A Touch of Greek (Out of Olympus #1) E-Book

Tina Folsom

• Herausgeber: Tina Folsom
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Out of Olympus
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 418

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010

Beschreibung

Romantic Comedy about Greek Gods Selfish and gorgeous Greek God Triton is cast out of Olympus after seducing Zeus' mistress and can only gain reentry if he finds a woman who loves him for his kindness and selflessness, not his beauty. When the mortal Sophia - recovering from an eye operation and virtually blind - needs a home healthcare worker, he takes on the role, hoping she will be his ticket home. While defending Sophia from an unknown adversary, Triton's protective instinct emerges. At the same time rival Gods do everything to doom him to failure. And even if Triton can win Sophia's love, will he throw it away to return home, or will he lose his own heart to the only woman who truly sees him? A Touch of Greek is the first book in the humorous and sexy paranormal romance series Out of Olympus following the romantic adventures of four Gods: Triton, Dionysus, Eros, and Hermes. Out of Olympus Series (A romantic comedy series about Greek Gods): Book 1: A Touch of Greek Book 2: A Scent of Greek Book 3: A Taste of Greek Book 4: A Hush of Greek (coming in 2016) Scanguards Vampires Series: Book 1: Samson's Lovely Mortal Book 2: Amaury's Hellion Book 3: Gabriel's Mate Book 4: Yvette's Haven Book 5: Zane's Redemption Book 6: Quinn's Undying Rose Book 7: Oliver's Hunger Book 8: Thomas's Choice Book 8 1/2: Silent Bite (A Scanguards Wedding) Book 9: Cain's Identity Book 10: Luther's Return Novella: Mortal Wish Book 11: Blake's Pursuit (Spring 2016) Venice Vampyr Novella Series: Venice Vampyr (#1) Venice Vampyr (#2): Final Affair Venice Vampyr (#3): Sinful Treasure Venice Vampyr (#4): Sensual Danger Stealth Guardians Series: Lover Uncloaked (#1) Eternal Bachelors Club (contemporary romance): Lawful Escort Lawful Lover Lawful Wife One Foolish Night One Long Embrace One Sizzling Touch

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Book Description

Prologue

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Other Books by Tina

About the Author

Copyright

A TOUCH OF GREEK

(OUT OF OLYMPUS #1)

BY

TINA FOLSOM

* * * * *

Copyright © 2010 by Tina Folsom

* * * * *

Book Description

Selfish and gorgeous Greek God Triton is cast out of Olympus after seducing Zeus’s mistress and can only gain reentry if he finds a woman who loves him for his kindness and selflessness, not his beauty. When the mortal Sophia—recovering from an eye operation and virtually blind—needs a home healthcare worker, he takes on the role, hoping she will be his ticket home.

While defending Sophia from an unknown adversary, Triton’s protective instinct emerges. At the same time rival Gods do everything to doom him to failure. And even if Triton can win Sophia’s love, will he throw it away to return home, or will he lose his own heart to the only woman who truly sees him?

A Touch of Greek is the first book in the humorous paranormal romance series Out of Olympus following the romantic adventures of four Gods: Triton, Dionysus, Eros, and Hermes.

Prologue

Sophia stomped through the white sand with her little red plastic bucket and headed for the water. Just because Michael was two months older than she, he thought he could order her around. Now he wanted her to fetch water so he could build a sandcastle. And, of course, he would take all the credit for it.

She’d show her little creep of a cousin what he could do with his water. She would pour it all over him instead of in the sand. That would teach him to treat her like his personal slave. And after this summer, she’d be starting school, and then she would make her own friends and wouldn’t have to play with him anymore.

There, take that, Michael!

Sophia waded into the shallow water and dipped the bucket into it, filling it to the rim. As she straightened, a movement caught her eye. Several feet farther out in the ocean, the tail fin of a huge fish sank back beneath the surface. She stumbled backwards, startled. Her grip on the bucket slipped. It sank, and with the next wave it was pulled out of her reach.

She cursed with the only cuss word she’d ever heard her aunt Eleni use, “Shit!” and instantly put her hand over her mouth, praying nobody had heard her. She darted a nervous look over her shoulder, but luckily nobody was close. According to Eleni, five-year-old girls weren’t supposed to use words like that.

A splash in the water made her turn to her right. And then she saw him.

He was resting on one of the large rocks which stuck out from the water. Like a sea lion, he lay there sunning himself. Only she’d seen sea lions before, in the zoo, and he looked like no such creature. No, he looked like a … mermaid. But that wasn’t possible, was it? Mermaids were girls, not men.

Sophia waded through the surf to get a closer look at the strange man.

“Are you a mermaid?” she asked loudly, waving her arms so he would notice her.

He instantly sat up, gave her a startled look, and jumped back into the water.

“Wait, don’t go!” she yelled. She hadn’t meant to scare him off.

All of a sudden, she felt new waves rush at her feet and lost her balance. She fell backwards, and the current pulled her into deeper water. She kicked her legs to keep her head above water, but she was scared—more than she’d ever been. Before the current could pull her under, arms grabbed her and lifted her up. Sophia wiped the water out of her eyes and stared at her rescuer.

It was the mermaid man—he’d come back. She gave him a huge smile, her fear instantly forgotten.

“Are you a mermaid?” Sophia asked him again and looked at him. His upper body was that of a big man, but just below the surface of the water she could see the scales of a fish and a large fin moving as if he treaded water.

He chuckled. “No, little one, I’m not a mermaid.”

“What’s your name?” Eleni had told her it was impolite to ask strangers questions, but she didn’t care.

“I’m Poseidon. What’s yours?”

“Sophia. And I’m five.” She held up her hand, showing him all five fingers so he would know for sure how grown up she already was.

“Well, Sophia, now that we’re friends, can you make me a promise?” His look was conspiratorial, the same way her aunt always looked when telling her a big secret.

“Yes,” she whispered and drew her head closer to him.

“Promise me to never tell anybody that you’ve seen me. Nobody is supposed to, because I’m invisible.”

“But you’re not. I can see you,” she protested.

Poseidon smiled. “Yes, and that’s quite a bit of a surprise. So how about I promise you something in return?”

Sophia listened up. A present? A new toy? “Okay?”

“You promise me you won’t tell anybody that you’ve seen me, and I’ll let you play with my son one day. Deal?”

She was a tough negotiator. “When?”

“When what?”

“When do I get to play with him?”

Poseidon frowned. “When he’s past his bad boy phase.”

“He’s bad?” she asked, and wondered whether he was as terrible as Michael.

“Not that bad—just a little naughty. You’ll like him. He’s handsome too. And you might be just the kind of girl he needs,” Poseidon baited her.

Sophia pursed her lips and considered Poseidon’s offer. “Okay then. I’ll play with him.”

“That’s my girl.” He dipped his hand into the water. When he pulled it back out, he was holding her red bucket.

“Oh, you found it!” Now she could douse Michael with water after all.

A moment later, she was sitting in the wet sand, the waves lapping at her feet, her bucket in her hands. The man was gone.

“Sophia!” The sharp voice of her aunt nearly pierced Sophia’s eardrum.

She turned and saw her aunt Eleni run toward her, Michael on her heels.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

Sophia jumped up and flung her arms around her aunt’s legs. “Don’t worry, he pulled me out of the water when I fell in.”

Eleni took her by the shoulders and made her look up. “You fell in? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from the waves? A man pulled you out? Where is he?”

Oh, no! She hadn’t meant to break her promise. It had just slipped out. “I’m sorry.” Under Eleni’s stare, she felt tears well up.

“Where is he?” Eleni’s sharp voice made her cringe.

A moment later, a tear rolled down Sophia’s cheek as her resistance crumbled. “Gone.”

“You tell me right now, Sophia Olympia Baker, or I will lock you up in the basement until you tell me the truth!” Eleni warned, lowering her voice as she always did when she was angry.

Sophia pressed her lips together and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Fine. But if he tells me off next time, I’ll tell him you forced me. He was a mermaid man—”

Michael’s triumphant laughter interrupted her. “You’re a liar. Mermaids are all girls.”

“Are not!” Sophia protested.

Eleni lifted her into her arms. “There’s no such thing. You have to stop making things up.”

“He was real. I spoke to him. He told me that if I’m a good girl he’ll let me play with his son.” Why didn’t Eleni believe her?

Michael pulled on Eleni’s skirt.

“What?”

“She’s lying, she’s lying.”

“Stop it, Michael. Go, build that sand castle, and let me talk to your cousin for a minute.”

Reluctantly, Michael grabbed his plastic shovel and turned to where he’d played in the sand earlier.

Eleni gave Sophia a soft smile. “There are no men who’re half fish, half man. You were dreaming again.”

“No, I wasn’t. He talked to me. He said his name is Poseidon, and he was nice.”

Now she’d said it and broken her promise. Eleni was to blame. She’d made her do it. Now she wouldn’t get to play with Poseidon’s son.

Sophia sighed. Never mind, she tried to console herself, if he was really such a naughty boy, then she didn’t want to play with him anyway.

1

Twenty-three years later

What would the punishment be this time? A year in Hades for giving it to Zeus’s mistress du-jour? Seemed like a fair exchange, Triton thought. It could be worse. He could be bridled from any sexual activities for a decade—which would suck to say the least. Anything, just not that! He’d never survive it. Not sating his sexual urges for a week bordered on excruciating, a decade would be pure torture.

At least in Hades, he could screw some desperate souls, and the year would pass in delicious debauchery. He could deal with the heat and the stench, and surely, Father’s other brother, Hades, wouldn’t make the stay too uncomfortable for him. As long as Triton kept his hands off Hades’ wife. Now there was a beauty, if there ever was one.

Despite his thoughts, Triton kept his head down and his eyes averted, not willing to piss the king of gods off any further. He cringed convincingly as Zeus lifted his arm and sent another thunderbolt across the blue sky. A sound as loud as a thousand horses’ hooves cracked through the white clouds that hung over Olympus. For sure, his uncle gave an impressive show right there on the terrace of his home overlooking the mortal world of Greece.

Better to play the repentant servant to Zeus. There was no way he was getting out of this mess unscathed. Not even his father Poseidon could help him right now—not that Triton wanted to ask the old man for help. All he’d get would be a lecture.

Besides, in his current state, Uncle Zeus wouldn’t listen to anyone, least of all his brother.

Whatever punishment Triton was due, however, would be worth it. By the gods, how Danae’s pale thighs had wrapped around him when he’d pumped into her. Her pink nipples had been erect little peaks topping voluptuous breasts that had bounced up and down, side to side with every thrust he’d delivered. Oh Gods, he’d delivered it to her—several times. She’d screamed her pleasure to the heavens and professed he was a better lover than Zeus, and by the gods, he’d lapped that compliment up the same way he’d gobbled up the juices that had oozed from her quivering pussy.

She’d milked him so many times he’d collapsed in her arms, unable to move another limb. And that was exactly how Zeus had found him: in her bed, bare-assed, and with his dick still inside her. Talk about in flagrante. He wasn’t going to smooth-talk himself out of that one.

Triton took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the sweet scent of ambrosia that drifted his way from just inside the palace. He eyed the spectators, who’d gathered around them. It hadn’t taken long for them to assemble—one word to the right person and the news had spread like wildfire. Zeus liked an audience as much as the next god, especially when he was ready to hand out punishment.

“Did you hear me?” Zeus’s voice boomed through the warm air, hitting him like a hurricane sweeping over the sea. Unlike any storm over the world’s oceans, this was one Triton couldn’t calm, not even with his powers as the god of seafarers and sailors.

Triton lifted his head to meet his uncle’s glare but was careful not to show his defiance. “Of course, Zeus.”

Zeus looked nothing like the mortals depicted him in their books and paintings. He was no old man with a white beard. No, the god of all gods was a virile man looking no older than thirty-five in mortal years, with a chiseled face as beautiful as Michelangelo’s David, and as hard as the marble the famous artist had used. How unfortunate, Triton mused. It made competition for some decent pussy on Olympus darn stiff. And only around women would Zeus turn on his charm and melt any female right into his perfect body—or under it, which was the preferred position for any woman when around the god.

Again, a blast of air came Triton’s way, threatening to upset his balance.

“Then choose.”

Choose? What did Zeus want him to choose between?

He would have done well to listen this once, but his uncle’s tirades could go on for hours, and what was the point of taking any notice when he couldn’t change the outcome anyway? However, this time a sinking feeling spread in Triton’s stomach as if he was about to gamble away his life.

“Uh, I …” he stammered.

An angry grunt was Zeus’s reply. “Option one or two. I’m leaving you a choice, but only because my brother has bartered for leniency toward you. Personally, I would crush you with my bare hands. Frankly, boy, I’ve had it with you. Would you like me to remind you of all the things you’ve done?”

Triton’s memory was working just fine. He sure needed no reminder, but he knew better than to anger Zeus while his punishment still hung in the balance.

“Ares’ house still stinks to this day after you dumped a barrel of fish in his atrium and let it rot there.”

Triton remembered all too well. Served the bastard right though—it had been payback for Ares destroying any chances he might have had with the goddess Phoebe by spreading vicious (and of course entirely untrue) rumors about Triton’s sexual prowess—or lack thereof. Any god worth his salt would have reacted the same way.

“Not to even speak of how you seduced the Nymph Metope the night before her wedding. Is nothing sacred to you?”

Well, the dainty creature had asked for it—she’d virtually begged him to take her.

Dear God, please show me how to make my husband happy, she’d prayed. So Triton had taken it upon himself to show her a thing or two. Well, maybe three.

“Now choose before I change my mind!”

Triton glanced around the crowd, trying to find a friendly face among it. Somebody had to help him out. He couldn’t very well ask Zeus to repeat the two choices. If he knew that Triton had been daydreaming while he’d let out his tirade, there’d be more-than-hell to pay, and all choices would be taken away.

No, whatever he chose now would ultimately be better than what Zeus handed down if angered even further.

Triton spotted Eros and Hermes, two of his best friends, in the crowd. Maybe they could help him make a decision without Zeus noticing.

As always, Eros’s tunic was slung low across his muscled chest, the material flowing elegantly down to his knees, covering his strong thighs. His bow and quiver hung over his shoulder. He never went anywhere without it. He stood over six feet tall, his dark brown hair cropped short. His friend Hermes, equally tall and strong and as usual wearing his winged sandals that could take him anywhere, stood next to him. He was a crafty fellow and could be relied upon to help him out of a dilemma.

With a barely perceivable move of his head, Triton motioned to his two friends. Both moved their hands in front of their bodies, displaying a number of digits.

From his fist, Eros let one finger emerge. Perfect! His friend had understood him. Triton’s gaze rolled to Hermes’ hand. Two fingers stretched out from his friend’s fist.

By the gods! Those two weren’t in agreement?

What now?

Should he go with Eros, the one who’d never tried to shoot him with one of his arrows even though he deserved it? Not that they worked on a god, but they stung like Hades for a week. Or should he trust Hermes, who’d always had his back when it counted but occasionally played some nasty pranks on him?

Which one of his friends had his best interest in mind? Eros or Hermes?

Another thunderbolt indicated Zeus’s impatience and told Triton his time was up.

“One. I’m taking option one.”

Triton caught Eros’s wicked smile and Hermes’ disappointed stare before Zeus thundered on, “Very well, then. So you think you’re up for the challenge?”

Triton swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “Challenge?”

Instinctively, Triton pushed his shoulders back to get ready for battle. He took an extra deep breath of oxygen, re-energizing his body. If there was a challenge to be met, he was ready. How hard could it be?

“Frankly, I thought you would have chosen Hades instead.”

Oh, fuck. He could have had fun in the Underworld. No wonder Hermes had suggested that option. The two of them could have hung out since Hermes knew the river Styx and the path to the Underworld. Every time Hermes escorted another soul into Hades, they could have visited and had fun. Damn, why hadn’t he listened to him?

Triton glanced at Eros and mouthed what the fuck? only to get a lopsided grin as a response.

What, for Olympus’s sake, had he chosen instead? A sense of foreboding struck him out of nowhere. With bated breath, he looked at Zeus, avoiding his eyes and instead staring at his mouth. There was a pause which felt like an eternity before Zeus finally continued.

“It is decreed then. Triton, you shall be cast out into the human world and only come back when you have found a mortal woman who loves you not for your beauty but your kindness and selflessness.”

Zeus’s laugh echoed against the palace, then rolled down the hills into Greece. In his shock, Triton barely heard what the mortals would perceive as thunder. He couldn’t be hearing right. The mortal world? And under those conditions? Had Zeus gone off his rocker?

“That should keep the bugger busy for the next century,” he heard a spectator whisper.

“Like any woman will ever see past his looks—not a chance in Hades,” another replied and laughed.

Didn’t he know it? Triton was graced with his mother’s beauty: blond hair, blue eyes, and a classical nose. Coupled with a perfect body, there wasn’t anything Triton could physically improve upon. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t get a come hither look from a woman—goddess or mortal. Or scornful looks from gods or men who saw him as clear competition for the affections of their women. But it appeared that his good looks could become a hindrance in his quest to return home.

Triton tossed Eros a pissed off look. Why on earth had his friend—make that ex-friend—given him such bad advice? Eros’s smug smile said it all—he had a secret agenda. He’d wring the love god’s neck as soon as Zeus was gone, and then afterwards, he’d find out Eros’s motives.

Hurt him first, ask questions later.

“You will also be stripped of all your godly powers while you reside on earth,” Zeus continued. “Any god helping you with your challenge will be punished.”

The big god let his gaze sweep over the crowd, lingering more than a few seconds on Eros and Hermes.

“This also goes for any gods not assembled here today.”

Well, that took care of Dionysus then. The quartet was practically inseparable. But while he wasn’t present at Triton’s sentencing—and most likely out carousing somewhere in the human world—Dionysus would surely come to his aid if need be.

On Olympus, friendship meant more than kin—considering that with all the inbreeding going on, practically everybody was related anyway.

Both Hermes and Dionysus were his cousins, while Eros was a cousin twice removed (and if Triton could help it, completely removed after the stunt he’d just pulled, giving him such disastrous counsel).

“In addition,” Zeus droned on.

Was the old god still not done? What else could he add that would make this any worse than it already was?

“… any god found interfering with Triton’s efforts to secure the love of a mortal through his kindness and selflessness, shall be …” Zeus made a dramatic pause. In the silence that followed, one could have heard the tear of a virgin drop to the ground—not that there were any virgins left on Olympus thanks to the unquenchable libido of Zeus himself.

“… rewarded.”

Cheers greeted the free-for-all-let’s-screw-Triton-over announcement. His uncle was one sick bastard.

Many of the Olympians were assembled, all wearing their long flowing tunics, some in white, some in more cheerful colors. Most faces looking back at Triton were familiar.

He spotted Artemis, who was decked out in her hunting gear, soft leather boots caressing her long muscular legs. Triton caught her eye and winked at her. When he was back after his sentence, he’d make a play for her. It would be fun, especially since he knew his annoying half-brother Orion coveted her too. Now, that would be a worthy challenge: which brother to bed her first?

Now that Triton had received his punishment, he reconsidered his assessment of Danae, Zeus’s current mistress. Looking back, she hadn’t been such a great lay after all. At least she wasn’t worth the kind of harsh revenge Zeus had taken on him. All she’d done was lie there with her legs spread. She hadn’t even sucked his shaft. He was in the right mind to go back there and make her suck him off so at least the punishment fit the crime.

But of course, that wasn’t possible. Zeus would make sure Triton wasn’t going anywhere but down the mountain into mortal Greece. And he would keep a tight leash on his mistress from now on—that was, until he lost interest and moved onto somebody else. Which would probably happen even before Triton returned from Earth.

“So, it is done.” Zeus turned and walked across the terrace toward his opulent white marble palace.

“Off to Greece then,” Triton mumbled to himself.

Zeus spun around and gave him a nasty grin. “Greece? You’re not going to Greece.”

“But, where, if not—”

“You’re going to America.”

Triton’s heart missed a beat. America? The land of bad television, consumerism, and people obsessed with beauty? What were the chances of finding a woman there who could love him for anything but his beauty? While Triton often ventured into Greece and Italy for some erotic adventures, during which of course he had to disguise the fact that he was a god, he’d always avoided the Americas. They held no interest for him. Of course, Zeus knew that fact full well.

A moment later Zeus was gone, and the spectators dispersed. Triton looked over to where Eros and Hermes stood and noticed Orion grin just behind them. The god of the hunters was a royal pain in their collective butts. There was no love lost between them. Triton graced him with an undignified look, but even now, Orion could barely contain his glee before he turned and walked away.

His two friends tried to remain positive.

“Don’t worry, you can handle it,” Eros claimed.

Triton slammed his fist into the love god’s stomach. “That’s for giving me such brilliant advice.”

“Hey, I meant well.”

“Should’ve listened to me instead,” Hermes said with a smug smile on his face. “But no, you thought I was tricking you. Now, would I do that to you?”

“Yes, you would, and you have,” Triton said, ignoring his friend’s mock-innocent tone.

“Not this time. Hades would have been a blast.”

Like he needed to be told. Hades might have a bad rep among mortals, but a crafty god like Triton could have made it work.

“Maybe you should have listened to Zeus in the first place, rather than daydreaming again.” Eros caressed his bow.

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have shagged Danae in the first place.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but that’s not going to help me now. So, what’s the plan? How are we getting out of this one?” Triton asked and gave his friends an expectant look.

“We?” Eros and Hermes responded in unison.

“You’re on your own on this one,” Eros proclaimed.

Hermes nodded. “Ditto.”

“Jerks!” Triton didn’t get a chance to continue chastising his friends. A moment later, he felt a strong force rip through his body, transporting him off the mountain.

“Eros, payback’s a bitch,” he yelled, but wasn’t sure if the love god had heard him.

Great, Zeus wasn’t even giving him time to pack for this trip.

2

“A blind woman? That’s your brilliant plan?” Triton shook his head at his friend Dionysus who nodded eagerly.

“Of course. It makes perfect sense. A blind woman won’t love you for your beauty, because she can’t see you. Now you just need to pick one, and you’re on your way home.”

The god of wine and ecstasy had a self-satisfied grin on his face. His dark looks were in stark contrast to Triton’s blond hair and sun-kissed skin. Dionysus was a handsome god, Triton had to admit—at least to any woman who was into the dark and brooding look.

Triton’s bare ass still hurt from his rough landing in a stone garden behind an old house. If it had been Zeus’s idea of a joke to drop him there, naked and without any means of procuring clothes, then Triton failed to see the humor in it.

At least Dionysus had heard his calls immediately, just like any god could hear a mortal’s call for help if addressed by his name. He’d listened to Triton’s story and acted. After supplying him with a decent set of clothes, Dionysus had disappeared again.

Triton felt better now that he was dressed, and luckily Dionysus’s taste in fashion was impeccable, as was his eye for size. The jeans fit like a glove, hugging Triton’s backside tightly.

As he’d walked through this strange new city, map in hand like a hapless tourist to follow Dionysus’s directions, he’d noticed more than one woman admiring the fit of his jeans—both front and back. Well, he wasn’t complaining.

He wandered through this little town with its cobblestone streets, narrow alleys, and old brick and wood houses with their large ornate balconies and quaint inner courtyards to find the place where Dionysus expected him. But it was all too cute for his taste—wherever here was.

Triton glanced back down at the map in his hands. Right, Charleston, that’s what it said. And if that wouldn’t have explained it, he read the plaque on the building Dionysus was leaning against: Charleston School for the Blind.

“Let’s go,” Dionysus suggested.

Triton put his hand on his friend’s arm to hold him back. “You can’t just walk in there. It’s a school.”

“Yeah, but it’s a school for the blind. Nobody will see us.”

Triton had to admit that on one hand Dionysus’s plan was ingenious. If he could find a blind woman to romance, she would fall in love with him without being aware of his good looks, and Zeus’s challenge would be met. He’d be home in no time. But to go traipsing into a school for the blind and take advantage of a more than vulnerable woman—that went even beyond what Triton was prepared to do.

Hesitantly, Triton entered the sheltered courtyard of the school and surveyed the scene in front of him. Children from the ages of about five through not older than seventeen were assembled in the grassy area. Some sat on benches, others stood around in groups, talking loudly. He couldn’t see any teachers. Where were they all? Wouldn’t at least one person be on duty to watch out for the kids?

Triton let his gaze sweep over some of the older girls.

“You can’t possibly expect me to ...” Triton started and swallowed hard. “They are kids. Your father clearly said woman, not girl. I’m not going to—”

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that. I don’t even call him Father. What a father he’s been so far!” Dionysus was off on one of his rants. “All he wants from me is to set him up with gorgeous women. Can you imagine? My own father? And he started when he was still with my mother, as if ….”

Triton tuned out his friend’s ramblings. He’d heard it all before: how Zeus had betrayed Dionysus’s mother—which technically wasn’t even correct since Dionysus’s mother Semele had merely been Zeus’s mistress—and how he felt abandoned, and at the same time, used by him, and how it had influenced Dionysus’s relationships with women. Complete psychobabble if anybody asked him.

“Dionysus, focus!”

“You’re not the only one who has problems, Triton!”

Triton tossed him an impatient glare. “But mine are a bit more urgent right now. And this—” He gestured at the blind kids. “—this is not going to work, so let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yes, but not without a woman for you,” Dionysus agreed.

“What and take her with us? As in abduct? That’s gross even by your standards,” Triton retorted.

Dionysus slapped his flat palm on Triton’s forehead. “Of course not, you idiot. We’ll watch her, follow her and find out where she lives. And then you’ll find a pretext to approach her and get to know her. You’ll have her panting for you in no time.”

The plan was perfect. But Triton didn’t feel like patting his friend on the back for his ingenious idea. He felt repulsed by it.

“Okay, then,” Dionysus continued. “Which one of these little fillies do you fancy?” He pointed at a group of three girls who looked to be around seventeen. One was flat-chested and not yet well developed. All three had fresh young faces attesting to their youth. On Olympus, any girl over fourteen was considered a woman as long as her tits were sufficiently developed. Two of the three girls certainly met the criteria.

Still, they were kids, hardly women.

“Go on, pick one,” Dionysus urged again. How low did he think Triton would sink? But before he could tell Dionysus to forget the whole idea, he heard a scream from behind.

“Pedophile!”

The scream filled the courtyard a moment before a cane hit against Triton’s calf.

“What the fuck?” he hissed and swung around to face his attacker.

The cane belonged to a boy who was no older than ten. While he was blind, he didn’t seem to have any problems figuring out where to hit Triton again and promptly repeated the assault.

“Stop!” Triton shouted.

“Pedophile! Help!” the boy screamed again, attracting more attention from his classmates now. Led by the boy’s shouts, more of them came toward him and Dionysus.

“Fuck,” Dionysus ground out. “This is not good.”

“You think?”

More kids surrounded them, and suddenly they all started screaming and shouting. Words like pedophile, jerk, and kidnapper flew freely around the courtyard. He and Dionysus fended off the furious blows of their canes.

“Great, now see what you’ve gotten us into,” Triton complained.

Triton felt another painful hit against his thigh, followed by one on his ass before he heard an authoritative adult voice.

“What on earth is going on here?”

Triton looked in the direction of the voice and saw one of the teachers look out from a window. The woman stared right at him. Damn, she was obviously not blind.

“Pedophile!” several of the kids shouted again.

“Police,” another one screamed.

“We’ve gotta get out of here! Run!” Triton called toward his friend who was in the midst of fighting off a vicious attack from a couple of twelve-year-olds. Kids shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near those deadly instruments they wielded right now—those canes.

Triton had to get the hell out of there before anybody could give an accurate description of him and deliver him to the authorities, cutting his sojourn in this lovely Southern city short.

Triton ran past Dionysus, grabbed him by his arm and jerked him away from the two little assailants. In the distance, a police siren blared already. Who’d ever said the South was slow?

He exchanged frantic looks with Dionysus and launched into a sprint out the school gate.

“This way,” Dionysus ordered.

Triton followed him along the narrow side street. He tripped over a missing cobblestone, but caught himself in time and continued running.

The siren came closer and could only be a block away now. Dionysus dove into an alley, Triton close on his heels. After half a block, his friend turned left into an old overgrown cemetery.

Spanish moss hung from the weeping willows, and weeds graced the old tombstones. The filtered sunlight shining onto the graves made for an eerie atmosphere.

Breathing heavily, Triton followed Dionysus’s example and let himself fall against a gravestone. His chest heaved from the unexpected exercise. He wasn’t used to running. As a sea god he was an excellent swimmer, and he missed the water, but on dry land he was merely average. To really relax now, he’d give anything to feel the ocean’s waves break against his body.

“That was close.” Triton exhaled and wiped a pearl of sweat off his forehead.

He’d had it with Dionysus for today. Seducing a woman was one thing (and a thing Triton didn’t mind), but going after a blind one, and one who was barely a woman at that was something even he as a god could not stomach. Sure, the gods weren’t exactly known for their humane treatment of mortals, but to seduce a blind teenage girl? Only the most depraved of gods would sink that low. And for all his callousness, even Triton drew the line somewhere.

“I need a drink now.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Dionysus agreed. He wasn’t the god of wine for nothing.

“Without you,” Triton barked.

3

“I should have never let you talk me into coming here,” Sophia sighed and gave Francesca a frustrated look. “Only the most desperate singles come to this dive to get picked up.” And she didn’t categorize herself as quite that desperate—not yet, anyway.

Her friend sipped from her umbrella drink. “Don’t knock it. I got my last five dates from here.”

“Case in point.” Sophia lifted her handbag from the table.

Without interrupting her survey of the men in the dim lounge, Francesca put her hand on Sophia’s arm, stopping her from getting up. “Don’t even think about leaving. What are you gonna do at home? Work until midnight? No. You need a night out to switch off, take your mind off things.”

Caught! How did Francesca always know what her plans were? Was she psychic, or what?

“I don’t have time to switch off. The opening is only seven weeks away, and we’re not even half-way through the renovations. And the bank is breathing down my neck.” Some days she barely knew where to start with all the things she had to take care of. Running a renovations project turned out to be more time consuming and frustrating than she’d ever imagined. Just as well that she was good at multi-tasking, otherwise she would have thrown the towel in long ago.

“Turning the house into a B&B isn’t a job for one person. I told you that before you started,” Francesca chastised, furrowing her brow.

“There wasn’t exactly anybody I could ask for help, was there? Or would you rather I’d involved Michael?” Sophia didn’t want an answer to her rhetorical question but knew she’d get one nevertheless. She could count on it—three, two …

“You need him like a hole in the head. That man’s toxic. Shame you can’t choose family.” Her friend pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Maybe toxic is a little too harsh a word. He isn’t quite as bad as you make him out to be,” Sophia defended him. Her words were a mere reflex. She didn’t like talking bad about people who weren’t present to defend themselves, even if they deserved it. On second thought, maybe a good-natured rant with her best friend would kick all that pent-up frustration out of her tired bones and help her relax.

“Oh, really? And what part of your dear cousin is wholesome? The part of him that robbed your aunt blind while she was still alive, or when he tried to open credit lines in your name? Or, hold on, maybe the part where he sold your car from right under your nose and you had to take the bus to campus?” Francesca put her finger under her chin in a gesture of mock-thought.

Okay, a rant it was. Why fight it, when she knew she was still reeling from Michael’s last stunt at the reading of Eleni’s will, where he’d threatened to sue for what he thought was rightfully his? “Brings back memories,” Sophia admitted. Unfortunately, not many good ones. Growing up with her cousin Michael after their parents had died together in a boating accident, hadn’t been easy. “Aunt Eleni was so mad at him when she realized he was stealing from her. That’s when she changed her will. Said he wouldn’t get a red cent from her.”

“And he didn’t. Now the house is all yours—”

She interrupted Francesca. “The bank’s actually—the estate taxes had to be paid somehow. With the huge mortgage I had to take out to cover them, I don’t have any choice but to make the place into a Bed and Breakfast. What else am I supposed to do? Sell it?”

“That’s an idea.”

“No, Francesca, not an option. I won’t give up the house. That’s all I have.” It was her home and the only thing left that reminded her of her parents. “I’ve really checked this out. I’ve run all the numbers, done my due diligence. The business plan is solid. If it weren’t, the bank would have never given me the loan to remodel. I’m telling you it’ll work.”

“Well, at least that way Michael will never get his hands on it.” Francesca downed the last of her fancy drink.

“Actually, he could.” Sophia still remembered her shock at hearing the words of Eleni’s will.

“How so?” Her friend gave her a confused look. “You inherited it. I sure hope you’re not putting him into your will.”

Sure, Sophia could be accused of being too good-natured, but stupid? No, nobody would ever call her that. She could take apart a business contract like a tenth-grader dissected a frog: with enough curiosity to make sure nothing escaped her. Even though she’d only taken a few contract and business law classes during college, she’d learned a thing or two. Enough to know when to hire a lawyer and when to handle things herself.

“Well, it’s not actually something I can control. Eleni’s will had a contingency clause. It’s a family thing.” Sophia cut her friend’s protest off in its infancy. “If anything happens to me without me having any children, he’s the contingent heir.”

Francesca let out a stifled gasp. “She can do that?”

Sophia nodded. She hadn’t liked hearing the clause when the will had been read to her and Michael a week after Eleni’s death. However, after discussions with her own attorney, she’d realized that fighting the will would cost her every penny she’d inherited.

“She can and she did. I guess family meant more to her than we all assumed. Even if it means my rotten cousin might get his hands on her money after all. Because me having children, as we both know, isn’t going to happen any time soon.”

As much as she wanted to have a family, she needed to be able to provide for one first. And that meant starting a viable business and putting the energy into it to make it work. Even if that meant putting children on hold for a few years. She still had more childbearing years left. At twenty-eight she wasn’t completely out of the game yet.

Francesca rolled her eyes. “It would help if you went on an occasional date or two.”

Sophia had no objection to dating whatsoever, only to the available dating material. And to go into a relationship just for the sake of not being alone anymore was just too pathetic. She was looking for Mr. Right, not Mr. Right-Now. Well, maybe looking was too strong a word. She wasn’t actively looking. Really, where would she find the time for it right now with all the things she had on her plate?

“I don’t need another lecture. I’ve told you already, as soon as the B&B is open, I’m turning a new leaf. I’ll be looking for a decent guy—real marriage material. You can quote me on that. Until then, I don’t have time to waste on dates with the kind of guys I’m likely to meet here.” As lonely as it was to go home to an empty house, she’d rather do that than date the wrong guy again. She’d learned her lesson.

“You can’t let your bad experiences hold you back for the rest of your life. I thought you were turning a new leaf.” Francesca gave a provocative flick of her wrist.

“I am. And neither Ralph nor Eric have anything to do with this.”

“Nor Simon, Mark, or Justin?” Francesca asked in a mocking tone. “Sure, if you say so.”

Sophia drew a big gulp from her drink. “What do you want, Francesca?”

Her friend leaned over the table. “I want you to acknowledge that you can’t judge all men with the same measure just because some jerks hurt you. It’s not fair.”

Sophia wanted to interrupt, but Francesca held up her hand. “No, I have to say this. I should have said it years ago. It’s time to wipe the slate clean. You have to give a guy a chance. Do yourself a favor and forget those idiots. They aren’t worth it.”

It was easier said than done. “I’m not like you, Francesca.”

“Sweetie, it happens to all of us. Do you think nobody’s ever cheated on me?”

Sophia shrugged. “I know for a fact that none of your boyfriends ever traded you in for a better date for the prom just because you came down with a case of pimples.”

“Ralph was a cad, I give you that, but those pimples did look hideous.” Francesca tried to suppress her laughter.

Sophia couldn’t help but laugh herself. The whole thing had been ridiculous. And when her face had cleared up again a couple of weeks later, Ralph had promptly come crawling back.

But by that time she’d already realized how little substance there was to him. What had been important to him were appearances, and hers hadn’t fit into his perfect world. God forbid his prom photo would show his girlfriend with acne. So Sophia had decided that she’d never date another pretty boy like Ralph.

A few months later she’d fallen off that wagon—and dated yet another guy who was too handsome for his own good. The fact that Eric constantly basked in the admiring glow of other women and was a hawk for compliments wasn’t even the worst. The problem was he felt that every equally beautiful woman should have a piece of his perfect body. By the time Sophia had caught on to his philandering, her beau had gotten so used to his ways that he felt there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he was doing.

After a while a pattern had started to emerge—the better looking the man, the more disastrously the relationship would turn out. Could she help it that she liked a man with a great physique and a handsome face? For the first time, Sophia wondered whether that made her shallow. Was she lying to Francesca and to herself when she said she liked a man with a brain and some substance? Oh, rats, she was probably not any better than those guys. Nothing had really changed since high school. She still fell for any handsome face and would lick her battle wounds a few weeks later. Stupid!

“Trust me, I’ll never fall for another pretty boy,” Sophia promised, a promise she made more to herself than to Francesca.

As she looked at her friend, she suddenly noticed a change in her face. A flash of interest crossed her beautiful features. “Good, you’re on. So, let’s test your resistance on the next hot guy who walks in.” Francesca’s eyes were glued on the door.

Sophia lifted her chin. “Fine. I’ll prove to you that I’m not susceptible to a pretty face anymore. I’ve changed.”

“Oh, yummy,” Francesca murmured. “Here comes Sex on Legs.”

Sophia sat with her back to the door and couldn’t see who Francesca was referring to, but she wasn’t worried. “To you, any man who breathes is Sex on Legs. Not a big hurdle to clear.”

Francesca snorted and fanned herself. “So not true, and this one’s a real hunk. Don’t look now, but I think he’s headed this way.” She ran her hand through her hair. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll get his attention and then hand him over to you. How do I look?”

Sophia smiled. As always her best and oldest friend looked perfect. Her red hair was slightly wavy, and her face was enhanced with subtle make up. She looked perfectly natural and perfectly beautiful. “Gorgeous, as always.”

Sophia wasn’t even jealous or envious of her friend’s assets. Being the best friend of one of the most popular girls in high school and then in college had brought many benefits with it. But that wasn’t even the best of it. Francesca was as close to Sophia as any sister could have ever been.

“He’s looking at me.” Francesca continued her running commentary. “He’s definitely coming this way. Sophia, get ready.”

She’d never seen her friend this flustered. When it came to men, Francesca had plenty of experience and always played it cool. But the rose blush on her friend’s cheeks told her she was anything but cool. Sophia’s curiosity got the better of her. If anybody could make her friend blush, he had to have something very special.

Sophia swiveled on her stool and froze.

The tall blond man was making his way through the crowd in a determined gait that reminded Sophia of a shopaholic heading for a Gucci bag on sale. He was mouthwateringly stunning.

She was so screwed!

If only Sophia’s brain would make the muscles in her jaw work, she might be able to appear unaffected by him. As it was, her mouth was gaping open like a school gate on graduation day, making her feel like a total dork.

The hunk was over six feet tall and, even hidden beneath a set of casual clothes, his body was displayed for all to see. With every step, the sinewy muscles of his chest flexed, stretching his polo shirt. But he was no bodybuilder. His physique looked too natural for it, as if he’d been sculpted like that.

Tanned. Hot. And on his way to their table, his gaze fixed on Francesca.

Sophia felt heat rise in her body and tried to fan herself with her hands. She hadn’t seen anything this enticing since she and Francesca had spent their first real vacation on a beach in Greece.

The heat in the club turned to stifling. She fanned herself even harder, and a second later she hit her glass with her hand and tipped it over. In a desperate attempt to keep it from spilling, she made matters worse. An errant ice cube flew out of the glass as she righted it and promptly landed in her cleavage. And there it sat, right where her new Victoria’s Secret bra pressed her perfectly formed but average-sized boobs together to display her assets in a more advantageous way.

Shit! Now she’d drawn attention to herself, which was the absolute last thing she’d wanted to do.

Sophia should have never listened to Francesca and instead gone with her high neckline shirt rather than the top that made her boobs almost spill over on top. She didn’t dare lift her head to see if the hunk had spotted her accident—she knew he had, and she was dying the slow death of embarrassment. Sophia tried to save what she could of her dignity and reached for the rapidly melting cube.

“May I?”

His deep melodic voice jolted her out of her action. She raised her head to look at the man and instantly felt her heart flutter. He stood only inches from her, his sandy blond hair in perfect contrast to his tanned face as if he spent hours in the sun each day. His piercing ocean blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

Before Sophia’s brain could even process what he’d asked her, his hand reached for the ice cube still lodged between her breasts and freed it. His fingers brushed against her exposed flesh, and she could have sworn she felt her skin sizzle at the touch.

Hypnotized, she watched him as he took the ice cube and made it disappear in his mouth.

“Mmm, refreshing,” he commented and swept his gaze over her body as if measuring her for a gown. No curve, no inch seemed to escape his scrutiny. If the heat rising into her head was any indication, she’d say she was blushing like an overly ripe tomato.

“Care to dance?” he asked.

No, she didn’t want to dance with him and feel those arms around her, those hands touching her. The further away she kept somebody like him, the better for her. And besides, the hunk had just proven her point: after heading straight for Francesca, he’d instantly changed gears as soon as his attention had been drawn to Sophia’s boobs because of her clumsy move. If that didn’t have shallow written all over it, she didn’t know what did.

“Of course, she wants to dance,” she heard Francesca answer for her.

Sophia instantly sent her friend a scolding look, but Francesca didn’t even look at her. She continued smiling at the hunk.

“Shall we, then?” he asked again and this time took her hand into his.