Goddess of Light (30 page)

Pamela forced herself not to squirm. He said he was cut off from his immortal powers, but when Apollo looked at her like that, she felt hot and cold and tingly all at once.

Faust didn't seem to notice the byplay going on between his designer and her assistant; his attention had been captured by his own immortal. “Ah, but we have Diana with us, not Galatea, so a sketch of the model it shall be.”

“Galatea was not a goddess. She was only stone brought to life by one,” Artemis said, sounding vaguely annoyed.

“How true! How true!” Eddie exclaimed. “Pygmalion was not as fortunate as I.”

“I can sketch your goddess, sir.” A young man disengaged himself from the crowd.

“Excellent,” Eddie said. “We have our artist; we have our model. I believe I have some photographs of the original fountain in The Forum. I suppose the artisans can work from that whilst our goddess is being sketched.”

“Actually,” Pamela said as she opened her briefcase and hurriedly pulled out her sketch book, “I thought that you might like something unique, so I worked up some preliminary sketches of a new fountain—based, of course, on the one you like so much in The Forum. I just didn't want to fill in the central statue without your approval. I think you'll be quite happy with them.”

“Pamela conferred with me on the sketches, and I can assure you that the fountain she has created is one that even the gods would have welcomed on Mount Olympus,” Apollo said.

“Well done, Pamela!” Eddie took the sketchbook from her and nodded appreciatively. “Mount Olympus.” He chuckled, “I would expect no less for a fountain boasting a sculpture of our Diana. Please, share these sketches with our artist.” He glanced expectantly at the young man.

“Matthew,” he supplied. “My name is Matthew Land.”

“Come, Matthew, Pamela, Phoebus and my lovely Diana. Let us sit and decide upon the details of my home.” Eddie offered Artemis his arm. She smiled sweetly and rested her fingertips on the top of his silken sleeve. “Is there anything you require, Diana?” he asked as he led her around the marble bench.

“Yes. I have recently developed a liking for something called a mimosa.”

Pamela tried not to groan as Eddie shouted for James to have his chef prepare mimosas for everyone.

 

 

PAMELA glanced at her watch. She could hardly believe that it was after 4:00 P.M. The day had passed in a busy blur. It had certainly gone worlds better than she had anticipated. Ironically and irritatingly enough, she knew she had Artemis to thank for that. Pamela looked up from the glossy catalogue page of old-world-styled lighting fixtures the representative from Shonbeck was showing her. Eddie was pretending to pay attention as Apollo and the architect went over the latest version of the bathhouse sketch they had been working on for most of the day. In truth, Eddie was doing what he had done for the past several hours—he was gazing in rapt adoration at Artemis.

Artemis was incredibly beautiful. Even the flamingly gay fabric representatives had sighed wistfully over the perfection of her hair and her breasts and the lean lines of her legs. Currently, she was standing on a raised platform that Eddie had ordered erected, holding a large vase against one hip from which water would eventually pour when the sketch was turned into a sculpture turned into a fountain. It made Pamela dizzy just to think about it—and that was without figuring the expense Eddie would be incurring for this original piece of art. But her client seemed happy, and the fountain was actually going to be very beautiful. Plus, it was definitely going to be minus the awful animation. One horrified gasp from Artemis in response to the mention of animation, and Eddie had quickly vetoed the idea. Just like a frown from the goddess had been enough to talk Eddie out of building the horrid ginormic swimming pool and instead going with the tasteful, unique Roman bathhouse idea.

Those two issues dealt with, everything else was turning out to be a breeze. Eddie's taste wasn't as atrocious as Pamela had at first thought. It was just that his whole aura was so damn big. His ideas were big, and not just in his epic-length bestselling novels. E. D. Faust filled the world around him with the largeness of life. Yes, he was eccentric. Actually, Pamela thought that he seemed like a character from one of his novels, larger than life and constantly ready for a new adventure. She smiled to herself. His flamboyance took a little getting used to, but she understood why people gravitated to him. Eddie was as generous as his size. The truth was, E. D. Faust was honestly a nice guy.

It had taken a little gentle nudging, with the help of Artemis and Apollo, but Pamela had convinced him to shift the design of his villa from the tacky pretend Romanesque Forum, to something that was beginning to remind her of the set of Elizabeth Taylor's
Cleopatra
. The design emerging was no less opulent than Caesars Palace and The Forum, it was just much more chic.

Her gaze shifted from Eddie's bulk to Apollo. His golden head was bent and his expression intent as he nodded at something the architect had just drawn in on the sketch. As if he knew she was looking at him, his eyes lifted to hers. She looked hastily away, but not before she saw his lips tilt up in the barest hint of a smile. He'd caught her again. And it hadn't been a difficult thing for him to do. She'd been sneaking glances at him all day. He knew it. She knew it. And she couldn't help it. He'd just been so damned wonderful! He'd meticulously described the workings of the ancient bathhouses of Rome in detail to Eddie and his architect. He'd been more than patient with their endless questions. He'd answered them intelligently and with such focus that even to Pamela he sounded like an enthusiastic expert. And not once had he exhibited the obnoxious arrogance Pamela thought of when she imagined what the real Apollo should act like.

She couldn't say the same for Artemis. Even though she was definitely on her best behavior today, she was still maddeningly demanding and conceited. Fortunately, Eddie seemed to enjoy playing along with her goddess “charade.” It was a good thing that Eddie had insisted the kitchen be completed before he'd called Pamela to design the rest of the villa, because all that day Artemis had kept the chef busy with her demands for drinks and delicacies. And Eddie, who obviously enjoyed good drink and food himself, had been delighted to indulge his “goddess's” every whim.

Apollo seemed so different than his sister. Pamela had to admit it to herself, he was the same attentive, intelligent man today he had been all weekend. But he wasn't really a man; he was a god. No woman with any sense wanted to entangle her life with one of the ancient gods . . . She sighed and forced her attention back to the page of fixtures.

“Eddie,” Artemis sounded like a pouty little girl. “My arm is dreadfully tired of holding this silly vase. And I believe I'm hot. I think I might perish if I don't sit down.”

“Of course, of course, my goddess!” Eddie lurched to his feet and hurried to take the vase from Artemis. Brushing aside the young artist when he tried to help his model from the platform, Eddie took Artemis' elbow and supported her as she stepped delicately from the makeshift altar. “Look at the time! How unthinking of me. We have been at this for hours. Much too long for a goddess to labor, much too long.” He raised his large hand, and his deep voice silenced even the workers who had been busy with the interior of the villa. “I proclaim that we are all finished for the day!” he called. “We shall meet again at the same time on the morrow.”

There were sighs all around at Eddie's command. It had been a hard but productive day, and Pamela hated to admit it, but for what felt like the zillionth time, she was thankful that she had let Apollo talk her into bringing them along. She was rubbing the back of her neck and trying to work out a kink that had settled there, when Eddie's booming, “Pamela!” summoned her to his bench.

“Ah, there you are, my dear.” He motioned for her to take a seat next to where Apollo was sitting across from him. Artemis was, of course, seated beside him, fanning herself with a feathered fan that Eddie had produced. Pamela noted that the goddess was currently sipping straight champagne from an iced crystal flute. It was a good thing Artemis would be immortal again in a few days. At the rate she was going, it was either immortality or alcoholism.

“I've been discussing our new arrangements with the lovely Diana and her brother, and I believe we are all in agreement.”

Pamela felt an all-too-familiar sinking in her stomach. “Arrangements? What arrangements?”

“It's quite simple, really. There is no need for the three of you to drive all the way back to Vegas when you can all stay with me,” Eddie beamed.

“But the only room that's finished is the kitchen.”

Eddie chuckled. “Not here. I have reserved the Spring Mountain Ranch House at the Red Rock Canyon Resort. It has rather modest accommodations, but it's much closer to the villa than Caesars Palace. There really is no point in your returning there anyway. We no longer need The Forum as our example of ancient Rome. We have Phoebus.”

“But my clothes . . . and, uh, Diana and Phoebus didn't bring much with them.”

Pamela's eyes darted to Artemis. The goddess serenely sipped her champagne and then winked slyly at her.

Eddie waved away her worries. “James will take care of fetching your things, and Diana has already explained to me that she and her brother had only planned to stay the day, but they have graciously accepted my offer to extend their stay for the week. Anything our goddess needs I would be honored to purchase for her at the resort.”

“Dinner, Eddie, dinner,” Artemis sighed. “I can not believe how positively famished I am.”

“Of course,” he patted her hand. “It has been a tiring day. Let us retire to the ranch and sup and be merry.” Eddie rose ponderously from the bench. Artemis lifted one hand so that he could help her to her feet. And then, moving with a decidedly more wobbly step than her usual graceful stride, she clung to the big man's arm as he lumbered from the courtyard, bellowing for Robert to bring the car.

“I guess we have little choice in this,” Pamela said, hesitant to look directly at Apollo now that they were alone for the first time that day.

“I have already made my choice, sweet Pamela,” he said.

She looked at him then. He smiled his familiar, endearing smile at her, and her chest tightened.

“Sometimes it's easy to forget who you really are,” she said softly.

He touched her face. “You already know who I really am. You've known since the night we met.”

“But you're not just a man,” she said.

“I am for the next five days.”

Then he mimicked Eddie's actions by standing and taking her hand and helping her to her feet. She let him thread her arm through his as they walked through the emptying courtyard. He felt warm and normal and right beside her. And that scared her so much that she started to pull her arm from his, but he suddenly stopped in the middle of the foyer. She felt a tremor go through his body, and she looked up at him. His face had gone pale. She followed his staring gaze. James was holding the front doors of the villa open for them, and through them Pamela could see Robert helping first Artemis then Eddie into the waiting limo.

“I'd completely forgotten about that metal creature,” Apollo said.

“Come on, I'll make sure you sit up front this time.”

Pamela tightened her grip on his arm and pulled him forward. He was Apollo, God of Light, Music and Healing, an immortal who had lived for eons and about whom stories and poems and songs had been written. But he was also wretchedly carsick.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

EDDIE'S idea of “rather modest accommodations” was to lease the entire nine-bedroom adobe-style mansion that had been lavishly built in the 1920s and lovingly restored with antiques and modern plumbing and lighting in 2003. It was situated at the edge of the Red Rock Canyon Spa and Resort, which was a lovely oasis of natural springs and verdant foliage that looked bizarre and beautifully out of place in the middle of the jutting rust-colored rocks and starkly intriguing desert landscape of Red Rock Canyon. Pamela stood at one set of three double doors, which led from the lodge-style den out to the huge wooden deck where uniformed waiters were hastily putting the finishing touches of fresh flowers and candles on the dinner table, while a trio of musicians were tuning their instruments. Music, candles, flowers and fine china—she was relieved that she had chosen her little black dress instead of something more casual. Outdoor lighting suddenly clicked on, watercoloring the clear Nevada night in soft splotches of color.

She breathed in the cooling desert air. Sitting with carsick Apollo in the front seat (He'd insisted she stay with him, and he'd looked so pathetic that she sighed and squeezed in the front seat, thoroughly annoying Robert) had been an eye-opening experience. Pamela loved Colorado. Though she had been born and raised there, she never tired of the majesty of Pikes Peak and the green, mountainous beauty of her home. She considered herself fairly well-traveled, especially within the United States, and she had seen many lovely states, but no place had ever filled her senses and soothed her soul like her home. So it was a surprise that she was so drawn to the desert. The short ride from Eddie's estate on the edge of Red Rock Canyon to the ranch had been filled with scenery that was both stark and spectacular. There was something mysterious and wonderful about the desert. It made her imagination run wild with girlish fantasies of Old West cowboys and leather and sweat. She grinned to herself at her silly romantic imaginings.

“I love your smile.”

Apollo's deep voice startled her. She turned. He was standing so close behind her that she could feel the heat of his body. It was just normal body heat and not the immortal power of the God of Light, but it made her remember the night before, and how flames had licked her body in time with his thrusts.