Tall, Dark and Divine (8 page)

His wife had left him; it had probably been a while since anyone baked him cookies.

And maybe she could drop them off in the reception area of his office; that way she wouldn’t actually have to face him. She had to go to work anyway in—she glanced at the clock ticking a bit too loudly on the bedside table—just over two hours.

That was just enough time to whip up a batch of dough and stick a tray of cookies in the oven, before taking a shower and self-medicating with half a bottle of aspirin and black coffee.

Groaning, she rolled over and dangled her feet off the side of the bed.

Two hours later, she was upright, moving down the street, and almost back to normal. Her body still felt nice and relaxed, but the banging headache more than made up for it. The aspirin and coffee hadn’t done as good a job as she’d hoped, and she’d had to resort to wearing sunglasses, even though it was overcast and a bit gloomy. It wasn’t raining, but the sky looked like it was thinking about it.

The way to work ran past Dionysus’s bar, and she slowed her steps as she approached. But it was closed this early in the morning, the door firmly locked and the neon signs turned off. Which took care of her idea of going in to ask for a hair of the dog that bit her. It was probably just as well, actually, because she wasn’t sure she trusted Dion. He was a friend of Eros’s—Ross had said they’d known each other forever, and she did trust Ross; at least she was pretty sure she did—but Dion had mixed those Cosmos a lot stronger than any others she’d ever had, and she had a feeling he’d put something else in them, too. Something more potent than alcohol.

Although if he were going to drug someone, he probably wouldn’t have chosen Annie. And anyway, why would he, when he could have any woman he wanted simply by crooking his finger?

At any rate, the bar was closed, the door closed, and the windows dark, so it didn’t matter. As she rounded the nearest corner and headed down Steinway Street, a part of her—the small, cowardly part—wondered whether perhaps the matchmaking agency might be closed, too. That would be preferable, in a way. Part of her didn’t want to see Ross again. It would be awkward. She was pretty sure last night had included things that would embarrass her if she could remember them.

If she’d thought there was a chance she might be able to get away with never seeing him again, she’d totally try. She hadn’t seen him in the two years she’d worked across the street from him, true, but now that they’d met—now that they’d done the horizontal mambo—she’d probably stumble over him every time she turned around. Every time she stuck her nose outside the door, there he’d be. Accidentally, of course. And it would probably be just at those times when she was either hung over, or sweaty from work, or running late, or when she had spilled lunch on her shirt or it had been a while since she’d washed her hair.

No, much better just to get it done now, and then forget about it.

With a little prayer—
God, if you’re up there, please let me get through this with at least the shreds of my dignity intact
—she pushed down the handle and leaned on the door.

Chapter Ten

The door opened more easily than she’d expected and she practically fell into the room. The only thing that would have been worse was if Ross had been there to see her. Thankfully, he wasn’t. The reception area was full of people, but none of them was Ross.

A huge desk took up space in the middle of the room, and the sleek Ariadne sat behind it. She was wearing deep brown today, a suit several shades darker than her hair, which was twisted into that elegant chignon at the back of her head. Up close, her face was even more beautiful than Annie had imagined.

“Can I help you?” she said.

Annie looked around. The reception was elegant, with hardwood floors, cream-colored walls, and tall ceilings. It had a classic feel, with Greek columns outlining the door into the rest of the building, where—she assumed—Eros’s office, along with a bathroom and maybe a kitchenette—were located. There were a lot of green plants, but the only decoration other than that was a marble statue in a corner of a winged god with a bow and arrow. Someone had covered the god’s private parts with a sticky note saying Do Not Remove.

Annie’s lips twitched. It was probably Eros—the real Eros; the Greek god—and someone, maybe Ari, insisted on keeping him there as a joke. The sticky note must be a concession to Ross’s—the man’s—vanity.

Along one wall stood a long, sleek sofa, also cream colored. Three women sat side by side on it, looking exactly like models at an audition. Long legs crossed at the knees, slender feet in high-heeled shoes jiggling, gorgeous faces. The women didn’t even look like they were wearing makeup save for a smear of lipstick; how did they manage to look so good? They turned toward Annie with identical expressions of curiosity.

One was the stunning Brita from last night. The young woman was slightly more appropriately dressed today, in a business suit whose flaming red color and short skirt did a fine job of emphasizing her long legs and gorgeous curves. Next to her sat a strawberry blonde with a delicate face and huge turquoise eyes, dressed in a beautiful silk dress with all the colors of the rainbow and then some, while a gorgeous brunette in a bright blue dress topped by a black jacket rounded out the collection.

Annie smiled weakly. “Hi.”

They all smiled back, and the effect was like being hit between the eyes with a sunbeam. Exhilarating and painful all at the same time. She could just imagine how poor Harry Mitchell must feel.

“Can we help you?” Ari asked again, and Annie turned toward the desk.

“I…um… Is Ross here?”

There was a pause while all four women looked at one another. Annie couldn’t quite interpret the looks flying among them, but she was afraid they might be saying something like
hag alert
or
incoming; batten down the hatches.

“He’s still upstairs,” Ariadne said, pushing her chair back from the desk, “but I can go get him—”

“No!” If he was upstairs and out of easy reach, that was just fine with Annie. Leave him there. Maybe he was still in bed. She’d overheard Dion say Ross owned and lived in the building.

The mental picture—all that soft skin and hard muscles warm against crisp white sheets—distracted her for a moment. Until Ari got to her feet. “I’ll just—”

“No. Please.” He wasn’t here. There was no need to disturb him. None at all. Put off the inevitable. “I…um…I met him last night at Dionysus’s bar?”

She didn’t know why she phrased it as a question when it was exactly what she’d done and she knew it.

Ari nodded. “I saw you talking.”

Right. “He…was nice enough to walk me home. To make sure I got there safely.”

“I see,” Ari said, while out of the corner of her eye, Annie could see the other girls exchange glances.

“I just wanted to…um…thank him.” She put the cookies on the desk, right on top of a stack of files, where the grease would probably bleed through the paper bag and stain the folders at any moment.
Way to go, Annie. Ruin the man’s work
.

Ari looked from the bag to Annie, question clear in her eyes.

“Cookies,” Annie said.

Ari blinked.

“I work in the bakery across the street.”

“The dog bakery?” The question came from one of the other women. The one with the dark hair and blue dress. Her perfect lips were twitching.

“Was he a dog?” the strawberry blonde added, giggling.

“No!”
God, no
. Flushing, Annie added, “They’re lemon coconut cookies. With…um…sugar crystals.”

All three women were laughing now, and even Ari was smiling. “Just let me get him downstairs for you.”

“No!”

Ari halted, mid-movement, and Annie added, “Please. I don’t want to disturb him. Just give him the cookies when he comes downstairs. Whenever that is. I’m already running late, and…um…”

“Of course.” There was understanding in Ari’s voice, a bit more than Annie had expected, and she wondered if the other woman hadn’t figured out that she’d really prefer not to see Ross face to face, at least not until she’d gotten a bit more distance on what had happened.

“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Ari said, sitting back down behind the desk and moving the bag of cookies off the files. They’d already left a stain on the top file, but Ari didn’t say anything about it. “Who shall I tell him they’re from?”

“I’m Annie Landon. I…” She stopped herself before repeating that she worked across the street. She’d already said that.

Ari nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Annie. I’m Ari. This is Brita, Carrie, and Iris.”

All three smiled. Among the four of them, it was a little like watching the cast of
Sex and the City 2
, the remake.

Maybe she’d imagined sleeping with Ross last night. Maybe it had been wishful thinking. If he had these women walking around his office every day, what could he possibly see in someone like her?

But even as the thought crossed her mind, she heard his voice in her head.
You look exactly the way you’re supposed to look. Like a beautiful woman
.

He’d sounded sincere. He’d
been
sincere. He’d taken her home and made love to her, and his response to her body hadn’t been feigned. Nobody could feign that reaction.

She smiled, more confidently now. “Just tell him I said thanks for making me feel better last night. I’d better go. Time to…um…” She gestured over her shoulder, to the dog bakery.

“I’ll let him know you were here,” Ari promised. “I’m sure he’ll stop by to thank you later today.”

Great. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to see him again. She walked out with a big smile on her face.

…

“Gift for you,” Ariadne announced.

Eros looked up from the papers on his desk. It had taken him forever to get himself together this morning. It must have been the unexpected exercise last night. It had been so long since he’d had sex, maybe the pleasure had been too much for him.

What was it they said,
use it or lose it
? Obviously he needed to use it more, and not let it go decades between each time.

At any rate, his muscles felt pleasantly relaxed, and his brain was clearer than it had been in a long time. He felt great. At least until Ari started in on him.

The conversation didn’t seem difficult when it began. She simply walked into his office, told him she had something for him, and put a stained paper bag in the middle of his desk. Then she stepped back and folded her hands, waiting.

He squinted at the bag. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Eros quirked a brow but reached for the bag. The contents shifted a little and rubbed together with a sort of scratchy sound. They smelled—he breathed deeply—nice. Back in time, in the superstitious Middle Ages and beyond, strange things had occasionally shown up on his doorstep, but this probably wasn’t anything too bad. At least it didn’t smell like dead rat.

He unfolded the flap, pulled the sides of the bag apart, and peered in. Nothing jumped out and hit him in the nose, either.

He looked up. “Cookies?”

Ariadne nodded.

“Why? I didn’t do anything to you.”

“They’re not from me.”

“Who…?” He stopped when he realized who must have dropped them off. They smelled like her, he realized. Warm and sweet and delicious. “She brought me cookies?”

Ari nodded. “Baked them herself, from what I understood.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?” He was planning to fix her up with Harry Mitchell, sure. But he’d slept with the woman last night. It would have been courteous to accept her cookies in person.

“She didn’t want me to,” Ari said, and Eros blinked, feeling unreasonably let down. “What did you do last night, Ross?”

“Nothing,” Eros said automatically.

“Sure.” She looked around and headed for the same chair she’d occupied yesterday, in front of his desk. Once she was seated with her knees demurely crossed, long legs on display and hands folded in her lap, she added, “She said you walked her home?”

He nodded.

“Is that all you did?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

Ari didn’t answer. “I saw you talking to her at the bar last night.”

“She was out looking for a good time. I thought I’d intervene before Dionysus took her upstairs and lifted her skirt.”

As soon as he said it, he realized that maybe the words were ill advised, but by then it was too late to call them back.

“He would.” Her voice was cool and disdainful, as if the god of wine meant nothing to her. As if he were nothing more than a thorn in her side. Which he probably was, but Ross was beginning to suspect that he was a bit more than that.

“About Dion…,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she retorted. “Don’t duck the question.”

“I wasn’t—”

But maybe he had been. The idea of discussing Ariadne and Dion’s relationship, or lack thereof, was a lot more appealing than discussing his own encounter with Annie. “What question?”

“Is that all you did?”

There was no point in lying. She’d know if he did. They’d been around each other for thousands of years, and she understood him better than Psyche ever did. Maybe that should have clued him in.

“I wanted to keep her away from Dion,” he said. “He’s not what she needs.”

“He’s not what any woman needs,” she answered promptly. “Mortal or immortal.”

Right. He leaned back on the chair. “I’ve been aware of her for a while. Annie. She works across the street. In the dog bakery.”

For some reason, Ari’s lips twitched. “I know. She told us.”

“Last night was a fluke. She was tired of waiting and she went out to find some company. But what she really wants is someone to love. Someone who loves her.”

“Don’t we all?”

Eros hesitated, watching her, and then decided to ignore the remark.
Later
. “I think she’d be happy with Harry Mitchell from the accounting firm down the street.”

Ari’s eyes widened. “The one with the glasses, who always stumbles over his tongue whenever Brita is around?”