Jo erased the message. She dialed Erika back, knowing she'd get her voice mail, too, and left a quick message telling her that she was fine and that she'd be there.
Then she hung up, feeling better. If she kept busy, she wouldn't be tempted to go there again with Maksim.
Great. Another thing in her life that made her feel like she had to keep busy. To keep ahead of her thoughts, her worries, her truths.
A rap on the door snapped her out of those thoughts. Saved again.
"Come in," she called.
But she was only saved for a brief moment as the door opened, and the main topic she shouldn't be thinking about stuck his head in the door.
"Hey there," he said, the simple sound of his voice sending ripples of desire through her.
"Hi," she said, keeping her calm. This man was too much for her. She had to put things back onto a…
Well, she didn't know what kind of footing they'd had before last night. It had always been precarious at best. But she needed to take it to a safer level. And she supposed any level was safer than where they were last night.
"I was wondering if you'd like to join me for lunch." He smiled, tilting his head slightly with inquiry.
God, he was so cute—cute, of course being the most understated description she could have given him. He was cute, to be sure, but he was so much more than that. Sexy, charming, breathtakingly handsome.
She actually had to suppress a sigh.
See, she told herself, that was why she needed to let last night stay what it was—a great time with no strings. And if she was smart, leave it at a one-time event.
"I can't," she said, keeping her voice level, feeling like even lunch would be too tempting for her. "I have a meeting."
So what if the meeting with the quilt lady wasn't until three this afternoon?
He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read her reaction. She gave him a brief regretful smile.
He finally nodded. "Okay. Well, I guess I will head out for the day."
"Okay," she said readily, trying to stay as cool as she could.
He nodded, his smile disappearing behind a composed look of his own, but he did ask, "I'll see you later?"
She couldn't miss the longing in his tone. She also couldn't ignore the yearning that rose up in her instantly in response. She squashed the feeling down.
"I'm actually going over the Erika and Maggie's tonight."
His expression grew almost grim, his beautiful sculpted lips compressing into a line.
"Okay, then." He lifted a hand in salute, then left.
She watched the door being pulled closed behind him and fought the urge to call out to him. To stop him.
This was for the best, she told herself. What was the point of going forward with this relationship—even on a purely physical level? It would have to end sooner rather than later anyway.
As soon as the door clicked shut and she was alone again, she dropped her head to her desk. What the hell was she doing now? Hadn't she learned her lesson yet?
This was for the best.
It was.
CHAPTER 16
Is you a player?
Maksim sure as hell didn't feel like a player at this very moment. He felt—rejected.
He made a face. Rejected. Him. Unheard of.
He refused to think that. But one thing was for certain, he wasn't acting like a player. Flying without a net. That was the better description of what he was doing. And it was pissing him off. A lot.
He was used to not being able to read preternatural creatures' minds. He knew how to accept that, and most of the time paranormal beings were easy to understand. Jo, however, was a total mystery to him. And he was not pleased that he couldn't read her mind.
Not that he knew that for sure.
He'd debated jumping into Jo's head again just now. As soon as that damned unreadable mask had fallen back into place, he'd been irritated beyond belief. But still he didn't jump in.
And that pissed him off, too. What was stopping him? Was it the fear that he'd discover he couldn't read her mind again? Or was it the fact that he didn't want to hurt her?
Which idea bothered him more?
He was ruthless in getting what he wanted. And he wanted to keep having sex with Josephine Burke. After last night, he definitely wanted to have sex again. Yet, here he was walking away.
He should have just jumped in her head and mucked around. He wanted to know what she was thinking. About him. About her sister. About everything.
But he'd held back. He'd walked away.
Maksim Kostova, a demon known as Malebolgia, ruler of the eighth circle of Hell, didn't walk away from anything he wanted. He was known as a seducer, a flatterer, a deceiver. He always got what he wanted by using these abilities. These sins, as some saw them.
But instead of walking back to the center and taking what he wanted, he found himself wandering into a bar on Bourbon Street. He sat at a table in the corner and ordered a double whiskey on the rocks—how dreadfully human of him. Drowning his rejection in drink.
He was pathetic.
"Maksim is what?" Erika stopped slicing cheese and gaped at Jo.
Jo didn't look at Maggie, but she heard her wineglass hit the kitchen table with a loud clink.
Jo drew in the condensation from her glass of ice water, making wet swirls on Erika's sunshine yellow kitchen table. "He's been volunteering at the center." She tried to sound blasé.
"Jo," Erika said, her voice full of warning. "Do you think that's wise?"
Jo stopped water-doodling and glanced back and forth between her friends. Both women stared at her, and for some reason their shocked expressions irritated her. Even though she knew this was the reaction she would get.
"I had my doubts, too. But he's doing surprisingly well."
"I don't know," Maggie said, shaking her head.
"He's not a good person, Jo," Erika added, leaving the counter to sit at the table with Maggie and Jo.
Jo was surprised at the bluntness of her friend's statement. It wasn't like Erika, but instead of increasing her concern, it made her oddly protective—in Maksim's defense.
"You two are acting like the man is Satan himself."
Maggie coughed, choking on the sip of wine she'd just taken. But Jo's attention was distracted by a brushing around her ankles. Erika's cat mewed at her as she looked down.
"That was wrong of me to say," Erika said, once Maggie's coughing fit calmed. "We don't mean to pry or make you feel uncomfortable." She reached down and picked up her cat, who yowled in protest.
"Silly Boris," she murmured to the cranky black cat, stroking his fur.
The cat looked sullenly at Jo.
I hear ya, cat.
Her friends' reaction wasn't a surprise, but it still rubbed her the wrong way. She wanted to share with her friends. Her best friends. But she got the feeling they would be somehow disappointed in her. She was disappointed in herself.
She began drawing with the water again, getting lost in her thoughts about, well, everything.
Maggie reached out and placed her hand over Jo's, stopping her drawing.
"What is he helping with?" Maggie asked quietly as if she knew Jo was conflicted, the she needed her friends to understand.
Jo sighed. "He's helping with the daycare."
"The daycare?" Erika and Maggie said in unison.
So much for the understanding.
Jo laughed, although it was sounded flat even to her ears. "Yes. He's been up to his designer-clad neck in paste and finger paints and sticky fingerprints."
Neither of her friends said anything for a moment, so Jo added, "And surprisingly, he's good at it. The kids love him."
"Really?" Maggie said. Her brows drew in over her eyes as if Jo's assertion was the most puzzling thing she'd ever heard.