A.K.A. Goddess (20 page)

The confusion faltered into chagrin. “I have no proof of any of that, nothing to act on. Just suspicions.”

“Suspicions enough to warn me that I’m in danger.”

“You’re the one who’s always talking about the importance of following your instincts.”

He was so avoiding the question. Several of the questions. I just wasn’t sure which ones or why. His naked, lightly haired legs and the dip of his shoulders and the elegant line of his forearms and wrists weren’t helping. He kept in such good shape.

“Okay then,” I tried, dialing back my annoyance yet again. “What is it you expect me to do to stay out of danger?”

He looked intensely relieved. “Keep a low profile, is all. Whatever you’re in France to do, maybe you could let it go.”

“You’re joking.”

No, he wasn’t. “Otherwise, you’re just inviting trou—”

I didn’t let him finish before I grabbed the nearest piece of Armani and threw it at him. “Get out. Now.”

Lex found his briefs and pulled them on as requested. But he also slanted a confused glance up at me that somehow pierced my chest. “What did I say?”

“Inviting trouble? You mean if someone holds me at gunpoint, that’s my fault because I invited trouble?”

“Of course I didn’t mean that!” Wisely, he kept dressing, pulling on his pants next. They were wrinkled now, and a bit dusty from the floor, and despite everything, I hated to see his legs vanish into them. “No excuse in the world would justify holding you at gunpoint…and why did you use that example?”

Lex zipped his pants and stood there, looking confused and concerned.

“I’m talking about blaming the victim, Alexander Stuart. Whatever the hell I’m in France to do is my own business. Mine, and maybe that ‘weird girls’ club’ of mine, and I have every right to do it, and these powerful people you’re talking about have no right to stop me.”

“God damn it!” Lex turned to thump both forearms loudly against the ugly pink wall, fists clenched, and stood there for a long moment with his head bowed and his bare back tight. When he turned back to me, he angled just his head. “Magdalene, you do not live in a utopia. Nothing’s about who has the right. It’s about who has the ability, and if I’m correct about these particular people—”

“Whom you can’t seem to name.” Why won’t you name them?

“—then they have the ability to do any damned thing they want to you, and neither of us will see it coming until it’s too late. You could hire bodyguards—”

“No. And not because I can’t afford them.” Though I doubted I could.

His face, in the shadow of his arm, sharpened. “So you leave yourself open. What am I supposed to do if someone hurts you?”

I’d never seen him sustain this kind of raw upset. Lex was all about control, and pretty good with silence, but this…

“Sure, I could do more than most people. I don’t need the police. I can afford to hire all the justice I want.” He turned to me, spread his arms and hands as if to encompass the breadth of his reach, even as he shook his head. “But it would be too late. I could hunt people to the ends of the earth and I could make them pray they’d never heard of either of us—”

“But you wouldn’t,” I said firmly.

“Like hell I wouldn’t.” But he bent to pick up his shirt and slid his corded arms into it, one at a time. I’d asked him to get out, and by goddess he was getting out.

I said, “You’re not my husband or father or brother. You’re not even my boyfriend.” Okay, so boyfriend sounds juvenile. But to say he wasn’t my lover would be untrue—at least this moment, with our damp bodies and our smells all over each other and our tastes in each other’s mouths.

My body still felt so aware of his presence, it mourned every piece of clothing he donned.

“Not through lack of trying,” he noted archly. Lex-like.

“You have no right to go around avenging me.”

“And you don’t listen.” Cool again. Calm. “It’s not about rights, it’s about ability.”

“If you honestly believe that, thank heavens I never married you.”

It was a hurtful thing to say—hurtful to him and to me. This afternoon had proven how much I still wanted this man in my life and, now, how ill I could afford it. Even if he wasn’t involved with a secret society, which it seemed he was not.

We’d broken up often enough before I’d heard of the Comitatus.

Lex stared at me a long moment, buttoning his shirt. Then he looked down to tuck it into his slacks. He said evenly, “I just want you safe, Maggi. Why does that make me the bad guy?”

“Because it’s my body, my life, my safety.”

“And my—” The protest rasped out of him, surprising us both. He clenched his jaw against it, opened his hand as if to fight it, then gave up and turned the hand toward his chest. “And my heart, Mag! If something happens to you, it’s not just you who gets hurt. It’s everyone who loves you, everyone whose life will become a sucking void if you’re taken out of it, and knowing that you were right won’t mean shit!”

I stared, breathless. How did I answer that?

He shook his head, as if to let me off the hook. He looped his tie loosely over his head and scooped his jacket off the floor with one finger under its collar. You’d never know he’d just shouted. “I know my happiness is not your responsibility. You didn’t ask for it. Hell, lately you’ve been doing everything you can to escape it. I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult. I just wish…”

He shook his head, headed for the door. “I apologize for complicating matters today.”

And I couldn’t let him go. Not like that. Yes, he’d complicated matters. But I’d sure as hell helped.

I caught his arm. “What is it you wish, Lex?”

He drew a long, deep breath before looking at me. I almost flinched from the raw need in his gaze. He didn’t know what to do with it, and I wasn’t sure I could or should advise him. “I wish you would let me help. Even if you are some hereditary feminist, what’s so wrong with letting someone who has the ability help you now and then, unless you’re worried…”

Then he glanced toward the bed, where he could probably envision what we’d just finished doing there as easily as I could. His lips tightened. “Of course you’d be worried I’ll expect more.”

Emotions beyond words struggled in my chest, my throat. Love, even. Like it or not, I still loved this man more than was sane. More than I wanted to. Maybe even more than I should. But…maybe not more than that, after all.

“I’ll be careful,” I promised him.

He laughed. Lex rarely laughs, and this one was neither pretty nor amused. “Mag, the guy at the desk gave me your room key for ten American dollars.”

“I only came here because I was so tired when I reached Paris. I’ll go somewhere that even you won’t be able to find me. Will you believe I’m safe if even you can’t find me?”

“Safe or dead.” He looked grim. “I wouldn’t be able to find you if you’re at the bottom of the Seine, either.”

“Then we’ll just have to meet somewhere,” I said, glad for the excuse. “Didn’t you promise me dinner when I got to Paris?”

Now Lex looked wary. “I did. Do. But don’t you—”

I pressed my fingers to his lips. “I said it’s a good thing we aren’t married. I never said I don’t want to see your sorry butt again. Especially…”

Okay, so as I lowered my hand, I also lowered my gaze toward his tight behind, beautifully framed in his smudged, tailored slacks.

Lex said, wearily, “Magdalene, I have never been so confused in my life as when I’m with you.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“No. Maybe. Where do you want to meet?”

I considered it. “I’m not sure what part of Paris I’ll be in. Keep your phone with you and I’ll let you know. Okay?”

“What time?”

I checked my watch; it was already after two o’clock, and I had a lot to accomplish. “Seven?”

“Seven.” He fished out his wallet and handed me a card. At first I thought it was a credit card, and almost protested. Then I recognized the tasteful insignia of the Hotel Valmont, one of the more exclusive addresses in Montmartre. It was his room keycard. “In case you want to use my bathtub. Give me an hour, and I won’t even be there.”

I cupped his cheek, breathed his breath. “You being there wouldn’t be what keeps me away.”

He lowered his gaze, almost as if shy of whatever he was feeling now. He had such pretty lashes. “I’ll let the concierge know that you’re welcome any time. You need the keycard in the elevator, too. It’s on the executive level, Suite #3.”

I whispered, “Maybe I’ll see it after dinner.”

“Never so confused.” But he pressed close to say it; his words kissed across my neck. Mmm.

“Does it help to know that I’m still working things out?” But I did pocket the card, as I said that.

“Absolutely. Misery loves company.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Stop with the adages or I’ll never get anything done.”

“Mag.” He lifted his gaze to mine again, more serious now. “What did you mean earlier, when you said nothing happened that you couldn’t handle? What were you able to handle?”

Uh-oh. I tucked his tie under his shirt collar for him, giving me something to focus on other than his searching face. “Don’t worry about it.”

Even a brief glance showed me that his eyes had narrowed in understanding. “Someone really did hold you at gunpoint?”

I tightened and straightened the tie, smoothing it down onto his chest. Because of him, over the years, I’ve become quite a fan of a well-worn tie. “I’m fine, Lex.”

I should have been relieved when he let that go. Maybe it was the sheer unlikelihood of it that made me uncomfortable. All he said was, “If you don’t call by seven, I start dragging the Seine. Don’t think I’m joking.”

“I never think you’re joking. You aren’t very good at it.”

He definitely wasn’t joking when he kissed me again—hard and intense and needful, as if he were trying to regain every lost kiss since our last “on” period. I didn’t mind helping. Languid, intense, hard-not-to-squirm kissing. We were very good at it. We may have made up for a whole month, by the time he opened the door and headed out.

Slumped against the doorjamb, I watched him go. When I realized I was all but praying—please let it work out this time, please let him be on the level—I frowned and pushed back inside for my bag, my still-damp towel, my toiletries.

I’d been this close to having him out of my life for good. Instead, here we went again. I was the one who’d kept him from leaving. I was the one who’d suggested we might go to his room after dinner.

In fact, I was very much looking forward to it.

But what if I was wrong?

On the other hand, maybe my own inability to commit was what had messed us up so far. There, Lex never had a problem. He’d proposed four times; I’d accepted twice. Once I broke it off within the week. The other time we argued before the night was out and he rescinded the offer.

But I’d helped pick the fight, for some reason I couldn’t yet face. Maybe I was afraid Lex would turn out like his father, or his cousin. Worse, maybe I feared ending up like his mother.

In the meantime, I desperately needed another shower. And to gargle hot water, since for some reason my throat hurt. Then I would walk away from this quaint but less-than-secure “dump,” just like Lex had suggested. But not because he’d suggested it.

Because he’d been right.

By five o’clock the grail and I were safely ensconced in a private room at the quiet Des Jardins hotel on the Left Bank. I was soaking in a tub, bathing for the third time that day—not counting the underground river. It’s a good way to relax. The last twenty-four hours had been physically taxing on so many levels.

And I did have a big night ahead of me.

I was pleased with myself, and not just because of either the mind-blowing sex or the promise of more tonight. Though that sure didn’t hurt.

No, I was pleased because I’d secreted myself away so well that even Lex couldn’t have found me. First, after my second shower of the afternoon, I’d taken a labyrinthine route on the Metro to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Then I’d gone to an Internet café and done several data searches, only one of them to locate a trustworthy hotel. I shopped for fresh clothes, including an outfit for tonight. Then, with more switchbacks for caution, I arrived at the home of an old friend from my semester at the Sorbonne.

I hadn’t seen or talked to Nadine for nine years. She was married now, so she had a different last name, and we hadn’t known each other long enough that anybody would find her in an attempt to find me.

Turns out she was glad to see me and thrilled to help, no questions asked. So I’d checked into the hotel as Madame Nadine Lamballière, complete with a credit card and a Parisian driver’s license showing a woman of my age and general coloring. Nadine herself was safe at home with her children and her husband, holding on to one of my credit cards as security.

Sure, there was always the possibility that she could somehow screw me over. I could mess up her bank account pretty badly too, if I tried. But there’s a time to share vulnerability.

My last purchase of the day was a pay-as-you-go cell phone. I bribed the boy at the kiosk out of checking my ID, and so used completely false information for the paperwork. I left messages for my mother and cousin in French and used a fake name. If I was really lucky, the bad guys still thought I’d drowned outside Chinon. They only had to believe it long enough for me to unveil the Melusine Chalice—now tucked into a new leather backpack from Printemps, beside the tub—before they saw it coming.

Before they could make any damned preemptive strikes.

And once the grail was safe, I still had the whole summer ahead of me, free from classes and searching and men with guns. Even if I decided to research more grails, I suspected Lex might play a significant role in my vacation.

Had Melusine enjoyed her baths anywhere near as much as I did mine? I suspected, from our link the previous night, that she had. The tower room had been her version of a “room of one’s own.” A place where she could be wholly herself…as long as her husband wasn’t destroying both their lives by spying on her….

Like Lex had spied on me in the shower this afternoon? I smiled at the irony. After all, I wasn’t under any kind of curse. But oddly, my throat began hurting again.