Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 13

Maksim stared at her. He hadn't expected that. "You knew? How?"

She shook her head, and he didn't think she was going to continue.

The waiter, who looked more than a little tentative, edged up to the table. Maksim almost sent him away, but Jo informed him she was ready to order.

She asked for the salmon. Maksim ordered the filet mignon. The waiter scurried away, obviously uncomfortable with Maksim and his impatience. Maksim didn't care.

"How did you know?" Maksim asked Jo softly, not willing to let this get brushed aside. She'd started to tell him, and he got the feeling she needed to talk about it.

Jo shook her head again, fixing her attention on straightening and restraightening the cloth napkin on her lap.

Finally when he thought he was just going to have to drop the subject totally—and struggle to find something innocuous to get her to interact, period, she met his eyes.

"I saw it happen. I–I had a premonition."

Her eyes looked pained, as if she was already preparing for his disbelief, his ridicule.

"That must have scared you."

She studied him, her gaze roaming his face, still trying to decide if he was being sincere.

"Yes."

"How did you see it?"

She frowned. "I just saw it. Like a vision, I guess."

"Well, I get that, but was it like you were seeing it, and you were there, too, and you could have stopped it. Or was it like you just watching it like a show on television? Removed from it."

"Is there really a difference? I saw it. I could have stopped it."

Maksim shook his head, even before she finished speaking. "No. That isn't true. Some premonitions are designed to prepare us for the inevitable. While there are few premonitions that are shown to us so we can stop the events before they unfold."

Jo frowned, puzzled. "I still don't see the difference."

"Well there is. Like I said, if you saw the event with you in it, then maybe, and only maybe," he added, because premonitions were always dicey at best, and she had to know that for her own piece of mind, "you could have helped."

She was silent for a moment. "I don't know. But I know that I didn't tell anyone. I didn't tell my parents. I didn't tell Kara. And that might have saved her."

"Maybe. But there could have been a reason you didn't tell anyone."

Jo laughed at that, the sound sharp and bitter. "Yeah. Because I didn't take it seriously. I didn't believe it."

"Or you were just a kid and it scared the crap out of you."

Jo stared at him, then shrugged. "I don't know. But I should have done something."

"And who's to say anyone would have believed you, anyway?"

Jo nodded, but still looked as if she didn't believe him. She straightened her napkin again.

"Just like no one would believe me now," she muttered.

"What?"

She shook her head and waved her hand as if to brush the murmured words away. "I shouldn't have said anything."

A strange sense of disappointment filled his chest. He wanted her to tell him things that worried her. Things that made her happy. Things that just needed to be said.

Then he promptly told himself those feelings were ridiculous, and not what he was actually feeling. He was horny and mistaking a major case of lust for something more. He had been the whole time.

But he couldn't help himself from asking again, "What are you talking about, Jo?"

She shook her head again, waving off what she'd said as if the words had never passed her lips. Instead she asked him, "How do you know so much about premonitions?"

He considered pressuring her further, but then decided against it. Pushing didn't seem to work well with Jo, and he could understand that.

So he let the line of questioning go, setting his attention back to the food the waiter placed before him. He cut into his filet, noting how juicy and tender the meat was. He took a bite, fully preparing to enjoy the expensive cut of meat, but the flavor didn't satisfy as it should.

He glanced at Jo. She toyed with her salmon, flaking bits off with her fork. Not eating any of it.

Determined not to care—she was a big girl after all—he cut another piece of his steak. But still, even though the seasoning and preparation was perfect, the taste didn't appease him. Didn't distract him from his feelings of concern and helplessness.

He put down his fork and regarded Jo.

Again her skin was pallid, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out.

"You've got to eat," he said softly.

She glanced up, seeming almost startled that he was there. For a brief moment, he wanted to jump in her head and see what was happening behind those sad eyes. What was scaring her? What was the secret she was hiding?

But he couldn't do that. She was clearly having enough problems, and just because he hadn't seen her thoughts last time, it didn't mean he wasn't part of what was going on with her now. He could have affected her somehow.

And she'd affected him somehow, too.

Jo didn't respond to his gently stated recommendation. She just continued to pick at her food, so he leaned forward and speared a piece of her salmon. Then while she watched him with surprised eyes, he popped the fish in his mouth.

"What are you doing?" she finally managed to sputter, her astonished look causing him to smile.

He reached over and stabbed another piece. He ate it with great relish before answering.

"Well, that's a pricey meal you've got there," he said, holding back his smile. "So I'm not going to let you just shred it into pieces."

He started to lance another piece, when she trapped his fork with her own against the plate. He raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look.

She cocked her own eyebrow in response, then released his utensil, tapping it away a few times, the metal clinking.

"I get your point," she muttered grumpily, but Maksim saw a hint of a smile before she dug into her fish.

Maksim watched her for a moment, then began eating his own meal again, the filet suddenly tasting absolutely delicious.

"Thank you for a great dinner," Jo said as they exited Laforesterie.

Maksim smiled over at her as they walked, and despite herself, her body reacted. He was so handsome, utterly and breathtakingly handsome. His dark hair was sexily disheveled, a slight, wonderful breeze ruffling it. His green eyes twinkling with a naughty little spark. His smile crooked and charming.

And while her body was definitely reacting to his looks, she was also reacting to his behavior tonight. He'd been there when she'd been truly panicked. He'd talked to her, made her laugh. He listened to her talk about her sister. He'd listened to her admission of the premonition—and he hadn't mocked her, doubted her, or judged her.

And he'd made her eat. Which she had to admit had made her feel so much better. Much less fragile and strung out. It was very, very stupid for her to not eat. She had to remember that. Her blood sugar was touchy at the best of times, but now…

Well, she just appreciated him being there tonight. Against her better judgment. But maybe she could let judgment go, better or otherwise. Just for tonight.

They strolled quietly back toward Esplanade. The streets were pretty quiet as they opted to travel down Royal Street rather than heading toward the busier and wilder Bourbon Street.

"Are you still working at the bar?"

He shook his head. "Once in a while. It's really not my thing."

"What, were the scads of adoring women too much for you?" she teased.

"Jealous much?" He winked at her, buffering his teasing.

She pulled a face at him, enjoying that she could be relaxed and playful with this man. Which she hadn't expected. Again she wondered if she'd been too quick to judge him, just because of Jackson and his failings.

Still lost in her thoughts, it took her a few moments to realize she was back in Esplanade and only a few houses from her rental.

"It's right up this way," she said, then realized it was unnecessary. She also thought of something she hadn't last night in her surprise at finding him at her door. "But you know that. How did you know where I lived last night?"

"I have my ways," he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Then he asked, "Why didn't you move into Ren's apartment building? He has some vacant apartments, doesn't he?"

Jo nodded. "I didn't want to invade the little love nest they have going on over there."

"Ah, yeah, I can see that."

"Don't get me wrong," Jo said as she rifled around in her oversized purse for her keys. "I'm very happy for them. I think they are wonderful matches. But well, it's just—"

"A bit much?"

"Yes," she said with a pained smile. "Does that make me an awful friend?"

"Not in my book. Love is often an overrated emotion."

"Hear, hear." Jo found her keys and unlocked the front door. She paused, the key still in the door.

"Would you like to come up?" She wasn't sure what had prompted the question. She'd like to blame it on her nerves still getting the better of her. But she knew that wasn't the case. Not at the moment, anyway. Her mind was too occupied with Maksim.

"I'd love to," he said, emphasizing the word "love," which made her laugh.

She opened the door and he followed her up the stairs to her second-floor apartment. Once inside, she asked him if he'd like something to drink.

"I have coffee—it's decaf, though. And tea—also decaf," she told him.

He grimaced. "You actually like decaffeinated tea?"

She smiled, not surprised that he had no use for anything that supported moderation—even with caffeine.

"You'd be surprised. It grows on you." She went to her cupboard, stretching up on her tiptoes to get down a new box of decaf English Breakfast.

Warmth encompassed her as she felt rather than saw Maksim come up behind her. Then his chest pressed against her back as he reached over her to get the tea. He set the box on the counter, then he braced his hands on the worn Formica, caging her in.

She remained still, her breath growing shallow, as her body reacted instantly to his large, powerful body surrounding her.

"Am I growing on you, too?" he murmured, his mouth right beside her ear.