She nodded. "I am a little tired, but I'm fine."
He studied her a moment longer, then left the room.
Jo heard several of the preschoolers shout, «Maksim» in adorable, childish lisps as he entered the main room.
Jo tried to ignore the way their greeting tugged at her heart, telling herself it was lack of sleep making her sentimental. Making her long for things she shouldn't.
She leaned down and wiggled the lever under the seat of her chair, gradually getting the blasted thing back to a normal height. She eased herself down on the seat—then just sat there.
What was she doing?
What was he doing?
Maksim leaned against the wall, pretending to watch the children at play, but his thoughts couldn't seem to leave Jo. She looked awful—pale and drawn. And even more disconcerting was the fact that he cared. And not because he was seeing this as another step in getting her into bed. He was genuinely concerned for her well-being.
It was freaking him out.
He'd gone home last night and decided this had to come to an end. He'd sat with a mortal woman, a mortal woman he wanted more than he'd ever wanted another being in his life, and he'd just shared ice cream with her. Then he just went home—because she'd fallen asleep. Something was really, really wrong with the whole scenario. And he wasn't pleased with any of it.
Were these strange emotions, strange behaviors, a side effect of jumping into her unreadable mind? He was somehow bound to her or something? He didn't know. All he knew for certain was that he wanted to be back to his usual self. Feeling—stuff—yeah, he didn't like it.
He liked his callousness, his shallowness, his greediness. He liked being in control, and right now, Jo was in control of him. And he had to figure out a way to stop this. All of this.
He'd gone to her this morning to show to himself that he could stop this. He could push her away. He could walk away. Then he'd seen her, and he couldn't.
Oh, he'd been rude to her, but he couldn't keep going. She looked too exhausted, too stressed. And frankly none too happy to see him.
She didn't like to lose control any more than he did. And something was really upsetting her. He didn't think it was all him.
He'd considered jumping in her head again while he'd been holding her in her office, but then couldn't bring himself to do it. He was pretty sure jumping into her mind had done some sort of damage to her. She didn't look well—at all. And frankly, he thought the jump had done something to him, too.
"Look at this."
Maksim blinked, glancing around. He'd completely forgotten where he was. He looked down to see Damon, the evil puker, standing in front of him with something dangling from his hand.
Maksim narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what swung there like a pendulum. All he could see was a chunky, cheaply made chain, huge against the boy's small fingers.
Even though he knew it would be easy enough to just say, "that's great, kid," he found himself reaching out and catching the item. The chain was heavy in his hand, but he could see the thick links were plated with silver—maybe silver. Hanging at the end was an E encrusted with paste diamonds. Several of the crystals were missing.
"My daddy gave this to me."
"Really?" Maksim turned the piece of heavy, hideous jewelry over in his hand. "It's definitely something."
Damon nodded proudly. "Yep, he sent it to me."
Maksim nodded, dropping the aesthetically offensive item, allowing it to again swing.
"Wow, that's nice gift. What does the E stand for? Your last name?"
Damon laughed, the sound so full of pure joy. His dark eyes twinkled. "No, silly, it's for excellent!"
"Oh." Maksim nodded as if he should have guessed that.
Damon ran off, thrilled with the cheap, damaged present. Maksim frowned, unable to imagine why such a thing would make him happy.
"Can you believe his father sent that to him for his birthday?" Cherise said, appearing at his side, clearly misunderstanding Maksim's confounded look. "A five year old—and that's what he gets from the father who has only deigned to see him once since he was born. And it's not even a D for Damon. Or T for his last name."
Maksim frowned deeper. What was that kid's last name, anyway?
Cherise clucked her tongue, and for a moment, Maksim thought it was because he didn't remember, then she continued.
"Well, at least he sent him something, I guess," she said, but Maksim got the feeling that she wasn't really buying her own justification.
She bustled off to break up a shoving match between two girls over a toy shopping cart with only one wheel.
Maksim returned his attention to the group of kids Damon had rejoined, finding him still grinning from ear to ear, clutching his gift.
How strange. Humans were so strange about what they found sentimental and important.
He watched Damon a moment longer, then let the thought go. But not before he felt an odd tugging. A feeling he didn't understand.
He groaned. Oh no. No, no. Wasn't it bad enough he was feeling stuff over Jo? He couldn't start feeling sympathetic to all humans.
Even their evil little offspring.
No way.
CHAPTER 12
Jo had to admit this felt like her longest day of her life. She'd managed to complete her grant proposal and found a grant that would provide computers to nonprofits.
She should have felt good about that, especially since racing thoughts and exhaustion had made the already tedious task of technical writing all the more challenging.
But she'd managed to keep thoughts of Maksim at bay. She'd even managed to convince herself that his odd behavior this morning was good. A reminder that she had no business being interested in him. Her reasoning had mostly worked. Sort of.
Either way, she'd gotten some work done and now all she could think about was getting some dinner and heading to bed; with any luck, she'd get a good night's sleep.
The center was quiet as she hit save on the computer, then searched her desk drawer for a disk. She shook her head as she fumbled with the small square storage device. No one used floppy disks anymore.
She was so pleased she found that grant for computers. Then they could offer some basic computer courses in the evening. And the preschoolers could even get familiar with using a mouse and how to use the icons. This was an computerized world, and it would do the kids good to have a little experience with them. Maybe she could even have some tutoring for high school kids, too. Computers would help all the way around.
Jo was still considering how she could offer tutoring at the center when her contemplation was interrupted by a sound in the hallway.
She paused, her finger on the eject button of the computer. She listened. No one should be here. On Thursday nights she had no adult or seniors' events scheduled, due to lack of help.
Again she heard the noise. The shuffle of feet, or more a pattering like small bare feet on the worn linoleum. Goose-bumps dotted her arms and a chill skittered down her spine. Fear rose in her throat, strangling her.
You're hearing things, she told herself. No one was here. Cherise had locked the doors when she left. She was just imagining it.
Then she heard the same sound, this time closer to her door. As if someone was creeping closer.
"Hello?" she called, shifting her chair so she could see around her computer and out the door. The glimpse of hallway from the half-closed door was dingy gray, the sunlight waning but not quite gone. Her call was met by silence.
She shivered, icy cold seeming to fill her room. Her small office, which was usually stuffy, suddenly felt like a meat locker. She released a slow, scared breath, and moisture misted the freezing air.