Date With a Devil

by Anne Stuart

  She had now, whether she was willing to accept it or not. She was a challenge, no doubt about that, and he didn’t know how much time he actually had for the project. He supposed it was possible he could manage to get her in bed tonight, but that would require superhuman effort.

  Come to think of it, he wasn’t human, was he? He wasn’t quite sure what he was. And after all this time, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to make love to one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

  She picked at her salad, like someone nibbling on sautéed worms. She sipped at her water, her magnificent eyes downcast. She was a little too thin for his tastes, he thought, then corrected himself. No one had ever been too thin or too plump for him. He was looking for excuses.

  Maybe he just didn’t like following orders. For the first time in what might be centuries he had something under his control. And despite the cost, he might very well simply refuse to cooperate. It would certainly be with Samantha’s cold-blooded blessing.

  Was this night never going to end? He ate the rarest, bloodiest beef steak he could get, partly to annoy her, partly because it might be the last great steak he’d ever get. And it was so wonderful he almost forgot why he was there.

  Bored, he thought. He needed something to liven things up, or he wasn’t going to get within an inch of Samantha’s long, luscious legs. Just a small distraction to shake things up…

  It wasn’t a large explosion, though the kitchen door slammed open with a gust of smoke and flames. The sprinkler system came on, and he wasn’t sure whether all the overdressed guests were screaming because of the danger from the fire or because their clothes were being ruined by the water pouring from the ceiling. They were racing toward the exits with all the calm of a cattle stampede as thick, dense smoke filled the room. Aaron had bolted at the first sign of danger, Jasmine was standing frozen in shock, Samantha was already in motion.

  He had to get them out of there. He’d already figured out that Samantha didn’t like to be touched, but Jasmine was another matter. He put his arm around her waist and started toward the door, knowing Samantha was more than capable of finding her way on her own. And she would have if her ridiculous kiss-my-ass shoes hadn’t collapsed under her, sending her sprawling.

  Personal space be damned. He reached down and hauled her up, dragging her from the chaos that had been one of the L.A. area’s most exclusive restaurant just a few short minutes ago. And he’d been complaining about being bored.

  The three of them stumbled out into the night air, followed by waves of billowy smoke. The drenched diners were coughing and crying, including Jasmine, but Samantha simply pulled her arm free, fastening her fierce gaze on a sheepish looking Aaron.

  “You cowardly son of a—” she started, when an anguished howl broke through her incipient tirade.

  “My Choux-fleur!” someone cried. Samantha whirled around, tottering slightly on her ridiculous shoes, and honed in on the chef.

  “You can get more cauliflower,” she snapped.

  “No! Choux-fleur is my bichon frise. He was asleep on his little bed when the explosion happened. I must go back…”

  He was immediately restrained by a group of fire-fighters. “You left your dog in there?” she demanded.

  “Mon petit Choux-fleur!” he was moaning.

  Gideon felt a hand on his arm, and he turned to see Samantha holding on to him as she slipped off first one shoe, then the other, bringing her down to his height. It was odd to be looking directly into her eyes, but she wasn’t paying attention. She thrust the shoes and her ridiculous swan-shaped purse into his hands. “Take care of these for me,” she said. And a moment later she was sprinting across the littered sidewalk, back into the smoky restaurant before anyone could stop her.

  He immediately started after her. Mortality wasn’t much of an issue for him, and he’d been in hotter places, but by this time the firefighters had managed to push everyone back.

  “My date went back inside,” he said helplessly, still clutching her stupid shoes and purse.

  “Don’t worry, buddy,” a cop standing nearby said. “The guys have gone in after her. If she’s still in one piece they’ll get her out okay. Does your girlfriend have a death wish or something? She do crazy shit like this a lot?”

  “I don’t know. She was a blind date.”

  The cop’s laugh was unsentimental. “If it was a blind date you’re probably better off if she doesn’t come out.”

  Gideon stared at him, then blinked as Ralph’s face looked back at him from beneath the cop’s hat. His bad eye was in the shadow, and his grin was far too cheerful. “Better get to it, old man,” he said, clapping Gideon on the shoulder. “You don’t want to disappoint me, now do you? Especially when I went to all that trouble to alleviate your boredom?”

  “You set the fire?”

  Ralph shrugged. “Nothing so pedestrian. I arranged it. And she’ll be coming out in a minute or two, you just wait. I’m not about to let anything happen to her. My eyesight is precious to me.”

  “You’re a conscienceless bastard.”

  “Of course I am, Gideon,” he said. “What would you expect from hell? Now, stop wasting time.”

  A second later Gideon was staring into a different face, an older policeman. “You okay, buddy?” he said, looking worried. “You blanked out on me for a second. Did you hit your head?”

  Gideon shook himself, mentally cursing Ralph. “My girlfriend just ran back into the restaurant,” he said. “You have to let me go in…”

  “That her?”

  Gideon looked up. Samantha had reemerged, her tawny mane wet and bedraggled, her face and arms and endless legs streaked with soot, a squirming white bundle of fur in her arms, trying to lick some of the dirt away.

  And then the chef rushed over, tears of gratitude pouring down his face as he tried to take the dog out of Samantha’s arms. The dog snapped at him, and a moment later the three of them had disappeared into the crowded night, leaving Gideon standing alone still clutching the most ridiculous pair of shoes he’d ever seen and a crystal-studded purse shaped like a swan.

  “Hey, man, can you give us a ride home?” Aaron loomed up beside him, a shaken Jasmine in tow. Aaron didn’t even have a spot of soot or water on him—clearly he’d saved his sorry ass before the sprinkler system had even been activated.

  “I need to find Samantha.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” Jasmine said. “She’s gone to the animal emergency room with the chef. She’ll find her own way home.”

  There was nothing he could say. He simply nodded, tucking the shoes under his arm and slipping the tiny jeweled purse into his pocket. By the time he arrived at Aaron’s house he’d come to a decision, one he’d been flirting with all night. Ralph wasn’t going to have his way, no matter what the cost.

  “Sorry about the date, old man,” Aaron said, climbing out of the car and waiting for Jasmine to follow. “I did my best, but Samantha’s a cold bitch. If you want me to set you up with someone a little friendlier just let me know. How long are you going to be in town?”

  “Not long,” he said, expecting Ralph to haul his ass back to hell the moment he refused to play along.

  “Jasmine and I are spending the weekend at my place in the mountains, but I’ll give you a call when I get back, okay? You’ll still be at the same place?”

  “I expect so,” he said calmly. Still in hell, where he presumably belonged.

  He just wished he could remember why.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “FORGET IT.”

  Gideon blinked. A second ago he’d been about to climb back into the gorgeous Mercedes on a warm California night. Now he was back in the stifling confines of the three hundred and forty-seventh level of hell, with Ralph sprawled on a wooden bench, peering at him from beneath luxurious black curls that could only be a wig. The last time he’d seen him he’d been an able-bodied policeman. He’d morphed into Captain Hook, with an elegant frock coat, a gold hook in place of a hand, a
carved ivory peg leg, and an embroidered eye patch.

  “Not Captain Hook,” Ralph said with a trace of irritation, reading his mind again. “He had both eyes and both legs, if I remember my classics correctly. But we’re not talking about literature, we’re talking about my eye. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Gideon glanced down at his own clothes. He was in jeans and a T-shirt—the silk suit long gone, but for some reason he reached for his nonexistent pocket, for the swan purse he’d tucked there. Gone as well, and the thought was oddly troubling.

  “You can’t make me.”

  “You sound like a teenager. I can make you do anything I want,” Ralph said. “All I have to do is threaten you with another millennium in this place as opposed to a chance of moving on, and you’ll do exactly as I say. Besides, what have you got to lose? She’s gorgeous, and you love women. Are you afraid you can’t get her? Afraid to fail?”

  Afraid to win, he thought absently.

  “Sentimental crap,” Ralph said, reading him. “You’ll screw her senseless, my eye will be healed, you’ll move on to someplace with a little more air conditioning, and she’ll move on to someone like Aaron who’ll marry her, give her babies, cheat on her and leave her for a younger woman the moment her looks start to fade.”

  “You’re so sure of that?”

  “Hell, no. The future isn’t preordained—I thought you knew that. There are all sorts of possibilities. The only thing that isn’t negotiable is whether or not you’ll seduce her. And she’s got to like it.”

  “I wouldn’t think that would make any difference in whether your eye will heal or not.”

  “It doesn’t. I just want your work cut out for you. Giving a virgin an orgasm is a tough job, but you’re the man to do it.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “I told you, not an option.”

  Gideon kept his mind deliberately blank, looking around the tiny, heat-filled space. “So why am I back here?”

  “What do you think this is, summer camp? You’re not on furlough, you’re on a mission. When you’re not working you come back here, not to that hotel suite.”

  Gideon only raised an eyebrow. “You want my cooperation, Ralph? Then maybe you’ll have to give a little more than vague promises. I get to stay up there until the job is done, or no deal.”

  Ralph scratched his head with the golden hook, and the long black wig shifted slightly. “You’re annoying, you know that? I could always make a trade, get someone a little more cooperative in your place.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “You’ve already made some progress. She likes you, even if she’s not sure why. Besides, I prefer to work with what I have. You’ve got forty-eight hours, Gideon. Get her, and get her good, or you’ll find you didn’t even know what hell could be like. I’ll be watching.”

  “Voyeur,” Gideon said.

  “Don’t try my patience, boy.”

  “I’ll do…” Gideon’s words trailed off. He was standing on a balcony, looking out over the sprawling city of Los Angeles. Looking toward the hills, where Samantha’s house was nestled. Ralph had sent him back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to every thought, watching every movement.

  He summoned up the most insulting mental picture he could imagine, just for Ralph’s benefit, and then laughed. It was a cool night, the silk was soft against his skin, and the swan-shaped purse was in his pocket. The shoes were on a low table behind him, and he picked one up, running his fingers along the high arch, the ridiculously high heel. He couldn’t figure out how a woman could walk in those things, much less run. Or why a woman who hated dogs would run back into a burning restaurant to rescue one.

  He’d find out soon enough. In the meantime he was going to strip off his silk suit, slide naked beneath the silk sheets that he was sure would be on the huge bed in his hotel room and sleep without dreams.

  And he wouldn’t even break a sweat.

  IT WAS A HOT, lazy afternoon. It had taken Sam forever to scrub the soot and smoke from her hair and skin, and she’d slept late, only dragging herself out of bed at Rags’s insistence. Dogs were a pain in the butt, she thought fondly, leading the partially blind, totally deaf springer spaniel out to the backyard, where he immediately began leaping around like a puppy instead of the twelve-year-old elder states man that he was. Whether they were tiny little yapsters like Choux-fleur or huge goofy dumbbells, she loved them all. Right now she only had Rags in residence, but she was expecting two rescued King Charles spaniels in the next week or so, and she was looking forward to it.

  She hadn’t slept well. For some reason she kept dreaming of her annoying blind date. Not that there was any other kind of blind date, but what’s-his-name was more insidious than most. Or less forgettable, which made him dangerous. And she knew perfectly well what his name was. Gideon Hyde. She just wished she didn’t.

  She liked him. She wasn’t sure why—maybe it was his kindness to Jasmine. Maybe it was the way he didn’t let her borderline rudeness bother him. Maybe because he didn’t fall at her feet or try to paw her. Maybe she was just obsessed by his mouth. It didn’t matter—she wouldn’t be seeing him again. No doubt, he’d have learned his lesson the hard way last night—that just because a woman possessed certain physical attributes didn’t mean she’d be an agreeable companion. Not to mention that she’d ditched him at the last minute. Plus a pair of designer shoes and her Judith Leiber purse. She’d always liked that purse, too. The swan appealed to her sense of humor. And it was going to be a pain to replace a couple of its contents.

  She worked out for her allotted hour, hating every moment of it, then rewarded herself with a huge roast beef sandwich and a bottle of Sapporo beer. She had a real weakness for beer, one she couldn’t indulge too often, and she was working her way around the world. She’d gone through German, Danish and Mexican beers, and she was two weeks into Japanese beers. So far she liked them the best, but there were dozens of countries left to go.

  She was wearing cutoffs, a well-worn white ASPCA T-shirt without a bra underneath and her hair was yanked back in a loose ponytail as she settled on the grass beneath the jacaranda tree. She didn’t bother with her contacts—her sunglasses had prescription lenses and it was a bright day. Rags came over and plopped down beside her, putting his head on her lap. He could smell the roast beef, but he’d always been too much of a gentleman to beg, and she wasn’t about to tempt him.

  It was a beautiful day, and she had nothing to do, and even if she did, her car was in the shop. She didn’t need to worry about anything, not even Jasmine. And she’d managed to dump her unwanted date the night before, so why wasn’t she feeling more peaceful?

  She took another drink of the icy beer, savoring it. She only allowed herself one a week—beer was fattening and for as long as her fifteen minutes of fame lasted she intended to respect the tool that had given it to her—her body.

  She heard the car pull into her long driveway, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Jasmine was back early. She’d probably be crying—Aaron was a pig and a beast and Jasmine was a fool to love him, but all the reasoning in the world wouldn’t make any difference. Thank God she wasn’t plagued by any romantic weaknesses.

  “I’m out back!” she called, taking another bite out of her sandwich. “Come and tell me how your night went. Was Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding pissed off that I dumped him?” And then she stopped, horrified, as Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding himself came around the corner of the house.

  “Not particularly,” he said. He still had his dark glasses on, but today he was wearing black pants and a black silk shirt. No gold chains, and only a couple of buttons undone. She found she wanted to see more of his chest and had no idea why.

  Fortunately Sam was incapable of blushing. She tilted her head sideways, observing him. “You’d make a good model,” she said. “You wear clothes well.”

  “I’m not bad without them,” he replied in his calm, liquid voice. “You left your shoes and purse behind.
I figured you weren’t being Cinderella, but by the time I dropped Jasmine off she was too involved with Aaron to pay much attention, or I would have given them to her.”

  “Rather than use them as an excuse to see me again?”

  “I didn’t get the impression you were swept away by my charms, but you can always disabuse me of the notion.” He set the shoes down on the chair by the pool, placing the swan purse on top of them. “You hate dogs, do you? And I suppose Sapporo suddenly started making nonalcoholic beer, and that’s roast beef-colored tofu on your sandwich?”

  She should have been annoyed. “You’re just lucky Rags is blind and deaf. He hates men. He was abused as a puppy and he gets very aggressive when men come near.”

  “Does he? Sounds like his owner.” Without waiting to be asked he sat down in one of the French wrought-iron chairs by the pool. As luck would have it Rags suddenly realized someone was there, and he lifted his head, sniffing, and a quiet growl started in his throat as he lumbered to his feet.

  She grabbed for him, but he slipped past her, heading toward Gideon with unnatural accuracy, given his cloudy eyesight. Sam closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable snapping and growling. Rags wouldn’t actually bite him, but he could make enough noise to scare the devil. Well, she’d warned him.

  To her astonishment the incipient growl ended. She opened her eyes to see Rags slobbering happily beneath Gideon’s beautiful hands.

  “He seems to like me well enough. Another lie?”

  Sam shook her head. “He’s never let another man near him. That’s very odd.”

  “Maybe he has better instincts than his mistress.”

  She took another drink of beer. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t happen to like blind dates.”