A Demonic Bundle (32 page)

She was not attracted to that guy. She wasn’t. He wasn’t her type and while he might be handsome and sexy and even smelled like sex—really good sex—she wasn’t going there. There was just no way in hell. Her life was already too complicated without another self-important, insincere and too-good-looking-for-his-own-good male in it.

And what was she doing thinking about men, period? Hadn’t she sworn off them? Hadn’t she just left D.C. because of a relationship that went horribly wrong?

She let her head fall back against the marker-and pen-scrawled wall. A wave of nausea hit her and she swallowed several times. Anger and disgust also threaten to gag her.

How could she even be attracted to anyone? Not when her life was in complete upheaval, and she was running away from her past. And her lover, who had somehow managed not to mention—and she’d managed not to notice—that he was married.

M
aksim glanced to where Jo had disappeared into the restroom, for the first time feeling just a tad hopeful that she did in fact feel something for him. He couldn’t quite decipher what, but she had reacted, and he was taking that as a good sign.

Damn, when had he ever been the type to settle for any old reaction from a woman? He was used to adoration. Attraction. Full-blown carnal lust. Not a reaction that could range anywhere between tepid interest to overwhelming disgust.

Disgust? Over him? That seemed unlikely. But he wasn’t sure. How irritating.

Instead of analyzing her reaction any further, he turned his attention to her friends, taking this moment to discover a bit more about the mortal who’d somehow become an odd fixation to him. A fixation that was increasing by the minute.

Did he mention he wanted to lick every inch of that woman?

“So did I just hear that your friend is working down here?” He kept the comment casual as he used a rag to wipe down the table. “Didn’t she live somewhere else? Somewhere on the East Coast?”

“Yes, she just moved down here from D.C. about a month ago,” Maggie said.

He noted that Erika frowned at her friend. Oh yeah, Erika wasn’t going to give him any information. Which meant, go little Pollyanna vampire, go.

He smiled widely at Maggie, pouring on the charm. “So she’s living here? Working here?”

Maggie nodded, completely oblivious to Erika’s disapproving look. “Yes, she’s the new director at the community center on Esplanade.”

“That’s great,” he said with a smile designed to reveal nothing.

“I don’t suppose you’d know anyone who’d be willing to volunteer there?” Maggie said, only to be cut off by a sharp shush from Erika.

Maggie frowned at her friend, confusion clear in her eyes.

“Volunteers,” Maksim said slowly, his smile widening. Oh, he’d be willing to volunteer for a thing or two with sexy Miss Jo as his director.

Instead he shrugged. “Not right off the top of my head, but I’ll think about it.”

Maggie smiled. Erika frowned—even more if that was possible.

“So more drinks?”

Both women declined, which gave him no real purpose to hang around. Even though he would have liked to ask more about Jo, he didn’t want to be too obvious. He excused himself and headed back to his prison behind the bar. Although tonight, it didn’t seem quite so bad. Amazing what a new project could do for his outlook.

“What were you thinking?” Erika asked as soon as Maksim stepped back behind the bar.

Maggie blinked at her friend, confused by her question, but more so by the terseness of her tone.

“What?”

“Do you really think he’s the kind of guy we should be asking about volunteers? Who would he know aside from other demons? Are you trying to get some minions from Hell to help Jo with her daycare?”

Maggie grimaced, seeing her point. “I didn’t really think about that. With all the paranormal folks in this city, I sometimes forget the people around us aren’t—well, really people.”

Erika nodded. “I sometimes forget that about ourselves,” then added, “But we shouldn’t be giving him any info about her. He’s very interested in Jo; it’s in the air like cheap, really stinky cologne.” Erika glanced at him. “It’s like he’s scenting, staking claim on her.”

“Maybe he is.” Maggie followed Erika’s gaze, watching Maksim take a drink order from a buxom brunette in a dress that barely covered her equally rounded derriere. Then she added, “That
was
a stupid move. Sorry.”

They were silent for a moment.

Then Erika said, “Do you think she even knows?”

“About us?” Maggie asked, not needing any clarification on who “she” was.

“No, about herself?”

“Oh. I’m not sure,” Maggie said, then considered Jo and her situation. A very surprising situation to say the least. “But I don’t think we can bring it up. We need to wait for her to do that.”

Erika nodded.

Maggie sighed. “I really shouldn’t have said anything to Maksim. I just figured given he had more access to daywalkers than we do, he might know someone. I know he’s a dem—” Maggie’s mouth snapped shut as she noticed Jo standing behind Erika. Erika must have seen the direction of Maggie’s gaze, because she turned to glance over her shoulder.

“Hi,” Jo said, not hiding her curiosity over the subject. “Who are we talking about?”

Jo waited for her friends to explain, finding the small bit she’d overheard quite—peculiar—to say the least.

“We’re talking about Maksim,” Erika stated. “Maggie told him that you were looking for volunteers at the center, and I just didn’t think that was a good idea. I don’t trust him, Jo.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Maggie said, although she didn’t sound defensive, just contrite. As if she agreed that perhaps he wasn’t terribly trustworthy.

Jo sat back down and gave her friends a comforting smile. “I don’t think you have to worry about sharing that info with him. He doesn’t strike me as the Good Samaritan type anyway.”

He didn’t strike her as the good anything. She fought the urge to look in his direction. Except maybe good in bed, and she knew where that type of guy got a gal.

“That’s true,” Erika agreed, and Maggie nodded.

They all fell quiet as the Impalers started another song, “I Want You To Want Me.”

“So is that what you call us boring people with normal day jobs?” Jo asked suddenly over the chorus.

“Huh?” Maggie asked, and Erika raised an eyebrow in question.

“Daywalkers? Is that musician lingo for us boring people with nine-to-five jobs and regular sleep hours?” Jo said.

“Oh.” Maggie laughed. “Yeah. That’s just a private joke among the band members.”

Jo nodded, then said after a few moments, “And you started to say that Maksim was a deem…A deem what?”

“Oh,” Maggie said, looking decidedly awkward. She glanced over to Erika.

Again with the shared looks, although this time, it almost looked as if they were silently discussing their answer.

“He’s a de—de—” Maggie gave Erika another pained look.

“A demon,” Erika announced. “You know, with the women.” She winced when she was done.

Jo glanced back to the bar, where Maksim stood, hands braced on the countertop, watching her. She wondered why her friends seemed so reluctant to say that.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I have no doubt.”

“Girl, this is cracked. Totally cracked.”

Jo finished entering in the last numbers into the community center’s expense database. Then she blinked trying to focus on her daycare director, but impressions of small rows of numbers scrolling down her computer screen still blurred her vision. Even after several more blinks, she still couldn’t see what her daycare director was talking about.

“What’s broken now, Cherise?”

The woman placed a hand on her ample hip and rolled her dark eyes at Jo. “Nothing’s broken! Except this whole teacher situation. Which is cracked!”

Jo sighed, realizing now what had Cherise all worked up. Cherise was the only full-time employee she had, and she was a darned good one, with the energy and patience of three women, but she wasn’t three women, and she needed help.

“I got twenty-eight kids out there, and I can’t do it alone.”

Jo nodded, knowing full well that was the truth. She was amazed Cherise could do as well as she had been.

“I’ll be right out to help,” Jo said, sliding her glasses up and turning back to her computer to save her latest entries. Entries that revealed they were further away from getting another full-time daycare teacher than she’d hoped.

She clicked Save, and the ancient computer hummed and rattled and did this pausing thing that 50 percent of the time resulted in a total freeze-up.

“Mmm, girl, you can’t take on director of this place
and
my assistant. That’s two full-time jobs, and this place isn’t ever gonna get ahead without you trying to get us some funding and finding volunteers and setting up better programs.” Cherise raised an eyebrow after she was finished, as if daring Jo to deny those facts.

“I know,” Jo agreed with a sigh. “But for now, we have to do what we have to do.” She rose, a wave of lightheadedness making her catch herself on the edge of the desk.

“You all right?” Cherise took a step toward her, but Jo raised a hand to stop her.

“I’m fine. Just not getting enough sleep.”

Cherise crossed her arms across her plentiful bosom and made a tsking sound. “Not eatin’ enough, either, if you ask me.”

Jo laughed. “I eat.”

Cherise raised that dark eyebrow that spoke as loudly as the woman herself.

“But I’ll eat more,” Jo said dutifully.

She followed Cherise to the large room they used as the daycare “classroom.” The walls were decorated with flowers and butterflies and bees that Cherise had made herself, probably three or four years ago. The edges were curled, the colors faded, but they were better than nothing. And Jo chose to see the curling as more of a 3-D effect than the signs of age.

She grimaced. Well, she
tried
to see it that way.

At several worn wooden tables, kids between the ages of two and five sat eating their snacks. Well, “sat” made the state of affairs sound orderly and peaceful, when in fact most of the kids squirmed and pushed and chattered away. Very little snack eating seemed to be involved.

Lettie, a woman who had to be eighty-five if she was a day and who was nearly totally deaf stood sentry over the wild scene. Occasionally she’d point to one of the children with a long, bony finger and gesture for them to sit down. The child would obey, for about a half a second, then he or she would be again wiggling off the bench, giggling and ignoring the old lady. Which, half the time, Lettie didn’t notice anyway, because she was darned near blind, too.

But she showed up almost every day, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Which Jo repeated yet again to Cherise, when her full-time teacher muttered, “Damned, Lettie. The old bat is practically a mummy.”

“Can’t even leave to use the bathroom without all hell breakin’ loose,” Cherise said, then headed toward the two tables, clapping her hands loudly as she approached the kids. “Everyone find your places!”

As their drill sergeant had returned, the children found their seats and snacks, although there was still plenty of fidgeting and giggling.

Jo moved forward to pitch in. She wrestled with a couple juice boxes and drink straws. She opened a yogurt. She wiped a runny nose or two. As she moved around helping where she could, frustration replaced any sense of satisfaction in giving her assistance.

All Cherise managed to do with these kids was glorified babysitting. She just didn’t have the time or the help to do projects with them. They colored and played in the courtyard. They had some puzzles and some games, but these kids needed and deserved a daycare that would get them ready for school.

Jo set the yogurt she’d just opened down in front of Damon, a particularly cheeky little four-year-old.

“I can’t eat that,” he informed her adamantly.

“Yes, you can,” Jo said. She knew that Damon’s mother was alone and every cent she had was precious to her. No food could go wasted, just because Damon was feeling contrary. She pushed the yogurt toward him and waited while he reluctantly picked up his spoon and dipped the very tip into the pink custard, then put it in his mouth with a horrendous twist of his face.

“Jo?”

Jo straightened, her heart grinding to a complete stop as she recognized the voice, even as she told herself she couldn’t. Slowly she turned.

Maksim stood in the midst of the curled, faded flowers and bees, sporting designer slacks and a perfectly tailored shirt that showed off his flawless physique to a tee.

A slow smile unfurled over his equally perfect lips as he saw her shock.

“Hi.”

Jo blinked. Was that all he could say? What the hell was he doing here? Her first impulse was to shove him out of the shabby classroom that just managed to further showcase his utter perfection.

Instead she pushed at the edge of her glasses and scowled at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Maksim’s smiled deepened as if she’d greeted him with warmth rather than shocked disdain.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Jo’s scowl creased into a frown. Was he serious?

“Well,” she said slowly since it was clear he’d lost his mind, and might have trouble comprehending. “I’m at work, so I really don’t have time to chat at the moment.” She jerked her head toward the children. For the first time since they’d arrived this morning, all their little attentions were focused on Jo and her unexpected visitor.

Leave it to children to pay attention when you don’t want them to, Jo thought, praying they’d lose interest quickly. Of course, they wouldn’t.

“Actually,” Maksim said clearly undaunted by the miniature audience, “I really didn’t just stop by for a visit.” He smiled again, and held out his hand. For the first time, Jo noticed he held several papers.