Aphrodite's Kiss (34 page)

“R and D,” Taylor repeated.

“You know, research and development,” Deena said.

“They did tell me it was some big experimental project,” Lane admitted.

“That’s the craziest thing I ever heard,” he said.

“Let’s back up,” Zoë said. Too much was going on. She needed to focus, to get her head clear so she could decide what to do, what to say. She looked to Lane. “How did you know it was me who saved your child?” Then she looked at Taylor. “And how do you know Lane?”

“She’s my foster sister,” Taylor explained.

“But why was she—” She turned to Lane. “Why were you looking for me in the first place?”

“The necklace I gave you,” said Lane. “That’s the heirloom Taylor was hired to find.”

* * *

Elmer lost his footing and tumbled off the back of the couch, landing upside down on the overstuffed cushions. Someone had hired Taylor to find the stone? That could mean only one thing: Mordichai.

“I asked around at the tower,” Lane continued, “and they said you and Deena hang out there.”

“I thought you said that necklace was junk,” Deena said.

Lane shrugged. “Apparently jewelry appraisal isn’t my thing.” She looked at Zoë. “Do you still have it? Will you sell it back to the guy?”

Zoë looked at Deena.

“I kind of broke it,” Deena admitted. “At the Hollywood Bowl.”

“It’s gone?” Taylor asked, deflating.

“Everything but the stone.” Deena rummaged in the pocket of her skirt, then held out her hand, the green stone sitting like a lump on her palm. Elmer started to move toward it, then stopped, realizing that leaping for the stone just wouldn’t work the way he wanted it to. Oh, why had he indulged in that snit earlier when Hale was around?

“You’re welcome to have it back,” Zoë said.

Deena tossed the rock to Lane, who caught it with one hand. Elmer danced back and forth from his front feet to his back. If the stone was here and Mordi was looking for it, that meant that Mordi would likely show up here, too. Or worse ...
Hieronymous
. He gulped.

“Oh, no,” Lane said, looking at the gem. “I can’t take this back. I gave it to you.”

“Of course you can,” Zoë argued.

“But—”

“I’m serious. I wasn’t expecting to be paid for helping you, and you didn’t know what you had. Keep it, and I hope you get a lot for it.”

Taylor looked at Zoë. “You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

No, no, no
, Elmer squeaked, but he was ignored as usual.

“Thanks,” Lane said.

“But I should keep it,” Taylor added. “Until this guy buys it off you.”

Zoë shook her head. “She’s perfectly safe, Taylor. Those muggers weren’t after you. They wanted me.”

“You?”

Elmer leaped up and started hopping around. He had to get their attention.
No, no, no! Don’t send it out into the world with a mortal. Mordi won’t have any trouble taking it off her
!

He hopped and hopped, and then hopped some more. But did anyone notice the ferret?
No, sirree
.

Yeesh
. You’d think he was a hamster or something.

“Why would they be after
you
?” Taylor asked.

“The flying cloak,” Zoë said. She frowned, dropping her gaze so she wasn’t looking at his face. “And that belt I was wearing last night. They’re both top-secret projects.”

Poor kid. Poor, gullible kid
. She actually believed Hale’s belt story. Not that Elmer himself was any great mortalphile, but so far this Taylor guy seemed okay. And he sure seemed to really love Zoë.

Aw, hell
. He’d been watching too many old movies on late-night cable. Love conquering adversity and all that. He was turning into a sap.

“Top secret?” Taylor repeated.

“It’s all very hush-hush,” Deena added.

“I guess it would be, if you can fly off a thirty-story building,” Taylor said.

“That’s how I knew Mord... uh, that fake cop was bad. I couldn’t tell you then, but I did tell you to get out of there. Remember?”

Taylor nodded slowly. “Yeah. You did.” His forehead creased. “Industrial espionage? We were being chased for your clothes?”

Zoë nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. Nondisclosure agreement. I promise I didn’t expect anything to happen that night. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger you.”

“Well,” said Taylor, “I’ve heard of the fashion police, but this ...”

“There’s more.” Zoë licked her lips. “We need to talk,” she said, looking like she’d rather have major surgery without anesthetic. “Alone.”

Taylor nodded. “All right.” He dug in his pocket and then pitched Lane his keys. “Your choice. The car or the stone.”

Elmer didn’t think Lane could have looked more surprised if Ed McMahon had handed her a thirty-million-dollar check.

“Me?” Lane asked. “You’re letting me drive Francis Capra?”

“Only if you leave the rock with me. Zoë can give me a ride.” He looked at her, his eyes soft. “Right?”

“Of course she can,” Deena said. “She’d be thrilled to give you a ride.”

“Deena ...” Zoë said, and Elmer could hear the note of warning in her voice.

A wide smile spread across Lane’s face. “Hey, I’m no fool. I know when not to argue. It was great to meet the real you, but now I need to go take my brother’s car for a joy ride.”

With a grin, she tossed Taylor the stone, and he caught it with one hand.

Elmer fidgeted beneath him, his eyes on the stone. And when Taylor dropped it into a silver candy dish on Zoë’s coffee table, that was when he made his move. In a frenzy of flying ferret, he leaped and curled up on top of the candy dish, the stone tucked safely beneath him.

He might have screwed up and not told Hale where the stone was, but darn it, this time he wasn’t letting the thing out of his sight.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Deena stood up and hooked her tote bag over her arm as Lane pulled the door open.

“You guys don’t have to go so soon, do you?” Zoë asked. If they left, then Zoë was all out of excuses. She’d be all alone with Taylor. Her heart twisted. The man she’d fallen in love with.

The man who thought he was in love with her.

The man who wouldn’t want her if he knew she could bench-press his car.

It was all fake—everything. She needed to tell him he didn’t love her, needed to tell him they couldn’t be together.

And she would.

Later.

Right now maybe they could just hang out. Play cards, charades, Pictionary. Something to keep them occupied so she didn’t have to confess.

She flashed a perky smile toward Deena and Lane. “How about some coffee? We could watch a movie.”

Deena rolled her eyes.

“Thanks,” said Lane, “but I want to take Francis Capra out on PCH One before the sun sets.”

“You guys are sure? I’ve got Monopoly.”

Taylor flashed her a quizzical look.

“No, Zoë,” Deena said firmly. “Thanks.”

“Fine.” She was stuck with Mr. Midnight. “At least let me walk you down.”

“Zo, for cryin‘ out loud. You don’t need—”

“In case my neighbor’s dogs are still loose,” Zoë said, trying to aim a meaningful look Deena’s way.

“Oh,” Deena said. “Right. Okay.”

“I’ll come, too,” Taylor said.

“No!”

He frowned. “But if these dogs are vicious ...”

Zoë looked to Deena for help.

“It’s a code, Taylor. Girl talk.”

Lane laughed as Taylor’s cheeks went a little pink. “Oh. Well. Then I’ll just walk Lane to the car. I need to get some stuff out of the trunk, anyway.”

Zoë nodded, and they all left the apartment and trailed down the stairs, turning in opposite directions when they reached the sidewalk.

“I don’t think I can tell him,” Zoë said, the second Taylor and Lane were out of earshot. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Don’t say anything,” Deena said. “I don’t believe Hale’s nonsense for a minute, anyway.”

“I don’t know....”

“Taylor loves you, Zo,” Deena said as she opened the door to her car. “No matter what the fashion mags say, no piece of clothing was what made him feel that way.”

“Maybe—”

“Holy cripes,” Deena yelped, jumping back away from the poodle that had suddenly appeared and was sniffing her ankles.

“Hey!” Zoë swatted at it. “Get away!”

The dog looked from Zoë to Deena, a perky pink bow a counterpoint to its bored expression.

Zoë leaned in for a closer look. “Mordi?”

“Is it him?” Deena asked, her voice a low, worried whisper.

The dog snuffled a bit—testing the air for the scent of belt?—and then yawned.

“I can’t tell,” Zoë said. “I can’t see its eyes. But it sure isn’t acting like Mordi was earlier. And this dog’s tiny.”

The dog sniffed around the tires, then squatted and peed right next to Deena’s whitewalls.

Deena and Zoë looked at each other. “Not Mordi,” they said in unison.

Totally uninterested, the poodle trotted up the sidewalk toward Taylor as Lane peeled away from the curb in Francis Capra. The tiny dog sniffed around his ankles before turning up its nose and trotting across the street to disappear behind a building.

“Friend of yours?” Taylor called.

Zoë shrugged. “Never seen it before.” At least it seemed to really be a dog. She hoped. She should have taken off her glasses. Still, it had certainly acted like a dog ... and no matter what, it wasn’t Mordi.

She shrugged, turning back to Deena. “Maybe it smelled Mordi on you.”

“Who knows. Apparently I’m no longer all the rage in the doggie world, though. That poodle couldn’t have been less interested.”

And then she saw him—the green-eyed black Lab sitting next to a fire hydrant on the far side of the street.

“I think we spoke too soon,” she said, nodding across the street.

“Uh-oh,” said Deena. “Mordi?”

“Yup.” She grabbed Deena’s arm, ready to push her aside should the Mordi-dog attack. “Be careful.”

The Mordi-dog yawned then—tail wagging—headed off down the street in the direction the poodle had taken.

How totally bizarre.

“Where’d he go?” Deena asked.

Zoë shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Maybe you should stay here.”

Deena put a hand on her hip. “I don’t think so. You just don’t want to be alone with Taylor.”

“But all these dogs—”

“Weren’t in the least bit interested.”

“Deen—”

“No. I’ll call you when I get home.”

Zoë sighed, defeated. “Fine.”

Deena slid into her car. “And you need to call me tomorrow with a full report. Okay?”

Before Zoë could agree, Deena cranked the engine and pulled out.

Zoë just stood there a moment, trying to steel her emotions.

Time to go break the news to Taylor.

Time to go tell the man she loved that he didn’t love her at all.

From the roof across the street, Mordi watched the detective and Zoë head up the stairs to her apartment. He’d sent one of his father’s shapechangers on his little errand, and he’d come back empty-handed—no sign of the stone with Zoë, the detective, or that Deena person. Bad news, but at least he had his information. Maybe those disgusting henchmen were useful after all.

He drummed his fingers on the slate, irritated, then realized what he was doing and slapped his hand down hard.

Damn
. She’d obviously passed the stone off. And that left only one from the usual suspects—the brunette who’d had the stone in the first place. She was the only one Lola hadn’t sniffed.

Funny how fate worked.

He’d almost retrieved the stone from her before, but Zoë had interfered. This time he wouldn’t fail.

They were on the couch, and he was holding her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her skin, sending shivers right down to her toes.

“I’m sorry about blurting it out like that,” he said. “I was planning on candlelight and wine. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
Sweet Hera
. How on earth did you tell a man he didn’t really love you? She had no idea. And it wasn’t even a conversation she wanted to be having.

“You’re on spring break, right?”

She nodded, and when he kissed her fingertips, she blinked back tears.

“What would you say to a trip? Maybe a drive down to San Diego? Or up to the wine country?” His gaze locked with hers. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. I want reality to catch up with the way I feel.”

“Taylor, I...”

Turning away, she pulled her hand free and settled it in her lap. Why did it have to be so hard?

“Zoë?” The unspoken question hung between them:
What’s wrong
?

“If you don’t feel the same ...” he began. “I mean, I hope you do. But I don’t want to pressure you. It’s just... I thought...”

Not even trying to hide her tears, she spun back around to face him. “No, no! Taylor, I love you. I do. Heaven knows, I shouldn’t, but I really do.”

“Then what?”

She took a deep breath. “You don’t love me.”

He laughed, then kissed her on the forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re priceless.”

Whatever reaction she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“Taylor, aren’t you listening?”

“I assure you, I do love you.” His grin split his face. “I
knew
this would have worked better with roses and candlelight.”

Argh
! She pounded a fist uselessly into the sofa cushion. “No, no. Listen to me. You don’t love me. You just think you do.”

“Think I do, and
know
I do.”

“It’s not really love. It’s an illusion.”

“Then maybe we should take that vacation in Las Vegas. Maybe we could even get booked as an act.”

She fell back against the cushions, exasperated. “You’re not even trying to help.”

“Well, no. Not if the goal is to convince me that I don’t love you. I don’t think I’m going to willingly help in that project.”

“You’re impossible,” she said.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself. “You know that belt I was wearing last night?”

“Right. The ugly gold thing.”

“You thought it was ugly?” She waved the question away before he could answer. “Doesn’t matter. It’s experimental. Like the cloak.”