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just wasn't interested. He says they were too different to be compatible. They had this whirlwind love affair, and then I came along. Soon afterward, my mother decided she wasn't ready to be a mom and wife. She just walked away.” Maia's face broke into a pathetic, crumpled grin which didn't mask her pain. “I've never heard from her. Not a single birthday card. Not one phone call. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere and I wouldn't know."

Eric put down his plate of fried rice and frowned at her. “If it's any consolation, your mother's a fool."

"Well, I'm lucky I had my dad. He was the best. He always has been.” She turned her head and grabbed her Holly Hobby bag from where she'd draped it over the couch. “He gave this bag to me after my mom left. I carried it everywhere I went as a child. It became my security blanket. Years later, when dad got sick, I found it in a box with some things I'd put away. I haven't been able to put it back. I know it's pathetic. I'm a grown woman and I carry a security blanket. I'm Linus."

"No, you're not. And your mom was the pathetic one. You're special, Maia."

She brightened a little. “Thanks. Now I really just feel sorry for my mother. She missed out on a lot. I'm sure one day she'll realize it."

He smiled at her, wanting to hug her. So many people in her situation would blame themselves. Maia was smarter than they. In many ways, quirks aside, she was better adjusted than he was. And he had a whole arsenal of special powers at his disposal.

She was starting to charm the pants off him, this intriguing young woman.

They continued talking about their lives and about Greece, late into the night, like a couple of geeky grad students. At one point, Maia produced a dusty bottle of white wine and poured out two glasses before he could object.

No. He couldn't allow himself to drink with her. It would be a disaster. He'd only end up looking at her through a wine-fogged haze and see her in a way she didn't deserve. As a warm body he desperately wanted to fuck.

She pushed the glass toward him. “Come on, boss man. You've stood watch over me all night. The least I can do is offer you some wine."

He looked at the glass, suddenly thirsty. And then he looked at her, suddenly hungry. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed from the start. Maia Douglas was beautiful. She was unthinkably gorgeous. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. Her body looked so relaxed sitting there with him. Ripe for the picking.

If he put his mind to it, she wouldn't even protest. He could slide her capri pants and panties down over her hips and lower his mouth to her heat and give her a pleasure she'd never known. It would be so easy.

And he'd hate himself later. “You know, maybe I should go."

"No!” The word popped out of her mouth so quickly he wasn't even sure it had registered in her head. “I mean, we're having a good time, right?"

"Yes."

"And,” she said, obviously fishing for the right words, “I still feel weird about the push on the steps. I really don't want to be alone tonight. Maybe you could crash here with me?"

There. She'd said it. She'd asked him to stay the night, just as he'd been hoping she would. Okay, she hadn't begged for sex as he'd wanted her to do, but she'd asked him not to leave. That had to validate his presence there. It gave him a much-needed excuse not to leave. He could kiss her for it.

Gods help him, he just might.

She waited, gnawing on her lips, looking as if she might be sick over her little show of bravery. And as he decided, he knew his face must be exhibiting all the emotions coursing through him. Surprise. Temptation. Determination. And something which continued to shock him. An all-encompassing feeling of possessiveness and protectiveness.

"Okay,” he heard himself agree. “I wouldn't want you to be afraid. I'll take your couch.” He frowned, at his own words and then let out a little laugh. “You don't have any more underwear hiding in there, do you?"

"I think I grabbed them all,” she said, blushing.

"All right, then.” He sat back on the couch and loosened his tie, conscious of her eyes on his movements. And before he even knew what he was doing, Eric reached for the wineglass and took a long drink.

And froze.

What was he doing, drinking alcohol with a mortal? How had he lost control again? Why did he always lose control around Maia?

He licked his dry lips. The chardonnay was cheap, but delicious. Cautiously, he took another little sip. Maybe this time he'd be okay. Maybe the wine wouldn't transform him into a raging, sexual beast needing fierce release at all costs. Mortals held their liquor all the time. Surely he could too. For once. “Well, here's to having your own bodyguard for the night."

Oblivious to his panicked state of mind, she giggled. They chatted for another hour before Maia realized she was exhausted. She got him set up on the couch with blankets and a spare pillow. And then, looking at him with what could only be reluctance, Maia turned in.

As she got ready for bed, she realized she'd never had such a good time with anyone. Despite her eerie fall and the shock of seeing her father's strange recovery, Eric's presence had made it the nicest day she'd ever had. She loved talking to him, laughing with him.

And she loved his kisses. His second kiss, along with its bizarre mythical imagery, had turned her insides into a scalding, roiling cauldron of emotion.

But he hadn't kissed her again. No doubt either his sense or his professionalism had kicked in, and he realized he'd made a mistake.

She put on an oversize T-shirt, turned off the

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