Aphrodite's Secret (6 page)

As he neared the bottom his friend twisted, big black eye aimed straight at him.
I can’t move
, the whale said.

I can see that
, Jason replied.
How are you doing on air
?

Starting to feel a little woozy.

I’ll get you out of here
, Jason promised.
Then I need your help
.

The situation
? Shamu asked.

Bad
, Jason answered.
And only going to get worse
. He gave the orca a friendly nudge, then swam down toward the creature’s tail.
I’m going to scope out what’s pinning you down. Stay calm
.

Fortunately, Jason was able to make quick work of the bindings. Using the huge whale as cover, he changed back into his human form and released the latches. Then he shifted back into a dolphin.

Freed, the whale wriggled in delight and headed for the surface. Jason moved quickly to block his friend’s path.
Stay down as long as you can stand it. We need to buy some time before that Outcast realizes you’re free and I’ve helped you
.

You got it
, Shamu said.
But I can’t hold out much longer
.

Jason didn’t waste time answering. Instead, he headed for the surface, then circled the pool, hoping his disguise was working. He didn’t want to be recognized as a Protector. Not yet. Not until he could figure out a way to get to his son.

The masked man took a little bow. “And now, dear Davy, you and I must run,” he said. “But before we go ...” Reaching up, he grasped the neck of the ski mask and pulled it over his head. “Anonymity is so cowardly, don’t you agree?”

And then the Outcast lifted his head, his disguise abandoned, his features clear for all to see.

Jason trembled, almost transforming back into human form from shock. Standing there on the stage, holding the child hostage and ranting like a madman . . . was
himself
.

Lane’s friends who’d moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA Law School always expressed surprise at how green the city was. It had gotten a bum rap, and out-of-towners expected nothing but a beach, concrete, and a few palm trees. Except for Beverly Hills. Apparently, everyone expected lush greenery in Beverly Hills, as if the tinge of money alone could somehow foliate that suburb.

Lane had always loved Westwood’s vibrant flora— just as much as she loved the pulse of the freeways and the glitter of neon that completed Hollywood’s mystique. And now, walking hand in hand with Aaron beneath the intertwining branches of the magnificent trees that lined the UCLA campus, she knew with absolute certainty that there was no place else in the world she ever wanted to live.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Aaron said, squeezing her hand.

She turned to him and smiled, happy with how comfortable she felt. There had been a brief awkwardness when he’d kissed her at the restaurant, but that had faded. Surely it had just been nerves. “The trees,” she said, lifting their intertwined hands to point at the canopy of leaves shading them from the afternoon sun. “And the flowers.” With her free hand, she swept a circle in the air, a gesture encompassing the Birds of Paradise, bougainvillea and succulents that lined the cozy path that snaked through the campus.

“Oh.”

“And Davy,” she added, automatically glancing at her purse where her cell phone nestled. “I hope he’s having fun.”

“I’m sure he’s having a blast,” Aaron said. “I only met Zoë once, but she seemed totally responsible. And it’s clear Davy adores her.”

“Oh, he does,” Lane agreed. An image of Davy’s smiling face flashed through her mind.

“They’re having a ball. I mean, come on—what’s not to like about Sea World?”

Lane nodded. “He
was
pretty psyched about going,” she admitted. “Of course, the alternative was to stay home with me while I studied.” She glanced at her watch. “I really do need to get back. This was supposed to just be a lunch date. I’ve got over a hundred pages to read before tomorrow.”

Aaron nodded, pointing down a side path. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I’ve been aiming us toward my car.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help but grin. Not many men would keep track of the fact that she needed to be studying.

“So, is that it?”

She frowned, not understanding his question. “It?”

“All that you were thinking about,” he explained.

“Oh. Well... yeah.” Her forehead creased. “Am I forgetting something?”

“No, of course not,” he answered. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice.

She glanced up, surprised. And then she realized: he’d expected her to be thinking about him. And why not? They’d had a lovely afternoon; they were walking hand-in-hand down a charming path. The man scored a perfect ten on the boyfriend scale. Heck, she
should
have been thinking about him. Instead, she’d been thinking about plants. What the heck was wrong with her?

“Sorry. I’ve been so distracted about Davy,” she said. It wasn’t as good as saying she’d been thinking about him, but maybe it would take a bit of the sting off his ego.

“Well, it makes sense.” His smile reached his eyes. “Go on. Give her a call. What’s the point in torturing yourself?”

“Really?” she asked. “You don’t think Zoë will think I’m an obsessive mom who can’t leave her sister-in-law alone with her kid for a trip without having a total meltdown?”

“Probably. But I wouldn’t let that stop you.”

They paused in front of his Lexus, and Lane started to rummage in her purse. Really, the man was perfect: great-looking, a wonderful job, a fabulous car—and he knew how to handle a neurotic mother. If she were smart, she’d drop right down on one knee and propose to
him
.

Since that seemed a little extreme this early in their relationship, she just rummaged for her cell phone. It must have fallen to the bottom of her purse, and in a fit of frustration, she squatted down and dumped everything out. Her keys, the latest Nora Roberts book, Davy’s monthly mystery package, last month’s electric bill, an empty powder compact, a single piece of Dentyne and—
finally
—a cell phone: it all crashed onto the pavement.

She picked up her phone and hit the speed dial; then she listened, tapping her foot impatiently, while it rang and rang until the voice mail picked up:
“Hi, this is Zoë. I can’t take your call right now, but please leave a message.”

She hung up and licked her lips, looking at Aaron over the hood of his car. “She didn’t answer.”

Aaron was at her side immediately, his fingers intertwined with hers. “They’re probably on a ride or in a show.” He squeezed her hand. “They’re fine.”

Lane blinked, edgy and unsure. “I know,” she lied.

Aaron flashed an understanding smile, then knelt down to pick up her possessions. “Let’s get you put back together.” One by one, he tossed her things back into her purse, pausing at the brown-paper-wrapped present labeled DAVY. “Did I miss his birthday? I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “You’ve still got five more days until the big number seven. This is just his monthly present.”

“Monthly?”

She nodded. “He’s been getting anonymous toy deliveries once a month for about the last year.” She took the package from his hand. “He got this one yesterday, and I forgot to give it to him.”

“Who are they from?”

She shrugged and grinned. “Don’t know. That’s what makes them anonymous.”

“Smart aleck,” Aaron retorted, but he didn’t seem offended. “Seriously, what’s the deal?”

“I’m really not sure. I think one of my friends must have decided that Davy needed something fun and decided to send him surprise presents on a regular basis.” She shrugged. “It’s sweet, but it’s a mystery.”

Not that she didn’t have a theory—she did.

At first, she had been certain that Zoë had been sending the gifts, perhaps a sweet gesture from a relatively new aunt. But a few of the packages had a “guy” feel, and so Lane, revised her theory, deciding her brother Taylor was sending the gifts. But he openly showered Davy with presents, so secret gifts didn’t seem to make sense. At last she’d determined Davy’s mysterious benefactor had to be Zoë‘s brother, Hale. It had taken forever—not to mention the right woman!—for the Protector to warm up to mortals, but he’d always seemed to have a soft spot for Davy. So it only made sense that he was the one, keeping his gift-giving secret.

Not that she could explain all of this to Aaron. Instead, she just said, “There are a few candidates, but no one has ever ‘fessed up.” She gave him an end-of-story smile, then rummaged once again through her purse, double-checking to make sure all her belongings had found their way back to its depths.

“Maybe it’s Davy’s father,” he said.

Lane balked, fumbling and almost dropping her purse.

Aaron reached out to steady her, the pressure of his touch warm and insistent. “I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a likely possibility.”

“Maybe in some parallel dimension,” she snapped, more derision lining her voice than she’d intended. “But not in this world.”

“I see,” Aaron said. His fingers stroked hers, tracing in and out between them. “We’ve never really talked about him. I take it he’s out of the picture?”

“He was never
in
the picture,” she answered. “I
thought
he was, but apparently he had other plans. Good-bye and good riddance.” She said it lightly, and she meant it. Of course, it had taken her years of practice to get to that point. And even now she had fantasies—when Davy was asleep and all the lights were off and she had only her thoughts to account to—that Jason would return and make up for all the lost years....

How, though, she couldn’t imagine; so the fantasy usually failed. Because unless he’d been kidnapped by aliens and spent the last seven years on their mother ship, she really couldn’t forgive his absence.

With his free hand, Aaron stroked her cheek. “Well, I am sorry for what he put you through, but I’m not sorry he’s gone.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he echoed. He moved closer, until he loomed above her and she was leaning back, her hand still entwined with his and her back pressed against the passenger door of his Lexus. “Because if he weren’t gone, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

He leaned closer, and she wanted to meet him halfway—really, she did—but somehow her brain sent the wrong message to her feet and head. She ducked, and his lips brushed gently over her ear.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not you. I’m distracted. It’s just. . .” She trailed off with a shrug, knowing she was being stupid.

He hooked a finger under her chin and twisted her face up. The smile on his lips warmed her heart. “Let’s go to Sea World.”

“What?” She blinked, surprised both that he’d tolerated her rejection and that he’d suggest such a thing. “Drive down to San Diego?”

“Sure. We’ll be there in plenty of time to catch your sister-in-law before she calls it a day.”

“But you’ve got a brief due next week. I thought you had hours of research ahead of you.”

His shoulder lifted. “True. But I’ll make time for you.”

Oh, man
. Her heart was going to melt. “That’s so sweet.”

“So, let’s get going.”

She took a deep breath, then shook her head.

“No, that’s okay. I’m just overreacting. I’m sure you’re right—he’s just watching a show or something.”

“You’re sure?”

She drew another deep breath to strengthen her resolve. “I’m sure.” She licked her lips, then squeezed his hand. This was a truly sweet man. Maybe there weren’t sparks, but would sparks offer to drive her to San Diego? Hell, sparks hadn’t even hung around to meet his own child. She’d be a fool to let Aaron get away.

“Lane?”

She smiled, then lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Really,” she said. “Just take me home. And if you can spare a few minutes, why don’t you come in for coffee ... or something?”

Zoë paced back and forth, desperate to figure out an escape from the small room. “Maybe we can pick the lock,” she offered. “Like MacGyver would.”

“Sure,” Deena said, nodding. “Yeah. We can do that.” She cocked her head. “With what?”

Zoë sighed. “I haven’t got a clue. I don’t suppose you’re wearing a barrette?”

Deena shook her head, blond curls flying. “Nope. You?”

“No.” As usual Zoë wore one long braid down her back, and it was fastened with a rubber band. And the band wasn’t even big enough to make a good slingshot.

“You picked a really lousy time to get sick,” Deena complained.

Zoë grimaced, feeling sheepish. Who knew that raging hormones would whack out her powers, making them come and go? Unfortunately,
go
was much more often than
come
. “Sorry,” she said, shoving uselessly on the wall’s metal door. “Apollo’s apples! This is making me nuts!”

“Maybe if we both shove,” Deena suggested. She pressed her hands against the door and pushed, the muscles in her arms tightening visibly with the effort.

“Hold on,” Zoë said. “If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right.” She steadied herself against the door. “On three. One . . . two . . .
three.”
They both pushed with all their might. The wall didn’t budge.

“Well, damn,” said Deena.

Zoë silently seconded the comment, but she didn’t say a word, too distracted by the craving washing over her. “Pickles,” she said. “In chocolate sauce.” She twisted around to look at Deena, who looked ready to gag. “Doesn’t that sound fabulous?”

“That is just disgusting,” Deena replied, her nose wrinkling.

“True. But it may be good news.” She rushed back to the door, needing to tackle it before the craving faded. She kicked, and this time when her foot contacted the solid metal, the door slammed outward, its hinges breaking free just as the craving—and her powers—faded once more.

Deena let out a victory whoop, slapping her hand over her own mouth to muffle the sound, then followed Zoë out of the room. Outside, they both dropped to the ground and looked around. Zoë tried to get her bearings.

“Oh ... my . .. God,” Deena said in a dramatic stage whisper behind her. Zoë‘s previous comment had clicked. “You’re
pregnant
!”