"Aphrodite's_Flame_015" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Twelve

Surprisingly enough, Mordi didn’t spend any more time trying to convince her that Hieronymous was pulling a fast one. Who knows? Maybe she’d managed to sway him with her argument. After all, if Mordi could come over to the good side, then why not his father?
She breathed deep, trying to pick up the scent of his thoughts, but all she picked up on were fluttery bits of attraction. She blushed and focused on her tea, fighting both guilt and flattery—pleased that he liked her, especially since the feeling was mutual; embarrassed for feeling like an emotional voyeur, looking in where other women couldn’t see.
With supreme effort, she managed to ignore that scent of attraction. She told herself it didn’t matter anyway, she wasn’t influenced by it. Women all over the world were astute enough to tell when a man liked them. She just had a tiny little advantage.
What she didn’t have an advantage in was the down-and-dirty interpersonal stuff. So she found Mordichai Black attractive. So he found her attractive. What was she supposed to do now? Especially since she shouldn’t be doing anything at all. This man could mean big trouble for her. Her head knew that.
Unfortunately, the rest of her was having a hard time getting with the program.
Mordi turned to her, a question in his eyes.
“What?”
“So, how did you know it was me? The cat? Or were you really planning on doing ... that... to a kitten?”
She laughed, remembering the expression on his face when he’d shifted back to human form. “Touch, remember? You might have been a kitten, but you were still you—and I got a Technicolor view of your thoughts. Surprised the heck out of me, but I think I recovered nicely.”
He quirked a brow. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “One, I was caught off guard. Two, is a man who broke into my apartment by pretending to be a cat really going to throw some rule back in my face?” She held her breath, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. Because while she was totally in the right here, where her father was concerned she was way, way, way out on a limb.
Mordi, however, didn’t seem to be thinking about anything else, and looked suitably abashed. “I had planned to ply you with Indian food,” he said. “But I ended up giving it to a homeless person.”
She laughed, and he shrugged, and the atmosphere in the room shifted: her wariness disappeared, replaced once again by a deep sense of well-being. She felt immediately comfortable with this man. Too comfortable.
“Could we go out?” he asked. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”
She wanted to, she wanted to, she wanted to. “I’ve already eaten,” she said, the voice of reason and responsibility.
“Oh.”
She heard the disappointment in his voice and felt like a raving bitch. “I could ... I mean, I have some cookies here, if you’d like some.”
What was she doing? She should be trying to discourage him, not keeping him hanging around. He was going to ask more questions. They’d both opened up about their fathers, but he more than Izzy. Now he was going to want to know more about hers. Tit for tat and all that.
Would he be able to tell if she was lying? Or, if not lying, not exactly giving him the full story?
Sweet Hera, she was an idiot. The man looked good in a suit, challenged her, and made her laugh—and suddenly she was falling all over herself?
Damn.
In the end, though, he didn’t ask her any personal questions. He just sat next to her on the couch and they watched an X-Men video. She suggested the old Christopher Reeves video Superman II, but he soundly nixed that idea. So they ended up watching Hugh Jackman and gang (hardly an unpleasant way to pass the time), laughing at some stuff, marveling at the perception of other things. Was the screenwriter perhaps a Protector? they wondered.
Two hours later, Mordi stood up to go, the picture of a perfect gentleman. He hadn’t tried a thing, and Izzy wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disappointed.
At the door, though, he paused. “Listen, Isole...”
She nodded, silently encouraging him.
“The next session, with my father, it’s Friday?”
“Right.”
“Afterward, maybe we could grab a bite? I feel like I owe you dinner.”
“You don’t. I’d already eaten, and we didn’t have plans or anything—so you really didn’t give away my meal.”
“All right, then. I think we should talk about the committee. Discuss the various members and make sure we agree with where they each stand, and come up with a game plan about how we can help them see the value in the renegotiated treaty.”
“Have you been practicing that, or did it just come to you?”
“Sorry. I can’t reveal that.”
She laughed.
“Seriously, Izzy. I’d like to see you Friday night.”
She licked her lips. This time, at least, she had an easy out. “I’m sorry. I’ve already got plans.”
“Oh.” She saw the displeased shift in his features, realized that he assumed she had a date.
“No, no.” She rushed to correct his impression, even though she knew she should keep her mouth shut. An assumed boyfriend was as good a defense as anything against interest from a new man. She paused, thought about it, then pressed on. “My father’s getting an award. I’m going to the ceremony.”
“Oh.” She watched as he processed the information, apparently coming back to the very reasonable conclusion that she was unattached. “Oh. Well, in that case, I’d be honored to escort you.”
She realized her palms were sweating, and wiped them on her jeans. “I, um, don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I mean, we’re working together. Should we... well... date?”
“Who said anything about a date?” He smiled, the gesture full of light and charm. “We have business to discuss, after all. I’ll be there at the session with my father, we can talk afterward, and then I’ll escort you to your father’s award ceremony.”
She met his grin, feeling lightheaded and more than a little foolhardy ... but not caring one iota.
She knew it was bad; knew this traitor-hunter had the potential to really screw up her life. But still, she couldn’t help it. She did like him, and she did want to see him again—without Protector business hanging over their heads. They could disguise it all they wanted as “committee work,” but they both knew the truth: There was something there, in the air, buzzing between them.
It enticed her as much as it frightened her.
“Izzy?”
“Yes,” she said, before she could change her mind. “Yes, I’d love to go with you.”

Chapter Twelve

Surprisingly enough, Mordi didn’t spend any more time trying to convince her that Hieronymous was pulling a fast one. Who knows? Maybe she’d managed to sway him with her argument. After all, if Mordi could come over to the good side, then why not his father?
She breathed deep, trying to pick up the scent of his thoughts, but all she picked up on were fluttery bits of attraction. She blushed and focused on her tea, fighting both guilt and flattery—pleased that he liked her, especially since the feeling was mutual; embarrassed for feeling like an emotional voyeur, looking in where other women couldn’t see.
With supreme effort, she managed to ignore that scent of attraction. She told herself it didn’t matter anyway, she wasn’t influenced by it. Women all over the world were astute enough to tell when a man liked them. She just had a tiny little advantage.
What she didn’t have an advantage in was the down-and-dirty interpersonal stuff. So she found Mordichai Black attractive. So he found her attractive. What was she supposed to do now? Especially since she shouldn’t be doing anything at all. This man could mean big trouble for her. Her head knew that.
Unfortunately, the rest of her was having a hard time getting with the program.
Mordi turned to her, a question in his eyes.
“What?”
“So, how did you know it was me? The cat? Or were you really planning on doing ... that... to a kitten?”
She laughed, remembering the expression on his face when he’d shifted back to human form. “Touch, remember? You might have been a kitten, but you were still you—and I got a Technicolor view of your thoughts. Surprised the heck out of me, but I think I recovered nicely.”
He quirked a brow. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “One, I was caught off guard. Two, is a man who broke into my apartment by pretending to be a cat really going to throw some rule back in my face?” She held her breath, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. Because while she was totally in the right here, where her father was concerned she was way, way, way out on a limb.
Mordi, however, didn’t seem to be thinking about anything else, and looked suitably abashed. “I had planned to ply you with Indian food,” he said. “But I ended up giving it to a homeless person.”
She laughed, and he shrugged, and the atmosphere in the room shifted: her wariness disappeared, replaced once again by a deep sense of well-being. She felt immediately comfortable with this man. Too comfortable.
“Could we go out?” he asked. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”
She wanted to, she wanted to, she wanted to. “I’ve already eaten,” she said, the voice of reason and responsibility.
“Oh.”
She heard the disappointment in his voice and felt like a raving bitch. “I could ... I mean, I have some cookies here, if you’d like some.”
What was she doing? She should be trying to discourage him, not keeping him hanging around. He was going to ask more questions. They’d both opened up about their fathers, but he more than Izzy. Now he was going to want to know more about hers. Tit for tat and all that.
Would he be able to tell if she was lying? Or, if not lying, not exactly giving him the full story?
Sweet Hera, she was an idiot. The man looked good in a suit, challenged her, and made her laugh—and suddenly she was falling all over herself?
Damn.
In the end, though, he didn’t ask her any personal questions. He just sat next to her on the couch and they watched an X-Men video. She suggested the old Christopher Reeves video Superman II, but he soundly nixed that idea. So they ended up watching Hugh Jackman and gang (hardly an unpleasant way to pass the time), laughing at some stuff, marveling at the perception of other things. Was the screenwriter perhaps a Protector? they wondered.
Two hours later, Mordi stood up to go, the picture of a perfect gentleman. He hadn’t tried a thing, and Izzy wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disappointed.
At the door, though, he paused. “Listen, Isole...”
She nodded, silently encouraging him.
“The next session, with my father, it’s Friday?”
“Right.”
“Afterward, maybe we could grab a bite? I feel like I owe you dinner.”
“You don’t. I’d already eaten, and we didn’t have plans or anything—so you really didn’t give away my meal.”
“All right, then. I think we should talk about the committee. Discuss the various members and make sure we agree with where they each stand, and come up with a game plan about how we can help them see the value in the renegotiated treaty.”
“Have you been practicing that, or did it just come to you?”
“Sorry. I can’t reveal that.”
She laughed.
“Seriously, Izzy. I’d like to see you Friday night.”
She licked her lips. This time, at least, she had an easy out. “I’m sorry. I’ve already got plans.”
“Oh.” She saw the displeased shift in his features, realized that he assumed she had a date.
“No, no.” She rushed to correct his impression, even though she knew she should keep her mouth shut. An assumed boyfriend was as good a defense as anything against interest from a new man. She paused, thought about it, then pressed on. “My father’s getting an award. I’m going to the ceremony.”
“Oh.” She watched as he processed the information, apparently coming back to the very reasonable conclusion that she was unattached. “Oh. Well, in that case, I’d be honored to escort you.”
She realized her palms were sweating, and wiped them on her jeans. “I, um, don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I mean, we’re working together. Should we... well... date?”
“Who said anything about a date?” He smiled, the gesture full of light and charm. “We have business to discuss, after all. I’ll be there at the session with my father, we can talk afterward, and then I’ll escort you to your father’s award ceremony.”
She met his grin, feeling lightheaded and more than a little foolhardy ... but not caring one iota.
She knew it was bad; knew this traitor-hunter had the potential to really screw up her life. But still, she couldn’t help it. She did like him, and she did want to see him again—without Protector business hanging over their heads. They could disguise it all they wanted as “committee work,” but they both knew the truth: There was something there, in the air, buzzing between them.
It enticed her as much as it frightened her.
“Izzy?”
“Yes,” she said, before she could change her mind. “Yes, I’d love to go with you.”