“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Ari said, sitting back down behind the desk and moving the bag of cookies off the files. They’d already left a stain on the top file, but Ari didn’t say anything about it. “Who shall I tell him they’re from?”
“I’m Annie Landon. I…” She stopped herself before repeating that she worked across the street. She’d already said that.
Ari nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Annie. I’m Ari. This is Brita, Carrie, and Iris.”
All three smiled. Among the four of them, it was a little like watching the cast of Sex and the City 2, the remake.
Maybe she’d imagined sleeping with Ross last night. Maybe it had been wishful thinking. If he had these women walking around his office every day, what could he possibly see in someone like her?
But even as the thought crossed her mind, she heard his voice in her head. You look exactly the way you’re supposed to look. Like a beautiful woman.
He’d sounded sincere. He’d been sincere. He’d taken her home and made love to her, and his response to her body hadn’t been feigned. Nobody could feign that reaction.
She smiled, more confidently now. “Just tell him I said thanks for making me feel better last night. I’d better go. Time to…um…” She gestured over her shoulder, to the dog bakery.
“I’ll let him know you were here,” Ari promised. “I’m sure he’ll stop by to thank you later today.”
Great. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to see him again. She walked out with a big smile on her face.
…
“Gift for you,” Ariadne announced.
Eros looked up from the papers on his desk. It had taken him forever to get himself together this morning. It must have been the unexpected exercise last night. It had been so long since he’d had sex, maybe the pleasure had been too much for him.
What was it they said, use it or lose it? Obviously he needed to use it more, and not let it go decades between each time.
At any rate, his muscles felt pleasantly relaxed, and his brain was clearer than it had been in a long time. He felt great. At least until Ari started in on him.
The conversation didn’t seem difficult when it began. She simply walked into his office, told him she had something for him, and put a stained paper bag in the middle of his desk. Then she stepped back and folded her hands, waiting.
He squinted at the bag. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Eros quirked a brow but reached for the bag. The contents shifted a little and rubbed together with a sort of scratchy sound. They smelled—he breathed deeply—nice. Back in time, in the superstitious Middle Ages and beyond, strange things had occasionally shown up on his doorstep, but this probably wasn’t anything too bad. At least it didn’t smell like dead rat.
He unfolded the flap, pulled the sides of the bag apart, and peered in. Nothing jumped out and hit him in the nose, either.
He looked up. “Cookies?”
Ariadne nodded.
“Why? I didn’t do anything to you.”
“They’re not from me.”
“Who…?” He stopped when he realized who must have dropped them off. They smelled like her, he realized. Warm and sweet and delicious. “She brought me cookies?”
Ari nodded. “Baked them herself, from what I understood.”
“Why didn’t you come get me?” He was planning to fix her up with Harry Mitchell, sure. But he’d slept with the woman last night. It would have been courteous to accept her cookies in person.
“She didn’t want me to,” Ari said, and Eros blinked, feeling unreasonably let down. “What did you do last night, Ross?”
“Nothing,” Eros said automatically.
“Sure.” She looked around and headed for the same chair she’d occupied yesterday, in front of his desk. Once she was seated with her knees demurely crossed, long legs on display and hands folded in her lap, she added, “She said you walked her home?”
He nodded.
“Is that all you did?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
Ari didn’t answer. “I saw you talking to her at the bar last night.”
“She was out looking for a good time. I thought I’d intervene before Dionysus took her upstairs and lifted her skirt.”
As soon as he said it, he realized that maybe the words were ill advised, but by then it was too late to call them back.
“He would.” Her voice was cool and disdainful, as if the god of wine meant nothing to her. As if he were nothing more than a thorn in her side. Which he probably was, but Ross was beginning to suspect that he was a bit more than that.
“About Dion…,” he said.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she retorted. “Don’t duck the question.”
“I wasn’t—”
But maybe he had been. The idea of discussing Ariadne and Dion’s relationship, or lack thereof, was a lot more appealing than discussing his own encounter with Annie. “What question?”
“Is that all you did?”
There was no point in lying. She’d know if he did. They’d been around each other for thousands of years, and she understood him better than Psyche ever did. Maybe that should have clued him in.
“I wanted to keep her away from Dion,” he said. “He’s not what she needs.”
“He’s not what any woman needs,” she answered promptly. “Mortal or immortal.”
Right. He leaned back on the chair. “I’ve been aware of her for a while. Annie. She works across the street. In the dog bakery.”
For some reason, Ari’s lips twitched. “I know. She told us.”
“Last night was a fluke. She was tired of waiting and she went out to find some company. But what she really wants is someone to love. Someone who loves her.”
“Don’t we all?”
Eros hesitated, watching her, and then decided to ignore the remark. Later. “I think she’d be happy with Harry Mitchell from the accounting firm down the street.”
Ari’s eyes widened. “The one with the glasses, who always stumbles over his tongue whenever Brita is around?”
Eros shrugged.
“I saw Annie talking to him. Was that your idea?”
He nodded.
“Stupid.”
“I didn’t know that when I suggested it.”
“You should have known.” She shook her head. “You’re the god of love, Ross. Couldn’t you see that after drooling over Brita for an hour, he wouldn’t be kind to another woman? And especially one like Annie.”
Eros bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with Annie.”
“Of course there isn’t. She’s cute. And nice.”
Better.
“And mortal.”
Not so good.
“What Harry wants,” Ari said, “is a goddess. What you tried to foist off on him was a baker of dog biscuits.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dog biscuits.”
“Of course there isn’t.”
“He has a dog. A schnauzer.”
“Wonderful,” Ariadne said, lips twitching. “Listen to me, Ross. He wanted Brita. You offered him Annie. You should have known it wouldn’t work out.”
When she put it like that, maybe he should have. It was just that he’d sat there with her, and enjoyed her company, and enjoyed looking at her—those soft lips, soft skin, and soft breasts—and he couldn’t quite understand how Harry could have looked at her and not seen what he saw.
“He was rude to her.”
Ari nodded sympathetically.
“She was crying.” And taking her anger out on Dion’s empty liquor boxes.
“So you thought you’d comfort her?”
“No!” He hadn’t. Not at first. Not the way Ari made it sound. “I like her. And what happened was my fault. I told her to go talk to Harry. When the jackass was rude to her, she ran out without her jacket and purse. It was raining and I was afraid she’d get sick. Plus, I didn’t want her to get all the way home and realize she couldn’t g
et in.” Or for that matter walk all the way there by herself. In the middle of the night, with no coat and unsteady on her feet. Anything could happen.
He added, as the clincher, “Dion said he’d go and offer her a shoulder to cry on.”
“He would.”
“I thought, better me than him.” At least he saw Annie as a bit more than an open pair of legs in red heels. While Dion probably didn’t remember her name anymore.
“So what happened?”
“I walked her home. She cried. I carried her up to her apartment. Dion mixed our drinks too strong.”
“He does that.” Ari nodded. “Did you carry her to bed, too?”
“None of your business.”
“You can just say yes,” Ariadne said. “It means the same thing.”
“No. It means that it’s none of your business.”
Ari changed tactics. “She baked you cookies.”
“It’s what she does.”
“What she does is bake dog biscuits.” Her lips twitched again.
“These aren’t dog biscuits,” Eros pointed out. He slipped his hand into the bag and brought out a cookie. And lifted it to his face and inhaled deeply before he bit into it. The flavors exploded on his tongue. Sugar, vanilla, lemon…the cookie tasted like Annie.
“Good?”
He nodded, pushing the bag toward her. “Want one?” With his mouth full, his voice was muffled.
“No, thanks.” She got lithely to her feet.
“You don’t have to worry about your figure.” Like him, she was immortal. Unchanging. She could eat whatever she wanted and never gain or lose a pound.
“I know,” Ariadne said. “But she baked them for you. You should enjoy them.”
He was enjoying them. “She isn’t still here, is she?”
Ari shook her head. “Just dropped off the cookies and said she had to go to work.” She turned toward the door and then hesitated, turning back. “What are you going to do, Ross?”
“Enjoy the cookies.”
“About Annie.”
“I’m gonna fix her up with Harry.”
She stared at him. “You’re joking.”
Of course not. He never joked about matchmaking. “They’re perfect for each other. She bakes dog biscuits. He has a dog. And they’re both looking for someone.”
“He’s looking for Brita. And she—”
“Told me yesterday she wants Harry. I’m gonna make sure she gets him.”
“She said that?”
He nodded. Yes, indeed.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Of course. One mortal was enough.” More than enough. “I’m not interested in taking on another.”
Ari muttered something.
“What?”
“Nothing. So what’s the plan?”
“I’m not sure yet. Any ideas?”
She folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “If she already wants Harry, half the battle’s won. You just have to make sure that Harry wants her.”
“Right.” Piece of cake.
He got to his feet. “I’m off to talk to Harry.” And maybe stop by the dog bakery on the way. It would only be polite to thank Annie for the cookies in person.
“Leave her alone,” Ari said, as if she’d heard him. Surely he hadn’t said that out loud, too?
“Why?”
“If you’re setting her up with someone else, she doesn’t need to see you. And besides, I don’t think she wants to. She was very adamant that I not call you so you could receive your cookies in person.”
“Oh.” That was a bit…deflating, but never mind. He was setting her up with Harry, so it didn’t matter how she felt about him.
Except…this wasn’t about his performance last night, was it?
He’d been a little bit rushed, perhaps. It had been a while, after all. And once he started kissing her, tasting that sweetness, he’d had a hard time slowing down.
All right, so he’d admit it: he’d fallen a bit short of divine. But if she were destined to end up with Harry Mitchell anyway, she’d best get used to mortal—imperfect—lovemaking. It wouldn’t do any good to spoil her with what she couldn’t have.
“Something wrong?” Ari’s face was as gentle and lovely as always, so Eros had probably imagined that malicious undertone to her voice.
“Nothing. Wish me luck.”
“Of course.”
But he noticed that she didn’t actually do so.
Chapter Eleven
The dog bakery was empty when the door across the street opened, so Annie had a perfect view of Ross as he came out, and plenty of time to just stand and stare at him. He stopped for a second on the sidewalk to talk to someone inside, and Annie squinted and made out Ari’s dark suit and sleek coiffure in the open door. The other three girls had left just about fifteen minutes after she’d dropped off her bag of cookies. That was how long it had taken them to thoroughly dissect her clothes, her hair, her cookies, and whatever had happened between her and their boss last night, she supposed. And now they were off doing whatever it was matchmakers did these days.
The whole concept was a bit strange, she had to admit. What would compel a gorgeous guy in his prime—and Ross looked like he might be around thirty, maybe—and a handful of gorgeous women—ditto—to work as old-fashioned matchmakers? Any one of those women could have made a fortune as a fashion model or an actress. And Ross… If he could make a go of such a strange business as matchmaking—and he didn’t look like he was hurting for money, not if he owned the building he worked and lived in, not to mention that the suit he’d been wearing last night had probably cost as much as her entire wardrobe—why hadn’t he gone into something more…normal? Surely matchmaking wasn’t so lucrative that he couldn’t do better in some other line of work?
Maybe he enjoyed what he did. Unless you were talking about cyber-dating, there didn’t seem to be a lot of call for matchmakers these days. But if it was a family business, maybe a few decades or even a century old, then it made more sense. Maybe that’s why his parents had named him Eros. He could be a Junior or a Third.
Across the street, he said something—probably good-bye—to Ari, who closed the door. He turned to walk down the sidewalk, but no sooner had he stepped past the windows of his own business, out of sight of anyone inside, than he slowed his steps. Heart beating, Annie watched as he stopped and turned toward her—toward the dog bakery—and hesitated.
Was he coming to talk to her?
It looked like he might be thinking about it. And a part of her wished he would. She’d have to deal with him sooner or later. The other part wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
He stood for a moment and looked in her direction, and she was pretty sure she saw his hands clench. But then he shook his head. Maybe he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her, either.
Maybe he hadn’t liked the cookies. She hadn’t used a recipe, just sort of tossed things together this morning, trying to—all right, she’d admit it—capture the taste of him. The sunshine, the starlight… She’d thought they’d tasted pretty good when she’d tried one, if not quite as good as Ross, but maybe he didn’t like coconut. Or lemon. Or cookies.
With a physique like that, he probably didn’t eat cookies.
Who was she kidding? Ari and her friends didn’t keep those figures by eating cookies, either. That was why Harry Mitchell would have fallen at Brita’s feet if she had deigned to talk to him yesterday, while Annie got nothing but insults for her trouble.
Men.
She scowled as Eros turned away from the dog bakery and made his way down the sidewalk away from her. The sun peeked out from the cloud cover just long enough to light up the tight curls on his head and make them shine. Annie turned away from the window as the bell above the door rang, admitting Mrs. Papadopoulos and her pug, Nikos.
…
Eros felt like a coward walking away. But what was he supposed to do? Yesterday had been a one-night stand. He wasn’t interested in anothe
r, and Annie wasn’t, either. She was mortal, and he was done with mortals. He wasn’t Harry, and Harry was who Annie wanted. So the best thing to do, for everyone concerned, was just to leave her alone and make sure she got what she wanted.
Namely, Harry.
Which was why Ross was on his way down the street to talk Harry into asking Annie to dinner. Once Harry gave her a chance, Eros just knew he would realize what he hadn’t seen last night: that Annie was beautiful, and sweet, and intelligent, and easy to talk to, and a very good kisser…
All right, so the idea of Harry figuring out that last one didn’t particularly fill him with the warm fuzzies, any more than the idea of Annie wrapping her legs—in those red shoes—around Harry’s waist did. But if Harry was whom she wanted, then all those things were inevitable.
Harry was a lucky man. Now Ross just had to make sure Harry realized it.
Ten minutes later, he was back where he’d been last night, wanting to hit the man.
“That’s it,” Harry said with a smirk, laying down his ultimatum. “Otherwise I won’t do it.”
Ross focused on unclenching his hand and flexing his fingers. “I’m a matchmaker,” he informed Harry coldly, “not a pimp.”
The words sounded familiar, but it took him a second to place them. Then he recalled: it was the same thing he’d told Annie last night.
“I don’t expect her to put out,” Harry argued. “I mean, she can if she wants to, but I just want to get to know her. Dinner and drinks. In a restaurant. That’s all. I swear.”
Eros hesitated. He hated the idea of agreeing to blackmail, but he really needed Harry to agree to his plan.
“I’ll even have her home by midnight,” Harry added. He grinned, probably thinking it made him look boyishly cute, when in reality, all it did was make Eros itch to drive his fist into Harry’s face to wipe off the stupid grin.
He resisted the temptation again. “I’ll have to talk to her. She works for me, but that doesn’t mean I can order her to go out with you. It isn’t part of her job description.”
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