Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 3

"I told you I couldn't eat the yogurt," the nasty little creature who'd just covered him in vile, slimy stench said almost smugly before the large woman, who Maksim was really beginning to like, whisked him away.

Couldn't eat yogurt was an understatement. The dreadful little beast had puked in Exorcist-sized proportions—all over one of his favorite shirts, no less. But Maksim's attention was drawn away from his soiled clothing to the woman who'd added to the disgusting mess.

Jo still stood in front of him. Well, stood implied that she was on her feet; it was more like she leaned heavily on the table where the children squealed and gagged and pointed at the disaster clinging to his $200 hand-tailored shirt from Milan and his $300 Armani trousers.

But he disregarded both his destroyed clothes and the creatures surrounding them, who sounded like a flock of agitated farmyard birds. Instead he stared Jo, a strange sensation he didn't quite understand making him feel—like he needed to help her.

Shake it off, man, he told himself. No piece of ass was worth this.

But instead of leaving, he reached forward to balance her. She jerked away, nearly slipping off the edge of her precarious perch. Even though she was stubbornly and stupidly avoiding his touch, he wasn't willing to let her fall.

Instead he pulled her to his side, keeping her away from the side Damon had covered, with more than just yogurt, he might add.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked.

She gestured, with a weak wave of her hand toward the hallway. Maksim walked her in that direction, supporting most of her slight weight. His instinct was to carry her, but he suspected she'd really be irritated by that, and not just because she'd be unavoidably covered in what he was.

When he reached the hallway, he looked both ways, then spotted the door labeled GIRLS. He headed toward it, expecting to find the large woman in there with the little puke machine. But instead, the gray-tiled room was empty. He led Jo to the sink and held her until she seemed to have herself braced against the edge.

She stood there for a moment, her fingers gripping the white porcelain so tightly, they were nearly the same color.

"Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head, then winced as if the gesture caused her pain. If possible, her skin drained even further of color until she seemed to blend in with the gray and white of the lavatory.

"I just need a minute." For a brief moment, her dark eyes met his in the mirror. He saw embarrassment there, but also a flash of something else. Something that looked remarkably like despair. Then they dropped again, her focus returning to the sink that seemed to be the only thing holding her upright.

Maksim watched her for a second longer, making sure she was truly steady on her feet. Then he began unbuttoning his shirt, easing the ruined mess away from himself.

"What are you doing?"

Maksim paused, the garment off one shoulder, meeting her eyes again. "I'm getting out of this thing." He finished slipping out of the shirt and dropped it in the trash can near the sink.

When he looked back to Jo, she was still staring at him in the mirror. He considered pretending not to notice, but he couldn't pass up seeing her expression.

But he didn't see in her eyes what he thought he would. Instead of surprise, or interest, or even disapproval, her gaze was flat, emotionless.

"You're not planning to take off your pants too, are you?"

"Not unless you want me to," he said, wagging his eyebrows, then added once she didn't react—yet again, "No, my pants aren't too bad. My shoes, however…"

That gained him a pained wince. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "Vomit happens." Had he really said that? Normally he'd be very, very unhappy about something like this, and an unhappy Maksim was a bad thing. But right now, all the could seem to care about was Jo.

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, then she realized he was watching her watching him. A slight flush of pink tinged her pale cheeks and she looked down.

Again, moving her head seemed to disorient her and her knuckles whitened as she held fast to the sink. He stepped closer, just in case.

She lifted one of her hands to the faucet, her fingers pausing there as if the act of just turning on the water was too much for her at the moment.

Maksim leaned forward, his bare chest brushing against her shoulder and arm as he placed a hand over hers and twisted the water on. The rush of water echoed through the stark room.

Her eyes moved back up to find his in the mirror. They locked for several moments, and he began to wonder if the loud rush reverberating through the room wasn't the swell of his own longing coursing through him like churning white water. His yearning and the look in her eyes, finally a spark of something, some response, left him coiled and breathless. And filled with a need to…

Immediately he dropped his hand from hers and backed away as if she'd scalded him.

"I'll let you freshen up," he mumbled and continued to walk backward away from her. Her dark eyes followed him, that despair there again. Calling to him. Pulling at an emotion in him he didn't understand, but he knew he didn't like.

He turned and left the room.

Maksim didn't stop until he was outside the community center, standing on the cracked, uneven sidewalk, his breathing irregular, his thoughts jumbled. He'd finally gotten a reaction from her, but it wasn't the lust he wanted. It had been heartbreak, desperation, fear—and maybe lost somewhere in those emotions was a hint of attraction. So why in the world had that reached out to him, made him want to protect her? To make those feelings disappear? Help her?

A man in a dirty sleeveless undershirt and denim shorts tottered down the street. He grimaced at Maksim as he passed, revealing missing teeth and grime accenting his frown lines.

Maksim narrowed a look back, the vagrant's disdainful reaction snapping him back into his normal frame of mind. When was he ever the object of someone else's derision? He knew he was a superior species to these lowly mortals, and most mortals instinctively knew it too. How dare some filthy transient look at him as if he was beneath him?

Then he glanced down at himself. No shirt, vomit-spattered pants and shoes, and a look of complete bewilderment in his eyes.

What the hell? He was standing here, on the sidewalk, covered in stench, musing over a mortal woman like some uncertain teenage boy. And, damn, he was never uncertain—not when it came to his wants. Not about anything. And he'd sure as hell never been a teenager. So what the hell was wrong with him?

He made a disgusted noise deep in his throat as he glanced down at himself again. No piece of ass in Hell or on Earth was worth this.

He should just leave. But instead, he found himself striding to the side of the building and ducking into an alley that ran the length of the community center and the building next door.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. No one was around. Remaining very still, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He knew if anyone were to watch him, he'd look like an image in a camera going in and out of focus. An effect they'd most likely blame on their own vision. But there was no point in taking unnecessary risks.

When he opened his eyes again, his soiled clothes were gone, replaced by a new tailored shirt and designer trousers. His shoes were Roberto Cavalli. The defiled garments were on the ground around him. He carefully stepped over them as if they were a heap of vermin liable to jump up and cling to him. He'd loved that outfit, but it was replaceable. Most things were.

Being able to materialize things was one of his favorite demon tricks, although damned irritating at times, because he could only materialize things he actually had somewhere. Because, frankly, if he could materialize a stiff drink, he would.

He stepped back out onto the street, smoothing down his shirt, then adjusting the cuffs. Now, he'd go back in, remember why he came here. And it wasn't to help a wounded mortal.

It was to get laid.

Jo splashed another handful of water on her face, relishing the way the cold stung her skin, taking her mind off the events of the past few moments. She cupped water in her hand and lifted it to her lipes, rinsing her mouth again, swishing the cold water for several seconds. Then she splashed her face again. And again. She had to gather herself and get back out there to work, but she couldn't make herself leave the bathroom.

She just wanted to hide. To not deal with anything.

No, she had to get back to work. That would help. It always did.

One more splash, then she fumbled around for the paper towel dispenser, finding the lever and pumping it several times. She pressed the crumpled paper to her face, even appreciating the roughness of it on her cheeks and forehead. The discomfort of icy water and scratchy paper towels was something tangible to focus on, a welcome distraction from what had just happened. And she wished she was referring only to the vomiting. Because ridding her stomach of its contents on a man's ridiculously expensive footwear wasn't bad enough. No, she'd actually stood there doe-eyed as he'd taken his shirt off, wanting the man with every fiber in her being.

She nearly swooned when the man's bare chest had come in contact with the skin of her arm. She'd longed for him to wrap his muscular arms around her and hold her and kiss her and…

And what? Take care of her? Make her past disappear? That wasn't going to happen.

She tossed the damp towel into the garbage can near the sink on top of Maksim's soiled shirt. The image of him peeling it off flared in her mind, hard muscles covered in smooth, golden skin.

She straightened, taking a deep breath, pulling herself together. This was ridiculous. She moved to the mirror to tuck loose hair back into the knot on the back of her head and wipe away any remnants of water-smeared makeup.

She pulled her glasses out of her pocket, hoping the dark frames would distract from the worst of it. She dropped her hand and stared at her face, not seeing herself, but Maksim. The memory of his reflection staring back at her. The look in his eyes.

She could have sworn she saw tenderness in his stunningly vivid eyes. She looked down at her hand. The hand he'd held as he'd helped her turn on the water. His touch had been gentle, kind.

Her gaze lingered on her hand, which tingled. From the water, she told herself. Then she frowned at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? She couldn't think of him as some gallant knight who'd come to her rescue.

He wasn't that. She knew it. She did know his type. Only too well.

But for a moment…

"Enough," she growled, the word echoing through the tiled room.

Get a grip.

Pulling in a deep breath, she realized as much as she didn't want to see him, she had to muster up her courage and go apologize to the man. She'd apologize, and then tell him that, while his résumé was impressive, she just didn't have a position for him.

She couldn't have him around. It wasn't possible. And if she was lucky, he'd already left and she could just call him to tell him all this anyway. She doubted he was waiting around out there shirtless and covered in barf.

How would she explain that to her daycare parents?

And that was what had to be her focus. The center.

When she walked back into the daycare room, Cherise had somehow managed to get the floor cleaned and the children on their threadbare mats for nap time. Even Damon was calm and lying with his favorite toy, a tattered dog with one missing eye. Lettie sat in a metal chair at the now vacant tables, her chin on her chest, dozing. She enjoyed nap time most of all.

"Are you feeling okay?" Cherise asked in a hushed tone.

Jo nodded. "For some reason, seeing what happened—just got to me."

Cherise nodded. "A chain reaction. It happens to the best of us."

Jo nodded, appreciating the woman's gesture to make her feel less mortified.

Jo glanced around again, relief flooding her.

"Did Maksim leave?"

"No, I'm right here."

Jo spun to see him behind her, leaning on the door frame leading to the hallway. Damn, couldn't, just this once, luck be on her side?

Her eyes scanned down his body, taking in his newest collection of designer apparel.

"I had clothes in my car," he said, in response to her lingering stare.

Her cheeks burned. She'd wished that was what she'd been pondering, when in truth, her mind had moved on to the way the cut of his shirt accentuated the broadness of his shoulders and chest and how his pants emphasized the narrowness of his hips. Even his feet caught her attention.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. One of his dark eyebrows rose as if he could read her mind and knew she hadn't even wondered where he got the new clothes.

Great, another one with tell-all eyebrows. He and Cherise could probably hold a whole conversation with nothing but movement of their brows.

"I'm—I'm glad you had—some—other clothes to change into." She clenched her teeth briefly, irritated with her fumbling speech. Just get out what you need to, and then get back to work.

"And I'm sorry for…" There she went again, stammering. "For getting sick on you."

Maksim shrugged. "No big deal. That sort of thing happens."

Jo nodded, then pulled in a breath, preparing herself for what had to be done. For her sanity.

"And I'm very impressed with your résumé—"

Maksim nodded and again with the raised eyebrow. This time it said, "But of course."

"But," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and firm, "I just don't have any positions at this time to offer you."

Jo waited for Maksim's indignant response, but he never even got a chance to react. Instead it was Cherise's outraged voice that responded.

"What?" Her voice was loud and sharp enough to cause a few of the children to stir on their mats. She bustled away from the kids, joining Jo and Maksim.

"Have you gone crazier than a gull at a crawfish festival?" she asked in a hushed but no less emphatic tone.

Jo frowned at her employee, really wishing in this case, she'd just let her eloquent eyebrow do the talking for her. And even then, only after Jo had gotten rid of Maksim.

No luck of any sort was on Jo's side today, because Cherise added, "We don't have room for him? Look around here. We got nothing but room."

Jo's frown deepened, and she willed Cherise to just stop. Stop talking. Stop standing with her hands on her hips, which meant she wasn't messing around. Stop looking at her like she was an utter fool. To just stop.

Instead of stopping, the feisty eyebrow joined in, arching so high it nearly touched her hairline.

"If you don't take this guy on as a volunteer, I'm going to let Lettie handle free-choice centers from now on."

Jo's mouth dropped open. Now that was low. Free-choice centers was the wildest part of the day for the children. They got to move from learning station to learning station and without proper supervision it was utter chaos. Not an easy time for Cherise and Jo to handle—impossible for the nearly catatonic woman slumped in the chair over there with her mouth wide open and a steady snore emitting from it. The children would destroy the place. Given the hands on the hips and the sky-high eyebrow, Jo didn't think Cherise was bluffing.

Jo turned back to Maksim. He watched them, a smirking, closed-lip smile turning up the edges of his mouth. His vivid green eyes sparkled.

He was loving every minute of this.

Oh, she could not do this. She couldn't let him have a position here. She stared at him for a moment, trying to think of any loophole, any possible out, that neither he nor Cherise could debate.

Nothing came. His résumé was impeccable. He'd handled the whole upchuck fiasco with grace. He wasn't giving her any reasonable flaw to back her decision.

She was stuck. With a résumé like that…

Wait…that was one heck of a résumé. A dream résumé, really. He had to have faked his past work experience and references. He had to have.

Her initial opinions of him couldn't have been so far off. He wasn't a knight in shining armor.

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, taking in the newly changed, crisply clean, still expensive, still designer name clothing.

If this guy had ever worked with a kid in his life, then she wasn't just the director of this community center, but of the whole freakin' world.

He'd made the whole thing up. She knew it.

She smiled back at him, feeling in control for the first time since he'd stepped foot in the center.

"Cherise is right. How can I possibly turn down such a great candidate?"

Maksim's smile deepened, although she couldn't quite read the look in his eyes.

"Well, I am glad you came to your senses, woman," Cherise stated, her hands no longer on her hips.

"Me, too," Maksim said, his rich voice low, but drawing Jo's attention back to him as surely as if he'd shouted.

Jo's heart sped up, and something simmered warm and intense in her belly. She gritted her teeth, forcing the feeling aside.

"So, I'll give you a call tomorrow to iron out your schedule, and what works best for you," Jo said, keeping her voice aloof and all business.

"Any time works for me." Again his voice was low and sultry washing over her like the humid Louisiana heat.

She nodded, determined not to let him see she was reacting to him. Damn it.

Finally, after none of them had said anything for several seconds, Maksim nodded.

"See you tomorrow, then."

Jo opened her mouth to tell him she hadn't said she'd see him, but that she'd call him. Then she decided against it. He'd find out soon enough that she'd guessed at his little deception.

A Good Samaritan—yeah, right. He was looking to get laid and had no problem using small children and the goodness of others to do so.

She wouldn't see him tomorrow or ever again, if she had her way.

And she would.