that she was good at it. So, even though Burt couldn’t know all the details—or, really,
any
of the details of her life or job—Izzy was glad for his support, and a little saddened that she couldn’t tell him the truth. But, unfortunately, a girl simply didn’t confess to the mailman that she was, technically, a superhero.

And tomorrow, she was stepping into her new job as a Level V Re-Assimilation Counselor—a much-coveted position, and a significant promotion for her. She’d jumped straight from an entry-level position to the highest rank, skipping entirely that annoying middle ground—much to the consternation of her peers.

She’d worked her tail off for this promotion, though, to prove that she was worthy. But no matter how hard she worked or what accolades she won, she knew the whispers about her would never stop. Her peers would always look at her with wonder, jealousy, and a hint of contempt.

Well, too bad for them, Izzy thought, mentally lifting her chin in defiance. She deserved this promotion, she was damn good at what she did, and she didn’t need anyone’s approval or help. For that matter, she didn’t need anyone.

Except, maybe, her dad.

She blinked back tears. She really did hate to leave him.

“We’ll miss you around here,” Burt said again, and Izzy picked up on the unspoken thought—
I’ll
miss you.

She hid a smile, grateful that she’d been able to help him. “Did you talk to Janey?” She leaned forward conspiratorially, even though she already knew the answer.

A deep red flooded his neck, coloring his face even under the leathered bronze of his skin. “Well, yeah. I did.” He shifted the mailbag on his shoulder, and focused on his shoes. With his head down like that, Izzy could see that the blush had spread to his scalp, visible under his thinning hair.

She smiled. A flush that intense could mean only one thing. “You took her the daisies.”

He shrugged, looking up to meet her eyes. “Janey loved them. She was all smiles, and she looked at me like I was some kinda hero. She told me daisies were her favorite flower, and that I must’ve read her mind.”

Izzy flushed. “She said that? How funny.”

Burt cleared his throat. “We’re, um, going out again on Friday night. That’ll make two dates.”

“Oh, Burt, that’s wonderful!” She knew she shouldn’t—it was
technically
against regulations—but this was a good cause, and so she reached out and grabbed his hand, disguising the gesture as a friendly squeeze.

She’d touched him once before, three months prior, when she’d seen the desolation that was in his heart. Now, though, the storm of emotions, thoughts, and images that zipped through her senses held only happiness and the wonder of a budding relationship, confirming the impression—the smell—that had already tickled her mind and nose. She gave his hand a little squeeze, tinged with just a hint of self-satisfaction, and let go. “I’m so happy for you,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got you to thank.” The red had faded, but still colored his cheeks a bit. “Especially since you’re the one who told me I should talk to her in the first place.”

Izzy rolled a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Woman’s intuition.”

“More than that,” he said. “How
did
you know she’d like daisies? How’d you know she’d like
me
?”

“Oh, Burt—what’s not to like?”

“I’m serious,” he said, standing up straighter, an invisible shield of male pride clinging to him, just waiting to be pierced. “You didn’t go into town and, well,
talk
to her, did you? I mean, you told me her favorite flower. Her favorite restaurant.”

The possibility clearly mortified him. “Dugan’s is my favorite restaurant, too. It’s not like we’ve got a lot of choices around here.” Hardly a booming metropolis, Izzy’s hometown of River Run, Colorado, lacked the big-city amenities she’d gotten used to in New York. Like restaurants, coffee bars, and twenty-four-hour grocery stores.

“But the daisies,” he said. “Are they your favorite, too? Or did you talk to her?”

“Actually, tulips are my favorite.” She looked him in the eye, then drew a cross between her breasts. “And no, I didn’t talk to Janey. I swear.”

The perfect answer. Because she absolutely
hadn’t
talked to Janey. Izzy hadn’t said one single word to the cashier at the Larkspur Grill. Was it her fault their hands had brushed as Janey handed Izzy her change?

That one unexpected touch was all it had taken. For just an instant, she’d been Janey, watching Burt from afar, wondering if he’d ever say anything,
do
anything. And fantasizing that one day he’d walk into the restaurant bearing daisies.

Izzy couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. Not with such a grand romance in the making.

And it was only a little bitty violation of the rules. And for a very good cause ...

“—is that?”

Izzy realized she’d tuned Burt out. “Hmm? I’m sorry. What?”

“That noise. What is it?”

For the first time, she heard the
pound, pound, zip, whrrrr!
“Daddy,” she said simply. The noises filtered up through the floor from the basement workshop below, but Izzy barely noticed. She’d grown up with her dad’s banging and rumbling and tweaking and tightening. The man was forever working on some new and exotic invention, and after twenty-seven years of hearing his hammering, a few metallic bangs and well placed curses were hardly enough to distract her.

Bang! Ka-chung! Ching! Pow!

“I should have known,” Burt said. An ardent inventor, Izzy’s dad had never quite risen to the level of his idol, Thomas Edison. Or
anywhere
close, to be exact. But he kept on trying, and the folks in town didn’t mind his idiosyncrasies. Especially when Harold Frost was single-handedly responsible for keeping Main Street Hardware in business.

“Well, anyway,” Burt continued, “thanks for suggesting the daisies.” He gestured over his shoulder. “I’d better get going.”