“So you wanted him to ask you out?” Doubt colored the words.
She stared at his top button, which was undone as was his tie, exposing the kissable hollow at the base of his neck. Dang. Now she was wondering what licking that spot might taste like. No, she wasn’t, because she didn’t let herself think things like that about her boss. Her demigod boss.
Why were they having this conversation again? “I can handle Mike.”
He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “So he needs handling?”
Her skin tingled at his touch. Time to put a stop to this or next she’d be throwing herself into his arms. She rolled her eyes. “You can put away your cape, Superman. I don’t need saving today.”
His jaw tensed. She recognized that stubborn look. Castor wasn’t going to give this up. The man had a demigod complex a mile wide—a need to save anything in a skirt.
What she needed was a diversion. “Would you prefer to send her the wine? Or maybe flowers this time?”
He pulled back. “Excuse me?”
Granted, distracting him with an unsolicited parting gift for his ex-girlfriend might not have been the smartest of moves. At least all that intensity had shifted away from the topic of Mike.
“The gift for Ms. Penderson. Which would you prefer, wine or flowers?”
“And what makes you think I need to send a gift?”
She wasn’t about to answer that question. “Do you not?”
With a glower, he finally moved out of the way. Oxygen returned to her lungs as he led her inside his office. The view of the Austin skyline from his office never got old. He sat in a fancy chrome chair behind a modern glass desk, a larger version of hers.
She took her usual chair across the way and flipped open her laptop, preparing to take notes. Only none were forthcoming. She glanced up to find him watching her, his fingers steepled under his chin and a speculative light in his eyes.
“Wine.”
She nodded, and noted the task.
“I’d like to know how you knew that.”
“I’m excellent at my job.”
“Maybe too good,” he muttered.
She didn’t react, merely sat and waited.
“Actually, scratch that. I’ll take care of it.”
That’s a first. Maybe her pointing out his dating habits had shamed him into getting his own breakup gifts. Though she doubted it.
Time to bring this conversation back to the reason he’d summoned her in the first place. “What did you need?”
The answer was a long time coming, as though he were reluctant to leave the topics they’d been discussing. “I need you to accompany me on a trip.”
“Okay.” She frequently traveled with him for business. She placed her fingers on the keyboard, ready to take notes. “Where will we be going?”
“Colorado…Rocky Mountain National Park. Specifically, we’ll be staying outside at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park.”
She’d made a note to check the map for the closest city to fly into, probably Denver. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
She blinked. “This weekend?”
“Is that a problem?”
“I do have a life outside of this job,” she intoned in a dry voice.
He cocked his head. “What? Hot date?”
“Something like that,” she murmured. She hadn’t been looking forward to the date anyway, if she were honest.
“You’ll have to reschedule.” He waved his hand as he would at a pesky fly.
What would he do if she said duh? Laugh probably. That was his usual reaction to her snarkier comments. She resisted the urge, not wanting a repeat of the tension from moments ago.
Leia gave him a small nod. “Of course.”
He narrowed his eyes, and she looked away. “What’s the purpose of the trip?”
“We’re negotiating a new contract, and the full board of the company we’re dealing with will be present and together that weekend.”
She nodded.
Castor leaned back in his chair. “We’ll be attending a wedding, so I assume they have a block of rooms reserved. You’ll want to check that.”
She lifted her head. “Wedding?” That was a new one. They’d traveled to social situations before, mixing business with pleasure. But never a wedding.
Castor grimaced. “Pamela was supposed to go with me.”
Leia’s fingers paused on the keyboard. “Was she planning to take notes or work for you?”
He tipped his head. “No.”
“I see.”
A twinkle entered his eyes. “Problem?”
Secretly, she got a kick out of his devilish sense of humor, though not as much when directed her way. Or when she was annoyed with him in return.
She straightened her posture. “What is my role on this trip?”
“My Executive Assistant. What else?”
Now a smile tugged at his lips. She forced herself to look him directly in the eye. “Not as a date?”
“You’ll go with me to the wedding, which could be construed as my date.”
“But I’m only there as your assistant.”
He crossed his arms, his muscles straining the fine material of his navy suit. “Yes.”
“And that’s how you’ll introduce me?” While she was suspicious of the situation he was outlining, a frustrating ray of hope that he might actually want her there as his date niggled at the back of her mind.
“Of course. Why?”
She didn’t like that twinkle, which, if anything, grew brighter. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m wounded that you don’t trust me, Ms. Naiad.”
Wisely, she kept her mouth shut. Like every other god and demigod she’d met, Castor would do whatever it took to get his way.
The twinkle changed to a scowl as he stood and came around the desk. “The wedding will be under the Banes/Canis names.”
So he was not going to perjure himself by lying to her. She ducked her head to hide her twitching lips. Even when she was irritated with him, she found him charming. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Not charming. Annoying. Not that those mental instructions made any damn difference.
The names he’d shared sunk in and her head snapped up. “No.” The word punched out of her.
“What?”
“I’m not going.”
Did the sky outside darken? As a son of Zeus, Castor’s emotions were sometimes reflected in the weather, but a quick check revealed blue skies outside and his next words were softly put. “Why not?”
“I don’t go to werewolf mating ceremonies.” Not after the last one. And especially not with Castor Dioskouri.
Chapter Two
He leaned back against his desk, ankles crossed, and at total ease. “Again, why not?”
She bit her lip, but stopped when his gaze followed the movement. She straightened in her chair, crossing her feet primly at the ankles, knees together. “Have you ever been to a werewolf mating ceremony?”
“No.”
Huh. She would have expected that, in his long lifetime, he would’ve been to at least one. “Have you heard of them?”
“I’ve been around a while, Lyleia. Of course I’ve heard.”
“So you know the pair being wed releases a pheromone which makes everyone there very…” She searched for a word appropriate to use with her boss.
“Very?”
She narrowed her eyes at the laughter in his. “Horny.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I’m shocked, Ms. Naiad. I wouldn’t have expected you to know that word.”
“I am a nymph,” she pointed out dryly. Nymphomaniac was a term named after them for a reason, though, contrary to popular belief, most nymphs were not sex-crazed women. They were just particularly gifted by the gods to give and receive pleasure.
Castor held up his hands. “My apologies. I forget that fact sometimes.”
She glanced away, out the window. So do I.
“As a nymph, I’
d think a werewolf mating shouldn’t bother you.”
Very carefully, she closed the lid of her computer, stood up, and tucked it into the crook of her arm. “I’m not going.”
She made it to the door, only to be stopped when he placed his hand over hers on the knob. No whisper of sound reached her ears to warn her of his move, blast his demigod speed.
“You’d risk your job over this?”
She shivered as the dark chocolate tones of his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. His warm breath brushed over her cheek, his lips only a fraction of space away. What was it about this doorway today?
If she hadn’t been so keyed up, she would’ve laughed at his incredulity. She wondered if Castor had ever been denied anything he wanted. Instead, Leia ground her teeth.
In normal circumstances she wouldn’t risk her job. Werewolf matings were heady and hedonistic, but she could handle it. Most of the time. However, attending one with a demigod who exuded power and sexuality, combined with the fact that she happened to have a small thing for him, was a recipe for disaster.
When Delilah, the owner of Legendary Consultants—a hiring firm for supernaturals like her—had approached her about this job, Leia had assumed she’d be able to handle it with no problem. Apparently Castor had gone through several Executive Assistants, each of whom couldn’t resist falling for him. Even the men.
But Leia’s long-time friend, Delilah, had known Leia’s unique qualifications to resist such a temptation. As a nymph, Leia had her own brand of resistance—her sexuality trumped his when she wished. She’d successfully fended off countless gods and demigods. In the gods’ heyday—now referred to as Classical Antiquity, which tickled her sense of humor since it made her an antique—the gods had relentlessly pursued her and her sisters and cousins. Gods were randy beings. She could ignore the vibes Castor put out with ease, could even overwhelm him with her own if she wanted. In addition, Delilah knew Leia’s history with gods. She’d picked Leia up, dusted her off, and given her a life.
Leia owed her.
Consequently, Leia had been determined to resist Castor when she’d first come to work for him and had steeled herself against his raw sexuality. What she hadn’t counted on was falling for the man he was. Over the course of the last year, she’d witnessed his drive, his caring for his employees, his intelligence. What’s more, for a demigod, he didn’t parade the gifts he’d been given—incredible strength and speed among them. Most demigods couldn’t wait to show off. Castor had enough self-confidence that he didn’t bother. Didn’t need to. He also challenged her in ways that had her looking forward to work every day. And she hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long time.
Given her feelings for him, a werewolf mating ceremony was the last place they should be together. If she didn’t lose her job today, she certainly would when she succumbed to those pheromones and made a total fool of herself over Castor.
She turned her head to face him, taking in his intense blue eyes trained on her in a way that made her want to squirm. His hand still covered hers, the heat of his skin like a brand.
She tipped her chin. “Yes. I would risk my job over this.”
His strangely focused expression unsettled her. A heat lit his gaze in a way she’d never seen before, only it couldn’t be real. She gave herself a mental slap. Snap out of it woman. Wishful thinking gets you nowhere.
He squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to lose you.”
She ignored the warmth his statement caused in her chest. He’s talking about your work, dummy.
“But I need you for this.”
If she leaned the tiniest bit forward, she could kiss him. Leia swallowed down the crazy urge. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’m attending for business and to support a good friend on an important day in his life. However, as you’ve pointed out, things can get a little…interesting…at a werewolf mating. I don’t need the complication of sex muddling the purpose of the visit, and you have a unique resistance to me.”
She blinked. “You knew about that?”
He grinned, his dimples coming out to play. “Who do you think put Delilah on the task of finding me an assistant who could resist my…charms?”
“Oh.” That explained a lot.
“And she did an amazing job. You’ve been refreshingly…err…impervious, as well as an excellent EA.”
“Thank you. I think.”
He nodded. “I can’t go to this alone and risk doing something I’d regret. I’m asking you to accompany and protect me from all those raging pheromones. Please.”
Damn. Damn. Double damn. He’d asked nicely and given her a reason that meant helping him out in a big way. Her Achilles’ heel. Ironically, she’d known the real Achilles and had mourned his death. The demigod had been a cousin of sorts, his mother Thetis being a sea nymph.
She took a long breath. Was there any scenario here that didn’t end in her making a total ass of herself? Probably not. “Okay.”
To give him credit, he didn’t celebrate his victory. “Okay?”
“Yes. I’ll go make our arrangements now.”
Only he didn’t move away or take his hand from hers. They gazed at each other, neither willing to break the strangely intimate connection. The spicy scent of him filled her yet again. She’d given him that aftershave for his birthday. Now she was both regretting and savoring the gift.
Finally, Leia cleared her throat. “May I?” She indicated the door with a jerk of her head.
Slowly and with a small smile gracing his lips, Castor released her from the spell as he stepped back.
With more haste than elegance, she yanked the door open and walked to her desk.
“You’re an angel,” he called after her.
“Or a sucker,” she muttered.
“I heard that.”
She rolled her eyes and refused to take it back.
Chapter Three
Castor shifted, trying to get comfortable in his seat on the private plane Leia had arranged. One he’d designed, of course. This jet sat ten, had a crew of two, and had a modern interior—all black leather, chrome, and that new jet smell.
The constant clack of Leia’s fingers on her keyboard sounded ahead of him to the right. She never sat with him on flights unless they had work to finish. The first time they’d traveled together, he’d asked.
“Do we have work to get done?” she had asked.
“No.”
“Then no thanks.” She had given him a half-smile that he guessed was meant to soften the blunt words, but didn’t really help. Then she had turned and plopped into a seat toward the front.
He took his own seat with a lingering sensation of bewilderment and amusement. Women usually threw themselves at him, though, granted, he’d asked Delilah for an EA who wouldn’t. He just hadn’t expected Lyleia to be so…stand-offish about it.
At the time he’d decided he could deal with attitude and someone clearly uninterested in impressing him. Work was the priority, and so long as she performed at the level he expected, that’s all he needed. But lately…
He read the same paragraph for the fifth time in a row and gave up, closing his own laptop. The plane dropped slightly, and he glanced outside to see mountains not far below. They’d be landing before long.
Leia’s typing hadn’t slowed. Did the woman ever ease up? She’d shown up at five in the morning for their early flight dressed in her usual neutral—black today—business attire of skirt and blouse with matching jacket. Not a hair out of place, makeup at a minimum. None of it could hide her intrinsic beauty. Not that he could talk, as he was equally formal in a grey, custom-made silk suit, hand-stitched and fitted to perfection. Appearance made a difference to his success.
A quick glance showed him her arm and the edge of Leia’s face, the rest of her blocked by the black leather back of her seat. He studied her quietly—the curve of her cheek, her long dark lashes, her honey blond hair tucked behind her ear. A wicked urge to nibble at the lob
e tugged at him.
He wondered, not for the first time, if taking her along on this trip was going to end up biting him in the butt. He’d been fighting a growing sense of attraction to Leia for several months. However, his EA had Not Interested—or, more accurately, he suspected, The Gods Suck—tattooed across her forehead. Consequently, he’d kept his distance, trying to fill the gap by dating other women. But none talked back to him like Leia. Or got his blood pumping like Leia. Each woman he dated had never made it past the kissing stage before he ended it. After a year, his body was not pleased. He took a sip of his coffee—black, strong, bitter...and cold. He made a face. His brain was definitely not engaged today.
Suddenly, she swung around. She blinked to find him already watching her. Castor raised his eyebrows in question.
“We’re coming to the end of the three-month period of support for the Aaron family.”
He cleared his throat. “How is Tyler progressing?” Jordan Aaron was one of his employees, and his son had cancer.
Leia’s eyes lit up. “He’s in full remission.”
“Excellent. Do they need another three months, or should we consider a different need?”
Castor had been covering all the hospital bills for the past six months. Leia had stumbled across his one-man charity for the employees of Dioskouri Enterprises a few months after starting work for him and had asked to help organize it. They selected a different family every three months based on needs. But Leia, and the families involved, were sworn to secrecy.
“I think, with the help you’ve provided, they are through the worst. Fiona Olline’s mother is about to need hospice. I feel there’s a greater need there.”
Castor waved a hand. “I trust your opinion.”
She nodded and turned back to her computer, only to whip back around. “I think you’re a secret softy.”
He raised a single eyebrow and said nothing. She shook her head at him before returning to her work.
Only recently had he started to think Leia might like him a tiny bit, rather than despise him, which was how she’d started out. Lately, he’d had a difficult time concentrating on much else when she was around, which was all the time. That kind of reaction hadn’t happened to him in two thousand years.
My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 82