Tall, Dark and Divine (10 page)

Gods, had everyone been there this morning? “She’s not a girl. She’s twenty-eight.”

“I’ve been around for millennia,” Brita answered. “So have you. Twenty-eight is very, very young.”

True. “She wants Harry Mitchell. He refuses to go out with her unless you’ll go out with him.”

“At the same time?”

“Of course not. Annie today, you tomorrow.”

“So I’m what, his reward for good behavior?”

“Something like that.”

Brita’s voice was dry. “I see.” There was a pause. “Why does she want him if he doesn’t want her?”

“She’s a mortal. They’re strange.”

“Right.” Brita thought for a moment. “You really think they’re made for each other?”

“I do.” There was a tiny voice in the back of his head trying to get his attention, but he ignored it.

“So there’s a chance that he’ll go out with her tonight and decide he doesn’t want to go out with me tomorrow?”

“There is.” And Eros was keeping his fingers crossed for just that outcome. After all, he’d been watching Annie for months now, without letting her know of his interest—and somehow that admission made him feel vaguely stalker-y, but never mind. As soon as he’d gotten to know her, even just a little bit, sitting in Dion’s bar last night, she’d knocked him for a loop. Suddenly she was all he could think about. And if she could do it to him—the fucking god of love—surely she could do it to a mere mortal like Harry.

“Fine,” Brita said. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

“But you owe me.”

“Whatever you want,” Eros said. And modified it to, “Within reason.”

“We’ll talk,” Brita said. “Tell him he can pick me up at the office at seven o’clock tomorrow.”

“Fine.” He dropped the phone in his pocket.

“Well?” the accountant asked. “What did she say?”

“You can pick her up at the office at seven tomorrow night.”

“Really?” His voice actually broke with excitement.

“Yes, really. Now it’s your turn. Ask Annie to dinner.”

Harry squinted at him. “If you like her so much, why don’t
you
ask her to dinner?”

“She doesn’t want me,” Eros said, his teeth clenched. After all that, Harry had damn well better follow through on their deal, even if Eros had to drag him to Annie’s dog bakery by his shaggy hair to get it done.

The mortal grinned. “She wants me instead?”

“So it seems.” Which was fine with him. She wasn’t his type. Too mortal. Let Harry have her.

If he hurts her again, I’ll knock his teeth out the back of his throat
.

“Cool,” Harry said.

But maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’ll say no
. “Let’s go.” He made to rise.

“I have to wait until lunch,” Harry said. “I can’t just leave.”

“I’ll wait with you.” Eros leaned back on the uncomfortable visitor’s chair, folding his arms across his chest and settling in for the duration. Lunch was only an hour away. He could make it. And make Harry’s life uncomfortable at the same time.

Harry sighed and pushed his rolling chair back. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eros said and handed him his jacket.

…

The doorbell jingled again a few minutes before noon and Annie looked up, expecting to see another of the old biddies from the neighborhood, with a poodle, a pug, or possibly a shih tzu tucked under one arm. Instead, she saw the broad shoulders and bespectacled face of Harry Mitchell grinning at her over the counter.

“Oh.” What business did he have smiling, after the things he’d said to her last night? “Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell. What can I do for you?”

Harry’s smile slipped a bit. “I thought I told you to call me Harry.”

Not as far as she could recall. However, there was no point in arguing about it. “What can I get you, Harry?”

“Two peanut butter bones,” Harry said. “For Fiona.”

“Sure.” Annie reached for a paper bag, thinking snidely that she hadn’t thought he wanted them for himself.

“And a date.”

A date?

She stared at him, her hand stilled with the tongs hovering above the bone-shaped dog biscuits. He managed another smile, although this one was more like a grimace. “I’ve been thinking.”

Annie resisted the temptation to ask him if it had hurt. She went for the peanut butter bones and dropped them into the bag.

“I guess I was a little bit”—he hesitated—“rash last night.”

Rash?

“I’d had a bit to drink and I guess I wasn’t as…nice as I could have been.”

No kidding. Annie thought about telling him she forgave him but decided it was too soon for that. Especially as she hadn’t gotten the impression he’d been drunk so much as that he’d simply been unforgivably rude. Instead she folded down the flap on the bag and put it on the counter in front of him. “A dollar seventy-five, please.”

Harry fished in his pocket. “I thought maybe you’d give me another chance.”

“Another chance to do what?”

He smiled. It was a pretty good smile, for a total jerk. “To meet Fiona.” He put two dollars on the counter.

Annie reached for them. “You want me to meet your dog?”

“You asked to meet my dog,” Harry said.

She had. And telling him at this point that she’d only used the dog as an excuse to talk to him probably wouldn’t help. Besides, she liked dogs. She gave him his quarter back and capitulated. “I’d like to meet Fiona.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised and not exactly gratified. Maybe it was the shock of having her accept his invitation. “That’s great. How about tonight?”

“Tonight?” For having given her the impression yesterday that he’d never want anything to do with her, he sure was working fast.

“Are you busy?” He sounded relieved. “If you’re busy, it’s all right. We can just put it off until some other time.”

“No,” Annie said, wondering what on earth was going on. One second he asked her for a date, tonight, as soon as possible, and the next he sounded as if he didn’t care if they had to put off their dinner indefinitely. “I’m free tonight.”

“Oh.” It took him a second, but he rallied, and even managed a passable smile. “Great. How about I pick you up around seven thirty?”

“That would be fine.” A bit late, but maybe he had something to do beforehand. Maybe he had to walk Fiona. She could wear her red heels again and a different dress than last night. Something a bit more casual, since she’d be making the acquaintance of a schnauzer at some point.

“What’s your address?” Harry asked.

Annie gave it to him and watched him type it into his phone. “Great,” he said again, without sounding like he meant it. “I’ll see you at seven thirty, then.” He reached for his bones.

Annie nodded. “See you then.”

And then she watched him walk out, looking a lot like a man on his way to the guillotine. Feet dragging and broad shoulders slumped.

Weird. He sure didn’t look like a man who had just asked a woman he liked out on a date and gotten a positive response. From all indicators, he looked like someone who didn’t want to go.

Annie waited until the door had closed behind him and the jingle from the bell had died down. By then Harry was out of sight, down the sidewalk. She slipped out from behind the counter and opened the door a crack to peer down the street.

There he was, half a block away. Standing with his back to her. Talking to someone.

He was both tall and broad-shouldered, and he was standing right in front of his companion, so it was difficult to get a good look at the other man. But after a few seconds, Harry turned sideways to sidle past, probably to continue on his way back to the office. Annie’s eyes narrowed.

What was Ross doing talking to Harry? She’d told him what Harry had said yesterday in the bar. At least she was pretty sure she had, even if the Cosmopolitans had made everything that happened last night a bit blurry. Was this his idea of setting things right?

God, he hadn’t gone to Harry and told him that she’d slept with him—with Ross—last night, had he? Surely he wasn’t the kind of guy who kissed and told?

Because if Harry had asked her out just because he thought she’d put out at the end of the night, he had another think coming. And so did Ross.

Chapter Twelve

“How did it go?” Eros asked.

Harry shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

He guessed? “Well, did she say yes?”

Harry smiled. “Of course she did.”

Of course.

Damn. A small part of him—a small, unworthy part—had thought maybe she wouldn’t. Had maybe even hoped she wouldn’t. After the way he’d spoken to her yesterday, the fact that Annie still wanted Harry was an annoyance to Eros.

Although he had to admit that even if Harry had been a perfect sweetheart, the fact that she wanted him still would have been annoying. She’d slept with him—Eros—last night. She wasn’t supposed to want anyone else after that.

Then again, since he didn’t want her, either, it was just as well that she did want someone else. So what if his feelings were a tad bit bruised? He’d get over it. She was just another mortal. He’d met plenty of those and she wasn’t anything special.

“Excellent,” he said, pleased to hear his voice was steady. The urge to punch Harry in the nose was practically gone, too. “She seemed happy?”

Harry shrugged.

“She didn’t seem happy?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Harry asked.

“You spoke to her. Couldn’t you tell whether she seemed happy to go out with you or not?”

“I guess she did. She said yes, right?”

So Harry had led him to believe. “Did she smile?”

Harry shrugged.

“C’mon, man. You stood there and looked at her. She has a great smile. It lights up her whole face. Surely you remember if you saw it.”

“No,” Harry said.

“No, what? You don’t remember? Or she didn’t smile?”

“I don’t think she smiled. But if you think she’s got such a great smile, why aren’t you asking her out yourself?”

Eros ignored him. They’d already been over this, and he wasn’t going to say it again.

So she hadn’t smiled. Was that good or bad? Was she still angry with Harry because of last night? Maybe she was waiting to see how the date went before she made up her mind whether to forgive him or not?

“Where are you taking her?”

“None of your business,” Harry said.

Fine. He was probably being too pushy anyway. And perhaps it was better if he didn’t know the particulars. If he knew, he might be tempted to go to the restaurant to see how the date progressed, and then Annie might see him, and she might suspect that he’d had something to do with talking Harry into asking her out, and he didn’t want her to realize that he’d had any part in it. Much better just to leave her to Harry. Harry was whom she wanted. They’d be fine on their own.

Somehow the thought didn’t give him much pleasure. He shook it off. “When are you picking her up?”

“Seven thirty. Her place.”

Good. Eros nodded. “You’ll make sure she has a good time, right?”

“Of course,” Harry said, sounding insulted. “I know exactly where to take her. She’ll love it.”

“Great.” Nothing to worry about, then. He could go home tonight, open a bottle of wine, and put his feet up. It was all taken care of. Annie wanted Harry, and by the end of the date, Harry would be halfway in love with Annie, too. He couldn’t avoid it. She was pretty, and sweet, and fun to talk to, and she had great legs, not to mention great taste in shoes…and maybe by the end of the evening, those legs with those shoes would be wrapped around Harry’s waist, the same way they’d been wrapped around his own yesterday, and Harry would be the one with her ass in his hands and his mouth down the front of her dress—

“So tomorrow I get Brita, right?” Harry interrupted, just as Eros’s inner monologue was getting interesting. It was probably a good thing, since the direction of Eros’s thoughts was giving him great pause. In fact, the look he directed at Harry was dark enough that the mortal took a step back and lifted his hands.

“Whoa. It was just a question, man.”

“Yes. If you take Annie out tonight, and show her a good time—” Although not too good, or Eros would be tempted to do something about it. “You’ll get to take Brita out tomorrow.”

“Seven o’clock, right?”

Eros nodded.

“Great.” Harry rubbed his hands together.

“But first you have to take Annie out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry waved it away. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Good. I’ll leave you alone to get things set up.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could look at Harry and not succumb to the temptation to hit him.

“Set what up?” Harry said.

“You’re going to dinner, right? Don’t you need reservations?” Somewhere with soft music and tinkling fountains and romantic lighting. The sort of place a man took a woman like Annie. A limo, or at least a cab for the ride there. She shouldn’t have to take the subway. And maybe a bouquet of flowers to hand to her when he picked her up?

“Oh,” Harry said. “Yeah. I guess I do. Thanks.”

“No problem. Just make sure she has a good time.”

“Sure,” Harry said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

He headed down the sidewalk whistling. Eros scowled after him before crossing the street and heading back to his own place of business. And he made very sure not to look across the street at the dog bakery on his way past, just in case Annie should see him and call his name.

He was just about to duck through his own doorway into the agency when he heard her voice. “C’mere, sweetie.”

The tone—so warm and coaxing—was like an arrow to the groin. The tiny hairs at the back of his neck rose, and farther south, something else stirred.

He looked over his shoulder and saw…nothing. The outside of the bakery was empty, and there was no one within twenty feet of him.

“Annie?”

“That’s right,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness and honey. “Come and get it.”

Come and get what? And where the hell was she? He’d be there in a heartbeat, no problem—anything she wanted to give him, especially in that tone of voice, was fine with him—but he had to find her first.