And it was about to go off.
Reacting without thought, he lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulder. Ignoring her squeak of shock, he scooped her up into a firefighter’s lift and bounded through her house, frantically trying to reach the front door before the computer, house
and
her body exploded. His mother might have been a Greek Muse, but all that meant for her offspring was longer life and quick healing abilities. His sister could inspire her charges with sweet whispers in their ears to write epic erotic poems and stories but he couldn’t influence anyone. His students were a prime example of that. Reaching the door, he flung it opened and threw them both through the opening. The house roared its displeasure. Hitting the ground with a heavy thump, he groaned when Missy’s full weight landed on him. He loved curvy women, but not when they were flying through the air. Flipping her over, he covered her with his body and prayed the entire house didn’t land on them. Semi immortal beings survived lots of things, but burning, flying Las Vegas houses were probably not one of them.
With an explosive boom, the computer and the front of her house disintegrated. Debris and household items flew everywhere. Blazing projectiles fired over their heads. Eric pressed himself tighter into the warm, soft body below him. His cock—which had a thought process of its own—stirred in its nestled position between her thighs.
Thank the Gods he was wearing clothing, not to mention still invisible. One of his sister’s side gifts as an erotic Muse was to have the ability to clothe and unclothe herself with just a thought, a skill he’d already found useful. She preferred to work in her skin—maximum impact for her charge. Era used her gifts and presence to inspire others to write. She used mental suggestions and sent erotic thoughts to her client and used her bare skin close to her clients to help foster…that loving feeling. She could have done the job with clothing, but it wasn’t as effective. Eric shook his head. She also liked getting naked, probably why she was on maternity leave. She always thought he was too straitlaced to be the offspring of an erotic Muse. She’d probably told him to be naked for a bit of sibling payback. To keep the peace he’d do what she asked. Besides, as long as he kept in control of Erato’s Muse gifts, he wouldn’t shock his client with his nudity. Hopefully she’d put this entire episode down to stress?
Missy moaned and he noted the dull blue of her eyes as she stared up at the empty space above her.
“Oh. My. God. Look at my house. What the hell happened and who dragged me out?”
Eric tried to lever himself and his cock off her body, not getting far before she screeched and ducked.
What the hell?
He glanced over his shoulder to see why she’d freaked out, but before he focused, something slammed into the back of his head.
Jagged fire seared through him. It ripped his sight away in a blaze of scorching pain. Eric’s control over his invisible, clothed form wavered and his consciousness shattered.
Shit
, his sister was gonna be pissed.
Chapter Two
Shock had kept Missy immobile and mute when something or someone had put her over their shoulder and hoofed it out of her house. But when an invisible nobody dumped her on her front lawn and said house exploded, utter disbelief had her squeaking a protest.
Things like this didn’t happen. She was boring.
That’s why her so-called husband had cheated. But by the time he had, she’d already booked the removal truck. What rankled was
who
he’d done the dirty with—her best friend. How clichéd.
Look at her now, writing erotic novels, masturbating and imagining naked men carrying her out of exploding houses. Where would all this end? Hopefully somewhere near the cock that nestled against her. Okay, so it’d been a while since she’d had that lovin’ feeling, but wasn’t it like riding a bike?
She lifted her head and took a quick look. Nothing but empty space in front of her, yet heavy warmth pressed her to the ground. She raised a hand and smoothed it over tight sinew and warm skin covered with hardened muscle. Missy waved her hand behind the invisible shoulder.
Yep, all ten fingers but empty air above her
—except for her decimated half of a house.
The front of the house was reduced to pieces. The computer room and front porch were just splinters on fire. The rest remained untouched. At least the laptop she used for editing sat in the back bedroom with all her work backed up on it.
Missy ducked as burning embers showered the ground next to them. The heat was a steady hot burn of air on her exposed skin. But she bet the poor guy on top was getting the worst.
It had to be a break. A visually hallucinogenic mental collapse. Invisible fireman carrying her to safety didn’t happen in real life. Well, except for now. Maybe he was a secret agent or a mad scientist?
Or she needed medication and sex
.
A series of tremors raced through her body. Oh, God. Her house had just exploded. Crap, she could have been— She cut the thought off. Better to treat the whole scenario like a plot from her book or fodder for her story. Otherwise, she may well turn into a blithering idiot.
She squinted skyward. The only item of interest was her bronze doorstop of Apollo, the God in charge of the Muses.
The very hard object that was flying straight toward her.
Ducking, she prayed the invisible man had powers to burn the figure out of their way because it would make a hell of a dent if it connected.
The statue did hit something. With a loud thud in midair, it dropped next to her. A deep, masculine moan echoed at her side. A hairy tanned arm wavered into sight, followed by a leg, a chest and the rest of a very naked male body. A guy bleeding from a head wound.
Her stomach turned into a high-risk rollercoaster. Blood, so not her thing
.
Sweat traced a path down the side of her face.
Suck it up. He’s hurt and he saved your life.
She took a wobbly breath.
Missy bit her lip and prodded the man on the arm. Warm skin greeted her touch. Not a figment of her imagination. But she had to deal with the red stuff if she wanted him conscious enough to explain what the hell was going on.
Grabbing her T-shirt, Missy tore a strip off the bottom then pressed it to his wound. “Okay, mister. Who are you and why are you bleeding on my front lawn?”
She shook her head as the hot, naked man in front of her wavered. Time for a pep talk.
Do not pass out. Grow up. Vital, life-giving liquid can’t hurt you.
Well, except for aids, hepatitis and any other diseases
.
Blood had terrified her since she’d fallen out of a tree as a kid and sliced her arm. She’d lost so much she’d had to have a transfusion, and had had a phobia ever since. She angled her gaze away and used her other, non-blood covered hand to pry one of his eyes open.
A dilated dark brown eye met her stare. “Mister, you might have a concussion. You’ll have to go the hospital.”
On cue, Missy heard wailing sirens. One of her neighbors must have rung the ambulance. The firemen would have a field day over this. Last year she’d set her garden shed on fire when she’d been researching how to make gunpowder. At least this time it wasn’t her fault, right? She patted her unconscious naked man on the chest and released the pressure on his wound. The wet stuff no longer pumped out anymore.
Thank God.
Emergency services screeched to a stop and both ambulance and fire workers piled out.
She jumped up and waved her hands in the air. “Over here. He’s over here.”
She heard the firemen cursing her, as they filed past to hose the house. She dropped to a crouch beside the man and whispered, “It’ll be all right. They’ll take you to the hospital, then we’ll talk.”
“No. I’m fine. I just have a hell of a headache.”
His rough, weary voice sent an electric thrill to her lower regions.
He speaks.
She felt like Doctor Frankenstein must have when his creation had walked and talked. “Um, no, you have to. You have a head wound and I’m pretty sure they won’t let you go home.”
She watched as he removed her T-shirt remnant, laid it on his lap and pushed himself up. Damn. He’d covered himself before she’d gotten a good look at him. His injury had concerned her before, but now Missy wanted an eyeful.
“My head is fine now. See? The bleeding has stopped. The cut must have appeared bigger than it was.”
Her hunky guy in distress smiled sheepishly and indicated his head, where the barely noticeable wound had started to scab. The paramedics raced over to them and forced him to a prone position, murmuring shock the entire time.
Missy wobbled a bit on her feet and a paramedic steadied her. She stared up at the smoldering half ruin of her house. Only the front half had exploded, leaving the back end free from fire, but everything was soaked and ruined. She tried to dredge up some kind of grief. Some feeling, but she was blank.
Is there something wrong with me
? Most people would be wailing. All she felt was relief.
Every item of clothing, every stick of furniture her ex had chosen. He’d decided what an author should look like. Even her hairdresser had been told what haircuts to give her, as befitting his wife. Control was the keyword. She was chaos and he was order. It had driven him insane, her thirst for knowledge and excitement and how everything ended up as plots in her novel. If she could script her life just like her book, she’d be happy. Less messy and more excitement.
Firemen rushed around Missy and she leaned against an ambulance. Andrew would have been pointless if he’d been here. Useless in a drama. He’d fall apart and leave her to deal with the mess, then after the clean up was done he’d step back in. Missy growled. Typical. She was glad her damn house had blown up. Andrew had picked that house because it was a sturdy investment close to his work. She should have blown it up months ago. Maybe she should have an exploding house party.
Why had the damn house exploded anyway? All her electrical equipment was relatively new and shouldn’t short out. And the house had gone through a good check over just before Andrew had left her. Missy rubbed her arms, hugging herself tight. The man who’d rescued her seemed to think there was something wrong, otherwise why charge into the house to rescue her? Who would bother to hurt her? Missy shivered and looked away from the house. Why would he do that anyway? Missy bit her lip and looked over at the man shaking his head at the paramedic’s offer of help.
There was something about him that made her want to puff her chest out and order him around. She snorted to herself. Andrew wouldn’t take direction from anyone, especially not her. He certainly wouldn’t run into a building about to explode. So how had he known? He didn’t give her the feeling he’d set all this up to hurt her. If anything, he seemed embarrassed by the whole situation. He seemed mild mannered in his demeanor, until she factored in the jumping off her porch holding her body as a house exploded around them.
The paramedics gathered Missy over for another check up. After clearing both Missy and her rescuer, who’d identified himself as Eric, the firemen took over the interrogation. If anyone else asked if she was researching bombs, she’d scream.
“For the last time, gentlemen—and I use that term loosely—I did
not
blow up my house.”
“We just want to make sure this was an accident and not research. There are regulations.” The gray-haired chief frowned at Missy. “You’ll get into serious trouble if you’re playing with things you shouldn’t.”
What was she, twelve? One little incident and people assumed she blew things up all the time. “I did not cause an explosion. I am not stupid. Okay, there was that one incident, but that was different. This time I was minding my own business.” Missy placed her hands on her hips and frowned.
“I think the problem’s her computer. She was working when it started smoking. We bolted outside and it exploded.”
She stared at her naked man, who now had on a pair of old sweatpants the paramedics had given him. How on earth did he know that? She’d been alone until he’d appeared… Wait a minute. She ran her eye over him again. Brown long hair that flowed to below his shoulders, muscular build and of course, his large…
OMG
. He was the man she’d imagined while writing. He
was
real but had been invisible.
Not possible. There wasn’t a special label for the see-through challenged. But she wasn’t crazy. There’d been no one in that room except the imaginary man she thought she’d seen. And now here she was with a half-naked guy who’d carried her out of her exploding house. So he
had
been there watching her.
She pursed her lips and stared at Eric. Maybe she knew something important without realizing it. She had information he needed for a secret spy case he was working on. Her eyes widened. Or he was a scientist who’d invented a new serum that turned people invisible. The government was hunting him for his invention for their super soldiers.
Eric needed to hide and her house was the closest. Of course that didn’t explain the naked thing. Unless it had burnt his clothing off? She rubbed her hands together. Really good plot points. How could she work them into her story?
Opening her mouth to bombard her naked, invisible intruder with questions, she shuddered when he pressed an open-mouth kiss on her. She got that he was trying to shut her up, but
wowza,
he packed a punch. Zips and zaps of electricity sparked all the way to her toes.
“Honey, its okay. Don’t worry about the house. We can stay with my family at the Olympus. They own it, Officers. If you need any other statements, that’s where we’ll be.” Eric stood and watched the police place do-not-enter tape around the house then leave. He nodded and waved to them.
Honey?
Since when did naked strangers get to call her too-sweet endearments?
The biggest liar on the planet grabbed her arm and moved toward her car, which had escaped damage. He ducked and peered under the car before jumping up and glancing around.
Missy dropped to a crouch behind the car. An unmarked black car inched past her driveway. She froze, breath hissing out in a whine.
It is
the government.