by Lauren Smith
Then he kissed her.
The sensation was an explosion of dark, forbidden tastes, like rich brandy and honeyed wine, things she’d never thought she’d taste on a man’s lips. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, time enough to explore her mouth and find out just what she liked.
Rebecca moaned against him. The way he touched her, with his featherlight kisses that turned deep and decadent, gave her a rush of wicked thoughts. When she opened her eyes, she saw his gaze rake down her body.
“You taste sweet, and it makes me think of a dozen things I could do to you right here.” He trailed a line of kisses down her throat and brushed her hair back from her neck. He nipped her shoulder playfully, which set off little fireworks in her womb. She was afraid that the attendants outside would hear them. But if she was going to surrender to her fantasies, she wanted to know exactly what she was getting into.
“What sort of things?”
5
Devon spun Rebecca around so that she faced the wall and crowded her from behind.
“Did you know that I was considered quite the rake in my time?” he asked in a low voice.
Rebecca froze with a mix of fear and desire. “N-no…” She knew what a rake was supposed to be. A man who slept around, a ladies’ man who knew the art of seduction. She was tempted and a little intimidated by the idea of being with someone like him.
“Quite irredeemable, they all said. A rogue, through and through.” His hands molded to her loose blouse top, inching farther and farther up. Her skin burned deliciously in response. “But I can’t say I ever encountered a woman who minded those qualities. You asked what sort of things I would like to do to you. Shall I tell you? Shall I show you?”
Rational thought had left the station the moment he’d touched her, and she found herself saying, “Yes, please,” without fully being aware of it.
“I would pull down these trousers of yours, for starters,” he said as he nuzzled her ear. “And then I would touch you…here.” He punctuated this statement by cupping her between her legs and pressing against her throbbing clit through her jeans.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, she silently chanted as her body spiked into a new level of arousal. An almost violent hunger overtook her. She needed him to touch her, to do everything his hands and words were promising. It had been so long since she’d had a fulfilling sexual encounter.
“Tell me…would you like that?” His voice teased her as he rubbed the heel of his hand against her mound.
“Yes!” she gasped. “God, yes!”
Someone pounded a fist on the changing room door. “Hey! This isn’t a Motel 6!”
“Oh my—Let go! They can hear us!” Rebecca shoved Devon away, mortification suffocating her. They had been about to get busy in the changing room at the mall like a couple of horny teenagers!
What is the matter with me?
She knew the answer to that question. Devon. He was walking catnip for women. His very touch was enough to drive her to do insane things…like jerk down her jeans and finger-fuck her with his hand. Oh yeah, that had almost happened, and she wasn’t proud of it.
“What’s wrong?” Devon asked, his eyes now clouded with concern. “Did I do something to upset you?”
She searched for her pencil on the floor but couldn’t find it. It had to have rolled into another dressing room. She’d have to leave her hair down. Damn it.
“Rebecca.” Devon caught her by the waist, forcing her to look at him when she still didn’t answer him.
“We should get your clothes and leave, okay? Just finish putting on your socks and shoes and meet me at the cashier.” She bolted from the room before she had a chance to think over how moronic she’d been, taking advantage of a delusional man who clearly had mental health issues.
She bumped into a woman as she was heading for the cashiers’ counter.
“Sorry!” she gasped, but when she looked at the woman she froze.
This was no woman.
Or, it was, but it wasn’t. Not really. There was something more about this person, a strange sort of beauty that didn’t seem to be describable in normal words. A presence that didn’t seem like it belonged in the same reality as hers. The world seemed to slow down, the customers, the TV screen over the cashiers showing off their products, everything, even her own breath became glacial.
“Rebecca,” the woman said gently, her eyes the color of a summer sky. “You don’t need to be afraid of Devon. He’s exactly who he says he is. Do you understand?”
“What?” Rebecca stuttered.
“He’s correct when he says it’s my fault. Of course he deserved it, but I hadn’t considered the added complications so much time passing would cause, how difficult it would be to make someone understand in this age of science. You see, I cursed him by turning him to stone, just like he said.”
“Y-you…” Rebecca looked at the cashier as a woman seemed almost frozen in time handing over a credit card. What’s happening to me?
“He was such a beautiful man—and a firecracker in the sack, as you say these days—but he had no regard for the satisfaction of his bed partner, and well, I couldn’t let that go. Not when he left me wanting. Of course, it was his arrogance in not even attempting to make up for his behavior that truly angered me. I have a reputation to maintain, after all. So I cursed him.”
She chuckled, the sound a mix between spring raindrops on glass and children humming songs. It was a glorious, intoxicating sound that made Rebecca forget she’d ever been upset or worried about anything in her life. It, more than anything else happening to her right now, convinced her of the reality of what the woman had just said.
“Devon is really two hundred years old?” she asked.
“He is.”
Wow. Just wow.
“Promise me you will give him a chance?” the woman asked.
“A chance? For what?”
But the woman had vanished, people were moving again, and she was left standing next to a rack of jeans, apparently talking to herself. She glanced around, noticing some women staring at her.
“I’m having a mental breakdown. That must be it.” She walked slowly to the cashier, her mind racing with everything the woman had just said. Devon wasn’t crazy. He was from the 1800s, and a goddess really had cursed him into stone.
What was she going to do with that truth bomb?
It was late afternoon by the time they returned to Rebecca’s home, but Devon couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened to Rebecca after she’d left the changing room. She was quiet and answered his questions with as few words as possible. It put him on edge, making him feel as though something was off.
He’d carried the bags of his new clothes inside and set them down by the couch. As he sorted through them, he saw Rebecca pacing around the living room. She was talking into that little black thing she called a cell phone, and she sounded angry.
“Fine. I’ll come in today, but I had asked for a day off. Yes…I understand. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Yes... Right… Of course… But once I get things sorted out, I’m going home, okay?” She tossed the phone down on the couch and faced Devon.
“I’ve got to go back to work for a little bit and handle some things. I’d take you, but I’d really rather not have to explain you to everyone we run into. Can you stay here in the house while I’m gone?”
He didn’t miss the note of pleading in her tone. “Of course. Evan and I shall stay right here, won’t we, boy?” The terrier huffed in approval and nudged Devon’s hand to encourage him to pet him.
“Thanks,” Rebecca said. “Oh, you can walk him if he gets too hyper. His leash is by the door. The green one. Don’t let him off the leash or he’ll chase a squirrel or something and never come back. Just don’t wander too far from the house, okay?”
She handed him a spare key, and in a matter of minutes, he and Evan were left all alone in the quiet little house.
“Would you like a walk?” he asked Evan. Th
e dog barked and ran to the door, bouncing in excitement. He clawed at the door knob, something which he must have done frequently if the faint scratches in the wood around the knob were any indication.
“A walk it is, then.” Devon removed the green leash from the peg on the wall and fixed it to Evan’s leather collar.
The dog bounded down the street, dragging Devon behind him. It took quite a bit of concentration not to lose track of how to get back to the house. The streets were unlike anything he was used to, making it hard to remember landmarks to find his way back. They were gone for half an hour, and by the time they returned, Devon’s arm ached from being pulled everywhere.
“Whoa, steady, boy,” he commanded as they reached Rebecca’s front lawn. He saw a flicker of movement from of the corner of his eye. He turned, but saw only a flash of white shifting back and forth in the windows of the house next door. Whatever strange slatted covering that blocked the window from the inside was moving, swaying back and forth. Devon tilted his head, and Evan dropped down on his haunches to stare at the house as well.
“What do you think, boy?” he asked the dog. Evan whined and gazed up at him with soulful eyes.
With a sigh, Devon turned back to Rebecca’s house, and they started up the paved walkway to her door.
“Excuse me!” An older woman’s reedy voice cut through the afternoon birdsong.
He halted and saw a woman wearing a purple suit and strange white shoes leave the house he’d been staring at a moment ago.
“Can I help you, madam?” The woman had a thin face that was lined with wrinkles. Her brown hair was streaked with gray, and it was cut short and kept wavy, like a boy’s.
“I’m Winifred Lesley, Rebecca’s neighbor. I live there.” The woman pointed to the house behind her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lesley.” Devon bowed low, hoping that he was acting appropriately. This future was so full of…open familiarity with strangers, and he wasn’t at all comfortable with it.
“I hate to be nosy… ah, who am I kidding? I live for it. But you see, I like Rebecca quite a bit, and I want to make sure that she’s safe and taken care of.” The woman stared at him, hands on her hips. “Now…are you her boyfriend? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Boy…friend?” That was a curious word. “I’m not a boy, as you can see, but I do believe I am her friend,” he replied, a little hesitant.
“You’re certainly not a boy, heavens no.” She gave a light chuckle, but then she seemed to recover her seriousness. “What I mean is, are you dating her? I don’t want any young men sniffing around if they don’t plan to stick around, you understand?”
Half of the woman’s words made little sense, but Devon believed he understood the meaning she was trying to convey.
“You’re trying to ascertain my intentions towards Rebecca?”
Winifred nodded.
“I assure you, my intentions are honorable. My only desire is to please her and take care of her.” And it was the truth. He’d be cursed back into the stone if he didn’t manage that. Therefore, his greatest desire was to give Rebecca everything she wanted and needed, hopefully in bed tonight, so he could prove to Aphrodite that he had learned his lesson.
“Good, good,” Winifred said. “You should cook that girl a good meal. She’s never had a decent man cook for her. I watch her, you see, through the windows. I’ve spent the last five years watching her slave away for all those men she’s dated. Not one of them cleaned the house or cooked for her. I’ve done my best to scare those men off. She needs a good man.”
Winifred was eyeing him critically again. He had the distinct feeling that she was measuring him against these past lovers, men who had clearly been fools.
What man wouldn’t want to take care of Rebecca? She was sweet and kind, selfless in her giving. She’d fed him and let him stay in her home, even though it meant risking her reputation. And from the sound of it, she’d let other men mistreat her too. He wasn’t one to volunteer himself for a servant’s duty of cooking a meal, but he sensed that in this modern age that was something he would have to learn. So be it.
“Is that a common occurrence, madam? For young ladies of a marriageable age to allow men to mistreat them?” He hoped his question wouldn’t sound too impertinent.
Winifred nodded. “Afraid so. Men these days don’t respect women the way they used to. They want second mothers or some such, not partners in life. It’s a shame. A good, smart girl like Rebecca should be with a good, attractive, and loving man. Instead, she gets pushed around by the men in her life, even that boss of hers at the museum. He’s always making her give up her vacation days.” Winifred shook her head. “Unpaid at that…”
An idea popped into Devon’s head, but he was going to require some help.
“Mrs. Lesley, could I prevail upon you to assist me? I should very much like to prepare an evening meal for Rebecca, but I’m not sure how to do so in her kitchen.”
The woman chuckled. “You’re not the first man scared of the stovetop. I guess I could help. You have anything in the house worth cooking?”
He glanced back at the house. “I am not certain. I came from a family where we had servants prepare our meals.”
Rebecca’s neighbor chuckled. “So that explains it. The accent had me wondering. British, right?”
He nodded.
“From one of those rich families who live in a big house?”
Again, he nodded, relieved she understood.
“I’ve watched my fair share of Downton Abbey,” the woman laughed. “And by that I mean I own them all on Blu-ray. Guess I’d better teach you to boil water and cook, hadn’t I?” She started to march past him toward Rebecca’s front door. She looked back and saw him standing there with Evan’s leash, still trying to work out half of what she’d just said, and waved a hand at him. “Come on! We don’t have all day! I assume you have the key?”
Evan gave a joyous bark and tugged on the leash. Devon caught up to Winifred to open the door, and soon the unlikely pair were inside the kitchen.
“Now, first lesson, don’t be afraid of the oven. It’s not that complicated.” Winifred gestured to the buttons. “You hit ‘bake’ to turn the oven on so it’s ready to cook. Then you have to select the temperature. 375 degrees is a good start for most dishes but you can always look up recipes on Google.”
“Google,” he tested the word. That would have to be explained later.
“Right, Google is your friend. I can’t tell you how many times I forgot the recipe for my favorite banana cake. All you have to do is look it up.”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed, even though he hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about.
“Let’s get some pans and cooking spray.”
Devon watched Winifred whirl around the kitchen, opening cupboards and exploring drawers until she found the items she was searching for.
“Here we go…” She pointed at the counter full of cooking implements.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, completely overwhelmed.
“Oh hush, you’ll be just fine. A little bit of cooking won’t be that bad. I’ll walk you through everything.” Winifred grinned at him.
“Rebecca will be so impressed. Trust me, you want to impress her like this. Every woman just wants someone to take care of her now and then. And by cooking you’ll prove you can.”
“That is exactly what I desire.” To care for Rebecca, even if he only had a week to do so, was something he wanted more than ever. He couldn’t forget the loneliness he’d seen in her eyes so often. And the way she’d clung to Evan when she’d greeted him last night, as though he were a talisman she held up against the rest of the world to protect her. She must have suffered horribly at the hands of selfish men if Aphrodite had sent him to her of all women in this modern age. And after seeing her kindness, hearing her laugh and getting drunk on the sight of her smile, for the first time in his life, Devon wanted to do something for someone other than himself
.
He was going to cook Rebecca a meal. It wasn’t sex, but perhaps the goddess would understand that he was trying to help Rebecca in whatever way he could. And it sounded like she needed something else in her life aside from mind-blowing bed play. She needed a man who cared about her.
And I will be that man, Devon vowed.
6
It was nearly eight in the evening by the time Rebecca pulled up in the driveway. The crazy hours at work had almost made her forget the even crazier situation at home: the two-hundred-year-old man freed from stone. A man who was so innately sexy that she was having trouble focusing because her thoughts kept straying back to that kiss they’d shared and how it had made her feel alive again in a way she’d forgotten. This was how it started. Love. These warm, fuzzy, and spark-of-heat kind of feelings that left a woman breathless and dizzy.
You can’t fall in love with him. You don’t even know what will happen when his week is over and the goddess passes her judgment. He might be sent back in time and you’ll never see him again.
There was a part of her that still didn’t believe it, even though she had spoken directly to a goddess. An actual goddess. She parked her car and walked up to the front door, only to find it unlocked.
“Devon?” she called out. What if he’d gone somewhere and had gotten lost or hurt or…?
“In the kitchen,” his deep voice answered. “Stay right where you are, if you please.”
Sighing, Rebecca dropped her purse and briefcase on the floor, then leaned back against the door. Her feet ached from wearing heels all day. Usually she kicked off her shoes at the office, but her boss, Mr. Milliken, had made her follow him around for four hours, pointing out changes he wanted her to make in the new exhibitions. He was also the one who insisted that female employees wear skirts and heels. If Rebecca had her way, she’d ignore the damn dress code and wear pantsuits with flats.