"Aphrodite's_Secret_018" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_03]_-_Aphrodite's_Secret_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file...)

Chapter Fourteen

Aaron sat on the deck, bundled in a robe and shivering—and not just from the ocean’s chill. Of that, Lane was certain.
“What the hell was that thing?” he asked.
Lane had to smile as she pulled Davy closer, rubbing her son down with a thick terry-cloth towel. Aaron had dived in without hesitation, all because he thought Davy was being attacked by some over-eager sea monster.
“A giant squid?” Aaron continued. “Have you notified the marine preserve? They should get someone out here to capture it.”
“Already taken care of,” Zoë said. She looked at Lane. “They, uh .. . they’re sending divers.”
“And that other guy?” Aaron continued. “Has he come back? One second he was under the water with Davy; the next, I only saw that dolphin.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Lane said. “He’s an excellent swimmer.” The truth, of course, was that Jason was long gone. She’d seen him—or rather, she’d seen the dolphin she assumed was him—follow the beast out to sea.
“Even so,” Aaron said. “He should be back by now.”
“Come on, Aaron,” Taylor called from the door. It was a rather transparent attempt to distract the mortal. “Let’s find you some dry clothes.”
His eyes met Lane’s, and she nodded. “Go ahead. I’m not worried. Really.”
“Lane ...”
“Go on.” She squeezed his hand. “If you stay in those wet clothes, you’ll catch cold.”
“Me, too, Mommy?” Davy asked from beneath the bundle of towels in her arms.
“You, too, baby.”
Zoë held out a hand. “Come on, kiddo. How about a hot bath? The Pacific’s awfully cold.”
“A bath?” Davy asked.
“Consider it decompression.” Lane kissed the top of her son’s head. “All Argonauts have to decompress.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” That did the trick, and Davy followed Zoë inside.
Aaron went more reluctantly, with a promise to be right back. Lane barely even heard him. She was already at the rail, her gaze scouring the water, looking for any sign of Jason. Bubbles, fish scales, a dorsal fin, anything.
Nothing. The water was perfectly calm, as if making up for the tumultuous moments that had just passed.
Sighing, Lane willed herself to stay calm. Surely Jason was all right. Years ago, she’d been amazed by how comfortable he was in the water. Now that she knew he was practically a fish, she understood why.
He was okay. He had to be. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him twice.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She wouldn’t lose him twice, because he wasn’t hers. Not this time. And for exactly this reason. She wasn’t willing to risk the strain on her heart. Or on Davy’s. Not when he went racing off like this after danger.
As she blinked back an errant tear, Aaron reappeared behind her. He was decked out in a pair of gray sweatpants and a Shamu T-shirt that Zoë must have found in Jason’s closet. He put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him.
Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up and leaned forward to press his lips lightly against hers. Automatically, she pulled back, then immediately kicked herself for doing it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”
He winced, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “You’re still in love with him,” he said.
“No. No, no.” She moved back, out of his embrace, wrapping her own arms around her chest and hugging herself. “Maybe a long time ago,” she said. “Not anymore.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
She drew in a breath, needing to get oxygen to her brain. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not staying. Not for good.”
Aaron quirked a brow. “No? He looks pretty attached to you. And he looks just about glued to Davy.”
She clenched her jaw. “Yes, well, looks can be deceiving.”
Aaron frowned, then glanced once more over the rail. “Look, I know he’s a good swimmer, but I really think we should—”
“Should what?” The voice came from below them, and Lane and Aaron both peered over.
Jason! He was safe. Lane closed her eyes and allowed herself one silent prayer of thanks.
Jason pulled himself halfway up the boat’s ladder and out of the water, his chest slick, droplets clinging to his arms and face. He clung there, then grabbed a towel from the deck before finally climbing all the way up to join them. “It got away,” he said, his face harsh and angry.
“You shouldn’t have gone after it in the first place,” Lane snapped.
“Are you nuts?” Jason asked, snapping right back at her. “Hieronymous sent it. Do you think I’m going to let him get away with attacking my son?”
“Wait,” Aaron said, holding up a hand. “The grandfather sent that creature?”
Lane crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Jason had opened the door, he could damn well find a way to close it.
“Jason’s dad trains marine life,” Taylor said, appearing suddenly on the patio. Lane turned to look at him, one eyebrow quirked. Taylor shrugged, just slightly, the gesture meant only for her. “We think he trained the squid to take Davy.”
“That’s nuts,” Aaron said.
“Dad’s a little nuts,” Jason agreed.
“So, what does she mean you went after him?” Aaron asked. “I jumped in to help, and for a while you were there ... then all of a sudden you were just gone.”
“I didn’t need your help,” Jason grunted. “Because of you, I had to watch out for two people.”
“Jason!” Lane protested. “He jumped in to save Davy.”
“And I’m the one who got the boy out of the water when you disappeared,” Aaron added, indignant.
Jason took a deep breath. “Look,” he began. “I appreciate you getting him back on the boat, but I went after that creature because I was trying to keep my boy safe permanently. Not just for the moment.”
“Well, it was the moment that mattered,” Aaron muttered.
“Stop it!” Lane held up her hands. “Both of you, just stop it.” She turned to Jason. “I’m sorry you didn’t catch him,” she said; then she turned to Aaron. “And thank you for diving in to save Davy. It was very brave.” She shot Jason a sideways glance, then leaned over and kissed the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “And that’s what makes it so much harder—”
“To ask me to leave,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “No explanation necessary.” His glance darted toward Jason. “At least for right now. I know you’ve got things on your mind.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, then walked with him to the door. He kissed the tip of his finger, then pressed it to her nose. Slipping over the threshold, he headed down the pier toward the parking lot.
With a sigh, Lane closed the door behind him. The man was perfect. Brave and charming and wonderful. She didn’t love him—she had to at least be honest with herself about that—but she liked him a lot. And she respected the hell out of him.
She was pretty sure he loved her, though. And she knew without hesitation that he adored Davy.
And then there was Jason. He was all those things ... and even more, she loved him. So help her, she did. But she didn’t trust him with her heart, much less with Davy’s. He’d run off again, looking for vengeance. Wouldn’t he always? Could she live with that?
She drew in a breath, steeling herself. Right now, that didn’t matter. The one thing she was certain of was that she needed to focus all her attention on keeping her son safe until Friday.
For that, at least, she had a plan.
About the rest of her life, however, she was clueless.



Davy splashed in the tub, delighting in the way Aunt Zoë giggled whenever the water caught her nose.
“You’re a mess,” the woman said. “You know that?”
“And a handful,” Davy agreed. “That’s what Mommy always says.”
Uncle Taylor passed Zoë the shampoo, and Davy sank down under the water, the new breathing pen he’d created in his mouth. He hated getting shampooed. It always got in his eyes.
“Your mom’s right,” Uncle Taylor said, his voice sounding all fuzzy and far away from under the water. He reached down and grabbed Davy under the arms, pulling him back up until Davy was sitting, bubbles from his Scooby-Doo Bubble Bath all over his face. Davy blew out a breath, and the bubbles flew through the air. One of them landed on Zoë‘s nose, and Uncle Taylor laughed.
Zoë quirked an eyebrow, just like Mr. Spock. “Too much of a handful for you?” she asked.
Her husband shook his head. “No way. One six-year-old, I can handle.”
“I’m almost seven,” Davy said.
“You sure are,” Taylor said, coming at him with a washcloth. Davy squealed and tried to dive back under the water, but Taylor had him tight. He ended up giggling and kicking and getting both his bathers and the bathroom floor soaked.
“I’m glad you’re up for the challenge,” Aunt Zoë said, putting her hand on Uncle Taylor’s arm. “Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She pressed her lips together, waiting for Davy and Taylor to both quit splashing at each other. “You see,” she said, “I’m—”
“Hey, kiddo. You getting all clean?” The door opened, and Jason came in.
Davy bobbed his head. “Uh-huh,” he said, still wondering what Aunt Zoë had been going to say. She sighed and sat back on her heels.
Jason looked at the floor, and then at Aunt Zoë and Uncle Taylor’s soaked clothes. “I guess you’re getting everything else clean, too, huh?”
“It’s more fun that way,” Davy said. Then he bit on his lower lip, remembering that this was Mr. Jason’s bathroom, and maybe Mr. Jason didn’t like when little boys played and made a mess. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I promise.”
But Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. I’ve been known to do some serious splashing myself.”
“Really?”
Jason nodded. “Really.” He put a hand on Davy’s head, then looked at Taylor. “There’s a phone call for you. I think it’s Hoop.”
Taylor nodded, then climbed to his feet and headed for the door. He stopped long enough to wave ‘bye to Davy; then he looked at Zoë. “Did you want to tell me something, sweetheart?”
Zoë just sighed again and climbed to her feet. Davy thought she looked a little green. “No.” She shook her head. “It can wait. I’m going to go take a nap.”
As Davy’s aunt and uncle left, Jason moved over and knelt by the tub. He scooped his hand through the water and gathered a pile of foam, then blew it, sending bubbles flying though the air.
Davy laughed and reached up to pop the bubbles. “Do more, Mr. Jason.”
“You know, you can call me Daddy.”
“I know,” Davy mumbled. He kind of wanted to. Really he did. But he just couldn’t quite do it. Instead, he slid under the water, then popped back up, sending more bubbles flying.
Jason laughed.
“That was really cool,” Davy said. “What you did, I mean. The underwater helmet and then fighting that monster. Are those the kinds of things you’re gonna teach me?”
“Sort of,” Jason said. “The Council wants you to learn how to use your powers. So, we’ll work on all the basic ones. Levitation and speed and agility. And I’ll show you how to work a Propulsion Cloak. I’m going to teach you everything I can, and hopefully that’ll make the Council happy.”
“Really? Cool.”
“That means I’ll be around for a while,” he added. “Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Davy said. “I like you. And you like my mom.”
Jason smiled, but Davy thought he still seemed a little sad—probably because Davy still hadn’t called him daddy.
He held out his breathing pen. “Here. This is for you.”
“A ballpoint pen?”
“No, silly.” Davy rolled his eyes. “You breathe with it.” He remembered Jason’s fight with the Henchman monster. “But I guess you don’t really need something like this.”
“Nonsense,” Jason said. “I love it.” He took a couple of quick breaths from the pen. “It’s fabulous.”
Davy grinned. “I can make you more stuff, too.”
“I’d like that,” his dad said; then he held up a towel. “Come on. Your mother’s going to think you turned into a fish. And I bet your breakfast is getting cold.”
Davy got up and let his father wrap the towel around him. “Mr. Jason?” he said, still thinking about the daddy word. “I’m sorry.”
For just a second, Jason looked surprised. Then he smiled, shook his head, and pulled Davy into a hug. When he pushed Davy back again and looked into his face, Jason didn’t seem nearly as sad. “No, Davy,” he said. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
And before Davy could ask what he meant, Jason was standing up and handing him his robe. “Come on, kiddo,” he said. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”



“Professor Plum, in the Conservatory, with the rope,” Jason said. He leaned forward over the game board, meeting Davy’s very serious eyes. “How about it, sport? Can you prove me wrong?”
Davy shook his head. “Nope.”
“Hmmm.” Jason tapped his cards. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew who did it, but he was reasonably certain. Plus, he knew Lane was getting close, too.
And Jason did want to win.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going for it.” He reached to the center of the game board, took the little envelope, and popped out the cards—Professor Plum, the kitchen, and the rope. Hopping Hera. He’d lost.
Beside him, Boreas shook his head.
Jason glared at him. “You have something you want to say?”
“Nope,” Boreas said. He took a bite of the mac and cheese Jason had thrown together for dinner. “Except...”
Lane and Taylor laughed, but Jason just scowled.
“Except what?” he asked.
“Except that you’re going about it all wrong. Didn’t you pay attention during Protector training?”
“Will I get training, too?” Davy asked, distracting everyone.
“Absolutely,” Jason said. He met Lane’s eyes. “First me, here. And when you’re older, you get to go to training camp.”
Davy looked at Boreas. “Did you go to camp?”
“Yup.” The cadet sat up straighter, his chest sticking out. “First in my class.”
“Wow,” Davy said, and Jason hid a sneer. “What about Aunt Zoë?” Davy added.
“I think she did,” Taylor said. He glanced at Lane. “I’m a little worried about her. It’s not like her to go to bed this early.”
“Oh, please,” Lane said. “She’s been going nonstop since Sunday. Let the woman rest.”
Taylor looked like he had more to say, but Davy piped up again. “So, what didn’t you learn, Mr. Jason?”
A muscle in Jason’s cheek twitched as he turned to face Boreas. “Beats me,” he said. “Ask the director of the oversight committee here.”
“Patience,” Boreas said. “You rushed in so fast, wanting to win, that you lost.”
Lane pressed a hand over her mouth, clearly smothering a burst of laughter.
“The point is to win,” Jason said. “And that means you have to be the first to name the cards.”
“Exactly,” Boring said. “But you didn’t win. And Directive nine-four-four-C very specifically states that a Protector shouldn’t act until all the facts are in order and the outcome is potentially predictable.”
“Potentially predictable?” Taylor echoed.
“You’re supposed to be pretty sure you know what’s going to happen,” Jason said. “That doesn’t apply in an emergency, though. Does it, Officer Wise As—”
“Ah-ah,” Lane said, casting her gaze toward Davy.
“Uh,” Boreas said.
Jason nodded, finally vindicated. “Exactly,” he said. “In an emergency, the directives make clear that the goal is containment and protection of any mortals present.”
“But we’re just playing Clue,” Boreas argued.
This time, Lane didn’t make any effort to hide her laugh. “He’s got you,” she said.
Jason couldn’t think of any decent response, so he turned his attention to Davy. The boy was yawning. “Bedtime, little man?”
“I am sleepy,” Davy admitted.
“I’ll tuck him in,” Taylor offered. “I wanted to go up and check on my wife, anyway.” Lane had offered Zoë the big bed, and her sister-in-law had gratefully accepted, on the condition that she wasn’t kicking Davy out of his room.
“Thanks,” Lane said. She kissed Davy’s cheek. “Just think, tomorrow’s your birthday eve.”
“Cool,” Davy said, snuggling up against his Uncle Taylor’s chest.
Jason stood, fighting the urge to take Davy in his arms and tuck him in himself. But the boy looked happy and cozy, and Jason didn’t want to push.
“Mr. Jason?” Davy held out his hand, and Jason took it, his heart just about to melt. “Can’t I stay up just a little longer? I want to play Mousetrap.”
Jason glanced toward Lane for guidance, but no help was forthcoming. “I think it’s your bedtime,” he finally said. “And besides, we didn’t bring that game. Only Clue.”
“I don’t need the game,” Davy said, his voice sleepy. “I can make a mousetrap out of stuff off your boat.”
Jason didn’t doubt that for an instant. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s still bedtime. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Davy yawned. “Thanks for teaching me stuff today.”
“You’re welcome,” Jason said. “I had fun.” They’d spent the entire day practicing levitation, and Davy had actually managed to lift Elmer about an inch off the ground. Not bad, considering the boy’s powers weren’t even really supposed to come into their own until his birthday on Friday.
Of course, if the expression on Elmer’s face was any indication, the ferret would just as soon Davy never fully grasped levitation. Jason recalled his own antics as a child and figured the ferret had a point.
“I had fun, too,” Davy said.
And then, before he could talk himself out of it, Jason leaned over and kissed the boy on the cheek. “ ‘Night-’night,” he said.
“ ‘Night,” Davy repeated. And, to Jason’s delight, he didn’t try and rub the kiss off.
Taylor said good night, too, then turned and headed out of the room, the bundle of boy flung over his shoulder.
“I guess I’m off to my post,” Boreas said. He nodded toward all the dirty dishes scattered across the floor. “Unless you want help with these?”
Lane shook her head. “We’ve got them. You go ahead.”
The cadet nodded, then headed out the door. With Davy’s birthday fast approaching, they’d decided Boreas and Jason would trade off on lookout duty. Hopefully, Hieronymous wouldn’t show; but if he did, they’d be ready for him.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind Boreas, Lane started gathering dishes. Jason helped, following her into the kitchen with a handful of plates and both of their wineglasses. Before, the boat’s kitchen had always seemed too small to him. Now, though, it felt just right. He stood close behind Lane, watching as she filled the sink. He breathed deep, the soft floral scent of her shampoo mixing with the lemony smell of his dishwashing soap.
There was something so right about being beside her, passing her dishes, their movements timed nearly to perfection. She reached for the plate he held out, then paused, her head cocked slightly as she regarded him. “What?” she asked, the hint of a smile touching her mouth.
He reached out to stroke her cheek, rejoicing in the way she smiled at him, full of hope and promise. “This was a good day,” he said.
She leaned against him, holding a soapy dish in one hand. “The best,” she said. She let the dish slip back into the soapy water, then turned to smile at him. “Davy had a great time.”
Simple words, but they meant everything. “I hope so,” he said. “He’s a great kid.” His kid. Lane’s kid. “You’ve done a wonderful job with him.”
“Thank you.” She turned back to the dishes, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, somehow reminded her of his long absence. But no, that would be like reminding her of an elephant in the living room.
He moved behind her, his hands pressing against her arms. “Lane?”
She turned, shifting under his touch until her back pressed against the counter. She was trapped in the circle of his arms. Her cheeks flushed, and he traced the curve of her ear with his fingertip, wondering what was on her mind—hoping it was the same thing that was on his.
She licked her lips, looking down at the floor through her lashes. “It, uh, wasn’t just Davy who had a great time.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of promise .. . and unspoken questions. “I had a good time, too.”
“Lane,” he whispered, and his heart lurched. He pulled her close and stroked her hair. “We’ll make it right. We can be a family again.”
She stiffened then, and he stifled a cringe, fearful of what she would say.
“I want to,” she said, her words opening the door to hope. “I want to be with you. I want Davy to have his daddy. Today has made that seem possible, somehow.” She clutched his hands, the intensity of her gaze startling him. “But I need to know that Davy and I are your priority.”
“You are,” he said. “You always have been.”
She leaned back against the counter, shaking her head. “Is that why you left me so many years ago— because we were your priority?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
She laughed, the sound harsh, and he hated himself for the mistakes he’d made. Too, he hated his father for . . . well, everything. “Dammit, Lane, I’d just found out who my father was. All those years of the elders looking at me askance, of never getting a prime assignment, of always feeling watched and never completely trusted.” He gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you see? I had to make everything right. Had to prove myself. I didn’t want my child growing up under the same stigma. Not if I could help it.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Stigma?” she said, her voice rising. “Davy can live with a stigma a hell of a lot easier than he can live without a father. But I guess that never occurred to you.”
Her words hit him like a slap, and he recoiled. “I just wanted to make it right for him,” he said.
“For him?” she asked. “Or for yourself?”
He couldn’t answer, could only take her hand and hold her close.
“Don’t you see?” she continued. “It was a nice thought, but I needed you.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I needed you and you weren’t there.”
“I’m here now,” he said. “And I’m not going away. You two are everything to me. We need to get past this, Lane. I want us to be a family.” He stroked her cheek. “I love you, Lane. And whether you’ll admit it out loud or not, I know you love me.”
“It’s not about you anymore, and it’s not about me. It’s about Davy.”
“And that guy Aaron is better for Davy than his own father?”
“Better than a father who won’t be there? Yes.”
Jason stifled the urge to throw his hands in the air. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Lane’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “I wish I could believe that.”
“Dammit, Lane, give me a chance.” He stroked her face, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. “I want to make this work,” he said. “I want you. I want us.”
She exhaled, her breath unsteady, but she didn’t argue.
Her silence encouraged him, and he pulled her near, his hands stroked her back, his lips kissed away her fears. “Lane,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she whispered. She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips.
Those lips. He couldn’t resist, although he knew he should, and he bent to brush a kiss over them. She sighed—a surprised, dreamy sound—but she didn’t pull away. And that was all he needed.
His fingers sank deep into her hair to cup her head, and he held her steady, his mouth seeking the sweet taste of hers. Her lips parted, and his tongue sought entrance. She kissed him with a passion equal to his own, and he moaned, pulling her closer, wanting to consume and be consumed.
“Jason,” she murmured, pulling away.
He wasn’t about to give her any time to reconsider. With definite purpose, he trailed kisses down her neck, his fingers forging the path. He paused at the buttons on her shirt, managing to work them free, then slipped his hand inside.
She’d been sunbathing earlier, reading law books, and he cupped her breast through the thin material of her bikini. Her nipple peaked, pushing against the cloth, and he closed his mouth over it, bikini and all.
She sighed, the sound of her pleasure working an erotic magic on his body. His blood boiled and his entire body tightened with desire.
“Jason.” Lane’s voice, a breathy plea, tickled his ear. Her fingers caressed his neck, sliding up to glide through his hair as she moaned.
He pulled away, bestowing kisses up her body, pausing when he reached the indentation at her collarbone. She gripped his shoulders, tight, as if fighting a storm that was building inside.
“I’ve always loved you,” he whispered, as his fingers caressed her back.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “I know,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And I do love you.”
Jason’s heart skipped a beat. He loved her. He loved Davy. And she loved him. It was the perfect recipe for a family—except it had already failed once before.
Once again he cursed his father, a wave of regret for everything Hieronymous had stolen from him washing over him. But then he let it go. He slipped his hand down, his fingers tracing under the waistband of Lane’s shorts. Her breath hitched, but he didn’t slow his assault.
The tips of his fingers stroked the soft skin of her lower belly, brushing lower and lower under her swimsuit bottom until he found the coarse hair there and damp curls. Lane gasped, her head thrown back and her pulse beating wildly in her neck. Jason kissed her throat even as his fingers stroked her, seeking the heat at her core.
She moaned, the erotic noise making him as hard as he’d ever been.
His fingers found her soft folds, and he teased her, rolling the hard nub of her sex between his thumb and forefinger, delighting in the way she writhed against his touch. She murmured his name, and his body pulsed with the need to satisfy her completely, to make Lane his once again.
He could never get the lost years back, but, right now, Lane was his. And, dammit, he didn’t intend to lose her again.

* * *
Lane squirmed, needing Jason’s touch, wanting to feel him inside her, wanting him to hold her close and murmur soft words.
She wanted everything to be back the way it once was, so very long ago.
His fingers slid over her, and she moved shamelessly, trying to make him touch her just so. She wanted to lose herself—to both passion and to Jason. Her body was afire with lust and desperate need, and she’d beg if she had to.
“Jason,” she whispered. “Please.”
He met her eyes. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she said.
“For now, or for always?”
Her heart twisted. “For always,” she admitted. “I’ve always wanted you for always. But—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “No. Don’t say anything. Right now, I just want the good stuff.”
She laughed, then caught him around the neck and pulled him close. “Well, then, how’s this for good stuff? Make love to me. Make love to me now, or I swear I’ll scream.”
He hooked his arms under her legs and lifted her, then carried her to the patio.
He moved closer to the railing and she frowned, fearful that she knew what was coming. “Jason?” she asked.
“Trust me,” he whispered, putting her on her feet before him.
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. She would trust him. She did trust him.
With slow, methodical movements, he peeled off his clothes, revealing a tiny black bathing suit that left nothing to the imagination. Certainly not how much he wanted her.
She licked her lips, reluctantly dragging her gaze upward to meet his.
He flashed a knowing grin. “Your turn,” he said.
“I... I can’t swim.”
He took a step closer, his fingers plucking at the elastic waistband of her shorts. “I’m not asking you to.”
With a firm tug, he slid the shorts over her hips and down her legs, dropping them to pool around her ankles. Without a word, he took her hand, urging her to step out of them, then led her to the ladder that descended to the water.
He went first, one step at a time down, with her two steps above him. She could feel his breath at the small of her back, the sensation making her body tingle.
At the last step, water splashed her midthigh. With a gentle hand around her waist, Jason plucked her from the ladder, turning her to face him as he treaded water. They bobbed together, legs intertwined, the cool ocean sweet relief from the burning in her blood.
Together, they moved to a buoy, and he gently placed her hands upon it. “I’ll be back,” he said, disappearing below the surface before she could ask what he meant.
Despite the lights from the boat, she couldn’t see into the night-black water. But she could feel. And as the water gently lapped against her shoulders, Jason’s mouth caressed her stomach, his lips hot against her skin. A warm, delicious sensation filled her, and she leaned back, half-floating in the water as Jason worked his magic under the surface.
He slipped his fingers under her bikini bottom, urging it off, and Lane shivered from the sudden rush of cool water against her naked skin. Jason’s hand skimmed down to cup her sex, his fingers teasing. Every caress offered the promise of something more, but never quite delivered, and Lane’s body trembled with anticipation.
Under the water, Jason’s tongue skimmed over her belly, lower and lower, as if he were tasting her and couldn’t quite get enough. His hands grasped the insides of her thighs; the tips of his thumbs teased flesh more intimate. She squirmed, silently urging him to slide inside her and quench the fire that the water all around couldn’t touch.
His hands moved away, and Lane groaned, then moaned in surprised satisfaction when his mouth closed over her, kissing her intimately, his tongue laving her in deep, rhythmic strokes. They built and built inside her until she was certain her body couldn’t withstand the force.
With one hand still holding on to the buoy, she slid her other into the water. She buried her fingers in Jason’s hair and arched her back, pressing closer. She was on the edge, desperate to tumble headlong into passion, and she writhed shamelessly against him, seeking release.
He pulled away, leaving her hot and tingly. She moaned in protest, urging him up from under the water, a plea on her lips. “Jason, please, don’t stop.”
Water cascaded off him, the droplets glistening in the marina lights. “I don’t intend to stop,” he said. He slipped her bathing suit over the buoy; then he put his own over it as well. He kissed her, catching her in a tight embrace, his erection pressed hard between her thighs.
“Do you still trust me?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to think about anything except having him inside her.
“Let go of the buoy . ..”
She barely had time to comply before he held tight to her hips and pulled her down, impaling her. She gasped, her sex enveloping him, drawing him in.
The water supported them as they moved together. She held tight, wanting him to never stop, wanting to never lose this closeness.
“Lane,” he whispered her name, murmuring it over and over as he cupped her behind, pushing against her as he sank deep inside her. Her body burned against his, alive and on fire. She wanted to forget their past and her fears and lose herself in the power of his touch. .. .
Over and over, she thrust against him, as if by joining their bodies, they could somehow rejoin their lives. A slow, delicious pressure built in Lane’s muscles, a physical anticipation, a craving, pleasurable in and of itself, but holding the promise of so much more.
She held her breath and closed her eyes, her body meeting his as she struggled to find release. And, just as the stars exploded in her veins, she felt his body tense and quake—and she knew he’d found release, too.
She pressed her legs tight around his waist, rocking with him as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her. As the last tremors of passion took their course, Lane clutched Jason’s shoulders, her fingers pressing into his skin.
“You know I love you,” he whispered again. His body slid on hers, warm and possessive.
“I know you do,” she said.
Snuggling close, she sighed, feeling sad and happy all at the same time. He loved her, yes.
Once upon a time, that hadn’t been enough. But this time he’d promised he’d stay. Her heart twisted a little and she said a silent plea that, this time, he meant it. She wasn’t making another huge mistake. This time, love really would win.



Hieronymous whipped the black cloth off, revealing a rather unpleasant-looking contraption with a metallic helmet strapped to dozens of copper-colored wires. The wires led to a perfectly formed glass sphere filled with some sort of glowing gas.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the sphere. “This is where I shall collect it.” He tapped the helmet with the tip of one long finger, then traced along the wiring. “From the boy, to the wires, and, ultimately, to me.”
His smile caused Mordi’s blood to run cold. “Perfect,” he said. His lips curved into a frown. “Or it would be.”
“The boy,” Clyde said. “Allow me to retrieve him, sire.”
“No.” Hieronymous moved to his desk, then sat behind it, his fingers drumming on its solid surface. “You are still wanted by the Council. Should you be caught, the consequences would be dire.” Hieronymous paused, glancing casually at the monitors lining the wall. “And I still have need of you, so it would be most inconvenient if you were captured.”
Mordi shifted, having a feeling he knew what was coming.
“Mordichai,” his father said, with a nod toward him. “The child must be acquired and brought here before midnight. You understand the consequences should you fail?”
Mordi swallowed and stepped forward. “Yes, Father.” And he did. He understood what would happen if he failed ... and he knew what would happen if he succeeded.
Part of him wanted to leave this island, head to Olympus, and never look back. Another part of him wanted to please his father. To take up the reins of an empire.
He knew what he should do. What he would do, however, remained a question.



Lane laughed as Davy poked and prodded at the insides of the television. Behind him, Elmer chattered peevishly.
“You better hurry,” Lane said, “or Elmer won’t be speaking to you anymore.”
Davy just rolled his eyes. “Oh, Mo-om,” he said, drawing out the word. “I’ll get it back together.” A few more twists of wire and a bit more clanking, and he did exactly that. With a flourish, her show-off son put the casing back on. “See?” he said. “All done.”
Lane tried to keep her face serious. “And just what does it do?”
“Shows tomorrow’s television,” Davy said. “So you won’t miss your program.”
At that, Lane laughed outright, even as Elmer chittered louder and started bouncing up and down.
“But sweetie,” she said, “Elmer’s show is coming on tonight.”
“Mrs. Dolittle” was set to begin in five minutes.
“Oh.” Davy picked up his screwdriver. “I’ll just take it apart again.”
“No, no, no.” Lane plucked the screwdriver from his hand. “Elmer can watch the television in Jason’s room.” She turned to Zoë. “Would you mind taking him up?”
Zoë‘s head appeared. She was on the couch, holding hands with her husband.
“Oh,” Lane said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“What were you going to tell me?” Taylor said.
Zoë kissed his cheek. “Later,” she said. She stood up. “Come on, Elmer. Let’s go see what I’m sure will be your Emmy award-winning performance.”
Elmer skittered toward the stairs and Zoë followed. Taylor got up, shook his head, and excused himself to the kitchen.
Lane scowled, feeling like she was missing something. For a second she thought about going after Zoë, but a knock at the door changed her mind.
When Davy got up to answer, she put a hand on his shoulder, halting him. “You can get the door after your birthday, sweetie. Until then, stay behind me.”
She peered through the peephole. Aaron. She drew in a breath. She needed to talk to him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to. She let him in, and he immediately bent down and gave Davy a hug.
“Hey, big guy. How you doing?”
“I’m good,” Davy said. “I made a future TV.”
“Vivid imagination,” Lane said.
Davy tilted his head up. “Can I go play with Jason?”
She looked at Aaron, noting the man’s flash of disappointment. But after a second she nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Go ahead.”
“I guess I don’t rank anymore,” Aaron said after Davy had disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—”
“Want him to get to know his father. Of course you do.” A sad smile touched Aaron’s lips. “It seems like he really likes the guy.”
Lane nodded. “Yeah. I think he really does.”
Aaron’s features hardened. “I take it he’s not the only one.”
“I...” Lane started to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. He was right. She drew in a deep breath, searching for courage. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Aaron opened his mouth, and for a second she thought he was going to lash out. But then he took a deep breath and nodded, his eyes infinitely sad. “Believe me, I know that.” He shook his head. “And I never wanted to be second best. We both deserve better than that.” He reached into his briefcase and handed her a large envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Class notes,” he said. “I swung by UCLA and tracked down your study group.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “If you ever decide the district attorney’s office isn’t the place for you, give me a call.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping he understood that she meant for more than just the notes. “I hope ...”
“What?”
“Everything,” she finally said. “I hope you get everything you want. And I hope you find who you want.”
“Have you?” he asked, giving her one last look.
“Yes,” she answered. The word came to her lips without hesitation. Jason was everything she’d ever desired, everything she’d wanted in a man, a husband, and a father to her child. She’d told herself otherwise, but it had all been just self-protection. Now, she had to believe in him. She had to pray he wouldn’t disappoint her again.
“I’m glad,” Aaron said, pausing at the door. He squeezed her hand. “Good-bye, Lane.”
She watched him go until he stepped from the dock to the parking lot and disappeared into his car. She clutched the knob of the door, hoping she was doing the right thing. But as much as doubt gnawed at her, she knew that, in the end, this was best. She didn’t love Aaron, and she did love Jason. She loved him with all her heart, and she needed to trust him. It was scary, yes, but he’d promised to put Davy and her first, and she believed him.
So help her, she did.
They were going to put their family back together and push the past behind them. And they were going to live happily ever after. Everything she wanted, Jason could give her. At some point, she’d had to let go and just trust her heart.
She turned back into the houseboat, going straight for the glass door at the rear, to watch Jason and her son. Jason wasn’t there, but Davy was, sitting next to Boreas at a small metal table, clearly waiting for his dad to return.
And then Jason stepped into view, and Davy’s face lit up. Lane smiled, seeing how easily her boy went to Jason now. But then Jason kicked the table, knocking Boreas backward. At the same time, he grabbed his son around the waist, then ran to the edge of the boat, pulling a Propulsion Cloak out from under his jacket.
Mordichai.
As Davy screamed, Lane did, too. But it was too late. Mordi was long gone, flying toward the horizon and into the sunset.
And once again, he had her baby.

Chapter Fourteen

Aaron sat on the deck, bundled in a robe and shivering—and not just from the ocean’s chill. Of that, Lane was certain.
“What the hell was that thing?” he asked.
Lane had to smile as she pulled Davy closer, rubbing her son down with a thick terry-cloth towel. Aaron had dived in without hesitation, all because he thought Davy was being attacked by some over-eager sea monster.
“A giant squid?” Aaron continued. “Have you notified the marine preserve? They should get someone out here to capture it.”
“Already taken care of,” Zoë said. She looked at Lane. “They, uh .. . they’re sending divers.”
“And that other guy?” Aaron continued. “Has he come back? One second he was under the water with Davy; the next, I only saw that dolphin.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Lane said. “He’s an excellent swimmer.” The truth, of course, was that Jason was long gone. She’d seen him—or rather, she’d seen the dolphin she assumed was him—follow the beast out to sea.
“Even so,” Aaron said. “He should be back by now.”
“Come on, Aaron,” Taylor called from the door. It was a rather transparent attempt to distract the mortal. “Let’s find you some dry clothes.”
His eyes met Lane’s, and she nodded. “Go ahead. I’m not worried. Really.”
“Lane ...”
“Go on.” She squeezed his hand. “If you stay in those wet clothes, you’ll catch cold.”
“Me, too, Mommy?” Davy asked from beneath the bundle of towels in her arms.
“You, too, baby.”
Zoë held out a hand. “Come on, kiddo. How about a hot bath? The Pacific’s awfully cold.”
“A bath?” Davy asked.
“Consider it decompression.” Lane kissed the top of her son’s head. “All Argonauts have to decompress.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” That did the trick, and Davy followed Zoë inside.
Aaron went more reluctantly, with a promise to be right back. Lane barely even heard him. She was already at the rail, her gaze scouring the water, looking for any sign of Jason. Bubbles, fish scales, a dorsal fin, anything.
Nothing. The water was perfectly calm, as if making up for the tumultuous moments that had just passed.
Sighing, Lane willed herself to stay calm. Surely Jason was all right. Years ago, she’d been amazed by how comfortable he was in the water. Now that she knew he was practically a fish, she understood why.
He was okay. He had to be. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him twice.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She wouldn’t lose him twice, because he wasn’t hers. Not this time. And for exactly this reason. She wasn’t willing to risk the strain on her heart. Or on Davy’s. Not when he went racing off like this after danger.
As she blinked back an errant tear, Aaron reappeared behind her. He was decked out in a pair of gray sweatpants and a Shamu T-shirt that Zoë must have found in Jason’s closet. He put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him.
Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up and leaned forward to press his lips lightly against hers. Automatically, she pulled back, then immediately kicked herself for doing it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”
He winced, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “You’re still in love with him,” he said.
“No. No, no.” She moved back, out of his embrace, wrapping her own arms around her chest and hugging herself. “Maybe a long time ago,” she said. “Not anymore.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
She drew in a breath, needing to get oxygen to her brain. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not staying. Not for good.”
Aaron quirked a brow. “No? He looks pretty attached to you. And he looks just about glued to Davy.”
She clenched her jaw. “Yes, well, looks can be deceiving.”
Aaron frowned, then glanced once more over the rail. “Look, I know he’s a good swimmer, but I really think we should—”
“Should what?” The voice came from below them, and Lane and Aaron both peered over.
Jason! He was safe. Lane closed her eyes and allowed herself one silent prayer of thanks.
Jason pulled himself halfway up the boat’s ladder and out of the water, his chest slick, droplets clinging to his arms and face. He clung there, then grabbed a towel from the deck before finally climbing all the way up to join them. “It got away,” he said, his face harsh and angry.
“You shouldn’t have gone after it in the first place,” Lane snapped.
“Are you nuts?” Jason asked, snapping right back at her. “Hieronymous sent it. Do you think I’m going to let him get away with attacking my son?”
“Wait,” Aaron said, holding up a hand. “The grandfather sent that creature?”
Lane crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Jason had opened the door, he could damn well find a way to close it.
“Jason’s dad trains marine life,” Taylor said, appearing suddenly on the patio. Lane turned to look at him, one eyebrow quirked. Taylor shrugged, just slightly, the gesture meant only for her. “We think he trained the squid to take Davy.”
“That’s nuts,” Aaron said.
“Dad’s a little nuts,” Jason agreed.
“So, what does she mean you went after him?” Aaron asked. “I jumped in to help, and for a while you were there ... then all of a sudden you were just gone.”
“I didn’t need your help,” Jason grunted. “Because of you, I had to watch out for two people.”
“Jason!” Lane protested. “He jumped in to save Davy.”
“And I’m the one who got the boy out of the water when you disappeared,” Aaron added, indignant.
Jason took a deep breath. “Look,” he began. “I appreciate you getting him back on the boat, but I went after that creature because I was trying to keep my boy safe permanently. Not just for the moment.”
“Well, it was the moment that mattered,” Aaron muttered.
“Stop it!” Lane held up her hands. “Both of you, just stop it.” She turned to Jason. “I’m sorry you didn’t catch him,” she said; then she turned to Aaron. “And thank you for diving in to save Davy. It was very brave.” She shot Jason a sideways glance, then leaned over and kissed the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “And that’s what makes it so much harder—”
“To ask me to leave,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “No explanation necessary.” His glance darted toward Jason. “At least for right now. I know you’ve got things on your mind.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, then walked with him to the door. He kissed the tip of his finger, then pressed it to her nose. Slipping over the threshold, he headed down the pier toward the parking lot.
With a sigh, Lane closed the door behind him. The man was perfect. Brave and charming and wonderful. She didn’t love him—she had to at least be honest with herself about that—but she liked him a lot. And she respected the hell out of him.
She was pretty sure he loved her, though. And she knew without hesitation that he adored Davy.
And then there was Jason. He was all those things ... and even more, she loved him. So help her, she did. But she didn’t trust him with her heart, much less with Davy’s. He’d run off again, looking for vengeance. Wouldn’t he always? Could she live with that?
She drew in a breath, steeling herself. Right now, that didn’t matter. The one thing she was certain of was that she needed to focus all her attention on keeping her son safe until Friday.
For that, at least, she had a plan.
About the rest of her life, however, she was clueless.



Davy splashed in the tub, delighting in the way Aunt Zoë giggled whenever the water caught her nose.
“You’re a mess,” the woman said. “You know that?”
“And a handful,” Davy agreed. “That’s what Mommy always says.”
Uncle Taylor passed Zoë the shampoo, and Davy sank down under the water, the new breathing pen he’d created in his mouth. He hated getting shampooed. It always got in his eyes.
“Your mom’s right,” Uncle Taylor said, his voice sounding all fuzzy and far away from under the water. He reached down and grabbed Davy under the arms, pulling him back up until Davy was sitting, bubbles from his Scooby-Doo Bubble Bath all over his face. Davy blew out a breath, and the bubbles flew through the air. One of them landed on Zoë‘s nose, and Uncle Taylor laughed.
Zoë quirked an eyebrow, just like Mr. Spock. “Too much of a handful for you?” she asked.
Her husband shook his head. “No way. One six-year-old, I can handle.”
“I’m almost seven,” Davy said.
“You sure are,” Taylor said, coming at him with a washcloth. Davy squealed and tried to dive back under the water, but Taylor had him tight. He ended up giggling and kicking and getting both his bathers and the bathroom floor soaked.
“I’m glad you’re up for the challenge,” Aunt Zoë said, putting her hand on Uncle Taylor’s arm. “Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She pressed her lips together, waiting for Davy and Taylor to both quit splashing at each other. “You see,” she said, “I’m—”
“Hey, kiddo. You getting all clean?” The door opened, and Jason came in.
Davy bobbed his head. “Uh-huh,” he said, still wondering what Aunt Zoë had been going to say. She sighed and sat back on her heels.
Jason looked at the floor, and then at Aunt Zoë and Uncle Taylor’s soaked clothes. “I guess you’re getting everything else clean, too, huh?”
“It’s more fun that way,” Davy said. Then he bit on his lower lip, remembering that this was Mr. Jason’s bathroom, and maybe Mr. Jason didn’t like when little boys played and made a mess. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I promise.”
But Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. I’ve been known to do some serious splashing myself.”
“Really?”
Jason nodded. “Really.” He put a hand on Davy’s head, then looked at Taylor. “There’s a phone call for you. I think it’s Hoop.”
Taylor nodded, then climbed to his feet and headed for the door. He stopped long enough to wave ‘bye to Davy; then he looked at Zoë. “Did you want to tell me something, sweetheart?”
Zoë just sighed again and climbed to her feet. Davy thought she looked a little green. “No.” She shook her head. “It can wait. I’m going to go take a nap.”
As Davy’s aunt and uncle left, Jason moved over and knelt by the tub. He scooped his hand through the water and gathered a pile of foam, then blew it, sending bubbles flying though the air.
Davy laughed and reached up to pop the bubbles. “Do more, Mr. Jason.”
“You know, you can call me Daddy.”
“I know,” Davy mumbled. He kind of wanted to. Really he did. But he just couldn’t quite do it. Instead, he slid under the water, then popped back up, sending more bubbles flying.
Jason laughed.
“That was really cool,” Davy said. “What you did, I mean. The underwater helmet and then fighting that monster. Are those the kinds of things you’re gonna teach me?”
“Sort of,” Jason said. “The Council wants you to learn how to use your powers. So, we’ll work on all the basic ones. Levitation and speed and agility. And I’ll show you how to work a Propulsion Cloak. I’m going to teach you everything I can, and hopefully that’ll make the Council happy.”
“Really? Cool.”
“That means I’ll be around for a while,” he added. “Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Davy said. “I like you. And you like my mom.”
Jason smiled, but Davy thought he still seemed a little sad—probably because Davy still hadn’t called him daddy.
He held out his breathing pen. “Here. This is for you.”
“A ballpoint pen?”
“No, silly.” Davy rolled his eyes. “You breathe with it.” He remembered Jason’s fight with the Henchman monster. “But I guess you don’t really need something like this.”
“Nonsense,” Jason said. “I love it.” He took a couple of quick breaths from the pen. “It’s fabulous.”
Davy grinned. “I can make you more stuff, too.”
“I’d like that,” his dad said; then he held up a towel. “Come on. Your mother’s going to think you turned into a fish. And I bet your breakfast is getting cold.”
Davy got up and let his father wrap the towel around him. “Mr. Jason?” he said, still thinking about the daddy word. “I’m sorry.”
For just a second, Jason looked surprised. Then he smiled, shook his head, and pulled Davy into a hug. When he pushed Davy back again and looked into his face, Jason didn’t seem nearly as sad. “No, Davy,” he said. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
And before Davy could ask what he meant, Jason was standing up and handing him his robe. “Come on, kiddo,” he said. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”



“Professor Plum, in the Conservatory, with the rope,” Jason said. He leaned forward over the game board, meeting Davy’s very serious eyes. “How about it, sport? Can you prove me wrong?”
Davy shook his head. “Nope.”
“Hmmm.” Jason tapped his cards. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew who did it, but he was reasonably certain. Plus, he knew Lane was getting close, too.
And Jason did want to win.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going for it.” He reached to the center of the game board, took the little envelope, and popped out the cards—Professor Plum, the kitchen, and the rope. Hopping Hera. He’d lost.
Beside him, Boreas shook his head.
Jason glared at him. “You have something you want to say?”
“Nope,” Boreas said. He took a bite of the mac and cheese Jason had thrown together for dinner. “Except...”
Lane and Taylor laughed, but Jason just scowled.
“Except what?” he asked.
“Except that you’re going about it all wrong. Didn’t you pay attention during Protector training?”
“Will I get training, too?” Davy asked, distracting everyone.
“Absolutely,” Jason said. He met Lane’s eyes. “First me, here. And when you’re older, you get to go to training camp.”
Davy looked at Boreas. “Did you go to camp?”
“Yup.” The cadet sat up straighter, his chest sticking out. “First in my class.”
“Wow,” Davy said, and Jason hid a sneer. “What about Aunt Zoë?” Davy added.
“I think she did,” Taylor said. He glanced at Lane. “I’m a little worried about her. It’s not like her to go to bed this early.”
“Oh, please,” Lane said. “She’s been going nonstop since Sunday. Let the woman rest.”
Taylor looked like he had more to say, but Davy piped up again. “So, what didn’t you learn, Mr. Jason?”
A muscle in Jason’s cheek twitched as he turned to face Boreas. “Beats me,” he said. “Ask the director of the oversight committee here.”
“Patience,” Boreas said. “You rushed in so fast, wanting to win, that you lost.”
Lane pressed a hand over her mouth, clearly smothering a burst of laughter.
“The point is to win,” Jason said. “And that means you have to be the first to name the cards.”
“Exactly,” Boring said. “But you didn’t win. And Directive nine-four-four-C very specifically states that a Protector shouldn’t act until all the facts are in order and the outcome is potentially predictable.”
“Potentially predictable?” Taylor echoed.
“You’re supposed to be pretty sure you know what’s going to happen,” Jason said. “That doesn’t apply in an emergency, though. Does it, Officer Wise As—”
“Ah-ah,” Lane said, casting her gaze toward Davy.
“Uh,” Boreas said.
Jason nodded, finally vindicated. “Exactly,” he said. “In an emergency, the directives make clear that the goal is containment and protection of any mortals present.”
“But we’re just playing Clue,” Boreas argued.
This time, Lane didn’t make any effort to hide her laugh. “He’s got you,” she said.
Jason couldn’t think of any decent response, so he turned his attention to Davy. The boy was yawning. “Bedtime, little man?”
“I am sleepy,” Davy admitted.
“I’ll tuck him in,” Taylor offered. “I wanted to go up and check on my wife, anyway.” Lane had offered Zoë the big bed, and her sister-in-law had gratefully accepted, on the condition that she wasn’t kicking Davy out of his room.
“Thanks,” Lane said. She kissed Davy’s cheek. “Just think, tomorrow’s your birthday eve.”
“Cool,” Davy said, snuggling up against his Uncle Taylor’s chest.
Jason stood, fighting the urge to take Davy in his arms and tuck him in himself. But the boy looked happy and cozy, and Jason didn’t want to push.
“Mr. Jason?” Davy held out his hand, and Jason took it, his heart just about to melt. “Can’t I stay up just a little longer? I want to play Mousetrap.”
Jason glanced toward Lane for guidance, but no help was forthcoming. “I think it’s your bedtime,” he finally said. “And besides, we didn’t bring that game. Only Clue.”
“I don’t need the game,” Davy said, his voice sleepy. “I can make a mousetrap out of stuff off your boat.”
Jason didn’t doubt that for an instant. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s still bedtime. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Davy yawned. “Thanks for teaching me stuff today.”
“You’re welcome,” Jason said. “I had fun.” They’d spent the entire day practicing levitation, and Davy had actually managed to lift Elmer about an inch off the ground. Not bad, considering the boy’s powers weren’t even really supposed to come into their own until his birthday on Friday.
Of course, if the expression on Elmer’s face was any indication, the ferret would just as soon Davy never fully grasped levitation. Jason recalled his own antics as a child and figured the ferret had a point.
“I had fun, too,” Davy said.
And then, before he could talk himself out of it, Jason leaned over and kissed the boy on the cheek. “ ‘Night-’night,” he said.
“ ‘Night,” Davy repeated. And, to Jason’s delight, he didn’t try and rub the kiss off.
Taylor said good night, too, then turned and headed out of the room, the bundle of boy flung over his shoulder.
“I guess I’m off to my post,” Boreas said. He nodded toward all the dirty dishes scattered across the floor. “Unless you want help with these?”
Lane shook her head. “We’ve got them. You go ahead.”
The cadet nodded, then headed out the door. With Davy’s birthday fast approaching, they’d decided Boreas and Jason would trade off on lookout duty. Hopefully, Hieronymous wouldn’t show; but if he did, they’d be ready for him.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind Boreas, Lane started gathering dishes. Jason helped, following her into the kitchen with a handful of plates and both of their wineglasses. Before, the boat’s kitchen had always seemed too small to him. Now, though, it felt just right. He stood close behind Lane, watching as she filled the sink. He breathed deep, the soft floral scent of her shampoo mixing with the lemony smell of his dishwashing soap.
There was something so right about being beside her, passing her dishes, their movements timed nearly to perfection. She reached for the plate he held out, then paused, her head cocked slightly as she regarded him. “What?” she asked, the hint of a smile touching her mouth.
He reached out to stroke her cheek, rejoicing in the way she smiled at him, full of hope and promise. “This was a good day,” he said.
She leaned against him, holding a soapy dish in one hand. “The best,” she said. She let the dish slip back into the soapy water, then turned to smile at him. “Davy had a great time.”
Simple words, but they meant everything. “I hope so,” he said. “He’s a great kid.” His kid. Lane’s kid. “You’ve done a wonderful job with him.”
“Thank you.” She turned back to the dishes, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, somehow reminded her of his long absence. But no, that would be like reminding her of an elephant in the living room.
He moved behind her, his hands pressing against her arms. “Lane?”
She turned, shifting under his touch until her back pressed against the counter. She was trapped in the circle of his arms. Her cheeks flushed, and he traced the curve of her ear with his fingertip, wondering what was on her mind—hoping it was the same thing that was on his.
She licked her lips, looking down at the floor through her lashes. “It, uh, wasn’t just Davy who had a great time.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of promise .. . and unspoken questions. “I had a good time, too.”
“Lane,” he whispered, and his heart lurched. He pulled her close and stroked her hair. “We’ll make it right. We can be a family again.”
She stiffened then, and he stifled a cringe, fearful of what she would say.
“I want to,” she said, her words opening the door to hope. “I want to be with you. I want Davy to have his daddy. Today has made that seem possible, somehow.” She clutched his hands, the intensity of her gaze startling him. “But I need to know that Davy and I are your priority.”
“You are,” he said. “You always have been.”
She leaned back against the counter, shaking her head. “Is that why you left me so many years ago— because we were your priority?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
She laughed, the sound harsh, and he hated himself for the mistakes he’d made. Too, he hated his father for . . . well, everything. “Dammit, Lane, I’d just found out who my father was. All those years of the elders looking at me askance, of never getting a prime assignment, of always feeling watched and never completely trusted.” He gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you see? I had to make everything right. Had to prove myself. I didn’t want my child growing up under the same stigma. Not if I could help it.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Stigma?” she said, her voice rising. “Davy can live with a stigma a hell of a lot easier than he can live without a father. But I guess that never occurred to you.”
Her words hit him like a slap, and he recoiled. “I just wanted to make it right for him,” he said.
“For him?” she asked. “Or for yourself?”
He couldn’t answer, could only take her hand and hold her close.
“Don’t you see?” she continued. “It was a nice thought, but I needed you.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I needed you and you weren’t there.”
“I’m here now,” he said. “And I’m not going away. You two are everything to me. We need to get past this, Lane. I want us to be a family.” He stroked her cheek. “I love you, Lane. And whether you’ll admit it out loud or not, I know you love me.”
“It’s not about you anymore, and it’s not about me. It’s about Davy.”
“And that guy Aaron is better for Davy than his own father?”
“Better than a father who won’t be there? Yes.”
Jason stifled the urge to throw his hands in the air. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Lane’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “I wish I could believe that.”
“Dammit, Lane, give me a chance.” He stroked her face, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. “I want to make this work,” he said. “I want you. I want us.”
She exhaled, her breath unsteady, but she didn’t argue.
Her silence encouraged him, and he pulled her near, his hands stroked her back, his lips kissed away her fears. “Lane,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she whispered. She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips.
Those lips. He couldn’t resist, although he knew he should, and he bent to brush a kiss over them. She sighed—a surprised, dreamy sound—but she didn’t pull away. And that was all he needed.
His fingers sank deep into her hair to cup her head, and he held her steady, his mouth seeking the sweet taste of hers. Her lips parted, and his tongue sought entrance. She kissed him with a passion equal to his own, and he moaned, pulling her closer, wanting to consume and be consumed.
“Jason,” she murmured, pulling away.
He wasn’t about to give her any time to reconsider. With definite purpose, he trailed kisses down her neck, his fingers forging the path. He paused at the buttons on her shirt, managing to work them free, then slipped his hand inside.
She’d been sunbathing earlier, reading law books, and he cupped her breast through the thin material of her bikini. Her nipple peaked, pushing against the cloth, and he closed his mouth over it, bikini and all.
She sighed, the sound of her pleasure working an erotic magic on his body. His blood boiled and his entire body tightened with desire.
“Jason.” Lane’s voice, a breathy plea, tickled his ear. Her fingers caressed his neck, sliding up to glide through his hair as she moaned.
He pulled away, bestowing kisses up her body, pausing when he reached the indentation at her collarbone. She gripped his shoulders, tight, as if fighting a storm that was building inside.
“I’ve always loved you,” he whispered, as his fingers caressed her back.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “I know,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And I do love you.”
Jason’s heart skipped a beat. He loved her. He loved Davy. And she loved him. It was the perfect recipe for a family—except it had already failed once before.
Once again he cursed his father, a wave of regret for everything Hieronymous had stolen from him washing over him. But then he let it go. He slipped his hand down, his fingers tracing under the waistband of Lane’s shorts. Her breath hitched, but he didn’t slow his assault.
The tips of his fingers stroked the soft skin of her lower belly, brushing lower and lower under her swimsuit bottom until he found the coarse hair there and damp curls. Lane gasped, her head thrown back and her pulse beating wildly in her neck. Jason kissed her throat even as his fingers stroked her, seeking the heat at her core.
She moaned, the erotic noise making him as hard as he’d ever been.
His fingers found her soft folds, and he teased her, rolling the hard nub of her sex between his thumb and forefinger, delighting in the way she writhed against his touch. She murmured his name, and his body pulsed with the need to satisfy her completely, to make Lane his once again.
He could never get the lost years back, but, right now, Lane was his. And, dammit, he didn’t intend to lose her again.

* * *
Lane squirmed, needing Jason’s touch, wanting to feel him inside her, wanting him to hold her close and murmur soft words.
She wanted everything to be back the way it once was, so very long ago.
His fingers slid over her, and she moved shamelessly, trying to make him touch her just so. She wanted to lose herself—to both passion and to Jason. Her body was afire with lust and desperate need, and she’d beg if she had to.
“Jason,” she whispered. “Please.”
He met her eyes. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she said.
“For now, or for always?”
Her heart twisted. “For always,” she admitted. “I’ve always wanted you for always. But—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “No. Don’t say anything. Right now, I just want the good stuff.”
She laughed, then caught him around the neck and pulled him close. “Well, then, how’s this for good stuff? Make love to me. Make love to me now, or I swear I’ll scream.”
He hooked his arms under her legs and lifted her, then carried her to the patio.
He moved closer to the railing and she frowned, fearful that she knew what was coming. “Jason?” she asked.
“Trust me,” he whispered, putting her on her feet before him.
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. She would trust him. She did trust him.
With slow, methodical movements, he peeled off his clothes, revealing a tiny black bathing suit that left nothing to the imagination. Certainly not how much he wanted her.
She licked her lips, reluctantly dragging her gaze upward to meet his.
He flashed a knowing grin. “Your turn,” he said.
“I... I can’t swim.”
He took a step closer, his fingers plucking at the elastic waistband of her shorts. “I’m not asking you to.”
With a firm tug, he slid the shorts over her hips and down her legs, dropping them to pool around her ankles. Without a word, he took her hand, urging her to step out of them, then led her to the ladder that descended to the water.
He went first, one step at a time down, with her two steps above him. She could feel his breath at the small of her back, the sensation making her body tingle.
At the last step, water splashed her midthigh. With a gentle hand around her waist, Jason plucked her from the ladder, turning her to face him as he treaded water. They bobbed together, legs intertwined, the cool ocean sweet relief from the burning in her blood.
Together, they moved to a buoy, and he gently placed her hands upon it. “I’ll be back,” he said, disappearing below the surface before she could ask what he meant.
Despite the lights from the boat, she couldn’t see into the night-black water. But she could feel. And as the water gently lapped against her shoulders, Jason’s mouth caressed her stomach, his lips hot against her skin. A warm, delicious sensation filled her, and she leaned back, half-floating in the water as Jason worked his magic under the surface.
He slipped his fingers under her bikini bottom, urging it off, and Lane shivered from the sudden rush of cool water against her naked skin. Jason’s hand skimmed down to cup her sex, his fingers teasing. Every caress offered the promise of something more, but never quite delivered, and Lane’s body trembled with anticipation.
Under the water, Jason’s tongue skimmed over her belly, lower and lower, as if he were tasting her and couldn’t quite get enough. His hands grasped the insides of her thighs; the tips of his thumbs teased flesh more intimate. She squirmed, silently urging him to slide inside her and quench the fire that the water all around couldn’t touch.
His hands moved away, and Lane groaned, then moaned in surprised satisfaction when his mouth closed over her, kissing her intimately, his tongue laving her in deep, rhythmic strokes. They built and built inside her until she was certain her body couldn’t withstand the force.
With one hand still holding on to the buoy, she slid her other into the water. She buried her fingers in Jason’s hair and arched her back, pressing closer. She was on the edge, desperate to tumble headlong into passion, and she writhed shamelessly against him, seeking release.
He pulled away, leaving her hot and tingly. She moaned in protest, urging him up from under the water, a plea on her lips. “Jason, please, don’t stop.”
Water cascaded off him, the droplets glistening in the marina lights. “I don’t intend to stop,” he said. He slipped her bathing suit over the buoy; then he put his own over it as well. He kissed her, catching her in a tight embrace, his erection pressed hard between her thighs.
“Do you still trust me?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to think about anything except having him inside her.
“Let go of the buoy . ..”
She barely had time to comply before he held tight to her hips and pulled her down, impaling her. She gasped, her sex enveloping him, drawing him in.
The water supported them as they moved together. She held tight, wanting him to never stop, wanting to never lose this closeness.
“Lane,” he whispered her name, murmuring it over and over as he cupped her behind, pushing against her as he sank deep inside her. Her body burned against his, alive and on fire. She wanted to forget their past and her fears and lose herself in the power of his touch. .. .
Over and over, she thrust against him, as if by joining their bodies, they could somehow rejoin their lives. A slow, delicious pressure built in Lane’s muscles, a physical anticipation, a craving, pleasurable in and of itself, but holding the promise of so much more.
She held her breath and closed her eyes, her body meeting his as she struggled to find release. And, just as the stars exploded in her veins, she felt his body tense and quake—and she knew he’d found release, too.
She pressed her legs tight around his waist, rocking with him as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her. As the last tremors of passion took their course, Lane clutched Jason’s shoulders, her fingers pressing into his skin.
“You know I love you,” he whispered again. His body slid on hers, warm and possessive.
“I know you do,” she said.
Snuggling close, she sighed, feeling sad and happy all at the same time. He loved her, yes.
Once upon a time, that hadn’t been enough. But this time he’d promised he’d stay. Her heart twisted a little and she said a silent plea that, this time, he meant it. She wasn’t making another huge mistake. This time, love really would win.



Hieronymous whipped the black cloth off, revealing a rather unpleasant-looking contraption with a metallic helmet strapped to dozens of copper-colored wires. The wires led to a perfectly formed glass sphere filled with some sort of glowing gas.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the sphere. “This is where I shall collect it.” He tapped the helmet with the tip of one long finger, then traced along the wiring. “From the boy, to the wires, and, ultimately, to me.”
His smile caused Mordi’s blood to run cold. “Perfect,” he said. His lips curved into a frown. “Or it would be.”
“The boy,” Clyde said. “Allow me to retrieve him, sire.”
“No.” Hieronymous moved to his desk, then sat behind it, his fingers drumming on its solid surface. “You are still wanted by the Council. Should you be caught, the consequences would be dire.” Hieronymous paused, glancing casually at the monitors lining the wall. “And I still have need of you, so it would be most inconvenient if you were captured.”
Mordi shifted, having a feeling he knew what was coming.
“Mordichai,” his father said, with a nod toward him. “The child must be acquired and brought here before midnight. You understand the consequences should you fail?”
Mordi swallowed and stepped forward. “Yes, Father.” And he did. He understood what would happen if he failed ... and he knew what would happen if he succeeded.
Part of him wanted to leave this island, head to Olympus, and never look back. Another part of him wanted to please his father. To take up the reins of an empire.
He knew what he should do. What he would do, however, remained a question.



Lane laughed as Davy poked and prodded at the insides of the television. Behind him, Elmer chattered peevishly.
“You better hurry,” Lane said, “or Elmer won’t be speaking to you anymore.”
Davy just rolled his eyes. “Oh, Mo-om,” he said, drawing out the word. “I’ll get it back together.” A few more twists of wire and a bit more clanking, and he did exactly that. With a flourish, her show-off son put the casing back on. “See?” he said. “All done.”
Lane tried to keep her face serious. “And just what does it do?”
“Shows tomorrow’s television,” Davy said. “So you won’t miss your program.”
At that, Lane laughed outright, even as Elmer chittered louder and started bouncing up and down.
“But sweetie,” she said, “Elmer’s show is coming on tonight.”
“Mrs. Dolittle” was set to begin in five minutes.
“Oh.” Davy picked up his screwdriver. “I’ll just take it apart again.”
“No, no, no.” Lane plucked the screwdriver from his hand. “Elmer can watch the television in Jason’s room.” She turned to Zoë. “Would you mind taking him up?”
Zoë‘s head appeared. She was on the couch, holding hands with her husband.
“Oh,” Lane said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“What were you going to tell me?” Taylor said.
Zoë kissed his cheek. “Later,” she said. She stood up. “Come on, Elmer. Let’s go see what I’m sure will be your Emmy award-winning performance.”
Elmer skittered toward the stairs and Zoë followed. Taylor got up, shook his head, and excused himself to the kitchen.
Lane scowled, feeling like she was missing something. For a second she thought about going after Zoë, but a knock at the door changed her mind.
When Davy got up to answer, she put a hand on his shoulder, halting him. “You can get the door after your birthday, sweetie. Until then, stay behind me.”
She peered through the peephole. Aaron. She drew in a breath. She needed to talk to him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to. She let him in, and he immediately bent down and gave Davy a hug.
“Hey, big guy. How you doing?”
“I’m good,” Davy said. “I made a future TV.”
“Vivid imagination,” Lane said.
Davy tilted his head up. “Can I go play with Jason?”
She looked at Aaron, noting the man’s flash of disappointment. But after a second she nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Go ahead.”
“I guess I don’t rank anymore,” Aaron said after Davy had disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—”
“Want him to get to know his father. Of course you do.” A sad smile touched Aaron’s lips. “It seems like he really likes the guy.”
Lane nodded. “Yeah. I think he really does.”
Aaron’s features hardened. “I take it he’s not the only one.”
“I...” Lane started to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. He was right. She drew in a deep breath, searching for courage. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Aaron opened his mouth, and for a second she thought he was going to lash out. But then he took a deep breath and nodded, his eyes infinitely sad. “Believe me, I know that.” He shook his head. “And I never wanted to be second best. We both deserve better than that.” He reached into his briefcase and handed her a large envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Class notes,” he said. “I swung by UCLA and tracked down your study group.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “If you ever decide the district attorney’s office isn’t the place for you, give me a call.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping he understood that she meant for more than just the notes. “I hope ...”
“What?”
“Everything,” she finally said. “I hope you get everything you want. And I hope you find who you want.”
“Have you?” he asked, giving her one last look.
“Yes,” she answered. The word came to her lips without hesitation. Jason was everything she’d ever desired, everything she’d wanted in a man, a husband, and a father to her child. She’d told herself otherwise, but it had all been just self-protection. Now, she had to believe in him. She had to pray he wouldn’t disappoint her again.
“I’m glad,” Aaron said, pausing at the door. He squeezed her hand. “Good-bye, Lane.”
She watched him go until he stepped from the dock to the parking lot and disappeared into his car. She clutched the knob of the door, hoping she was doing the right thing. But as much as doubt gnawed at her, she knew that, in the end, this was best. She didn’t love Aaron, and she did love Jason. She loved him with all her heart, and she needed to trust him. It was scary, yes, but he’d promised to put Davy and her first, and she believed him.
So help her, she did.
They were going to put their family back together and push the past behind them. And they were going to live happily ever after. Everything she wanted, Jason could give her. At some point, she’d had to let go and just trust her heart.
She turned back into the houseboat, going straight for the glass door at the rear, to watch Jason and her son. Jason wasn’t there, but Davy was, sitting next to Boreas at a small metal table, clearly waiting for his dad to return.
And then Jason stepped into view, and Davy’s face lit up. Lane smiled, seeing how easily her boy went to Jason now. But then Jason kicked the table, knocking Boreas backward. At the same time, he grabbed his son around the waist, then ran to the edge of the boat, pulling a Propulsion Cloak out from under his jacket.
Mordichai.
As Davy screamed, Lane did, too. But it was too late. Mordi was long gone, flying toward the horizon and into the sunset.
And once again, he had her baby.