Demon Cant Help It

by Kathy Love

  She glanced at the digital clock on her microwave. It was after 9:00 P.M. Maggie would be at work for hours yet.

  Erika. She’d call and ask her to come over here. She didn’t know what she’d tell her friend, but she needed company. She scrolled through her phone, finding Erika’s number. She pressed the call button, and waited for the number to autodial. The phone rang once and then went straight to voice mail. She hung up and tried again with the same result. The second time she left a message for her, then hung up, debating what to do.

  She could walk back over to Erika’s. But the idea of being outside in the dark, already nervous, really didn’t appeal. She flipped back her phone, scrolling through the numbers, looking for someone to call and talk with until she calmed down.

  Cherise’s number came up, and she considered calling her, but decided against it. Cherise had three children and was likely busy with them. She could call her mother—but Mom never really calmed her. In general, her parents just made her more tense.

  Then she stopped scrolling on a number without a name. Maksim’s number. She had it in her phone from when she’d called him to tell him he had the volunteering position, but she didn’t bother to type in his name yet. Before she thought better of it, she pressed the green dial button. She watched somewhat dazed as it pronounced it was calling.

  “Hello.” She heard Maksim’s deep voice even before the phone was to her ear. She didn’t speak. She just held the receiver to her ear, trying to decide if she should speak or if she should just hang up.

  “Hello? Jo, is that you?”

  She was silent a moment longer, then said, “Yeah, it’s me. How did you know?” Her voice sounded funny, breathy, hoarse.

  “I saved your number when you called me the other day. Are you okay?” he asked.

  Of course he had, just like she had. “Umm—yeah.”

  There was silence on his end, then, “Why are you calling? Did you need something?”

  God, she should just hang up.

  “Jo?”

  “I–I just…” What was she doing? What was she supposed to say?

  “Jo, something is wrong. It has to be; otherwise, you’d never call me.”

  His wry tone made her laugh slightly.

  “Yeah, you got me there.”

  “Thanks.”

  She laughed again at the flatness of his voice.

  “So what’s going on?” he asked.

  She should just tell him it was something about the center. She needed him to work longer tomorrow. Something. But she didn’t.

  “Nothing,” she said, “I’m just—being silly.”

  “Well, you could use a little more silly, I think.”

  She smiled. “You are probably right.”

  “Glad to hear you are being agreeable. I’ll be right over.”

  “No,” she said quickly. She didn’t know how she’d react to him being here now, when she was tired and vulnerable and not thinking clearly. “I was just having a little problem with nighttime nerves. No reason to come over.”

  “What has you nervous?”

  “Just my own overactive imagination,” she said, feeling like an idiot. Had she really called Maksim Kostova, of all people? After all her vows to keep herself removed from the man? Even after the awkward ending of their lunch today? Like he’d be the one to calm down her agitation.

  She had to admit he was making her feel better. She didn’t understand why. They barely knew each other, but he was helping.

  Dangerous. Very dangerous, she warned herself. She shouldn’t even accept friendship from this man. Not when she knew how his slightest touch could make her feel.

  But she made no attempt to end the phone call.

  “Did something go bump in the night?” he asked.

  “No. Not exactly. Just thought I was seeing things. But it’s nothing.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to come over and take a look around your place for you?”

  “No. I know it was my imagination. I just—I just needed a little conversation to calm me down and convince me I’m just being foolish.”

  “Wow, and I was your chosen voice of reason.” He sounded infinitely smug. That was Maksim she knew. She could even picture his self-satisfied crooked smile.

  “Well, you weren’t my first choice,” she informed him.

  “I have no doubt about that. Was it Maggie or Erika?”

  She smiled. “Both. But Maggie’s at work and Erika has a crappy cell phone.”

  “Lucky for me.” His voice resonated low and sexy. She shivered. And not from anxiety.

  “And I figured you’d be around,” she added, trying to dispel some of the longing that at least she felt.

  “You sweet talker, you,” he said, that voice of his the one that was so sweet. So much for changing the mood with levity.

  “I’m not so sure how lucky it was for you,” she said determined to get things back to a less sexy ground. “Now you know your boss is a nut job.”

  “No, not a nut job. But you could probably use a good night’s sleep.”

  Jo laughed a little derisively. “That is the general consensus.”

  “Mmm, don’t you love unsolicited advice? Sorry about that.”

  Jo didn’t say anything, for a moment caught up in how lovely his voice was, deep and rich with that subtle accent warming her even through the speaker of a phone.

  Dangerous, her mind warned again. At this minute, she didn’t care. She needed someone, and Maksim was a good someone. A really good someone.

  “Jo? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah. Just zoning out.” Thinking about you.

  “Are you going to go to bed?”

  “Yeah,” she said, even though she suspected sleep was still hours away. “I think I will.”

  “Good. Get some rest.”

  There was silence on the other end. Then he said, “I’m glad you called me. Even if I was only your third choice.”

  Don’t go there. Don’t go there. And she didn’t know if this warning was for him or for herself.

  “I’m glad I called, too. Good night.”

  “‘Night.”

  Maksim hung up the phone, frowning. Wow, he hadn’t expected that.

  He set his phone on Ellina’s desk, where he had been all evening, continuing to try and find out something about what happened with Jo this afternoon. Still to no avail.

  What had Jo thought she’d seen? He hadn’t pressed the subject, because he got the vibe she wouldn’t tell him even if he had.

  But surely this was a good sign. She was willingly turning to him. That was definitely good. How far away could he be from getting her where he wanted her?

  The question now was did he push his hand a little further? Or did he hold? Sit back and let her come to him again?

  He stood, grabbing his phone and his keys. He went directly to the kitchen, opening the freezer and grabbing a pint container of ice cream. Then he headed to the door.

  “I guess I’m not sitting back,” he muttered to himself as he started walking toward Esplanade.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jo was in the bathroom washing her face when she heard the rap on her door. She patted her face dry, tossing the facecloth over the edge of the sink, then headed down the hall to the front door.

  Who was it? It was times like this when she really wished she had one of those little peekholes in her door. Instead, she stood with her hand on the doorknob, waiting to see if the person was still there.

  Another loud rap nearly made her hop out of her skin. She clapped a hand to her chest, then called, “Who is it?”

  “The Good Humor man.”

  Jo frowned, even though she recognized the voice. She pulled open the door, the wood sticking on the uneven floorboards.

  “Maksim?”

  He leaned in the doorway, holding out a container of ice cream. “You better let me in. We’re having a Chubby Hubby meltdown.”

  Jo stared at him, utterly confused both by his appe
arance at her place and by his words.

  “Chubby Hubby?”

  He wagged the ice cream at her, and she saw the name. “Ah. Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

  She stood back to allow him in.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, following him as he strolled to the kitchen and put the ice cream into her freezer.

  “I just thought you might still be nervous, and I wanted to make sure for myself that you are fine.” He turned and smiled, his pale eyes roaming over her. “You look fine.”

  She blushed, realizing she was standing there in a tight black tank top sans a bra and baggy plaid pajama bottoms. Her face was newly scrubbed, and her hair was in a ponytail. She probably looked like a teenager ready for a slumber party.

  A very vivid image of a slumber party with Maksim popped into her mind. None of it fit for teenage consumption.

  Maksim’s smile deepened as if he could read her mind. Again his gaze grazed down her body, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She didn’t like this. She felt totally caught off guard. Unprepared for him. But instead of covering herself, she walked over to the cupboards and pulled down two bowls.

  “We shouldn’t let the ice cream go to waste. Since you took the time to bring it over.” She kept her voice calm, but she didn’t meet his gaze.

  “I agree.” He said, leaning on the kitchen counter, watching her bustle around, which did not help her feel in control. His eyes on her, nor her frantic bustling.

  Plus she had the feeling he was imagining other ways of how to not let the ice cream go to waste. Or maybe she was just projecting that on him. She certainly had a few ideas of her own.

  “Don’t go there,” she muttered softly to herself.

  “Go where?”

  Figures the man had good ears along with all the other good parts of him.

  She shook her head. “Just talking to myself. I do that.” She said the last part pointed like a warning—something he should be wary of.

  He wasn’t. “I do, too.”

  She nodded, busying herself with her search for her ice cream scoop, which she wasn’t even sure if she’d unpacked yet. Or if she’d even brought it with her.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, bracing her hands on the counter, Maksim’s sudden appearance and her own flustered reaction overwhelming her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, suddenly beside her, his large warm hand on her bare shoulder.

  “I can’t find my ice cream scoop,” she blurted out, feeling ridiculously close to tears. Then she looked up at him, her vision slightly blurry with the threat of waterworks she was trying desperately to suppress. “I’m sorry.”

  Maksim’s eyebrows drew together over his green eyes, confused and taken aback by her reaction. For which she couldn’t blame him.

  “That’s okay. You can just use a spoon.”

  His solution was so simple and so sincerely said, that Jo laughed, even as stupid tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Before she could say anything, explain her utterly crazy behavior, Maksim scooped her up in his arms, hesitating only for a second as he got his bearings and located the living room.

  He headed to the couch, and she expected him to set her down among the overstuffed cushions. Instead he sat down with her cradled on his lap.

  The action was so kind, so caring, and Jo couldn’t seem to stop herself. She broke down, sobbing against his chest, while his strong arms held her.

  Helpless. Yet another feeling that, being a demon, Maksim was not familiar with. Okay, he did feel helpless about his sister—and her disappearance. But not helpless like this.

  He stared down at Jo as she pressed her face against his chest and cried like her heart was breaking. And he felt very helpless—and overwhelmed.

  He tightened his arms around her, each racking shake of her slight body pulling painfully at something in his chest.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “Shh, it’s okay.”

  Her fingers curled in the front of his shirt, holding on to him as if she’d come apart if she didn’t cling to him. He held her fast, mumbling that everything would be fine over and over, hoping she was okay.

  Finally her crying subsided to small hiccups, but still she didn’t lift her head.

  “Jo?” he asked softly, “are you okay?”

  “Not really. But I’m trying.”

  He was silent, not sure what to say. Finally he said, “A spoon really will work just as well.”

  Jo began to shake again, and he closed his eyes, silently castigating himself for bringing the ice cream scoop up again. Clearly it was upsetting for whatever reason. Then Jo raised her head, and he saw she was laughing.

  He blinked, thoroughly bewildered.

  “I’m sorry,” she said amid her giggles. “A spoon will absolutely work fine. I guess it was just the last straw of a very stressful day.”

  Maksim considered that. “And did crying help?”

  Jo nodded. “A lot. But it didn’t help your shirt much.” She brushed at the large wet patch she’d created. Maksim caught her hand, holding her fingers.

  “Since meeting you, I’m getting pretty used to being covered in bodily excretions.”

  Jo made a disgusted noise, then laughed again. “Now that’s hot.”

  “Definitely,” Maksim agreed, looking down at her, finding her wide smile breathtakingly beautiful. Without further thought, his lips captured that lovely mouth, needing to feel it against his. To taste her. To feel her breath as his own.

  Jo froze as Maksim kissed her, startled by the suddenness of it. Then his lips moved against hers, velvet heat slow and sensual, and she melted into him. He nudged her lips apart, his tongue brushing fleetingly, taking small tastes of her. She sampled him back, savoring heat and the sweet tang of his breath.

  His hands, broad and strong, splayed across her back, keeping her tucked tightly to him. Her own fingers slid up his torso, caressing the hard muscles of his chest and shoulder, then over the column of his neck to the sharp cut of his jawline.

  She moaned as one of his hands left her back and came up to cup the back of her head, angling her so he could deepen the kiss even further. She allowed it, loving the feel of him hard against her, yet his lips silky smooth, his tongue hot.

  She loved him taking control.

  Control. The word flashed in her mind, then dissolved like ice-cold water in her veins. The hand that had been caressing the cut of his jawline, the hair at his temples, stopped. Then moved back to his chest, as she levered herself away from him. She half-scrambled, half-fell onto the sofa away from him.

  “I’m—I’m sorry. I–I shouldn’t have…” She was breathless and her words came out in a dazed jumble. “I—that was, umm, I’m sorry.”

  Maksim’s breathing seemed calmer, his wits more gathered, which made her feel even more stupid for being a blithering idiot.

  Then he wiped a hand over his face, and she noticed his hand was shaking. Seeing that he was affected, too, made her feel better—not that it should. Nothing should be making her feel better. What was she doing?

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said, his voice husky and even more accented than usual. “I don’t want you to be sorry.”

  “I–I just don’t think this is a wise idea for us, Maksim. I’ve got—a lot that I’m trying to deal with, and I–I just can’t.”

  He nodded, but she didn’t get the feeling he agreed.

  “I think you are great. And I do appreciate you being here for me tonight.” God, her words sounded lame to her own ears. Especially when she did want him. She so wanted him.

  But she couldn’t go there. She couldn’t lose control of herself again. Too much was at stake for her now.

  He nodded again, then laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “I don’t usually get the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.”

  “Maksim,” she started, but didn’t really know what to say. She couldn’t really comfort him. That was the speech she was giving him, and it was f
or the best.

  He rose then, wiping his hands down the front of his pants as if smoothing away any wrinkles would help him gain control of the situation. She understood that feeling. She’d lived that way her whole life. Keep things ordered, keep busy, and that would keep things safe and keep her in control. She didn’t like to lose control.

  Every time she ever had—she’d paid for it. She closed her eyes; she was paying now.

  She opened her eyes when she heard Maksim’s feet on the wooden floorboards. He was leaving—and her first instinct was to stop him.

  No. Let him go. It was for the best.

  But instead of going to the door, he walked into the kitchen. She heard the refrigerator door open. The suction of the seal releasing sounded very loud in the quiet apartment.

  He was taking his ice cream. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. As all over the map as her behavior was, if she were him, she’d probably take her ice cream and go, too. He’d probably decided he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  And that was a good thing, she told herself. Then she wished she believed as much as she told herself she should.

  He returned to the living room, and she saw she was right. He had the pint ice cream container in his hand. Then she noticed he also held two spoons in the other.

  He lifted the items in the air. “Let’s have some ice cream.”

  “Maksim,” she said slowly, not wanting this to be any more difficult than it already was.

  “Just ice cream, Jo.”

  She stared at him. Somehow she didn’t think there was anything as simple as just ice cream with Maksim.

  Just tell him no.

  “I bet all you’ve eaten tonight is some of that awful-looking mush in the bowl in the sink,” he said, then waving the ice cream temptingly.

  She smiled despite herself, shaking her head at both his accurateness and his persistence. “And ice cream is a better meal than yogurt and granola?”

  “It definitely tastes better. And this happens to have peanut butter and pretzels.” He scanned the label. “Let’s see it has vitamin A, calcium, of course, iron, and even vitamin C.” He gave her an impressed look. “That’s pretty healthy.”