Aphrodite's Secret (32 page)

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.