Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 5

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

Maksim paused, focusing on where the tiny angled straw was supposed to fit into the small rectangular box labeled JUICY JUICE. He narrowed his eyes as the bane of his existence gazed up at him with wide, dark eyes.

Damon, the puker, blinked innocently. Pure evil hidden behind youthful artlessness.

"Yes, I do," Maksim muttered, returning his attention to the stupid little box. How hard could this be?

"It goes right there." Damon reached up and tapped a dirt-caked finger on the top, and Maksim was glad he didn't have to drink the juice after this kid had repeatedly touched it. Maksim just hoped that grimy fingernails didn't make him vomit like yogurt had.

"I showed you yesterday," Damon said, then followed the statement with a long-suffering sigh.

Maksim gritted his teeth and shoved the straw in as if he'd known where to insert it all along. But as he jabbed it into the tiny foil-covered hole, clear, sticky juice gushed out of the bent straw, covering his hand and the cuff of his sleeve.

Damon giggled. "I told you to cover the end of the straw too. You suck at this."

Maksim glared at him, then shoved the juice in the kid's direction. The little boy accepted it, still sporting a pleased smile.

Maksim suppressed a growl.

"How are things going?"

Maksim whipped around to find the reason why he'd decided to engage in this stupid plan standing in the middle of the room. Or course the reason was becoming more distant with each passing minute.

This was the first time he'd seen Jo since agreeing voluntarily to interact with these vile little creatures known as human children. It was truly a wonder that humans didn't eat their young. And to think he wasn't even getting paid for his hell.

But amazingly, things looked much better upon the appearance of Jo. And he now easily recalled what his payment would eventually be, and it was something far more appealing and pleasurable than money.

His eyes wandered slowly over Jo. The light green sundress she wore swished around her long shapely legs and displayed the curve of her bare shoulders.

Oh yeah, he suddenly remembered why he was here. Covered in fruit punch, and snot, and grimy handprints. Okay, he was still a little bitter, but Jo would so—so—make it up to him.

"Ms. Burke," Damon called, before Maksim had even gathered his thoughts enough to respond to Jo's question.

Jo immediately turned her attention to the small boy, walking over to the table, where he sat looking all wide-eyed naiveté. The little deceiver. Maksim had nothing on this kid.

"Mr. Kostova doesn't even know how to open my juice even after I told him yesterday."

"Is that so?" Jo glanced at Maksim, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Children were evil.

But even as he thought that, not for the first time today, Maksim forced a sheepish, yet boyishly charming smile onto his lips. "I must admit, I've never been good at those things."

Jo's eyes flickered just briefly to his mouth. Then she met his gaze, her dark eyes unreadable as usual.

"Not a big juice-box-drinker, huh?"

Maksim chuckled, making sure the sound was rich and full, designed to vibrate deep inside her. "No, not often."

He smiled charmingly again.

Jo smiled back, although a little tentatively. But he realized that was the first genuine smile he'd ever received from her, which suddenly made the awful events of the morning much more tolerable.

"Things are going great," he said, returning to her original question. He took a step toward her, half expecting her to back away, but she held her ground.

Jo smiled back, the gesture still reserved, but the smiles were coming more readily. Perhaps he would be able to charm her more easily than he'd thought. Though why he'd doubted that fact seemed silly to him now. He was a demon—he had good looks, and deceit on his side.

"How is your day going?" He took another step toward her.

"Great," she said, her eyes flicked down at the space between them, clearly gauging how close she'd let him get. "I've been able to get a lot of paperwork done."

He would imagine that was true. She'd been sequestered away in her office, door closed, for two days now. He wondered how much of her disappearance was work and how much was just avoiding him.

"Maksim is doing great," Cherise called over to Jo from where she helped some of the other kids with their lunches. "The kids just love him."

Maksim had to admit he liked Cherise. She was sarcastic, outspoken, a blatant flirt, and still his biggest advocate. What wasn't to like?

And Cherise spoke the truth. The children did love him. To torment him. To crawl him all over him. To talk incessantly to him in lisps that were virtually impossible to understand—if he'd really wanted to, which he didn't.

Again he plastered on a smile. "They are great kids." His lying skills were usually impeccable, but his declaration sounded insincere, even to him.

Jo didn't show any signs of doubting him. Again she gave him a smile. Man, he was doing well today.

"Well, I thought while the children were busy with lunch, I'd go over what days and hours you'd like to help out. It would be easier for me if you had a set schedule, if that is okay with you?" Jo said.

In her office. Alone. Oh yeah, he'd love that.

"Great," he said.

Jo nodded, then headed toward the hallway. Without looking back, she led him to her office.

The room was tiny, which he liked. The tight space brought him into a much closer proximity to her. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a rickety, cheaply made desk with an ancient-looking computer on it. An equally old office chair covered in worn, ugly, brown tweed sat on one side, while two metal folding chairs were positioned on the side closest to the door.

Spread on the desk were several piles of paper, revealing that while she may have been avoiding him, she was busily working, too.

She gestured to one of the gray metal chairs as she slipped around the desk. He sat down, the metal creaking under his weight. She braced both hands on the arm of the desk chair and gingerly eased herself down.

"The hydraulics are broken," she said by way of explanation to his look. "Sometimes it just drops."

He nodded, not really interested in the chair. He was far too distracted by the delicious scent of her permeating the room—a warm, inviting perfume like vanilla and cloves that made his mouth water and his muscles tighten with need.

He fisted his hands on his knees as he looked at the pale gold skin of her bare arms, imagining that her thighs were the same color. Her belly paler, her breasts, too.

A hungry growl rumbled low in his throat, but he caught himself and disguised it with a cough.

"Are you okay?"

"Just a little tickle," he said, coughing again for effect.

She nodded, then turned her attention to her computer. Her fingers, which were long and elegant with short nails and no-nonsense clear polish, moved easily over the keyboard, somehow looking graceful even in such an ordinary action. He imagined those same fingers gliding over his bare skin, touching him everywhere.

His erection, which had risen as soon as he'd stepped into the room and was surrounded by her scent, pulsed in his trousers.

"Just give me a minute here," Jo said as she frowned at the computer, clearly willing the archaic machinery to perform whatever action she wanted. Then she bit her bottom lip, and all his attention was on her white teeth sinking into the pink pillow.

He wanted to nip the soft, rosy flesh there. He wanted to bite her all over, to feel her skin under him, against him, around him.

"Maksim?"

He snapped his attention back to her, and away from his very vivid and very naughty fantasies of nibbling every inch of her body. He'd just reached her inner thigh, too—damn it. But he pushed the image away, which was not easy, and said, "I'm sorry. I missed that."

Jo shifted in her seat and crossed her legs as if she knew what direction his thoughts had been headed in. South—very deeply south.

She shifted again. "I've made up a calendar for the remainder of this month. What days were you thinking you'd like to come in?"

He offered her a small smile, intended to put her at ease, but then followed with, "What days do you want me?" the words said quietly, full of innuendo.

Pink tinged her cheeks, but her features remained unaffected. Maybe she wasn't going to make this easy. And maybe that's why she fascinated him so.

She turned her attention back to the monitor, but not before he noticed her pulling in a slow breath through her nose. That could be trying to get her reaction to him under control. Or annoyance. He wasn't sure which.

"Well, we could use your help any day. It's really whatever is best for you."

"Hmm," he pretended to consider. "Let me take a look."

Before she could respond, he rose and came around to her side of her desk. She pushed her chair to the side, offering him space, but the cramped quarters wouldn't allow her much distance. He watched as she tucked away a strand of hair, which had fallen free from the loose bun at the back of her head. Her hand returned to the desk, fidgeting with the edge of the keyboard.

He wished he knew what was making her so antsy. Oh, he knew it was his nearness, but was it because she didn't like it, or she liked it too much?

For a fraction of a second, he considered going into her head to find out. He hesitated, standing at the edge of her mind like a stranger outside a fenced property with a NO TRESPASSING sign posted. Even with the warning, he could scale the railings and jump inside. But just like with trespassing, there would be consequence. Not for himself, but for her.

For once he heeded the warning. Instead he did lean down, letting his shoulder bump hers. His cheek just inches from hers.

"Hmm." Again he pretended to consider the calendar. When in fact he was breathing in her scent, taking it deep in his nose and lungs like a powerful hit off an opium pipe. He held it there, then slowly blew out.

His breath touched her, ruffling that strand of hair that had fallen loose again. Her fingers fiddled more quickly with the edge of the keyboard. She lifted her other hand as if to touch the stray hair his breath just touched, but caught herself. She pushed up her glasses instead.

Maksim grinned. She wasn't oblivious to him. He leaned in closer, pointing to the screen.

"I could do every morning." He turned to her, his mouth now just inches away from hers. "If you would like."

For just the briefest moment—if he'd blinked he would have missed it—her gaze flicked to his lips. Then her eyes shot back to meet his. They were so dark brown they were almost black. Pink colored her cheeks further.

"What—what about your job at the bar? Aren't you going to be tired?" she managed to say, her voice sounding a little breathy.

"It will be fine. I don't require a lot of sleep. And being here is very satisfying to me." Or it will be. And very satisfying to her, too.

Again her eyes flashed to his lips, then she gave up looking at him altogether and turned her focus to the computer.

"Of—of course, the center would love the help," she said.

He smiled. Oh yeah, this would definitely lead to his satisfaction.

"Great. Then I will see you every morning." Every night, too.

Jo breathed in slowly through her nose. What had she just agreed to? Seeing this man every day? She pulled in another slow, even breath, telling herself to shake off her reaction to this man's proximity.

Sure, he was attractive. And he had—a presence. But she wasn't some teenage girl who would fall to pieces under a cute boy's attention. Not that cute was a strong enough word for what Maksim was. He was—unnerving. To say the least.

But she wasn't interested in him. She decided that quite definitely over the past two days. Of course that decision was made secured away behind her closed office door.

But either way, she should have more control than this.

Apparently should and could were two very different things. And she couldn't seem to stop her reaction to him. Her heart raced and her body tingled, both hot and cold in all the most inappropriate places.

"So every morning?" he said, his voice rumbling right next to her, firing up the heat inside her. "Does that work for you?"

She cleared her throat, struggling to calm her body.

"Yes—that's great," she managed to say, surprising even herself with the airiness of her tone. "I'll schedule you from eight a.m. to—" she glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen, "noon?"

That was a good amount of time, getting Cherise through the rowdy mornings and lunch, and giving him the go-ahead to leave now. She needed him out of her space.

If her body wasn't going to go along with her mind, then avoidance was clearly her best strategy. And she'd done well with that tactic—although she'd told herself that wasn't what she was doing. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

"Noon is fine," he said, still not moving. Not even straightening away from the computer. And her.

"Good," she poised her fingers over the keys and began typing in his hours. "Then I think we are all settled. You can take off now if you like."

When he didn't move, she added, "You should go get some lunch. You must be hungry." She flashed him a quick smile without really looking at him.

This time he did stand, but he didn't move away. Instead he leaned against her desk, the old piece of furniture creaking under his tall, muscular weight.

"You must be hungry, too. Would you like to join me?"

She blinked, for a moment not comprehending his words, her mind too focused on the muscles of his thighs so near her. The flex of more muscles in his shoulders and arms as he crossed them over his chest.

She forced herself to look back at the computer screen.

"I–I don't think so," she said. "I have a lot to do here."

"But surely you allow yourself a half-hour lunch break."

She continued typing, fairly certain whatever she was writing was gibberish. "I brought a lunch with me, actually." Which was true. Not that she was hungry at the moment. She was too—edgy.

"Come on," he said in a low voice that was enticing, coaxing. "Come celebrate your first regular volunteer."

She couldn't help looking at him. He was smiling, the curl of his lips, his white, even teeth, the sexily pleading glimmer in his pale green eyes.

God, he was so beautiful.

And dangerous.

Jo shook her head. "I really can't."

He studied her for a moment. "Can't or won't? What's the matter, Josephine? Do I make you nervous?"

Jo's breath left her for a moment at the accented rhythm of her full name crossing his lips. But the breath-stealing moment left as quickly as it came, followed by irritation. At him and at herself.

She wasn't attracted to his man—not beyond a basic physical attraction. And that could be controlled. It could.

"You don't make me nervous," she said firmly.

"Then why not join me for lunch?"

"Because," she said slowly, "I have a lot of work to do."

Maksim crossed his arms tighter and lifted one of his eloquent eyebrows, which informed her that he didn't believe her for a moment.

"I don't think that's why you won't come. I think you are uncomfortable with me. Maybe because you are attracted to me."

Again the eyebrow lifted—this time in questioning challenge.

"That is ridiculous. You are so not my type."

Maksim shrugged as if her rejection didn't bother him in the least. It probably didn't. Men like Maksim knew other women were only a charming smile and smooth line away.

More irritation rose in her chest—even as she told herself she should be thankful that he was accepting her dismissal so easily.

"Well, if I'm not your type, then lunch should be no big deal. Just some shared food and company between coworkers."

She almost pointed out that she was in essence his boss, but caught herself. Now wouldn't that sound petty? And defensive—and she wasn't on the defense.

"No, thank you." She shifted in her chair, attempting to dismiss him completely.

"I think you are uncomfortable with me. And if not because you are attracted to me, then why?" he said, as if just pondering the theory aloud. He didn't move.

Finally, after it was clear he wasn't going to leave until he'd sorted out a satisfactory solution in that far too pretty brain of his, she let out an annoyed groan. She rose, her body brushing briefly against his as she did so. She ignored the shock wave of awareness, and pushed her chair in with a little more force than necessary.

"Fine. I'll go to lunch with you."

"Great," he said.

But Jo didn't miss his smug smile as he moved around the desk toward the door.

Why did she have the feeling she just got totally played? Played right into his little plan?