Deities & Desires: Death On Line One

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Steph

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I couldn’t bounce my knee any faster without breaking the heels of these stupid hooker shoes. Honestly. The one day I decided to spice things up a little. They were too high to be respectable, not that I cared what he thought. Plus, if I’d worn flats, my epic date-escape would be so much smoother. Less tripping, for sure.

I glanced down at the cherry red patent leather and groaned, rubbing my temples as another little headache bloomed to life. Sitting was out of the question; I was just too antsy. I popped up out of my chair and paced to the bookcase. Then back to my desk. My mind concocted versions of “Theo” that ranged from hot to hilarious, but none of them made the wait any easier.

This was ridiculous.

Cara chose the perfect moment to pop her cherubic face through the door, just as I was throwing punches at my nerves.

“So . . . what's all this?” she cooed. I dropped my arms, and her painted brows rose. “Why aren't you trotting your cute little tuchus downstairs and hopping in your car? You promised me you'd leave at a reasonable time at least once this month. That day is today, remember?” She flicked her wrist and frowned at either one or all three of her watches.

“My own personal timekeeper.” I grinned and ran my fingers through my hair. “You really are the only reason I can get anything done, you know.”

“Yes, I am. Despite the fact you fight me every way you can. Which is why you need to be leavin’ now.” Another frowning glance at her wrist.

“Well, about that,” I said, taking a long step toward her and putting my arm around her shoulder. “I have a . . . ” God, why did the word sound so juvenile all of a sudden? “Date.”

Cara flinched like I'd poked her. “What? That's not on your agenda.” Her round cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes blazed. “When? With whom? When?”

“Um.” I backed away from her and folded at the knees to snag my purse from the floor, giving side-eye to the useless overnight bag. I forgot I’d already picked it clean two days ago. Stupid ledger took all night to reconcile. “In like six minutes? He's on his way here now. At least, he's supposed to be.”

Her face twitched. She tilted her head and glared at me, stared at her wrist for a few seconds, muttering something snippy, and then finally pinned me with a pale excuse for indifference as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Okay then,” she said, tapping and swiping her finger across the screen while I fidgeted like a teen caught out past curfew. “You need to be here at seven-fifteen tomorrow for the meeting with Cryer Media.”

I scrunched my nose. Those guys were sharks of the highest magnitude. Especially the head honcho.

Cara apparently read my mind and held up her finger. “No, you can't cancel. I know you and Milo don't get along, which I totally don't get since he's a hard nose like someone else we know.” She didn't have to look at me to drive that point home. “But we need their help on this campaign.”

I opened my mouth to tell her I felt sure I'd have a nasty cold in the morning, but she shook her head. “Also,” she said, with two more swipes and a smile, “you're having lunch with your mother.”

I gaped. “How could you already know that? I wasn't going to tell you, so I could forget.”

“Knowing things that involve your schedule is kinda my job, sugar. And no forgetting. Daran,” she said, her cheeks flushing, “is under strict orders to deliver her to Mario's at eleven-forty-five. And you'll be there if I have to hog-tie and drag you myself.”

Bah. Cara and Daran and their weird talking-but-not-talking collusion. Being my mom's personal security meant he was in prime position to help Cara help him force us to interact. Not to mention Cara was hopelessly in love with the guy.

Pretty sure he'd tap her like a maple tree, but for some reason, they both played the deer-in-headlights card when they were in the same room. It was like she'd never read a single article we published.

“Fine,” I drew out the word as I gestured to the door. “But, I don't have to be happy about it.”

Cara didn't bother to look up as I urged her through the doorway and down the hall. She wove around chairs and file boxes, happily tapping, while my heart tried to strangle me.

Minutes. Mere minutes until I embarked on a blind date with some man my mother had hoped I'd turn down. Death. I snorted. At least his apparent morbidity was an interesting quirk. It meant he wasn't entirely boring. And non-boring I could put up with for at least an hour. Maybe two. Maybe.

Without any warning, Cara pivoted, and I almost stumbled right into her. Before I could ask her what the frick was up, she licked her fingers and smoothed down my hair.

I recoiled and gaped at her. “You did not just do that.”

“I did. And you’re welcome. Just be glad you’re back to your natural brown. It looks so much better without that weird purple streak.”

My scoff was a bit too loud. “I was connecting with the youth of—stop that!” She made a swipe at the other side and I shoved her hand away, our grins matching.

“Uh huh. Be still.” She grabbed my cheeks, examining me. “Nice choice on the shadow today. Makes those sickeningly gorgeous eyes pop.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, pulling out of her grip. “It’s a new shade called ‘overworked and exhausted.’ Fresh from Paris.”

She snorted and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. “You’ll be fine, sugar. Just be yourself.”

A lump grabbed my throat, but I rolled my eyes and cleared it away. Damn her best friend radar.

She scrunched her nose over her smile and turned back around, heading down the stairs, me trailing behind. Of course, I’d be fine. This wasn’t a real date, anyway. Research, revenge, and free food only.

Speaking of, the glorious scent of vanilla, honey, and a plethora of other delectable smells caressed my nose as we opened the stairwell door and headed down.

When you lived in a massive city like Brentown, real estate was a premium. As such, our adorable, trendy office was on the second floor of a renovated Victorian house, above Mer Fees, a franchised cupcake shop that specialized in every flavor from the avant-garde, like avocado cream with beets, to the normal, like vanilla.

Today would have been a vanilla day if I weren't about to hurl from anxiety.

Cara needed to move along though. I wasn't about to meet Theo with her hanging around.

“Listen, Cara—”

“Shoot. Forgot to grab my other two planners,” she said, turning around. “You go ahead. Have fun on your date.” She sang the word, and I rolled my eyes again as she continued. “I'll text you at ten-fifteen to see if you've made it home and to remind you to sleep.”

She disappeared up the stairs, letting the door thud behind her.

That left me staring at the sidewalk through a plate glass door, wondering what tests I'd failed in school to get me to the point where my personal secretary had to double as my walking Post-It note for basic life skills.

Maybe I did need a boyfriend.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, and I shoved out into the city sounds and heat.

Cars sped past, horns honked, voices melded with the hum of traffic from other streets, and now this construction project next door. Endless hammering, and not the fun kind. I closed my eyes. Really, there was no break. Even my condo was noisy. I rubbed my throbbing temples again. Pipes and neighbors and doors and . . . Sometimes I just wanted silence. Stark, bone-deep silence.

Maybe when I was six feet under.

I snagged the phone out of my standard business exec worthy purse, a.k.a.—bland brown, and glanced down at my equally dull white shirt again, dead set on making it feel inferior for existing, when my mouth dropped open. “No!” I gripped the front and held it closed over my chest. “Oh, are you serious? Stupid shirt!”

I desperately scanned the sidewalk for a button I could never sew back on in time. Honestly. Of all the worst—

“Hello, Stephanie.”

I screeched like a barn owl, fumbling both my phone and my shirt in spectacular fashion, complete with a hand-over-hand juggle and hooker-heel-wobble which sent me veering for the adjacent building.

“Stephanie!”

My shoulder had barely brushed the brick when the owner of that voice grabbed my arm, yanking me backward against his chest.

A scaffolding crashed down on the sidewalk mere feet from me, in an almost deafening crunch and whine of steel. I screamed again, both my hands flew to my face, and I struggled for air.

“Oh my god! That was—”

“Too close.”

“Yeah,” I breathed and glanced up over my shoulder expecting our eyes to meet. What I didn't expect was the way his glorious scent would wash over me, melting my insides to a puddle. Pomegranates, fragrant, loud and clear. Something a little spicy, floral too.

I was also unprepared for how ridiculously handsome he was.

He didn't look like a magazine model or some baby-faced millennial. He was a man. Rugged features, strong nose, jawline, and brow. He had black hair, cut close on the sides, with loose short curls on top, and totally enviable smooth, rich, olive skin with full and so, so kissable lips.

But his eyes, they were the best. Pale green. Intense. And . . . not looking at me.

Instead, they were locked on a slender woman with striking long black hair on the next block. Her severe features were only drowned out by the dagger glare I could see, or sense, from here.

Jealousy stabbed me, despite my near-death moment, and all I could think about was that extra donut I ate last night, chased with a Hershey's bar. Mine and my ex’s would-be anniversary always snuck up on me in the form of comfort food.

I looked up at the man’s cut face again, and his jaw jumped as his arm wrapped almost possessively around my shoulder, eyes still trained on the wraith-like . . . goddess was really the best way to describe her.

A delivery truck drove by, and when my line of sight cleared, she was gone.

Freaky.

“Are you all right?” He dropped his seafoam gaze to me, eyes busy with curiosity. Oh yeah. Scaffolding. I blinked a couple of times and faced the pile of metal, then I trailed my eyes up the building. There wasn’t even anyone out there to take the brunt of my hurled obscenities. So . . . it just fell. All by itself. Freak accident, I guessed. Thank God he was here though. I’m quite sure I’d be a squishy pancake otherwise, much like my—I groaned and sighed.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” My phone, however, was not. A corner of this massive hunk of metal had landed right smack in the middle, cracking the phone in a spiderweb. Waffling on whether to try and dig it out or report it as stolen to get the insurance replacement lasted about one second, because the stud cleared his throat, rumbling against my skin like a deep purr. I whipped back around in his still possessive grip and blinked up at him, suddenly realizing I had no clue who it was.

“Are you . . . ” It couldn’t be. Even though he’d called my name, there was no way. I couldn’t be this lucky. “Theo?”

He graced me with a tiny upturn at the corners of his sumptuous mouth, making my heart skip like a schoolgirl. “The one and only.”

Holy hotness.

The smile dropped, concern back in place as he scanned my face again. “You’re certain you’re not injured?”

I shook my head, then blinked back to reality and nodded instead. “Totally fine.”

He took a deep, relieved breath, relaxing his face. “Good. I believe I have a date to treat you—” His eyes traveled lower, lower. “ . . . to . . . ” His gaze froze on the spot where there should have been a button, his throat bobbing before he snapped his eyes to mine. “And your shirt is lovely. Hardly stupid.”

Dear God. That silky-smooth voice was even sexier up close. All I managed was a monosyllabic grunt before he stepped back, taking all that warmth and strength and hard muscle with him.

I shivered and rolled back my shoulders. Time to reign in my stampeding heart and wandering mind. “Well then. Lead on, oh savior of mine.”

He tilted his head and scanned me head to toe and right back up, the movement languid, almost electric. Been a long damn time since anyone looked at me like that.

A devilish smile hit his mouth. “That's not something I hear.” He considered me a few seconds longer, visibly swallowed, cleared his throat, and gestured ahead.

I couldn't be sure, but I’d have sworn I noticed the slightest tinge in his cheeks as I stepped next to him.

“Oh,” I snapped my fingers, “let me stick my bag in the car right quick. I don't wanna lug it around all night.”

“Understandable. Shall I wait here?”

“Um. Yes. It's like right there, so just—” I flattened my palms in the air. “Stay.”

He smirked and rubbed his chin. “Right here?”

Good lord, he was so sexy. I nodded like an i***t, and he chuckled.

“Sooo.” I clicked my tongue like some nervous teenager. “Be right back.”

I shuffled as fast as my ridiculous shoes allowed through the tiny alley that led to our tiny parking lot and up to my tiny car. “He's so hot,” I muttered, fumbling my keys. “Why is he so hot? I can do this.” Trunk finally open, I plopped the massive sack down and dug around for my card. Sadly, I never took Cara's advice to put useless things like a sewing kit in my purse. You could bet I'd be getting one tomorrow.

“I can totally do this. Suck it up, Stephanie. Okay,” I sighed. “Card, keys, I guess that's it.”

“This is rather small.”

“What the—” I narrowly avoided cracking my skull on the trunk as I straightened up, glaring at him. “I told you to stay!”

He grinned, all perfect white teeth, and shrugged. “I wanted to see your car.” There was so much amusement in his eyes, I couldn't help but smile back.

“Yes. Well. Here it is.” I slammed the trunk and took a slow breath. “Ready?”

“Yes, Stephanie. I'm ready.”

“Okay. Good. Then . . . ” I flailed my hand in the direction of the sidewalk, and he chuckled as he led the way back through the alley.

God. I bet he heard all of that. I barely avoided a massive groan and hung my head, only to catch sight of my stupid shirt again. Okay. First on the agenda would be to find a safety pin, or paperclip or chewing gum, something to hold this damn thing together. Thankfully I wasn’t ashamed of my body. This chest was blessed.

We emerged onto the sidewalk and fell into step beside each other. He studied the cracks in silence as we walked, hard expression in place. As much as I enjoyed the lack of chatter, I needed to say something.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“Mmm?” He dragged his eyes from the sidewalk, c****d a brow, and then with a small smile said “Ah, of course. No need to thank me.” His expression hardened again, and he glared down, rubbing his jaw.

Okay. Pretty sure saving someone's life was worthy of mild appreciation at best. Who wouldn't want that? This guy was definitely different.

“Dollar for your thoughts?” I nudged him with my shoulder.

He smiled again and glanced at me sideways. “I think you mean 'penny' and it's not a burden you can assist with.”

“I dunno.” I kicked a rock in his direction. “I'm a pretty good listener. Sometimes I even have—­­” I mock gasped, “advice!”

He laughed, and it stopped me in my literal tracks, washing over me in a magical combination of a lion's chuff and a rumble of thunder, wrapped in satin. My body lit on fire, and I all but swoon-stared as I stood there like an i***t until he sighed and faced me.

“I imagine you do. Enough to form a successful company around, you might say.” The twinkle in his eye was just about the most adorable thing I'd seen in a long time. Swooning: take two.

“Exaaaactly!” I fanned my face. “So, feel free to unload on me. After you tell me where you're taking me, that is.”

He froze and looked out at the city, then back at me, eyes wide as saucers. “I—well, that is to say—” He cracked his neck and frowned. “I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is regarding dates.”

Proper . . .

I blinked and blinked again. There was no way he could expect me to believe women didn’t ask him out every time he stepped on the sidewalk. Wait. Butterflies zoomed in my stomach, and I smiled up at him. He was letting me show off a bit. How sweet!

“Okay.” I cleared my throat and crossed one arm under the other, tapping my chin with a finger as I applied my best professor voice. “Well, first is the introduction, complete with a rescue from certain death.”

He laughed, again sending pinpricks of excitement up my neck. I could listen to that all day. “Which we had,” he added.

“R-right.” I swallowed and mimed ticking a box in the air. “Second, of course, comes food, since that’s the only logical progression of events.”

“Oh, of course.” He stepped closer to me, with a grin so wide I could fall in. “Very well, Stephanie. Where would you like me to take you?”

Everywhere. Anywhere. My eyes bugged, and his brows lifted as he scanned my face. Stupid brain!

When it hit him the next second what he said, his breath caught, a flush spreading up his neck. “I meant to eat.”

The way he licked his bottom lip told me if he hadn’t meant it at first, his thoughts were right in line with mine. Okay. I needed to reign this back in. Again. This was just a fake date. One I was only on for research and revenge purposes. Even if I already felt more at ease with him than I had with anyone else in a long, long time.

I did a quick mental rundown of the finest restaurants in town. There was Luciano's, an easy four-star, but I wasn't in the mood for Italian.

8th & Main was high class for sure, but a glance at my rumpled outfit made me cringe. His eyes followed the movement again. He clenched his jaw and held up a finger.

“I think the first priority should be to replace your shirt since it seems to bother you so.”

“Yeah,” I sighed and held the sides together. “But my condo is a good hour away. Two in this traffic.”

“Hmm. Time will be an issue.” He glanced to the next block again and sighed. “You didn't have a replacement in your car?” When I shook my head, he shrugged. “Then, might I suggest shopping?”

I quirked a brow. “Shopping. Like, at a*****e?”

When he grinned, my stomach fluttered. “Is there any other kind?”

“I mean, yes but . . . are you sure? That seems kind of weird for a first date, don't you think?”

Hold up. Why was I fighting shopping? On someone else's dime, no less! Because it was odd, that's why. Besides, I couldn't be bought, if that was his plan. That seemed just like something my mom would do, too. Well, I was assuming it'd be on his dime. If it was my money, we'd be hitting the dang Goodwill.

I might have been accused of being cheap at many points in my life. Workaholic plus spendthrift equaled the pretty account I had sitting at Spencer Bank and Trust, so I was totally okay with it.

That deer-in-headlights look washed over him again, and I swear he stopped breathing. He finally squeaked out, “First?” Then cleared his throat. “As in you . . . hope for another? We haven’t even properly had this one yet.” A slight frown pulled at his mouth, and he muttered: “You might not like my company.”

Totally impossible. “Well, number one: you've earned it, what with keeping me from being a grease stain on the pavement. And B, what's not to like?”

He considered me as a gust ruffled my blouse, but he never broke eye contact.

“What, indeed . . . ”