Demon Cant Help It

by Kathy Love

  When he opened his eyes again, his soiled clothes were gone, replaced by a new tailored shirt and designer trousers. His shoes were Roberto Cavalli. The defiled garments were on the ground around him. He carefully stepped over them as if they were a heap of vermin liable to jump up and cling to him. He’d loved that outfit, but it was replaceable. Most things were.

  Being able to materialize things was one of his favorite demon tricks, although damned irritating at times, because he could only materialize things he actually had somewhere. Because, frankly, if he could materialize a stiff drink, he would.

  He stepped back out onto the street, smoothing down his shirt, then adjusting the cuffs. Now, he’d go back in, remember why he came here. And it wasn’t to help a wounded mortal.

  It was to get laid.

  Jo splashed another handful of water on her face, relishing the way the cold stung her skin, taking her mind off the events of the past few moments. She cupped water in her hand and lifted it to her lipes, rinsing her mouth again, swishing the cold water for several seconds. Then she splashed her face again. And again. She had to gather herself and get back out there to work, but she couldn’t make herself leave the bathroom.

  She just wanted to hide. To not deal with anything.

  No, she had to get back to work. That would help. It always did.

  One more splash, then she fumbled around for the paper towel dispenser, finding the lever and pumping it several times. She pressed the crumpled paper to her face, even appreciating the roughness of it on her cheeks and forehead. The discomfort of icy water and scratchy paper towels was something tangible to focus on, a welcome distraction from what had just happened. And she wished she was referring only to the vomiting. Because ridding her stomach of its contents on a man’s ridiculously expensive footwear wasn’t bad enough. No, she’d actually stood there doe-eyed as he’d taken his shirt off, wanting the man with every fiber in her being.

  She nearly swooned when the man’s bare chest had come in contact with the skin of her arm. She’d longed for him to wrap his muscular arms around her and hold her and kiss her and…

  And what? Take care of her? Make her past disappear? That wasn’t going to happen.

  She tossed the damp towel into the garbage can near the sink on top of Maksim’s soiled shirt. The image of him peeling it off flared in her mind, hard muscles covered in smooth, golden skin.

  She straightened, taking a deep breath, pulling herself together. This was ridiculous. She moved to the mirror to tuck loose hair back into the knot on the back of her head and wipe away any remnants of water-smeared makeup.

  She pulled her glasses out of her pocket, hoping the dark frames would distract from the worst of it. She dropped her hand and stared at her face, not seeing herself, but Maksim. The memory of his reflection staring back at her. The look in his eyes.

  She could have sworn she saw tenderness in his stunningly vivid eyes. She looked down at her hand. The hand he’d held as he’d helped her turn on the water. His touch had been gentle, kind.

  Her gaze lingered on her hand, which tingled. From the water, she told herself. Then she frowned at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? She couldn’t think of him as some gallant knight who’d come to her rescue.

  He wasn’t that. She knew it. She did know his type. Only too well.

  But for a moment…

  “Enough,” she growled, the word echoing through the tiled room.

  Get a grip.

  Pulling in a deep breath, she realized as much as she didn’t want to see him, she had to muster up her courage and go apologize to the man. She’d apologize, and then tell him that, while his résumé was impressive, she just didn’t have a position for him.

  She couldn’t have him around. It wasn’t possible. And if she was lucky, he’d already left and she could just call him to tell him all this anyway. She doubted he was waiting around out there shirtless and covered in barf.

  How would she explain that to her daycare parents?

  And that was what had to be her focus. The center.

  When she walked back into the daycare room, Cherise had somehow managed to get the floor cleaned and the children on their threadbare mats for nap time. Even Damon was calm and lying with his favorite toy, a tattered dog with one missing eye. Lettie sat in a metal chair at the now vacant tables, her chin on her chest, dozing. She enjoyed nap time most of all.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Cherise asked in a hushed tone.

  Jo nodded. “For some reason, seeing what happened—just got to me.”

  Cherise nodded. “A chain reaction. It happens to the best of us.”

  Jo nodded, appreciating the woman’s gesture to make her feel less mortified.

  Jo glanced around again, relief flooding her.

  “Did Maksim leave?”

  “No, I’m right here.”

  Jo spun to see him behind her, leaning on the door frame leading to the hallway. Damn, couldn’t, just this once, luck be on her side?

  Her eyes scanned down his body, taking in his newest collection of designer apparel.

  “I had clothes in my car,” he said, in response to her lingering stare.

  Her cheeks burned. She’d wished that was what she’d been pondering, when in truth, her mind had moved on to the way the cut of his shirt accentuated the broadness of his shoulders and chest and how his pants emphasized the narrowness of his hips. Even his feet caught her attention.

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. One of his dark eyebrows rose as if he could read her mind and knew she hadn’t even wondered where he got the new clothes.

  Great, another one with tell-all eyebrows. He and Cherise could probably hold a whole conversation with nothing but movement of their brows.

  “I’m—I’m glad you had—some—other clothes to change into.” She clenched her teeth briefly, irritated with her fumbling speech. Just get out what you need to, and then get back to work.

  “And I’m sorry for…” There she went again, stammering. “For getting sick on you.”

  Maksim shrugged. “No big deal. That sort of thing happens.”

  Jo nodded, then pulled in a breath, preparing herself for what had to be done. For her sanity.

  “And I’m very impressed with your résumé—”

  Maksim nodded and again with the raised eyebrow. This time it said, “But of course.”

  “But,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and firm, “I just don’t have any positions at this time to offer you.”

  Jo waited for Maksim’s indignant response, but he never even got a chance to react. Instead it was Cherise’s outraged voice that responded.

  “What?” Her voice was loud and sharp enough to cause a few of the children to stir on their mats. She bustled away from the kids, joining Jo and Maksim.

  “Have you gone crazier than a gull at a crawfish festival?” she asked in a hushed but no less emphatic tone.

  Jo frowned at her employee, really wishing in this case, she’d just let her eloquent eyebrow do the talking for her. And even then, only after Jo had gotten rid of Maksim.

  No luck of any sort was on Jo’s side today, because Cherise added, “We don’t have room for him? Look around here. We got nothing but room.”

  Jo’s frown deepened, and she willed Cherise to just stop. Stop talking. Stop standing with her hands on her hips, which meant she wasn’t messing around. Stop looking at her like she was an utter fool. To just stop.

  Instead of stopping, the feisty eyebrow joined in, arching so high it nearly touched her hairline.

  “If you don’t take this guy on as a volunteer, I’m going to let Lettie handle free-choice centers from now on.”

  Jo’s mouth dropped open. Now that was low. Free-choice centers was the wildest part of the day for the children. They got to move from learning station to learning station and without proper supervision it was utter chaos. Not an easy time for Cherise and Jo to handle—impossible for the nearly catatonic woman slumped in the ch
air over there with her mouth wide open and a steady snore emitting from it. The children would destroy the place. Given the hands on the hips and the sky-high eyebrow, Jo didn’t think Cherise was bluffing.

  Jo turned back to Maksim. He watched them, a smirking, closed-lip smile turning up the edges of his mouth. His vivid green eyes sparkled.

  He was loving every minute of this.

  Oh, she could not do this. She couldn’t let him have a position here. She stared at him for a moment, trying to think of any loophole, any possible out, that neither he nor Cherise could debate.

  Nothing came. His résumé was impeccable. He’d handled the whole upchuck fiasco with grace. He wasn’t giving her any reasonable flaw to back her decision.

  She was stuck. With a résumé like that…

  Wait…that was one heck of a résumé. A dream résumé, really. He had to have faked his past work experience and references. He had to have.

  Her initial opinions of him couldn’t have been so far off. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor.

  Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, taking in the newly changed, crisply clean, still expensive, still designer name clothing.

  If this guy had ever worked with a kid in his life, then she wasn’t just the director of this community center, but of the whole freakin’ world.

  He’d made the whole thing up. She knew it.

  She smiled back at him, feeling in control for the first time since he’d stepped foot in the center.

  “Cherise is right. How can I possibly turn down such a great candidate?”

  Maksim’s smile deepened, although she couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes.

  “Well, I am glad you came to your senses, woman,” Cherise stated, her hands no longer on her hips.

  “Me, too,” Maksim said, his rich voice low, but drawing Jo’s attention back to him as surely as if he’d shouted.

  Jo’s heart sped up, and something simmered warm and intense in her belly. She gritted her teeth, forcing the feeling aside.

  “So, I’ll give you a call tomorrow to iron out your schedule, and what works best for you,” Jo said, keeping her voice aloof and all business.

  “Any time works for me.” Again his voice was low and sultry washing over her like the humid Louisiana heat.

  She nodded, determined not to let him see she was reacting to him. Damn it.

  Finally, after none of them had said anything for several seconds, Maksim nodded.

  “See you tomorrow, then.”

  Jo opened her mouth to tell him she hadn’t said she’d see him, but that she’d call him. Then she decided against it. He’d find out soon enough that she’d guessed at his little deception.

  A Good Samaritan—yeah, right. He was looking to get laid and had no problem using small children and the goodness of others to do so.

  She wouldn’t see him tomorrow or ever again, if she had her way.

  And she would.

  CHAPTER 4

  Maksim already had his cell phone in his hand, when it began vibrating and then playing his ringtone—“Highway to Hell.” He knew he wasn’t going to have to wait long for the first call. He’d seen the moment when realization and then satisfaction had glittered to life in Jo’s dark eyes. She thought she’d found a way to get rid of him, legitimately.

  “Hello, Maxwell Edison speaking,” he answered easily, all traces of his natural, deep, accented voice gone. He waited, just a tad anxious.

  This was the only dicey part of his plan. He was going on the assumption that Jo would just go down the list of references in exact order. He could tell she was a systematic person. A person who liked tidiness and control. Well, he liked control, too.

  So, right now, it was good he had it.

  “Hello, Mr. Edison. My name is Josephine Burke. I’m the director of the St. Ann’s Community Center in New Orleans.”

  Maksim liked the sound of her full name. “And I was just calling to check on a reference submitted by a Maksim Kostova, who is interested in volunteering for us.”

  “Oh, Maksim, how is he?” Maksim concentrated on the task at hand and manipulated his voice, making him sound a fine Southern gentleman. “He’s truly missed here at the Chattanooga branch of the Special Olympics.”

  “He appears to be—fine.”

  Maksim wondered what she really wanted to say. Not fine, he was sure. He smiled.

  “Well, Ms. Burke, I can safely give you one of my highest recommendations for Maksim.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line, then she said, “Thank you, Mr. Edison.”

  “No, thank you. And please give my regards to dear old Maksim.”

  Another pause. “Yes. Of course.”

  Maksim hung up the phone. Demons did have all sorts of neat little tricks, such as changing voices, changing appearances. The phone, however, had actually been a little trickier, and certainly more mundane. He’d had to purchase other numbers and then set those numbers up to be forwarded to his regular cell phone number. He didn’t have that much faith in his cell phone provider, but so far so good.

  Clearly he was too obsessed with this woman. Phone redirecting and fraudulent résumés were way beyond the usual effort he made for sex. But he just knew Josephine—and he did so like her full name—Josephine Burke would be worth the effort.

  The phone vibrated, then ran again. This time he stepped off the street into an alley, before answering. A 6 3” man emitting a perfectly female voice was bound to gain some attention out on the sidewalk.

  “Good afternoon, Sunshine Hills Day Camp. Loretta Martin speaking.”

  This time Maksim gave his voice a more clipped New England cadence.

  Again, Jo gave her little spiel.

  When Maksim spoke again, he couldn’t help softening the clipped tone to one of fond remembrance.

  “Oh, Maksim Kostova, my, my. Of course, I’d be glad to recommend him to you. Do I ever miss that man.”

  Jo made a noise on the other end of the line in response.

  Maksim grinned. This was fun. Jo clearly felt something for him. He wasn’t quite sure what, but he was going with attraction and maybe a little jealousy.

  “He was the best—and I mean best—volunteer we’ve ever had here.”

  There was a pause. “Great. That’s all I needed to know.”

  But Maksim couldn’t resist adding, “Tell him I’d love to hear from him.”

  More dead air, then a slight cough on the other end. “I will do that. Well, thank you for the information, and have a good day.”

  Maksim flipped the phone closed. Maybe he shouldn’t have made ole Loretta so obvious, but he couldn’t resist.

  A few moments later the phone rang again. He half-expected Jo to give up on the last reference, but he should have guessed she wouldn’t. He could already see that wasn’t her personality.

  “Good afternoon, Eleanor Rigby.”

  Maksim’s newest female persona was met with silence. Uhoh, perhaps he was getting too heavy handed, both with his praise of himself, and also with having all his fake names stolen from Beatles tunes. Eleanor Rigby. That was definitely heavy handed. He should have gone with Desmond or Molly Jones. More subtle.

  Well, that would teach him to concoct elaborate plans to get laid whilst listening to his sister’s vast Beatles collection.

  But after a minute, Jo spoke. “Hi, yes, I’m calling to inquire about one of your past employees. His name is Maksim Kostova.”

  This time Maksim paused before answering. “Maksim Kostova.” He pretended to ponder. “Hmm, oh yes. Maksim Kostova. Let me see, I believe he worked in our organization from…” He pretended to ponder again, then said in his best kindly old lady voice, “I believe it was 2002 to 2006. Maybe 2003.”

  “You were correct the first time.” Jo sounded very disappointed.

  “That’s right. Yes, he did a wonderful job for us. He was a team leader for our mentoring program. Just great with the kids. A hard worker. We were very sad to lose him.”
>
  There was another of Jo’s pauses. “It sounds like he will be perfect for us, then.”

  Maksim waited for amusement and delight to hit him, but they didn’t. Instead he was almost—sorry. The resignation in Jo’s voice wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She didn’t want him there. She didn’t want him around her, period.

  “Well, thank you for your time.” Jo’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

  “You’re welcome,” he managed to say, catching himself before his voice slipped back to normal. Her end of the line went dead.

  He stared at his now silent phone, looking at it as if the small device was something he’d never seen before.

  What he was doing was wrong.

  Then he snapped the phone shut. Of course it was wrong. He was a demon, damn it. Demons were not known for their good deeds and moral fortitude. He was the ruler of the Eighth Circle of Hell. Not Dudley-Do-Right.

  Slipping the phone into his pocket, he smiled and headed back to the street. She’d come around. They always did. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t enjoy herself once he got what he wanted. She’d love every minute of it.

  He’d show her the best time of her life. And surely, that made up for the uncertainty she was feeling now.

  So, see, in a strange way, he was doing a good deed.

  Maksim whistled to himself as he strolled back to his sister’s apartment.

  Jo stared down at the résumé. That hadn’t gone at all as she’d hoped. She’d really believed these references were faked. I mean-Eleanor Rigby-really? Now she just felt rather stupid. And egotistical, too. Had she really believed he’d gone to such great lengths just to be around her?

  Maybe she was too jaded. She couldn’t spend her whole life assuming all men were like Jackson. But she could have sworn Maksim was a chip off the same block. He had the same air about him as Jackson. The designer clothing, the confidence that bordered on outright conceit. The surety that he could have whatever he wanted.

  And God knows Jackson never would have volunteered his time. Oh, he’d have donated money—then he could claim altruistic motivations. But get his hands dirty? No way. Jackson wasn’t into things getting too messy. She knew that very well. Somehow he always came out smelling like roses. While others cleaned up his messes.