Aphrodite's Passion (23 page)

His body stiffened and he stifled a groan. Suffice it to say, he was lost.

Maybe he shouldn’t have touched her in the first place— no, no
maybe
about it—but he couldn’t help himself. The sounds of the ocean had surrounded him, making him feel close to her even as the damn belt put a spell on him. He was powerless to resist. He ignored the voice that said he wouldn’t have resisted even if he could.

Tracy’s head was thrown back, her lips parted in passion. Hale propped himself up with his left hand, but the fingers of his right were still free to explore the soft skin at her waist.

Her hands stroked her belly, too, and he knew she believed his touch was merely a figment of her imagination. He leaned close, his lips brushing her hair as he breathed in her scent. She smelled fresh and feminine, and he closed his eyes, wanting to memorize the essence of her.

Something in himself reminded Hale that this wasn’t real; he was responding to an enchantment, a spell. But Tracy wasn’t wearing the belt right now; she was in a nightshirt. Another part of him shrieked.

There had to be some residual magic. Some remaining enchantment. There
had
to be. This was powerful magic after all. That’s why he’d fallen for her. Even when she wasn’t wearing the belt, the pull from the magic was so strong that he was completely and totally under her spell.

Yeah? Well, so what? If this was magic, he hoped she kept him bewitched for the rest of his life.

Bending over her, he stopped himself just before his lips brushed hers. He longed to explore her mouth, to taste and tempt and tease her... but no. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Stiffening, he backed off just a hair, mourning every millimeter of distance he put between them. As much as she might want him—as much as he definitely wanted her— he couldn’t do this. He was walking too fine a line between propriety and ... something else. He wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that if he made love to her without her knowing he was making love to her, he’d never be able to look her in the eye again.

And at the moment Hale wanted to look for a long, long time.

Knowing they’d both regret it, he slid off of her, the final touch of skin against skin coming near to driving him mad. Careful not to shake the mattress, he got off the bed, then stood in the middle of the room simply watching her.

A tiny moan escaped her, and she twisted in her guilt. Her hands stroked her body. Not slowly and languidly as before, but frantically, as if she were looking for something she’d lost. As if she were looking for him.

“I’m right here.” The words he spoke without thought weren’t even a whisper, but they seemed to calm her.

She turned her head, and their eyes met in the mirror. He fought the urge to run, to duck down. But she didn’t believe he was real, and so he held fast, his gaze locked on hers.

“My Hale,” she whispered. “What a nice fantasy you make.”

His stomach tightened, and he clenched his fists against his immediate reaction to climb back into her bed. Soon, he’d give her what she really wanted—what they both wanted. And when he did that, they’d leave the lights on and he wouldn’t turn invisible. That way he could see every luscious inch of her, and she’d be sure to see every inch of him.

Slowly, he moved away from her bed, watching as his reflection moved away from the mirror. He actually wanted a mortal. Actually
cared
about her—and not just in a platonic way. Thank Zeus this was only the result of an enchantment. An illusion. Nothing more.

No, there couldn’t ever be anything real between them. But for the first time ever, he was content to share the fantasy.

With morning, came guilt. And Hale was suffering bucketsful. He’d slept the night on Tracy’s couch. Well,
slept
was probably an overstatement; rather, he’d tossed and turned, thankful that Tracy hadn’t awakened and decided to plop herself on the sofa for a little late-night television.

Of course, Missy had visited him, but he was able to explain to her—in simple doggie terms—why he was camped out in the living room. He wasn’t sure the dog bought his story about keeping the place safe from the bad guys, but it didn’t much matter. Missy certainly couldn’t run to Tracy and tattle. Besides, the little beast seemed to like him, and she’d curled up at his feet, apparently undisturbed by the way he was tossing and turning.

Until last night, he’d assumed his lust for Tracy was simply a reaction to a pretty girl. At most, an annoying byproduct of whatever weird emotional malaise had gotten the better of him in California—in other words, temporary and controllable. But now...

Now he’d figured out about the belt; and that meant this might not be so controllable after all. In fact, Tracy was the one controlling him. Last night might have been heavenly while he was in the moment, but now that the haze of passion had lifted, Hale realized just how incredibly stupid he’d been.

Not only had his little invisible seduction been rude, it also could have landed him in one heck of a lot of trouble. Protectors were not allowed to go snooping around a mortal’s house without prior authorization, and that was a minor offense compared to what he’d done! And the fact that he’d been suffering under the residue of the belt’s magic was no excuse. Not that he’d necessarily call last night
suffering
. If Zephron found out—for that matter, if Tracy figured it out—well, he’d be on Probation so fast his head would spin.

And this wasn’t just about him. There was the whole mission to consider. If he screwed this up, Hieronymous might get his hands on that belt. Then they’d all have worse things to worry about than seductions that didn’t meet the Miss Manners seal of approval or the Mortal-Protector Treaty of 1970.

Never once had he put a mission in jeopardy, but he’d done it last night. And now that he was under Tracy’s spell, the odds were good he’d do it again.

He didn’t want to leave her—so help him, he was so far gone he wanted to stay near her no matter what the consequences—but under the circumstances, there was only one reasonable solution. He’d step back from the mission.

Zephron had wanted him to take the lead, but the Elder couldn’t have known that Hale would be compromised by Aphrodite’s spell. Which meant that Zoë should take over.

She could handle it; the odds were good, after all, that Tracy wasn’t going to have the hots for Zoë.

Hale would do the right thing. Zoë would get the belt back, Hale could go back to sleeping with busty blond mortals while having absolutely no emotional connection with them whatsoever, and they’d all live happily ever after.

It was a perfect plan. All he needed was to enlist his sister’s help. And so right before dawn, he headed for her house, then waited in the living room, determined to catch her the second she woke up.

The morning light hadn’t quite made it through the curtains in the living room when Zoë padded in wearing an oversized T-shirt and white athletic socks. She yawned, headed for the kitchen, then yelped when Hale sat upright on the couch.

“Apollo’s Apples!” She shot him an annoyed glare, and he stifled a laugh. “You scared me.”

“I thought I trained you better than that.” He’d come for her help, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy ribbing her. “What happened to always being prepared?”

“I never said I was a Boy Scout.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m prepared. For the bad guys, I’m totally ready. For you ...” She shrugged. “Maybe I just didn’t want to strain myself.”

He laughed, thoroughly enjoying the note of superiority lacing her voice. His little sister had come a long way. She was a skilled Protector, a married woman, and she played a mean game of Risk. Somewhere along the way, she’d become his friend even more than she’d ever been the little squirt he’d had to look after.

She squinted at him, concern etched on her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. This kind of thing wasn’t easy for him. “I need some help.”

A single eyebrow arched up, but she didn’t make a smart-aleck comment. Instead, she just nodded. “Girl help? Or mission help?”

“Both.”

“This calls for cocoa.”

He raised an eyebrow. A year ago, her wacky super senses wouldn’t have let her go near chocolate. “I’m impressed.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Well, I’m still working on it. I’ll make yours the normal way. Mine has more milk than chocolate.” She tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Follow me.”

Five minutes later, Hale was camped out at his sister’s kitchen table, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him, and a watered-down version of the same on the table for Zoë. She pulled out the chair opposite him, settled in, propped her elbows on the table, and looked Hale in the eye. “So give.”

He glanced down the hall, not particularly wanting any other company while he was spilling his guts. “No one—”

“Taylor left about midnight. A stakeout on another case we’re working. I don’t expect him back until tonight. And Lane and I let Davy stay up late playing. They won’t wake up for hours.”

Hale nodded, but still didn’t say anything. There just wasn’t an easy way to phrase it.

“That was supposed to be your cue to talk,” Zoë prompted.

“I’m working on it.”

Her eyes got big. “That serious, huh?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned back in his chair, suddenly bone-tired. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Well, you said it involved the mission and a girl, right? So, that means the belt and Tracy.”

“A brilliant conclusion. Marrying a private investigator did wonders for your powers of deduction,” he gibed.

She made a face, but otherwise ignored his comment. “So ... what? I know your problem can’t be that you don’t know how to initiate a seduction. You’ve never had female problems in your life.”

Maybe not, but he was having problems now. “I haven’t done the best job of getting close to her,” he admitted. Actually,
getting close
hadn’t been the problem at all. He’d gotten close, all right. So close he could still smell Tracy on his skin.
That
was the problem.

“Oh.” She pursed her lips, considering. “Well, that’s not good. You need to get close enough to persuade her to give up the belt. She focused on him, her teeth playing along her lower lip. What have you tried.”

He shifted on the chair, not sure he wanted to discuss the details with his sister after all. Then again, confession was good for the soul—and it was either Zoë or Elmer. Between the two of them, he’d take Zoë any day. At worst, she’d become indignant on behalf of females everywhere. But then she’d get over it. Elmer would never let him live it down.

“Hale? What is it?” Her forehead creased, real concern reflecting in her eyes. “What did you do?”

“I started with your basic flirting,” he said. Might as well start with the truth.

“Started with? Where’d it go from there?”

Right into her bedroom
. But he didn’t say that. He needed Zoë to understand how affected he was. How much the belt’s spell had mesmerized him. If she didn’t understand, she’d never agree to take over.

“The thing is, Zo, I need you on this mission. More than just as backup. I need you in there on the front line.”

“Zephron said this was your baby.” From the tone of her voice, he knew she wouldn’t ignore Zephron’s orders. Not without a damn good reason. Fortunately for Hale, he had a trump card. “Zephron didn’t have all the facts.”

“Uh-huh.” She shot him a dubious look before taking a long sip of cocoa.

“Seriously. The girl has a crush on me.”

At that, Zoë exploded into laughter, spewing cocoa on the table. “Oh, please!” She knelt on the chair, then sopped up the spilled liquid with her shirt. “That isn’t exactly news. Half the female population has a crush on you. I even ran across a website devoted to you the other day. And I might be your sister, but I have to say you look pretty darn cute in a loincloth. Nice buns.”

He groaned. He’d forgotten about that cover.

“I hardly think the fact that Tracy has a crush on you is a reason for you to abandon the mission.” Zoë tilted her head as the corners of her mouth turned down in a scowl. “Though I will say that it’s not like you to back out of a job for
any
reason. What’s really going on?”

“Her crush
is
what’s going on.” Hale ran his hands through his hair, as frustrated by the truth as he was by the fact that he needed help. “She has a crush on me, and she has the belt. You do the math.”

“Ohhhh.” Zoë pressed two fingers over her lips. “So, since the belt makes anyone the wearer desires fall under her spell—”

“I’m a sitting duck,” Hale finished.

“So, it’s working? I mean, you like the girl? More than the usual”—she gesticulated—“lust?”

That was the understatement of the year. “She’s amazing. There’s something about her that makes me feel...” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Wonderful, I guess. Which is terrible.”

Zoë quirked a brow. “Wonderful is terrible?”

“Yes. And it’s worse because even though I know it’s an illusion, the little things make it seem real—her love of the ocean, her love of animals.” He shrugged again. “The way she laughs at my stupid jokes. All these little things draw me to her. But even more, she’s got this fire—this spark— but she doesn’t even know it.”

He frowned. “No, the belt makes me
think
she’s special. It feels wonderful... and I hate it.”

“Sounds perfect for the mission.”

Hale got up to refill his hot chocolate and shot her an annoyed glance. “She’s mortal—”

“You and your issues.”

“Even if she weren’t, this isn’t real. It’s a spell. I can’t work a mission while I’m bewitched.”

“Uh-huh.” Zoë ran her fingers through her hair, standing the coppery strands on end.

“That’s it? The entire scope of your sisterly advice is ‘uh-huh‘? Sisters are supposed to be interfering and opinionated. I’m in need of opinions here, Zo. I need a plan.”

“I just don’t see why you can’t stay on the mission. I mean, it was your idea to romance the belt out from under her. And if you’re enchanted ...” She trailed off, grinning. “If you’re enchanted, then you’ll really enjoy it.”