A Taste of Greek (Out of Olympus #3)

by Folsom, Tina

  She smiled, not knowing what to say.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, his deep voice plucking her like an overly tightened guitar string.

  She swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “Vivian was just telling me how much you love fish.”

  Penny glanced at her friend, nodding. “It’s my favorite food.”

  “Great, then you’ll love the place I’ve chosen for us for tonight.” Hermes slipped his hand to her waist, his touch sending an electrical charge pulsing through her skin to spark her nerves and make her heart stutter.

  She smiled, blabbering dribble as he led her out of the coffee shop. Penny glanced over her shoulder as she walked out the door. Vivian smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign. Penny grimaced. A quick dinner, a fake headache, and if she was lucky, she could be back in her office in an hour. Unfazed and untouched.

  Who was she kidding? Even if she could get in and out of dinner quickly, she would be lucky if she made it through the night with her faculties still intact. This man was way out of her league.

  They walked down the cobblestone streets along the waterfront and into one of the most exclusive restaurants in Charleston. Penny had always wanted to eat here, but never dared, knowing the selections were out of her price range, and that reservations days in advance were mandatory.

  How had Hermes gotten a table on such short notice? Impressed, she looked up at him. The Maitre d’ surprised her even further by quickly seating them in front of a large stone fireplace. Obviously the best table in the house.

  “Are you famous or something?” she asked, perusing his face. She didn’t have a lot of time to keep up with movies or television shows. It was entirely possible that he was some sort of celebrity, and she was the only person in Charleston who was unaware of this fact.

  Hermes laughed, the sound warming her insides. “I just know the right people.” He picked up a menu and glanced at it. “Have you eaten here before?”

  “No,” she admitted, looking around her at the fine crystal, exquisite flowers and soft linen. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “My friend, Triton, says it has the best seafood in town, and trust me, he would know.”

  “Triton?” Surely he was kidding her? But as she watched his face, she saw no sign he was jesting. Why not another Greek god’s name?

  His eyes met hers and crinkled with a smile. “Our mothers were friends. We grew up together.”

  She nodded, but was saved from commenting when the waiter arrived. Hermes ordered the wine, then set down the menu. “Do you mind if I order for us?”

  Penny didn’t usually like it when men took charge of her meals, but right now, studying the menu and making a selection seemed to require more energy than she could muster. “Not at all.”

  He ordered for them both. A minute later, the waiter brought the wine, opened it, and poured a small amount into a glass, which he handed to Hermes. He took a whiff, swirled the deep red liquid in the crystal glass, and then sipped it. His eyes drifted closed, and a look of pleasure spread over his face. He nodded to the waiter and by the time Penny’s glass was filled, she couldn’t wait to try it.

  She rolled the wine on her tongue, savoring the smooth taste of luscious fruit, a hint of smoky oak and a long, lingering finish that made her want to sigh contentedly.

  “You like it?” Hermes asked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

  “Love it.”

  “My friend and his wife own a wine shop. And luckily, they supply this restaurant. This is one of their favorites.”

  “I can see why. So, tell me, Hermes. What do you do for a living?” she asked, after the waiter placed a basket of warm rolls on the table between them.

  He picked up a roll. “I’m in the messenger business.”

  “The messenger business?” She took in his fine silk suit, manicured nails, impeccable skin, and figured he wasn’t a delivery man for UPS. Nor FedEx, nor the US Postal Service.

  “You mean something to do with computers?” she asked, grasping.

  “Sometimes. But rarely.” He smiled, his hand reaching across the table to hers.

  The touch of his fingertip across her skin sent her head swimming. Instinct told her to pull away. He was having too strong an impact on her senses. The wine was probably already getting to her. In what she hoped was a casual gesture, she lifted her hand, took a piece of bread from the basket, and then took her time spreading the creamy butter.

  She took a bite and almost moaned as the warm bread melted in her mouth. Obviously, she was on sensual overload.

  “What about you?” he asked. “How do you spend your time during the day, and night?”

  The way he was looking at her, his direct gaze pulling her in, she could barely keep her thoughts straight.

  “I work at the university.” Had he somehow nudged closer to her? She could swear she could feel him. His body heat. His energy. She set her nearly empty wineglass down on the table and picked up her glass of ice water. She had to restrain herself from pressing the cold glass against her burning forehead. But damn, his scent, masculine and spicy, was making her head spin.

  Hermes refilled her wine. “At the university? As a professor? Which area of study?”

  He seemed truly interested, which made him even more appealing. If that was possible. “I’m in the History department. In Greek Studies.”

  “Oh?” A shadow flitted across his eyes, and then he smiled quickly, erasing any sign that it had ever been there.

  “In fact, I heard you and your friend talking in Ancient Greek. I was curious about that. It’s not a language anyone uses anymore. How is it you are so fluent?”

  He leaned back in his chair, staring at her, his hand rubbing his jaw. “Eavesdropping were we?”

  Heat flamed her cheeks. “Uh, well, no. Not really. It’s just . . . ” she stammered, trying to gather her wits. “It just doesn’t happen every day that one hears someone speaking Ancient Greek. Especially since the language has been dead for at least 1,500 years.”

  He smiled. A wide, brilliant smile that instantly put her at ease. Before she could say more, the waiter arrived with a large tray filled with food. He placed a plate filled with an impeccable white fish stuffed with crabmeat and shrimp and drizzled with a white cream sauce in front of her.

  Her mouth watered. “Wow, this looks amazing.”

  The waiter nodded his approval and quickly left them. She took a bite of her food and lost all coherent thought as her taste buds ignited with pleasure.

  “Do you like it?” Hermes asked.

  “Can’t you tell?”

  “Let’s put it this way, you look like you’re in heaven. It’s a look I enjoy seeing.”

  “I am.” She grinned. “Beyond fabulous.”

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

  “What?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  “I think we have a lot in common,” he claimed.

  “Oh?”

  “We obviously both have a love for all things Greek.”

  This time it was her turn to smile. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Really. I wasn’t close enough to make out more than a few words. I was just fascinated to hear it spoken by anybody other than a Greek scholar. You aren’t, are you? I mean a Greek scholar.”

  Hermes laughed. “No, nothing of the sort. But Triton and I, we needed a secret language when we were kids. And since we both grew up bilingual in English and Greek, we figured it couldn’t be all that hard to learn Ancient Greek, as our own code so to speak. We found some old books and voilà, we learned it!”

  She gave him with a doubtful look. “You must have been two very smart kids.”

  Hermes grinned. “Extremely smart. So, did you understand any of it?”

  “Yes. The little I could hear.” She smiled.

  He was so much more than a beautiful face and hot body. He was beginning to fascinate her. His turn of phrase, the way he carried himself, the way he looked at her as if the
y were the only two people in the room. All of these things made him even more appealing than she had found him at first sight.

  After she finished her last bite, he leaned forward and said something in Greek.

  Penny took a sip of her wine, meeting his incredible brown eyes over the brim. “Yes, I’d love to dance with you.”

  “Ah, so you do understand, but you don’t speak it?”

  “I’m sure you’d laugh at my terrible accent.”

  “Maybe you only need a little practice.” Hermes winked at her and stood, taking her hand and leading her to the area in front of the band. He held her close to him, swaying gently to the music. His hand slipped down her back, sending a cascade of tingles along its path. He pulled her close, and she was lost in his spicy scent, his warmth, the softness of his touch. She was close to swooning again.

  He held her like that, rubbing his sinful body against hers while the music played. She rested her head on his shoulder and knew at that moment that she didn’t want the night to end. All she wanted at this moment was to go home with this man, wherever home was, and make love to him the whole night long.

  The thought quickened her breath. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of every inch of him—every inch that was pressed against her. His solidness, his heat, his strength. She swallowed as his breath caressed her neck. She could take one night off from work. So what if she’d just met him and didn’t know anything about him except that he was a messenger, a messenger named Hermes. A messenger named Hermes who spoke Ancient Greek.

  It was crazy. She was crazy. She pulled back. She couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Not right now.

  A flash of confusion filled his eyes. “Is everything all right?” Hermes asked.

  “Yes. Of course, wonderful. I uh, well, it’s late. I need to get back to my grandmother.”

  “Your grandmother?” he asked.

  “She took a bad fall recently. I’ve been taking care of her.” She was babbling again, saying anything that came to mind, hoping to mask the truth—that she didn’t trust herself around this gorgeous man. She needed to think, she needed to breathe.

  He smiled down at her. “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m lucky to have her,” Penny countered.

  He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to run away from me.”

  “I’m not, I promise.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “I, uh, I’ve had a wonderful time.”

  Hermes walked her back to the table where she picked up her shawl. After he paid the bill, they walked out the door and toward the waterfront. The night was breezy and held a slight chill in the air. He moved closer to her.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he said, stopping to stare out at the moon hanging low over the glassy sea.

  “I’d like that, too,” she whispered. And it was true. She would like that. The timing wasn’t right.

  Without another word, Hermes leaned down and kissed her. Softly at first, his lips barely brushing hers. And then he was pulling her closer, her breasts pressing against his hard chest, his strong arms banding around her as his mouth claimed hers. She lost herself in the feel of him. In his taste. In the perfect way they seemed to fit together. She wanted him to touch her again, intimately. Erotic images flashed through her mind—his lips on her breasts, his hands sliding down her belly.

  Her hand moved down his strong chest, and a small moan escaped her lips. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment.

  “Okay,” she said breathlessly. She shouldn’t let this go any further. She had to stop now or she wouldn’t be able to control herself around him, control what she might do. This was a man who would occupy her mind for a long time to come. She couldn’t afford that. Not now.

  “How about tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Hmm.” She licked her lips. She wanted to say yes. So badly. But she couldn’t. “I need to check my calendar. It’s a busy time at the university right now.” She glanced down at the ground, trying to think up something to say. To stall. “Right now, I have to focus on my research paper, I’m going to be working day and night . . . ”

  His hand lifted her chin, pulling her to him again, moving in for another kiss. After a heart-pounding second, Penny grabbed the rail behind her and stepped back. Her hand immediately touched her swollen lips that were throbbing in protest. When Hermes released her, somewhat reluctantly and clearly surprised, she dropped her head and noticed his shoes under his silk slacks.

  He wore brown leather sandals, a strange choice of shoes to go with his otherwise impeccable outfit. Doing a double-take, she looked at them once more. Were those gold-colored wings peeking from beneath the seam of his pants or was the light of the streetlamp playing tricks on her eyes?

  Hermes.

  A Messenger who spoke Ancient Greek.

  Wearing winged sandals?

  Her gaze shot up to his. It couldn’t be. Was it possible? No! She’d clearly had too much wine. It had to be that and . . . his kiss. Yes, it had to be the kiss. It was making her all woozy. Though maybe she should just ask him about the odd sandals. She opened her mouth, but he spoke first.

  “Let me walk you home.”

  “Uh.” It was silly. No, she was clearly mistaken. “I’m just down the street,” she muttered. “There’s no need.”

  He looked disappointed, and she had to admit, part of her was disappointed too. She wanted to take him home. To feel his hands on her body, to feel every inch of his glorious body. To make love to him for hours on end. She was an idiot for turning him away tonight. But something in her refused to give in.

  “Fine.” He pressed a card into her palm. “Call me.”

  She averted her eyes and nodded. Then she made a motion to leave.

  He stopped her. “You’re not going to call me, are you?”

  She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she could handle someone like him now. Not with everything else going on.

  “Then you leave me no choice but to convince you to call me.”

  He leaned toward her. His hand touched her arm. She sucked in a quick breath, wondering what he meant by his words, when he pulled her into his arms. His lips were on hers before she could react, his kiss robbing her of her will to protest. Her lips parted, allowing his foraging tongue inside her, allowing him to take possession of her.

  She’d never been kissed like this: with such single-minded determination, such heat, such passion. And the power that oozed from him, the strength that seeped from his body, weakened her knees and made her want to do only one thing: surrender.

  When she suddenly felt cool air waft against her burning lips, she realized he’d released her.

  “So, are you going to call me?”

  She opened her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. It was all she could say, and it wasn’t a lie.

  5

  Hermes ignored the bells, the shouts, and the other loud noises that filled the casino, and walked through the gaming floor as quickly as he could without attracting attention. When he reached the far end of the massive hall, he spotted a door that said Authorized Personnel Only. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he made sure the coast was clear, and pushed the door open, closing it behind him just as swiftly. The long corridor was lit with neon lights and provided a stark contrast to the fancy furnishings and decorations on the casino floor itself.

  Knowing his way, Hermes walked along the labyrinth of corridors until he came to a door marked Boiler Room. He sighed as he stepped inside the room. Hades did have a twisted sense of humor. When constructing the access points to his underworld empire, he’d insisted on making it as easy as possible for those souls to enter who were most likely going to end up with him anyway: the gamblers, the cheaters, the thieves. Zeus had had no objections, agreeing that entrances in casinos and near other establishments of vice were only fitting for this purpose. How hypocritical of him! Zeus was just as much a customer at such establishments as any other god.

  Hermes shrugged and approached the
back wall, which represented the entrance to Hades’ Underworld. One thing Hades had made sure of was that no god could teleport into Hades. The gods had to use the existing portals to enter, just as the mortal souls did. Hermes could easily imagine why his dear uncle had instituted this security measure: he didn’t want his brother Zeus showing up at inopportune moments and cramping his style. After all, he’d been screwed by both his brothers, Zeus and Poseidon, when it had come to dividing up the world among them. While his two brothers had come away with the more pleasant parts of the world, the heavens and the seas, Hades had gotten shafted with the underworld.

  Hermes pressed against the wall and felt no resistance. He passed through it with ease. It was one of Hades’ parlor tricks: unfortunately, it only worked on the walls that were designated entrances to the underworld. No god could walk through walls on earth. Not that they had to: they could simply teleport into any house or room they wanted, thus bypassing any locked doors.

  Hermes inhaled the smell of brimstone as he looked out on the blood-red river in front of him, which was engulfed in flames. He had to smile, thinking back on how Triton and he had scared the shit out of Michael, Sophia’s no-good cousin, by bringing him here and telling him he’d end up in the bowels of the underworld if he didn’t leave Sophia alone.

  He had to hand it to Hades’ public relations department. They’d insisted that the first thing any soul reaching the River Styx should see were the fires of eternal hell. It would teach them proper respect. And act as a deterrent. The river looked real, and the smells were vile, but it was all an illusion, an elaborate hologram.

  Hermes walked toward the fake river and passed through the non-existent flames. He emerged behind it to see the real River Styx. It was the waterway every soul had to cross to enter the underworld and start a new life there. But the river was treacherous, the currents too strong to wade or swim across. The only way for a damned soul or god to cross was by ferry. Except for Hermes himself: with his winged sandals, he could fly across the river, a fact he didn’t like to show off in front of the waiting souls. It would only add insult to injury. And he wasn’t one to rub it in.