A Taste of Greek (Out of Olympus #3) (3 page)

He found Zeus in this room, now staring down through the wide floor onto the earth below. The large panel zoomed in on the streets of New York City, showing throngs of people bustling down sidewalks and clogging up the streets in taxis and cars. Hermes almost wished he could change the view to Charleston and take a peek at the delectable Penny instead. Perhaps he’d even find her taking a shower. A hot, steamy shower. She’d looked delicious when wet.

“Hello, Father,” he said, announcing his presence. “Watching anyone in particular?”

The view quickly panned out to thirty thousand feet when Zeus turned to him.

“You know me, I have my favorites I like to keep an eye on.”

Mortals who caught Zeus’s eye didn’t always fare well, especially if his wife Hera got involved. Though Hermes was a little curious to know who in particular in New York had garnered Zeus’s attention.

“Well, next time you need me, why don’t you try calling me on this?” Hermes handed him a cell phone. “It’s a nifty little device. You can reach me anytime, anywhere.”

“I know what a cell phone is,” Zeus said dryly, and picked up the phone.

Impeccably dressed in a light grey silk Armani suit with matching tie, Zeus dropped the phone into his pocket as he slipped behind his large, white marble desk in the center of the room.

“Nice suit,” Hermes said. “Due for a meeting? Perhaps in the Big Apple?”

“Yes, and I need you to take care of a matter while I’m gone.”

Hermes nodded. The fact that Zeus hadn’t elaborated on his plans wasn’t lost on him. Zeus rarely filled him in on his personal life. “What do you need, Father?”

Zeus picked up a long piece of paper from his desk, creased it down the center, then slipped it into a linen envelope and pressed his ring against the flap on the back. A quick flash, and his seal was applied.

“Deliver this contract to Hades, post haste. In fact, I need you to offer your services to him and help him get things running smoothly while I’m gone.”

Hermes nodded, rubbing his chin. Escorting souls to the underworld wasn’t new to him, but it was a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “I can help a little, but I have to be back for Sophia’s surprise party this weekend.”

For a second, Zeus rubbed his own chin, mimicking Hermes’ gesture. Hermes immediately dropped his hand to his side, hating that he had something in common with his sire.

“Ah, the lovely Sophia.” Zeus’s icicle-blue eyes met Hermes’ over the large marble desk. “I don’t believe I’ve received my invitation.”

Hermes wanted to kick himself. He should have known better than to mention the party to him. Zeus had developed a particular fondness for Sophia that made him nervous—and Triton venomous. Now Zeus would expect an invitation, and Hermes would have to spend the whole night trying to keep the peace.

“Don’t worry, Father, we’re just behind on all the preparations. We were working on the party when you called.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, I should get back and help Triton now.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Zeus walked around the desk, and handed him the envelope. “What you should do is deliver this contract and help Hades in any way you can, and for as long as he needs you. The souls are piling up at the Styx’s riverbank. The workers are on the brink of a strike and refusing to do their jobs.” He leaned forward, his jaw stiffening. “Gods and demi-gods everywhere are losing their sense of responsibility in this new age. They’re becoming fat and lazy. Take you, for example.” He gestured toward Hermes with one hand. “When are you going to settle down? There is more to life than parties and wining and dining the ladies. You have responsibilities. It’s about time you lived up to them.”

“Hey, now! I come every time you call,” Hermes protested, annoyed that nothing he ever did was good enough for Zeus. No matter what it was—boxing, hunting, saving Zeus’s life—he could never impress the old man.

“Yes, you come,” Zeus agreed. “You do exactly what I tell you to do. But that’s just it. Where is your initiative? When do you ever think, hey, there is something I can do. And do well!”

Hermes bristled. “Is this about my work or my bachelor status?”

“You cannot continue your philandering and irresponsible ways forever. It’s time to grow up, Son, and become a man. You need to find yourself a woman. Sophia is a doll. And Dionysus’s new wife, Ariadne, is a lovely creature. And their baby is adorable. When are you going to find someone to settle that racing spirit of yours?”

Hermes stood stone-faced and took Zeus’s rant with outward calm. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it before. Many times, in fact. But no matter what he did to try and prove to Zeus that he didn’t need to be settled down with one woman to conduct his duties and be an adult, they always circled back around to this same tired old argument. He clamped down on the surge of annoyance that rose in his belly.

Hermes wanted to tell Zeus to go pound sand, but knew it would only make matters worse. The best thing he could do was stand there zip-lipped and take it. Or he could throw Zeus a bone.

He took a deep, calming breath, waited a few seconds and said, “As it happens, I’m dating someone very special now.” Not entirely a lie. They just hadn’t actually gone out yet.

“Oh?” Zeus asked, clearly surprised. “You mean as in more than once? She must be a helluva roll in the hay.”

Hermes stiffened. Zeus had no boundaries when it came to women. Even if they were married or dating one of his sons. “I wouldn’t know,” he said dryly. “We haven’t gotten that far yet. We’re taking it slowly, getting to know one another first.”

“What?” Zeus asked, clearly stunned.

“Yes.” The more Hermes spoke, the more the lie kept building. “She’s taking me to meet her family this weekend.” Anything to get the old man off his back for a while.

Finally, Zeus smiled, stepped forward, and patted him on the back, shocking Hermes. “Glad to hear it, Son. Great to see you’re finally wising up and joining the ranks of adulthood with your friends. It only took a few thousand years, eh?” He chuckled. “I’ll expect to meet this wonder woman at Sophia’s party.” Then he turned and was gone, his laugh still vibrating in the marble dome above.

Annoyance clawed at Hermes as he watched the space Zeus had just vacated.

It didn’t matter what he did, how hard he worked. Zeus wouldn’t be happy until Hermes was tied down with a ball and chain. A big one.

Fine, if Zeus wanted him to date Penny so badly then he’d get exactly what he was asking for.

And unlike other chores Zeus ordered him to perform, this one would be no hardship—no hardship at all.

4

Penny hurried down the sidewalk, her heart pounding as she kicked herself for agreeing to go to dinner with Hermes. She’d checked on her grandmother, made her dinner, got her settled in for the night, and now she was running late. The sad truth was Penny had no business going to dinner with a handsome stranger. She needed to go back to the office and work. She had to do more research, find a topic that both intrigued her and would finally convince the tenure committee. What she didn’t need was dinner out with a man who was sure to distract her from this task by turning her brain to mush with those sinful lips and penetrating eyes.

She checked the clock on her phone. Ten minutes late. She pulled open the door and stepped inside Vivian’s, hoping Hermes wouldn’t be there, that he would have gotten tired of waiting for her and left. Hermes. The gods were surely laughing at her expense. The first eligible, hot guy she’d met in months, and he had to be named Hermes. The irony wasn’t lost on her: even if she wanted to forget about work for one night, how could she accomplish that in the presence of a man named Hermes?

There he was, standing at the long wooden counter, talking to Vivian, who looked all flushed and flustered. Apparently, Penny wasn’t the only one he made brain-addled.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Penny called as she approached.

“Not at all,” Hermes greeted her, took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Penny paused, trying to catch her breath and reign in her hammering heart. Hermes wasn’t helping. She’d thought for certain she’d exaggerated in her mind how good looking he was. That somehow, once she saw him again, she would realize that he looked just like everyone else. Perhaps a more handsome version of everyone else, but certainly not like . . . like a Greek god.

She smiled, not knowing what to say.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his deep voice plucking her like an overly tightened guitar string.

She swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Vivian was just telling me how much you love fish.”

Penny glanced at her friend, nodding. “It’s my favorite food.”

“Great, then you’ll love the place I’ve chosen for us for tonight.” Hermes slipped his hand to her waist, his touch sending an electrical charge pulsing through her skin to spark her nerves and make her heart stutter.

She smiled, blabbering dribble as he led her out of the coffee shop. Penny glanced over her shoulder as she walked out the door. Vivian smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign. Penny grimaced. A quick dinner, a fake headache, and if she was lucky, she could be back in her office in an hour. Unfazed and untouched.

Who was she kidding? Even if she could get in and out of dinner quickly, she would be lucky if she made it through the night with her faculties still intact. This man was way out of her league.

They walked down the cobblestone streets along the waterfront and into one of the most exclusive restaurants in Charleston. Penny had always wanted to eat here, but never dared, knowing the selections were out of her price range, and that reservations days in advance were mandatory.

How had Hermes gotten a table on such short notice? Impressed, she looked up at him. The Maitre d’ surprised her even further by quickly seating them in front of a large stone fireplace. Obviously the best table in the house.

“Are you famous or something?” she asked, perusing his face. She didn’t have a lot of time to keep up with movies or television shows. It was entirely possible that he was some sort of celebrity, and she was the only person in Charleston who was unaware of this fact.

Hermes laughed, the sound warming her insides. “I just know the right people.” He picked up a menu and glanced at it. “Have you eaten here before?”

“No,” she admitted, looking around her at the fine crystal, exquisite flowers and soft linen. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“My friend, Triton, says it has the best seafood in town, and trust me, he would know.”

“Triton?” Surely he was kidding her? But as she watched his face, she saw no sign he was jesting. Why not another Greek god’s name?

His eyes met hers and crinkled with a smile. “Our mothers were friends. We grew up together.”

She nodded, but was saved from commenting when the waiter arrived. Hermes ordered the wine, then set down the menu. “Do you mind if I order for us?”

Penny didn’t usually like it when men took charge of her meals, but right now, studying the menu and making a selection seemed to require more energy than she could muster. “Not at all.”

He ordered for them both. A minute later, the waiter brought the wine, opened it, and poured a small amount into a glass, which he handed to Hermes. He took a whiff, swirled the deep red liquid in the crystal glass, and then sipped it. His eyes drifted closed, and a look of pleasure spread over his face. He nodded to the waiter and by the time Penny’s glass was filled, she couldn’t wait to try it.

She rolled the wine on her tongue, savoring the smooth taste of luscious fruit, a hint of smoky oak and a long, lingering finish that made her want to sigh contentedly.

“You like it?” Hermes asked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“Love it.”

“My friend and his wife own a wine shop. And luckily, they supply this restaurant. This is one of their favorites.”

“I can see why. So, tell me, Hermes. What do you do for a living?” she asked, after the waiter placed a basket of warm rolls on the table between them.

He picked up a roll. “I’m in the messenger business.”

“The messenger business?” She took in his fine silk suit, manicured nails, impeccable skin, and figured he wasn’t a delivery man for UPS. Nor FedEx, nor the US Postal Service.

“You mean something to do with computers?” she asked, grasping.

“Sometimes. But rarely.” He smiled, his hand reaching across the table to hers.

The touch of his fingertip across her skin sent her head swimming. Instinct told her to pull away. He was having too strong an impact on her senses. The wine was probably already getting to her. In what she hoped was a casual gesture, she lifted her hand, took a piece of bread from the basket, and then took her time spreading the creamy butter.

She took a bite and almost moaned as the warm bread melted in her mouth. Obviously, she was on sensual overload.

“What about you?” he asked. “How do you spend your time during the day, and night?”

The way he was looking at her, his direct gaze pulling her in, she could barely keep her thoughts straight.

“I work at the university.” Had he somehow nudged closer to her? She could swear she could feel him. His body heat. His energy. She set her nearly empty wineglass down on the table and picked up her glass of ice water. She had to restrain herself from pressing the cold glass against her burning forehead. But damn, his scent, masculine and spicy, was making her head spin.

Hermes refilled her wine. “At the university? As a professor? Which area of study?”

He seemed truly interested, which made him even more appealing. If that was possible. “I’m in the History department. In Greek Studies.”

“Oh?” A shadow flitted across his eyes, and then he smiled quickly, erasing any sign that it had ever been there.

“In fact, I heard you and your friend talking in Ancient Greek. I was curious about that. It’s not a language anyone uses anymore. How is it you are so fluent?”

He leaned back in his chair, staring at her, his hand rubbing his jaw. “Eavesdropping were we?”

Heat flamed her cheeks. “Uh, well, no. Not really. It’s just . . . ” she stammered, trying to gather her wits. “It just doesn’t happen every day that one hears someone speaking Ancient Greek. Especially since the language has been dead for at least 1,500 years.”