Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 6

Maksim walked beside Jo, trying to keep the self-satisfaction out of his tone. Really, he was jumping the gun, being too overconfident. Oh, he knew he'd get what he wanted—eventually—but Josephine Burke was a tough cookie. She still wasn't acting like she was ready to fall into bed with him. He'd just barely gotten her to go eat a meal with him.

He was making headway—and frankly he was finding the chase fun. But only to a certain point. He wouldn't be patient forever.

"So do you have a favorite place around here?" he asked.

"I don't really know," she said. "I haven't been here long enough to explore much. I haven't really had the time, either."

"You've been working a lot, then?"

She nodded. "Yes."

They both fell silent for a few moments.

"How about you? Do you know a good place?"

"Sure." If there was one thing he knew, it was food. And frankly, it was the only thing he liked about New Orleans. "I know a place just a couple blocks from here."

He took the lead, picking his way around the broken and uneven patches on the sidewalks. He glanced back to make sure she was okay. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat. Stray locks of her long, dark hair clung to her sweat-dampened skin, bringing to mind what she'd look like after he'd spent a night pleasuring her.

The vivid picture of that eventuality slipped away as he noted the way she was carefully picking her way along the rough, eroded concrete, her open-toe sandals making the sidewalk even more precarious.

He slowed his pace and opened his mouth to ask her if she was all right, when the toe of one of his Ferragamos hooked on a jagged piece of concrete. He caught himself, but not before Jo grabbed his arm to help steady him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, seeming to steal his quesion from his mouth.

Maksim nodded, but his mind whirred. When was he ever clumsy? When did he trip? That answer was easy. Never. Well, never until this moment.

But he'd been distracted. By Jo. And not just a sexual distraction, either. He'd been concerned for her—so concerned he wasn't paying attention to what was most important. Himself.

He paused, trying to comprehend what the hell was going on. And he studied Jo. She was a lovely woman—for a mortal—tall, elegant with dark eyes that seemed slightly sad and soulful. Her lips were neither too wide nor too thin. But they were prettily shaped, bowed at the top, fuller on the bottom. And when they turned up in a real, unguarded smile, his heart pounded in his chest and he filled with delight.

Annoyance rose up in him like a flash flood. Anger with himself and with Jo. When did he consider things like what a woman's smile did to him? He was a tits-and-ass man. He liked pretty faces and rockin' bodies. He gave great thought to how they would feel wrapped around him, naked. Not at the melancholy in their eyes.

What was the deal with this woman? Why was she having this effect on him? He was admittedly as shallow as they came. His attraction never bordered on poetic and protective.

"Are you sure you are okay?" Jo touched his arm, the first time she reached out to him in anything resembling friendship. It should have pleased him, but all he could think was something wasn't right here. Something was different and dangerous and unnerving about this woman.

But when she didn't remove her fingers, some of that agitation left him. Her fingers were warm and gentle on his skin. Soothing.

But only for a moment, then raw need filled him, and he found that response more comforting. Normal.

He mustered up a sheepish smile, even though he was still feeling uneasy. "I'm fine, just feeling like a klutz."

Jo smiled. "I can't believe it wasn't me. I trip over my own feet. And these sidewalks are treacherous."

Maksim forced his smile to deepen, even though concerns still plagued him. But he did feel unadulterated lust, too. A good sign. To comfort himself further and to keep his mind on the goal, he looped her arm around his.

"I guess it's good you agreed to accompany me. I clearly need the help." He gave her a wink.

She smiled, shaking her head at his flirting. But she must not have found it threatening, because she didn't pull away; instead, she fell into step with him.

He smiled down at her, giving the gesture all his charm. Okay, so he was reacting to her more than he did other mortal women—other females in general—but that just meant that he wanted her badly.

Keep your eye on the goal, boy. That's all that matters.

"Here we are," he said stepping into an alcove and opening the door.

"This is lovely," Jo said looking around the open courtyard, which was filled with greenery and flowers, as she pulled out her chair. Maksim moved around behind her, holding the chair for her, pushing it in as she sat.

"Thank you," she mumbled, glancing back at him just for a second, but once again he couldn't quite read her reaction.

He took the seat to her right. Not across from her—that was too far away. And he wasn't messing around anymore. He didn't have the time to waste. Obviously he wasn't going to be able to function normally until he'd nailed this woman.

Even as he used the rude, impersonal term, his mind rebelled against it. He wanted to have sex with her, that was for certain—but…

He gritted his teeth. He was doing it again! Just stay focused. It didn't matter what he called it as long as he got this woman in his bed.

"The menu looks great," Jo said, drawing his attention away from his strange debate with himself.

He hadn't even opened his own. He did, making himself concentrate on his second-favorite thing after sex. Food.

"Do you come here often?" Jo looked around again, smiling appreciatively at the greenery and quaint appeal of the place. "It's so beautiful."

He glanced around, too. It was lovely here and made lovelier by Jo's presence.

Stop it!

"A few times," he said, studying the menu—gathering his idiotic wits. "The walnut chicken salad is delicious. Great raspberry dressing."

She made an approving noise, then snapped her menu closed. "That's what I'm getting. It sounds wonderful."

Maksim watched her as she took a sip of her water. She really was beautiful—and his desire for her bordered on desperation.

"It is wonderful," he agreed. Then he smiled, offering her the brunt of his charisma. "I'm so glad you decided to join me. And agreed to let me help at the community center." He lifted his water glass in a toast.

Her smile slipped slightly, easily picking up on his shift to supercharming. Not the reaction he'd hoped he'd get. But she did join him, clinking her glass against his.

She took another sip, regarding him over the rim, for once her eyes easy to read. She was uncertain. Not the emotion he wanted—but better than the closed-down, shut-away look she could get.

Some of her guard had dropped with him, but it was on a hairpin trigger and could shoot back into place in the blink of an eye.

He shifted in his chair, subtly pulling back, giving her space. "How did you start working in this field?"

Jo leaned back a bit, too, unconsciously relaxing along with him. Her reaction gave him hope that he wasn't totally out of control. He could still manipulate the situation to suit him.

"Well, I double majored in social work and education in college with a minor in English," she said.

He whistled, honestly impressed. "Very industrious."

Jo shrugged. "I've always liked to keep busy."

"I'd say."

"I worked as an English teacher for many years in Washington D.C. I was also a student advisor at a private secondary school."

"A private school. That sounds a lot cushier than St. Ann's Community Center." As clearly motivated as she was, why would she take on a job that would never pay a large salary nor raise her to a prestigious position?

As soon as the words were out, he regretted them, suspecting they would put her on the defensive. But to his surprise, she laughed.

"Oh, it was definitely cushier. But I really needed to get away—" She let her words just end, hiding it behind taking a sip of her water, and Maksim knew she'd been about to say something she'd rather not.

"I, umm, just really needed a change," she finally said. "And I also needed to do something that made me feel more fulfilled. Truthfully, teaching Macbeth and Beowulf to over-privileged, overindulged kids wasn't rewarding in the least."

"So struggling to get help and money from a community that doesn't care does fulfill you?" This time he clearly didn't keep the derision from his voice, because Jo's smile faded into a frown.

"Of course it's fulfilling. These kids need that community center. They need an advocate. They need the volunteers—like you," she said pointedly. "And I need to know I've made a difference in the world." Her frown deepened. "I mean, isn't that why you've done the things you've done?"

For a moment, the «things» he'd done popped into his mind. None of them for the betterment of humanity. None of his actions designed to make a difference to anyone but himself.

"Well, yes," he said, though. "Yes, of course that's why I do the things I've done."

Something akin to guilt made it hard to swallow, but he did, forcing it down with a smile.

She regarded him for a few moments, then turned her attention to the waiter, who appeared with a wrapped loaf of warm French bread. They placed their orders, although Maksim couldn't have said what he got.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why did her desire to make a difference, and his utter disinterest in doing so, bother him? He shouldn't be giving it another thought. So she was a «save-the-world» type. He should be just hoping that meant she'd be more than generous in bed. And he'd make her feel very, very fulfilled.

Maksim cut off a piece of the bread, offering it to her. Jo accepted with a mumbled thanks.

They both ate silently. Maksim focused on Jo; she focused on her bread, her water, anything but him.

"Did you like living in D.C.?" he asked, grasping for any topic of conversation when he realized she wasn't going to speak first. And seduction just didn't work when the person you were trying to seduce was more attentive to a piece of French bread than you.

"I did, yes."

She didn't continue, and Maksim knew there was more to the story than her short response was revealing. But as had been the case since meeting this woman, he couldn't read her features. Had she left simply for a change? Or had she left because she had to leave?

Somehow he didn't think prying would get him any further toward what he wanted from her. Still he did wonder, was it something that had happened back there that made her dark eyes appear melancholy so often?

"Did you grow up there?" he asked, avoiding the more interesting question of why she left.

She shook her head. "No, I actually grew up in a small town in western Maine."

"Was that nice? It must have been beautiful—and cold. I like cold."

She smiled at that. "It is very beautiful—and definitely cold." The topic of her hometown seemed to be a good and safe one, because she continued, warming up to the subject of her childhood and life in Maine, talking even as the waiter left their lunches.

"So you pick blueberries with a rake?" Maksim asked in between bites of his crawfish étouffée, after she told him about her multiple summers spent doing something called "blueberry raking."

"No," Jo said with an impish smile. "You pick blueberries with your hands. You rake blueberries with a rake."

Maksim smiled back, enjoying her relaxed demeanor. The way her lack of wariness allowed her dark eyes to glitter with humor and delight. The way she used her hands to tell her story, animated, uninhibited. The way her smile made her whole face light up. No melancholy, no reservation.

And he wouldn't delve back into why he liked all those things so much. He was enjoying himself too much to over-analyze.

"Okay," he said slowly, trying to comprehend such a strange thing to do as a job. "So you use this rake, and what? Rake them into a pile?

"No!" Jo laughed. "I've already explained this twice."

Maksim shook his head, giving her a perplexed look. "I just can't imagine there isn't a better way to get blueberries."

"Well, there isn't. You use this rake, which has tines and a metal back. You slide the tines under the bush and pull up." She imitated the action to clarify. "The berries come off in the rake and gather at the metal back."

"Are you sure?"

Jo laughed again, the sound rich and warm, circling around him like the fit of a perfectly tailored suit. "Yes!"

Maksim laughed, too, realizing he wasn't even pretending to enjoy her story like he so often did with women he planned to seduce. He liked her company—how odd.

"I think you've made this up," he said, grinning.

"I haven't." She smiled, too, as she speared pieces of her salad and popped them into her mouth. She chewed merrily.

He watched, feeling something—so strange. A tugging at his chest, at his gut.

She took another bite of her food, clearly enjoying it.

"I like a woman who likes food as much as I do." Maksim almost groaned at his comment. If he did know one thing about human females, they did not like men—or anyone, really—to remark on their eating habits. Especially that they liked food.

Jo finished chewing, and Maksim waited for her annoyance.

Instead she speared more of the salad, dripping with the delicious raspberry dressing. "Food is one of my favorite things."

She popped the lettuce, chicken, and dressing into her mouth and chewed with relish.

He laughed.

She smiled, mouth closed around her food, letting her eyes drift shut to show just how much she did indeed love to eat.

Instantly Maksim's mind alit with flashing images of her under him, her eyes shut, an orgasm making her arch and writhe against him. Legs splayed, wrapping around him.

His laughter stopped, desire ripping through him with an intensity that was breath-stealing.

Jo opened her eyes, her own amused expression fading as she met his gaze. He knew she saw the unrestrained longing there, but he couldn't seem to temper it. The need was just too powerful.

She swallowed, but didn't break her gaze away from his. They stared at each other, him wanting her, her aware of that fact.

Nothing in her expression gave away how she felt about his obvious desire. Not even a hint. Her face was placid, emotionless like a doll's, waiting for him to react.

Finally he did. He reached down to his lap for his napkin. Raspberry dressing glinted pink and shiny on her lower lip. He touched the corner of his napkin to the spot, wishing it was his mouth on her berry-flavored lips, instead of a stiff piece of fabric.

At first she didn't move, allowing the contact. Then his thumb strayed away from the napkin, stroking the soft curve of her bottom lip. At the touch of skin to skin, she jerked back, her chair squeaking on the flagstones at the abruptness of her movement.

She pressed her own napkin to her mouth as if to blot out the brief, grazing caress.

"Did I get it?" she asked, her voice frustratingly even and unemotional.

And something inside Maksim snapped. He couldn't handle her indifference any longer. Without a second thought, he entered her mind, ignoring the NO TRESPASSING sign, scaling the fence surrounding her thoughts and emotions.