Tall, Dark and Divine (24 page)

Or maybe not rain. Tiny pieces of paper swirled through the air.

“I told you,” Eros said. “He’d ask a couple questions, we’d say a couple of things, and that’d be it.”

“But…” Surely it couldn’t be real, if all she’d had to do was say that she was sure?

“It’s what you make of it that matters, girl,” Zeus said. He glanced at Eros. “He trusts you. Don’t let him down.”

She shook her head.

“We’re going to need—” Eros began.

“Yeah, yeah.” Zeus leaned over and opened the cabinet under the TV. He fished out a wine bottle, but instead of handing it to Eros, he fixed the other man with a bright gaze. “How’s Brita doing, boy?”

“Brita’s fine,” Eros said, hoping he was right and that she wasn’t planning to strangle him with her bare hands tomorrow for accidentally hitting her with the arrow.

Zeus grinned. “Oh, she is. She certainly is.”

“Not like that.” You old goat.

“Sure, sure,” Zeus said, nodding. “Don’t suppose you’d consider putting in a good word for me, would you, boy?” He winked.

No way in Hades. Except…if Eros refused, Zeus wouldn’t give him the ambrosia. And he needed it for Annie.

Zeus glanced meaningfully at the bottle in his lap, and Eros gritted his teeth. Hadn’t he messed around with Brita enough lately? Surely he didn’t have to pimp her out to the god of thunder, too, to get what he wanted?

“Did I happen to mention the pictures?” Dion asked into the silence.

There was a beat before Zeus breathed in and out through his nose. Loudly. “Pictures?”

“Of you and the kindergarten teacher.” Dion grinned, but it wasn’t a very nice grin. “I had Alastor wire the snug with hidden cameras and microphones. Just in case. Welcome to the twenty-first century, old man.”

Zeus scowled, but he seemed to know when he was beat. “There.” He shoved the bottle at Eros. “Take it home and celebrate. I’m sure you can think of something to do.”

Undoubtedly. “Thank you,” Eros said politely. He turned to Annie. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“See you around,” Dionysus said, and headed for the door, “Dad.”

Zeus didn’t answer. His attention was already back on the game.

…

They picked up Ariadne on the way out—sans the sunglasses now—and Eros couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were more bloodshot than he was used to seeing them, and also a bit puffy. Lack of sleep last night, like the rest of them? Or was something more on her mind?

“Gimme that,” Dionysus said as soon as they were clear of the row house and back on the sidewalk. He made a grab for the bottle.

Eros let go reluctantly. “Careful. That stuff’s invaluable.” And if they broke the bottle and the invaluable ambrosia dribbled into the sewer, he doubted he could talk Zeus into giving him another bottle. Dionysus’s blackmail would only take him so far. Once Zeus figured out that Dion would rather keep the knowledge to hold over Zeus’s head than share it with Hera, the threat would cease to be effective. And that was if the pictures existed at all, and Dion hadn’t made the whole thing up.

“That’s why I want it,” Dion said and lifted the bottle. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“Trying to figure out what it is.”

“You know what it is.”

“Yes,” Dion said, “but I don’t know what’s in it. And I want to know. If I can figure out how to bottle this stuff, we won’t have to go to dear old Dad every time we need some immortal juice.”

He had a point. “Can you?”

Dion shrugged. “I can try. Just let me pour some off when we get to your place, and Ari and I’ll go get busy.” He grinned at her.

The look she gave him wasn’t as stony as Hera’s, but it was getting close. “Someone has to check on Brita and Harry. You can get busy with someone else.”

“You wound me,” Dion said, clutching at his heart with his empty hand.

She snorted.

At the agency, they greeted George—now that Annie had mentioned George Hamilton, Eros couldn’t help but examine the dog for any resemblance, and rather to his surprise, thought he could see one—while Dion poured some of the ambrosia into a cup with a lid. “I’ll take this to Alastor,” he said, holding it up to the light and peering at it, “and see if maybe he can help me figure out what’s in it.”

Eros nodded. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, believe me.” Dion grinned. “If I can pull one over on dear old Dad, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks for your help back there.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dion said. “I live for the opportunity to stick it to people. In all sorts of ways.”

Right.

The god of wine departed with his ambrosia and with the minor goddess of the labyrinth, and Eros turned to his wife. “How do you feel?”

She blinked. “I’m not sure. We’re not really married, are we?”

“We are, actually. You haven’t changed your mind, have you? Because it’s too late if you have.”

She shook her head, although she was biting her lip. “I thought it would feel more…real.”

“It’ll feel more real once we toast,” Eros said and turned to the cabinet. “Here. Take the glasses.” He handed them to her—two champagne glasses, like the ones they’d left behind at The Plaza Hotel three hours ago. The ambrosia poured out in an amber stream, thicker than champagne.

“What is it?” Annie asked, watching with fascination and a bit of wariness.

Eros glanced at her. “Nectar of the gods. You had a sip the other night, remember?”

She nodded. “What’s so special about this bottle? Why did you need him to give you this one if you had your own?”

“This is the good stuff.” The stuff only Zeus had. And Dionysus, if he and Alastor managed to come up with the secret recipe.

“The other stuff was good, too.” Annie licked her lips, and he lost his train of thought for a second. Then she added, “What does it do?”

“You’ll become immortal,” Eros said.

She stared at him. “You know, that’s probably what that nutcase said about the Kool-Aid.”

She had a point. The world was full of nutcases, and the story he’d told her wasn’t something you heard everyday. No wonder she had a hard time believing.

He put the bottle down. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“You don’t have to drink it. At least not right now. Maybe you should think about it. We’re married. We can stay married for the rest of your life even if you don’t drink.”

“The rest of my life?”

He nodded.

“But I’ll die, right? If I don’t drink? I’ll get older and eventually I’ll die.”

No way around that. “Yes.”

“While you stay the way you are.”

He nodded. If nothing else, she seemed to have come to terms with his immortality, even if she was still struggling with her own.

She glanced at the glass, her teeth sinking into the plumpness of her bottom lip. “What happens if I drink?”

“We stay married forever,” Eros said.

She shot him a quick look before turning her attention back to the glass again. “Forever?”

“Well…until the world ends or you decide to leave me, whichever comes first.” And gods, he wanted that. To spend all his days with Annie and all his nights making love to her, until the end of time.

But he’d take what he could get. If that was the next forty or fifty years, he’d take it and be glad. His days of making up anyone’s mind for him or her were over. This had to be Annie’s decision, and hers alone.

Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “I love you.”

She looked up at him, startled, before her lips curved. “I love you, too.”

“I just want to be with you. For however long you’ll have me.”

“Forever,” Annie said. She hesitated for another moment, and then she picked up a glass. And looked at him. “Now what?”

He took the other one and held it up. “Now we drink. To us. Together. Forever.”

“To us,” Annie said, and touched her glass to his. “Together forever.”

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, watching as she did the same. It tasted just like the other ambrosia. With, perhaps, a little kick of something extra. Something like…anise seed? Licorice?

Whatever it was, it made Annie scrunch up her face and wrinkle that pert little nose. Ross could feel his lips curve. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s all right.” She took another sip and made another grimace. “I liked the other kind better.”

“From now on, you can have the other kind.” He drained his glass and put it back on the counter.

“I don’t care,” Annie said. “If drinking this means I can have you, then I’ll drink it. Every day if I have to.”

She emptied her glass, too, and put it down on the counter next to his. “Now what?”

“Now,” Eros said, and caught her against him, “we celebrate.”

“How?” She was all big eyes and innocence, but he could tell she was laughing at him inside.

“Up here.” He boosted her up on the edge of the counter and stepped between her thighs.

“At least move the bow and arrows out of the way first,” Annie began, reaching out to do just that. And then those perfect lips formed a perfect O when she realized she could actually see them.

Eros chuckled. “Careful.”

She pulled her hand back. “Why?”

“Don’t want you to scratch yourself. You might fall in love with George.”

She glanced at the dog, wagging his tail at her from down on the floor. “I already love George.” She wound her arms around Eros’s neck. “I already love you, too.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll put them in the closet later.” He skimmed his hands under her furry sweater and up. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, but nowhere near as soft as the skin underneath.

“Why?” Annie asked, arching into the touch.

“I put them there when Psyche left. Swore I’d never bring them out again. They’re nothing but trouble.” He pulled the sweater up and over her head, and looked at the midnight-blue bra he’d uncovered. “Did you wear that for Harry?”

She nodded, a guilty look on her face. He felt a flare of jealousy, until she added, “But I bought it for you. For our date yesterday.”

And he could have seen it then, if he hadn’t been such a coward. “Sorry about that. I was an idiot.”

“No argument here,” Annie said as he moved to cup her breasts. She pushed herself into his hands, her eyelashes fluttering. “He’s…oh, God…he’s all right, isn’t he?”

“He’s fine.” Eros bent his head to nuzzle her through the blue satin. “He and Brita are probably doing something very much like this right now.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely.” And he’d have to deal with them later. It was his fault that Brita was now, he assumed, as crazy about Harry as Harry had always been about her, and it was his responsibility to set things right.

But first, he had a brand-new wife and a wedding night to attend to.

“You know,” Annie said above his head, “I think Brita was right.”

“About?”

“It’s better to fall in love on your own.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, as if to make sure he couldn’t move from her breast. That was fine with him. He’d be happy to spend the next hour or two right there. Plenty of things he wanted to do. And he had an eternity with her; he could spend an hour on each of her breasts. It was no more than they deserved.

He was smiling as he went to work making love to his wife. The god of love had finally met his match, and this time, he knew it would last until time ran out and Mount Olympus fell into the sea.

Acknowledgments

As always, thanks go out to a lot of people who had a hand in making this story what it is:

My fabulous editor Liz Pelletier, my publicist Heather Riccio, and the rest of the awesome team at Entangled Publishing for all your enthusiasm, encouragement, and support. I’m so grateful to have landed with you!

My critique partner and tireless cheerleader Jamie Livingston Dierks. Love you, babe!

All my friends within and without the publishing industry. By now there are way too many of you to mention by name, but know that I’m grateful for each and every one of you. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your love and support.

Last, but certainly not least, thanks to my family, who knows the real me and loves me anyway. I couldn’t do what I do without you, and I’ll always be thankful that you let me be who I am.

xoxo

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