Eros. Not Ross.
“Like the Greek god?”
He smiled, those perfect lips curving, and Annie forgot to breathe. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
“Wow. I mean… Nice to meet you. I’m Annie.” She stuck out a hand.
He took it, his own hard and warm. “I know. You said.”
She had?
Oh, yeah. She had.
Way to go, Annie.
“And I’m Dion,” the bartender said, appropriating her hand for himself. Instead of shaking it or even just holding it the way Eros had done, he lifted it to his lips. And instead of merely kissing it—at least it seemed that way—he brushed his lips over her knuckles, lingering for a bit longer than strictly necessary. Not that she minded, really. It wasn’t something anyone would mind. Although Eros seemed to. He scowled at Dion, who grinned and let go of Annie’s hand, albeit not without a wink. “Who are you having, sweet cheeks?”
Who was she having?
As she blinked, unsure how to respond, Dion grinned. “Another Cosmo?”
“Please.” A shot of liquid courage might not hurt. The little bit of nerve she’d started with had flown out the window as soon as she’d made it within drooling distance of Eros. And after what she thought she’d heard Dion say, she’d take any help she could get in gaining her equilibrium back. She’d already managed to wedge her foot in her mouth, and at the moment she was too worried about saying something else stupid to dare say anything at all. Yet if she didn’t speak, she’d never talk him into going home with her.
“Here you go, sugar lips. Drink up.” Dion placed the pink concoction on the bar in front of her. Annie took a cautious sip and managed, just barely, to keep from coughing. He’d gone heavy on the vodka and triple sec and very light on the cranberry juice, and the result was that the Cosmopolitan had a bit more kick than the two she’d already had.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“The pleasure’s all mine.” He gave her another grin and slid a glance in Eros’s direction. The other man was stonily looking straight ahead. Obviously he was less than pleased about her showing up. Maybe Ari was right and he wasn’t ready to move on. Or maybe he’d been hoping for someone prettier. Annie took another swig of the Cosmo and avoided Dion’s glance.
Everything was quiet for a moment, until the bartender cleared his throat.
“S’cuse me a minute,” he said. “I see someone I know. I’ll be right back.”
He walked away. Annie watched as he headed across the floor, hips rolling and muscles moving smoothly under the thin fabric of his shirt, before turning back to her drink and to Eros, who said, “Stay away from him.”
Chapter Five
A sip of the Cosmopolitan must have gone down the wrong way because she started coughing. And kept coughing, even after he patted her back. She was firm but not bony, her skin warm through the black dress.
Eventually, she waved him off and got herself under control. When she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. Pretty eyes. Blue. “What did you say?” she croaked.
“He isn’t your type.”
She cleared her throat. “And I suppose you are?”
“No.”
The word was out before he realized what it sounded like, the rejection too quick and too definite. She blinked, almost as if he’d hit her, and hurt flashed in her eyes.
Idiot. Giving himself a hard mental kick, Eros added, “Dion’s a womanizer. All he’s looking for is a quick fuck.” She blinked again. This time it was probably his language. She seemed like a nice woman, red fuck-me heels not withstanding, so maybe he should watch his mouth. “He’s not the type you’re looking for.”
“How do you know what I’m looking for? Maybe a quick—” She faltered, then forged ahead. “Fuck is just what I want.”
It was adorable, the way her cheeks colored. “You blush when you say fuck,” Eros said. “Trust me on this. Dion’s not what you want.”
She opened her mouth but seemed to reconsider, because she closed it again. “I assumed you were friends.”
“We are. I’ve known him since the beginning of time.” No joke, even if it sounded like one. “That’s how I know exactly what he’s like.”
“You don’t know me,” Annie pointed out.
“Sure I do.”
She blinked. And reached for the Cosmo to take another sip. Dion must have mixed it stronger than usual because he could see her cheeks heat. The tip of her tongue came out to run along her top lip. “How?” she asked.
He moved his gaze up to her eyes, forgetting for a moment what they’d been talking about. “Excuse me?”
“You said you know me. How?”
Oh. “You work in the dog bakery on Steinway. My office is across the street.”
“The law office?”
He shook his head and watched the realization dawn in her eyes. They widened. “The matchmaking agency?”
He nodded. And waited for her to speak. When she did, it wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “Unusual job for a man. But I guess with a name like yours, you didn’t have much choice.”
Not really, no. Although not for the reason she imagined.
She added, “How come I haven’t seen you before?”
“You haven’t worked there very long.”
“Two years.”
Well, yes. In human terms, that was a long time.
“I don’t get out much.” Eros shrugged.
She nodded sympathetically. Opened her mouth and then seemed to think better of it. Her cheeks colored again.
“What?”
She shook her head. And took another sip of the Cosmo. And coughed.
“Maybe you should go easy on the drinks,” Eros said.
She swiped at her eyes again. “Because I can’t hold my liquor?”
That. And: “Because Dion seems to have mixed that one with rocket fuel. I don’t want to have to carry you home and pour you into bed.”
There was a beat of silence where all she did was stare at him, while Eros wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“I thought you said I wasn’t your type,” Annie said eventually.
“Actually, I said I wasn’t yours.” Although she wasn’t his, either. Another mortal. Innocent, fragile, impressionable, beautiful…and tipsy. No way. “But someone has to make sure you get home safely.”
“I can take care of myself,” Annie said. “I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ve been on my own a long time.”
Not as long as he had. And twenty-eight years—that was barely more than a blip of time.
“Besides, I’m not ready to leave yet.” She turned away from him and picked up the glass for another sip. A more cautious one this time.
“That’s fine. I’m not, either.” And if he played this right, he wouldn’t be the one taking her home and pouring her into bed, anyway. It wasn’t like he wanted the job, after all. “So what are you looking for?”
He picked up his own glass and swirled the wine around. It was full again. How was Dion doing that? He wasn’t even here. He was—Eros twisted on the barstool to scan the room—over there, talking to Silenus and Ariadne. Or talking to Silenus while looking at Ariadne. Len seemed oblivious to the tension, grinning up at his foster son, but Ariadne eyed Dion the way she would a piece of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. A piece of unpredictable chewing gum that might at any moment jump up and adhere itself to some other part of her.
Eros shook his head. One of these days he’d have to deal with those two. He’d put it off for a while—centuries—hoping they’d work things out on their own, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen, and his intervention would be needed after all.
“What do you mean?” Annie said, drawing his attention.
“Excuse me?”
“What makes you think I’m looking for something?”
Oh. “You’re here.” A single woman, drinking alone in a bar at night. In the middle of New York. Getting more and more tipsy every minute. �
��I assumed you were looking for company. That’s what most people want when they go to a place like this.”
Especially the ones wearing clingy dresses and red shoes that screamed, Take me now.
She tilted her head to look at him. “Is that what you’re looking for? Company?”
Eros hesitated. “I guess. Like I said, I haven’t gotten out much lately.”
She nodded.
“I was sick of staring at the same four walls. And I’d run out of wine.”
She smiled. It was a small smile, but it was genuine.
“My wife left me.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. Except…he wanted her to know that when he’d turned her down earlier, it wasn’t because of her. That flash of hurt in her eyes had stayed with him, and he wanted to make sure she knew it wasn’t her there was something wrong with, it was him. “I’m not ready to get involved with anyone else yet. But a couple of the girls from the office were going out tonight, and they asked me to come along. I guess they thought I needed a change of scenery.”
She nodded. “What happened?”
“Happened?”
“With your wife. Why did she leave?”
“She found someone else,” Eros said.
“You’re kidding.”
The comment must have fallen out of her mouth without thought—or maybe the Cosmopolitans were loosening her tongue—because she looked mortified. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at him over it, her eyes enormous. Eros chuckled.
“She said I worked too much and didn’t pay enough attention to her.”
Annie took her hand off her mouth. “Did you?”
“Maybe.” Being the god of love wasn’t a nine-to-five job. And Psyche had never really understood that. “She didn’t have a career of her own.” And she hadn’t been much good at the matchmaking.
The thought felt disloyal, but Psyche had been a bit self-absorbed, he realized. There hadn’t been a lot of concern for anyone but herself. Just look at how she’d opened Persephone’s box to take some of Aphrodite’s beauty for herself. That infernal sleep he’d woken her from as a result was really no more than she’d deserved. “I guess maybe she got lonely.”
“I’m sorry,” Annie said, and Eros looked over at her. She seemed sincere.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Eros finished his wine. “So what are you looking for?”
“Here?” She flushed. “Why?”
“So I can help you get it.”
“How can you help me get it?”
“It’s what I do,” Eros said.
She thought about that for a second and seemed to find it acceptable. “I guess I wanted some company, too.”
“What kind of company?” She didn’t answer, and he added, “Are you looking for love? Or just sex?”
She looked startled.
“I don’t do sex,” Eros said, and caught himself. “I mean, I do. Personally, I like sex a lot.” Damn Dion. Looked like the god of debauchery had been a bit heavy-handed with the ambrosia, too, not just the liquor. “But I’m a matchmaker, not a pimp.”
“Oh.” Annie flushed. “I didn’t think… I mean… I’m sorry. Meeting Mr. Right would be nice, I guess. But to be honest, tonight I’d settle for Mr. Right Now.”
Eros nodded. He’d met a lot of people like that. Back in the old days, it used to be mostly the men who thought that way, while the women invariably wanted love and marriage. These days, it was both genders looking to get laid. “See that guy over in the corner? The one with the brown hair and glasses?”
“Harry Mitchell,” Annie said.
“You know him?” That’d make his job easier.
“He works down the street. He’s come into the bakery a few times. He owns a schnauzer.”
Better and better. “He’s here looking for someone, too. Maybe you should go over and introduce yourself.”
She shot him a look. “With all due respect, Eros—”
“Call me Ross.” They’d all shortened their names to go with the times. Classical Greek names stood out these days. Here in Astoria, the largest Greek settlement outside Greece, there were a lot of people—mortals—with given names like his and Dion’s. But most of them had American names or nicknames, too. Ekaterina became Kathy and Athena became Tina. Adonis called himself Donnie and Thaumas was Tom or Tommy. Alastor was the only one who’d kept his name intact, and Eros suspected there were people who thought the minor god of vengeance was Scottish.
“Ross,” Annie said obediently. “With all due respect, I don’t think he’s looking for me. He seems to have his eye on that gorgeous blonde over there.”
“She isn’t interested in him,” Eros said. “She wants Dion.” Gods help her.
“I don’t think Dion wants her,” Annie answered. “He seems more interested in…” She stopped for a second. “That pretty girl in the blue suit.”
“Ariadne. She has too much sense to fall for the likes of Dion.”
Annie slanted a sideways glance his way. “Are you sure about that?”
He’d like to think so. But no, he wasn’t. Much as Ari would like to pretend it wasn’t there—and much as she wanted Eros, and everyone else, to believe she couldn’t stand Dion—it was fairly obvious that something was going on between the two of them, or had at some point in time.
But how did Annie know, when she hadn’t even met his girls?
“I overheard them talking in the bathroom earlier,” she admitted when he asked, looking sheepish. “They didn’t realize I was there.”
“You eavesdropped? On Ari?” He almost laughed out loud when he saw the guilt on her face. She must have noticed, because she squared her shoulders.
“I was there first.”
“Sure.” Eros got his face under control. “What did they say?”
“First, you give me a hard time for eavesdropping and now you want me to repeat what I heard?” She smiled at him. “The brunette—Ari—was telling the blonde that she shouldn’t expect anything from Dion. That the most she could expect was a—” She flushed again, but nonetheless threw his words back at him. “A quick fuck and nothing more.”
“What did Brita say to that?” Not that he couldn’t guess.
“She said she wanted him anyway.”
Of course she had. “Where did you get the idea that something’s going on between Ari and Dion?”
“The way she talked about him,” Annie answered readily. “Her tone of voice. And the way she’s looking at him right now.”
Eros turned. Brita had joined the group, and she was smiling up at Dion, pawing at her masses of golden hair. He grinned back at her, obviously not averse to flirting with the stunning blonde, and Silenus was watching, a smirk on his face. But Ari’s attention was on Dion, and her pretty face was unguarded, her eyes soft and vulnerable. Until he turned to her, and then she gave him her usual sneer.
“Right.” Eros turned back to Annie. “Good eye. Have you ever thought about going into matchmaking?”
“Me?” She laughed. “I can’t even find a man for myself. How am I supposed to find one for anyone else?”
“My wife left me,” Eros said. “That doesn’t mean I can stop being who I am.”
She tilted her head. “You could. I mean, there’s no law that says you have to keep running a matchmaking service.”
Not in her world. But in his, it was who he was, who he’d always be. The Greek god of love who couldn’t keep his wife happy.
Eros shook his head to dislodge the thought. “Let’s talk about Harry Mitchell.”
“I don’t see why we should,” Annie protested. “I’m telling you, he isn’t interested in me.”
“And I’m telling you, you should go talk to him. Brita’s busy with Dion. Harry’s all alone.” His drinking buddies had gone off to toss darts haphazardly at a board in the back, while Harry was left to hold down their corner table and to gaze, moonstruck, at Brita.
“I don’t know…,” Annie said.
“C’mon.” Eros gave h
er his best smile. “What do you have to lose?”
“My self-respect?”
“I’m not saying you should go throw yourself at him.” In fact, if there was one thing he didn’t want to see, it was sweet Annie Landon pretending to be a vamp to get Harry Mitchell to take her to bed. “Just go say hi. Remind him who you are. Smile. You have a great smile.”
“I do?” She smiled, surprised and pleased.
“Of course.” Everyone had a great smile. Smiles in general were great. Although hers was especially nice. She had a wide mouth, slightly too big for her pert little nose, with plump lips and even, white teeth. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
“Really?” She blushed.
Eros smiled back. “Yes, really. Now go get him.”
“If you say so.” She slid off the barstool, a bit unsteady. Her skirt got caught, and for a second he was treated to a tantalizing display of soft, smooth thighs before she yanked it down, her cheeks flaming.
“Nice,” Eros said blandly, and got another smile for his trouble. She turned toward Harry, but seemed to think better of it, because she swung on her heel and grabbed her Cosmopolitan off the bar. She tossed back what was left of it and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. And then she squared her shoulders and set off across the floor, wobbling just a bit on the high heels. Eros watched her for a second to make sure she wasn’t about to fall, and then he turned away, to keep an eye on her progress in the mirror behind the bar.
Chapter Six
That hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped, Annie reflected as she made her careful way toward the table in the corner where Harry Mitchell sat.
Not that she’d thought she’d had a real chance of walking out of here with Eros—Ross, she corrected herself. Funny how the Greeks kept giving their kids the old mythological names. Eros, Dionysus, Ariadne, and Silenus. What kind of parents named their son Eros, for God’s sake? It was practically an invitation to bullying.
Tall, Dark, and Divine Page 3
