Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 9

Jo put off going back to her place as long as she could. But she couldn't avoid her new home like she was avoiding D.C. This was her new beginning—such as it was so far.

She dropped her purse by the front door, then kicked off her shoes. She paused as a loud hum filled the room, but she quickly realized the noise was the window unit air-conditioner in her living room.

She shook her head, telling herself she couldn't let every noise, every imagined image out of the corner of her eye, terrify her.

She wandered to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge. She had to eat even though she still didn't feel hungry. Grabbing a container of plain yogurt, she went to the cupboard, and pulled down a box of granola. Then from another cupboard, she got a bowl. Once she'd created her concoction of yogurt and granola, she sat at the small café table to eat.

She took several bites, then pushed the bowl away, even as she told herself she should finish it. She had to.

Instead she rehashed the visit with her friends. Maggie and Erika hadn't done much to ease her mind. Both of her friends had watched her with wary, worried eyes as if they expected her to have a full blown breakdown right there in front of them.

Which wasn't completely out of the question.

But she hadn't mentioned what she'd seen or the uneasy feelings she'd had all day. Nor had she told them that Maksim was now volunteering at the center. She told herself, even now, it was because she didn't want them worrying about any of it. Which was true about the hallucinations, but that didn't explain why she didn't tell them about Maksim. She didn't have an answer for that one, she just hadn't wanted their opinion, she guessed.

She'd chatted in a stilted way about grants and programs, and they responded in kind, as if they knew she had other things to tell them, but they didn't want to pry. Jo appreciated that. She would share everything—she wouldn't have much choice eventually.

Jo had actually been relieved when they had to go to work at the bar. Erika had asked her to stay with her while she worked on her latest sculpture, but Jo turned her down, knowing the visit would just continue to be awkward.

Having them fretting about her wasn't help get her mind off all her problems.

So here she was, willing her whirring thoughts to quiet. Which wasn't great, but what could she do?

Go to bed.

She decided that she might as well. She might not sleep, but at least she'd be resting in her bed. And that was better than poking at her unwanted dinner or pacing around her apartment.

She placed her bowl in the sink, then headed to her bedroom. Digging through one of her dresser drawers, she found a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. She tossed them on her bed, which she hadn't made up that morning, because she was late. She considered making it up now, but didn't have the energy—and she was crawling right back into it, although the rumpled bedding seemed like another reminder that she wasn't doing well getting her new life in order.

She sighed and headed to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. The narrow hallway leading to her living room, kitchen and bathroom was lined with built-ins. She had managed to get all her books and pictures put away. That was a good start to organization, she supposed.

She stopped, taking a moment to admire something that she did have a handle on. Tidy shelves—it wasn't much, but at the moment she'd hold onto anything she had.

She straightened a picture of her, Erika, and Maggie on their first trip to New Orleans, taken at Pat O'Brien's, big smiles, and big umbrella drinks in hand. How things had changed since that trip. She sighed, then moved on to straighten the picture staggered slightly behind it. Her fingers paused on the frame.

Oh my God. She picked up the picture, studying closer. It was a picture of Jo and her little sister, Kara, holding up sticks with toasted marshmallows on the end. A picture taken only days before Kara died. Jo wore a pale blue bathing suit with yellow and white daisies dotting the material. Kara also wore a bathing suit—rainbow striped.

Jo set the picture down as if the pewter frame was searing hot, even as a stark chill ran down her spine. She backed away from the photo, telling herself if she had seen a child in rainbow stripes today, it wasn't a bathing suit. It wasn't anything more than a coincidence. It certainly wasn't Kara.

No. No, that was insane. Insane to even consider.

She forgot the bathroom and headed back to the kitchen. The bright lights and yellow paint instantly made her feel calmer. But she didn't want to be alone. She was too shaken.

She glanced at the digital clock on her microwave. It was after 9:00 P.M. Maggie would be at work for hours yet.

Erika. She'd call and ask her to come over here. She didn't know what she'd tell her friend, but she needed company. She scrolled through her phone, finding Erika's number. She pressed the call button, and waited for the number to autodial. The phone rang once and then went straight to voice mail. She hung up and tried again with the same result. The second time she left a message for her, then hung up, debating what to do.

She could walk back over to Erika's. But the idea of being outside in the dark, already nervous, really didn't appeal. She flipped back her phone, scrolling through the numbers, looking for someone to call and talk with until she calmed down.

Cherise's number came up, and she considered calling her, but decided against it. Cherise had three children and was likely busy with them. She could call her mother—but Mom never really calmed her. In general, her parents just made her more tense.

Then she stopped scrolling on a number without a name. Maksim's number. She had it in her phone from when she'd called him to tell him he had the volunteering position, but she didn't bother to type in his name yet. Before she thought better of it, she pressed the green dial button. She watched somewhat dazed as it pronounced it was calling.

"Hello." She heard Maksim's deep voice even before the phone was to her ear. She didn't speak. She just held the receiver to her ear, trying to decide if she should speak or if she should just hang up.

"Hello? Jo, is that you?"

She was silent a moment longer, then said, "Yeah, it's me. How did you know?" Her voice sounded funny, breathy, hoarse.

"I saved your number when you called me the other day. Are you okay?" he asked.

Of course he had, just like she had. "Umm—yeah."

There was silence on his end, then, "Why are you calling? Did you need something?"

God, she should just hang up.

"Jo?"

"I–I just…" What was she doing? What was she supposed to say?

"Jo, something is wrong. It has to be; otherwise, you'd never call me."

His wry tone made her laugh slightly.

"Yeah, you got me there."

"Thanks."

She laughed again at the flatness of his voice.

"So what's going on?" he asked.

She should just tell him it was something about the center. She needed him to work longer tomorrow. Something. But she didn't.

"Nothing," she said, "I'm just—being silly."

"Well, you could use a little more silly, I think."

She smiled. "You are probably right."

"Glad to hear you are being agreeable. I'll be right over."

"No," she said quickly. She didn't know how she'd react to him being here now, when she was tired and vulnerable and not thinking clearly. "I was just having a little problem with nighttime nerves. No reason to come over."

"What has you nervous?"

"Just my own overactive imagination," she said, feeling like an idiot. Had she really called Maksim Kostova, of all people? After all her vows to keep herself removed from the man? Even after the awkward ending of their lunch today? Like he'd be the one to calm down her agitation.

She had to admit he was making her feel better. She didn't understand why. They barely knew each other, but he was helping.

Dangerous. Very dangerous, she warned herself. She shouldn't even accept friendship from this man. Not when she knew how his slightest touch could make her feel.

But she made no attempt to end the phone call.

"Did something go bump in the night?" he asked.

"No. Not exactly. Just thought I was seeing things. But it's nothing."

"Sure you don't want me to come over and take a look around your place for you?"

"No. I know it was my imagination. I just—I just needed a little conversation to calm me down and convince me I'm just being foolish."

"Wow, and I was your chosen voice of reason." He sounded infinitely smug. That was Maksim she knew. She could even picture his self-satisfied crooked smile.

"Well, you weren't my first choice," she informed him.

"I have no doubt about that. Was it Maggie or Erika?"

She smiled. "Both. But Maggie's at work and Erika has a crappy cell phone."

"Lucky for me." His voice resonated low and sexy. She shivered. And not from anxiety.

"And I figured you'd be around," she added, trying to dispel some of the longing that at least she felt.

"You sweet talker, you," he said, that voice of his the one that was so sweet. So much for changing the mood with levity.

"I'm not so sure how lucky it was for you," she said determined to get things back to a less sexy ground. "Now you know your boss is a nut job."

"No, not a nut job. But you could probably use a good night's sleep."

Jo laughed a little derisively. "That is the general consensus."

"Mmm, don't you love unsolicited advice? Sorry about that."

Jo didn't say anything, for a moment caught up in how lovely his voice was, deep and rich with that subtle accent warming her even through the speaker of a phone.

Dangerous, her mind warned again. At this minute, she didn't care. She needed someone, and Maksim was a good someone. A really good someone.

"Jo? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. Just zoning out." Thinking about you.

"Are you going to go to bed?"

"Yeah," she said, even though she suspected sleep was still hours away. "I think I will."

"Good. Get some rest."

There was silence on the other end. Then he said, "I'm glad you called me. Even if I was only your third choice."

Don't go there. Don't go there. And she didn't know if this warning was for him or for herself.

"I'm glad I called, too. Good night."

"'Night."

Maksim hung up the phone, frowning. Wow, he hadn't expected that.

He set his phone on Ellina's desk, where he had been all evening, continuing to try and find out something about what happened with Jo this afternoon. Still to no avail.

What had Jo thought she'd seen? He hadn't pressed the subject, because he got the vibe she wouldn't tell him even if he had.

But surely this was a good sign. She was willingly turning to him. That was definitely good. How far away could he be from getting her where he wanted her?

The question now was did he push his hand a little further? Or did he hold? Sit back and let her come to him again?

He stood, grabbing his phone and his keys. He went directly to the kitchen, opening the freezer and grabbing a pint container of ice cream. Then he headed to the door.

"I guess I'm not sitting back," he muttered to himself as he started walking toward Esplanade.