And for about a half second, his chest was a very nice place to end up sheltered by—except for the fact that he was a traitorous, likely black-market dealer of stolen and exotic goods.
But she forgot all about that when images flashed in front of her eyes in a tornado-like funnel of Greek gods and goddesses sitting on thrones, shooting arrows and, oh my…Doing things she assumed only happened in the movies they ran on Cinemax in the wee hours of the morning.
And then there was silence—deafening and frighteningly still.
Dazed, Quinn’s hand went to her head to push back the wild tangle of her tattered braid from her eyes just as her chest heaved and her legs buckled, making her fall forward.
Vibrations of warmth skirted her spine, slipping along every available surface of her skin.
Fear turned to panic when she began to experience a simmering heat on her flesh worse than the hottest fever she’d ever had. It came in waves, rushing and relenting, bending and twisting until it finally subsided, leaving behind a residual warmth she had no words for.
As Quinn fought to gather her senses, the man let her go and paced before her in short jaunts, the heels of his loafers scraping against the loose stones.
He stopped to stand in front of her. His glare was angry, his sharply angled face tight. “Did I or did I not say the apple was mine?”
Once more, her mouth fell open. Words eluded her. Fully formed thoughts, too.
“And now look. Do you see what’s happened here, Quinn?” He grated out the question between clenched teeth.
“Wha…”
He shook his long finger at her. “Oh, I’ll tell you what. You’ve gone and done it now. Really done the hell out of it. I bet you’re wondering what exactly you’ve done the hell out of, aren’t you?”
Out of nowhere, Ingrid flew into her line of vision, skidding to a halt in front of her, eyes bulging when she scanned Quinn’s face. Her mouth formed an O then her jaw fell before snapping shut. “What in the ever-lovin’ fuck?”
Quinn’s gaze flew to the stranger’s before latching onto Ingrid’s, wide with surprise, in a plea for help.
“Oh. My. Hell!” Ingrid shouted, pulling at her backpack to dig out a compact with the name Bobbie-Sue on it and flipping it open. “Look!”
Quinn blinked at her reflection under the hot sun. Her hands flew to her eyes. Wow. If in the choosing, she would have had any say in her eye color upon birth, this amazing shade of bright, swirly purple would have been high on her list.
Much higher than her own dull, mousy brown. And they weren’t just purple—they were purple with a capital P. As though someone had popped contacts from some Halloween costume store directly into her sockets.
“What did you do since I left you, Quinn?” Ingrid fairly seethed.
“I…” What had she done?
The man sauntered up to Ingrid, his bronzed arms crossed over his chest. “Here’s what she’s done. She’s—”
But Ingrid halted his explanation by backing up, pushing Quinn behind her and reaching into her pocket for her cell. “Who the hell are you?” she spat, yanking her phone out and flipping open the keyboard. She began to type without letting the man out of her sight. Her fingers flew as she eyeballed him with a fierce stare.
“I’m Khristos with a K, for future reference—a descendant of Aphrodite and the man who’s apple your friend Quinn here stole.” He bowed regally at the waist before rising and glaring his obvious displeasure at Quinn.
Ingrid’s head whipped over her shoulder. “You stole his apple? Wait. It was his apple that fell out of the pillar? An apple did all this?” She swished her finger around the vicinity of Quinn’s breasts.
Khristos nodded, curt and clearly attempting to keep his anger in check. “It was definitely the apple that did,” he swept his hand up and down, “this.”
When Quinn finally found her voice, it was raspy and thick. “What is this?” She plucked at her shirt in disbelief. “Is the apple really why my…my—”
“Her cans are the size of life rafts? Are you serious?”
Khristos chuckled fondly. “The gods, in all their antiquated, outdated beliefs, thought only women with,” he cleared his throat, “um, fuller figures appealed to men. I’ve tried and tried to convince them to jump into the year 2015 with me, but old habits die hard. We’re still working on diversity and all sorts of sensitivity training when it comes to body shaming. That’s a real bone of contention with me. My motto is, all women should be loved, no matter their size or shape.”
The gods?
Ingrid nodded her head with a rapid motion as though she understood diversity truly was important. Then she shook it off and glared at Khristos. “Okay, buddy, what the hell is happening here? And I warn you—I know people who’ll beat the information out of you if you’re not willing to give it up.”
He shook his dark head of thick hair. “You’ll never believe it.”
Ingrid snorted a scathing grunt. “Hah! I’ve only heard that a million times in the past couple of years. Try me, pal.”
“You’ve never heard anything like this,” he assured her in silken tones.
“Don’t tell me what I have and haven’t heard, Chiseled Man. In fact, I’d lay bets you’d never believe what I’ve heard. So get on with it, and while you’re at it, step off!” She waved a hand between them, shooing Khristos away.
Ingrid turned her gaze back to Quinn and gripped her arm before she returned her gaze to Khristos. “Okay, so let’s get it on here. Out with the explanation. What does this apple have to do with my friend and her sparkly bits, glowing like a diamond in a display case?”
“Well, had your friend left the apple be as I’d asked, those charming traits would have disappeared. They’re simply a product of touching the apple and they fade rather quickly, given a day or so.”
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so no big Shawna Sutter boobs forever? Phew. Because hell on fire, big, big boobies were more work than she was cut out for.
“But alas…” he said with a forlorn, almost comical sigh.
Her antennae went up. Oh, sure. Of course there was an “alas”…an “aside”…a “by the way, your stupid, stubborn friend is a halfwit who just wouldn’t listen”.
“Alas?” Ingrid asked with a demanding tone.
Quinn held her breath.
He gazed at each woman, driving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on the heels of his casual loafers. “Alas, she broke the skin of the apple with her teeth when we struggled for control.”
Ingrid’s eyes narrowed and her stance widened. “And that means what, Hard Body?”
Oh, damn. Now he was making that frowny face. That meant bad—so, so bad.
“The explanation’s simple. Your friend now has the powers of Aphrodite.”
“The goddess of love and beauty?” Quinn managed to squeak.
Khristos winked an arrogant eye. “And all that entails. Clearly, that entails a healthy glow. Know what else it means?”
Ingrid rounded on him, skirting his body in dodgy circles. “Okay, spit it out. What does it mean, Khristos with a K, descendant of Aphrodite?” she asked with a tone of defiant skepticism, leading Quinn to think Ingrid didn’t entirely believe him.
But was there any denying what had happened to her?
He planted a deliciously tanned hand on Ingrid’s shoulder to prevent her from continuing her dizzying circles. “It means Quinn and I are going to be spending a lot of time together. Do you know why that is, quick-footed one?” he asked, sarcasm lacing his words.
Quinn watched while Ingrid tried to hide her alarm behind the Nina technique. The show-no-fear, take-no-prisoners technique. Ingrid jutted her chin upward and sneered, “Why is that?”
“Because that apple is my curse, and now, because your friend not only refused to return it, but she bit into it, it’s hers, too. So that means wherever she goes, I go. I am the keeper of the apple and all its power.”
Quinn’s mouth fell open.
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This big hunk of a Greek man, with all his ripples of muscle and silky hair straight out of a shampoo commercial, had to go everywhere she went?
Shut up.
It was like hitting the romance Powerball.
If she were still a believer in romance, that is.
Which she was not.
Not, not, not.
But the old Quinn?
She’d find that totally swoon-worthy.
(Stay tuned for more in Accidentally Aphrodite—coming soon!)
Author’s Note
If you enjoyed reading Interview With an Accidental, I’d so appreciate it if you’d help others enjoy this book, too.
Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.
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About Dakota Cassidy
Dakota Cassidy is a national bestselling author with over thirty books. She writes laugh-out-loud romantic comedy, grab-some-ice erotic romance, hot and sexy alpha males, paranormal shifters, contemporary kick-ass women, and more.
Invited by Bravo TV, Dakota was the Bravoholic for a week, wherein she snarked the hell out of all the Bravo shows. She received a starred review from Publisher Weekly for Talk Dirty to Me, won an RT Reviewers Choice Award for Kiss and Hell, along with many review site recommended reads and reviewer top pick awards.
Dakota lives in the gorgeous state of Oregon with her real life hero and her dogs, and she loves hearing from readers!
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The Accidental Series
The Accidental Werewolf
Accidentally Dead
The Accidental Human
Accidentally Demonic
Accidentally Catty
Accidentally Dead, Again
The Accidental Genie
The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry
The Accidental Dragon
Table of Contents
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(Untitled)
Author Note
Interview With an Accidental
About Dakota Cassidy
Table of Contents
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(Untitled)
Author Note
Interview With an Accidental
About Dakota Cassidy
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