Pan's Conquest (Entangled Covet) (6 page)

Chapter Seven
Even Beat

Syrinx hummed to herself while arranging a flower bouquet for Myrna Smith’s baby shower.
Daisies, it must have daisies—the perfect complement to the pink roses Myrna had requested.
Syrinx couldn’t remember a time when she was this happy, riding on cloud nine all the way to heaven’s gates. As much as she liked to think it was because of the morning’s sunshine and her flourishing business, the real reason lay with Parker’s experienced lips. Lips she shouldn’t kiss again if she knew what was good for her.

Kaye propped open the front door with her butt as she held a tower of ceramic pots in both hands. “Hey, Sylvie. You won’t believe what I found at this yard sale. The blue one has a crack, but I think we can—” She stopped in mid-step. “Are you glowing?”

Syrinx ran her hands through her hair self-consciously. “Oh, it must be the sun. Nice day, huh?”

Kaye set the pots down by the cash register and gave Syrinx a suspicious look. “How did your date go last night?”

Syrinx pretended to be interested in sticking the daisies around the pink roses. “It was interesting. We ate at a nice botanical restaurant and went to see that award-winning poet, Master Don.”

“You mean the ancient-looking Asian guy?” Kaye made a sour face. “You couldn’t drag me to one of his shows with a shotgun.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He makes you think too much about the big questions in life. Sure, we all have to think about our future and our goals. But it’s not something I want to do on my time off. Especially on a date. Who thought of that?”

Syrinx glanced down and fluffed the daisies sheepishly. “I did.”

“Of course.” Kaye frowned in disappointment.

“I wasn’t trying to be a snorefest. I had no idea what his poems were like.”

Kaye leaned against the countertop, balancing on her elbows, and smiled. “And what did Parker think of them?”

“He seemed to like them. I don’t know. During some of them, it looked like he was thinking really hard about something. I wish I could hear his thoughts.”

Kaye stared her down until she thought her friend could see every lusty thought in her head. “Are you blushing? Did he try anything on you like I said he would?”

“Maybe. But I didn’t let it get very far.”

Kaye threw her hands up in the air. “Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s only a first date, Kaye. I really don’t know him all that well. He could be a serial killer for all we know.”

“I doubt that.” Kaye leaned against the countertop, looking away as if envisioning her own private fantasy of Parker Thomas. “More like serial kisser. That…I’d believe.” Kaye laughed at her own joke. “Did he ask you out on another date?”

Syrinx shrugged. “We left it open. I suggested next time we do something fun.”

“Well, it wasn’t a total waste of a hot guy then, was it?” Kaye patted her arm. “Good job. Not bad for such a rusty old spinster.”

“Hey, who’s calling who a spinster? I don’t look a day older than you, and you can’t be more than twenty-five.”

Kaye admired Syrinx’s new arrangement, touching a petal as if it were a baby’s cheek. “Twenty-six, to be exact. At least I try.” Her tone sounded a little too heavy and sad.

“You’ll find your Mr. Right someday.” Syrinx started the next bouquet, cutting the ends of a bunch of lime-hued, button-shaped chrysanthemums. She wished she could help Kaye find someone. Her assistant deserved the same happiness Syrinx had found.

Kaye moved on to her own bouquet. “By the way, did you knock over the pots stacked out back?”

Syrinx froze, remembering the mess she’d cleaned up in the kitchen. “No. Why?”

“Last night, I returned to the shop. I’d forgotten to bring in the pansies, and I was afraid they’d wilt in the cold. When I got there, some of the pots had been knocked over. The blue clay one I picked up the other day is cracked even more now.” She scratched her head. “I don’t remember it being a windy night.”

Syrinx’s heart sped. “Was anything stolen?”

Kaye shook her head. “I checked the register, and everything is where I left it. So what do you think? A raccoon? Stray dogs looking for scraps?”

“A stray something.” Syrinx snapped the rose stem in two. Could their intruder be Pan? She’d had a distinct gut feeling last night with Parker. It was the same skin-prickling sensation she’d had when she first caught Pan staring at her bathing nude in the river.

Syrinx dragged the scissors closer on the counter. “Bring in the pots. From now on, we won’t leave anything outside. And Kaye, call the locksmith. We need a new lock on the back door.”

…

Pan awoke to glorious sunlight streaming into his bachelor pad on the penthouse of his grand estate. Even though gods had no need for rest, he still enjoyed the pleasure of sleep. Besides, he had a reputation as a mortal to uphold. Why not indulge in their pleasures as well?

He checked the time. Good gods! It was already eleven o’clock. He shot up in bed, the sheets falling away from his naked body.

The god born of nature with no true family or friends felt oddly alone for the first time in his existence. Pan slipped on his bathrobe and checked the corridor for a tray or note or anything his butler might leave by his door. Nothing. The shelves were so clean, not a mote of dust graced the surfaces—a testament to Rutherford’s excellent skills.

Perhaps he was downstairs in the foyer, or outside in the gardens?

Pan leaped down the stairs two at a time. “Rutherford?” His voice echoed unanswered throughout the grand halls.

Had the old man quit?
No, that would be absurd
. Not after the heartfelt talk they’d had last night. Pan scanned the grounds from the window, then checked the living room and dining rooms. Everything was as it had been last night, and every other day, for that matter. It wasn’t as though Pan had many guests.

Pan walked to Rutherford’s door and knocked gently.

No answer.

“Rutherford, are you in there?” He knocked again.

He heard nothing besides the bees buzzing from outside the window at the end of hall. Pan couldn’t even hear the old man breathing.

He tried the door, and the knob turned easily. Rutherford must have trusted him, because he’d left his door unlocked.

Pan stepped into the room. Rutherford’s suit was cleanly pressed and folded on his dresser. A small vase with a wild lily rested on his windowsill, the roots dangling in the clear water.

Rutherford lay in bed, his eyes closed.

Pan’s heart skidded. “Rutherford? Wake up!”

He rushed to his bed and shook him. Maybe the wine had knocked him unconscious. “It’s eleven o’clock. Time to get up.”

Rutherford’s head lolled to his shoulder. The skin underneath his eyes had grown ashy gray.

“No, no, no.” Pan couldn’t find a pulse. Panic seized him in a tight grip. He’d never experienced such an uncontrollable wave of raw helplessness and fear. Pushing his emotions aside, he placed both hands on the old man’s chest and drew upon his powers.
Please, please, please work.

His hands grew hot, and the lily on the windowsill beside him brightened. Pan closed his eyes, trying to restart the old man’s heart. He’d quickened hearts before, but had never brought them back from the grave.

Rutherford lay cold and unmoving underneath Pan’s hands. He was powerless to save him. The old man was gone.

“Hades, you bastard! Bring him back!” Pan clutched Rutherford’s sheets in his fists.

Only the gentle cooing of a mourning dove answered his pleas.

I should have spent more time with him.
Pan studied the old man’s face as grief brought tears welling in his eyes. He’d never cried before, never experienced such a draining sense of loss sucking him dry.

Through pain, one appreciates love.

Was this love, this heart-wrenching misery that had seized Pan by the guts and squeezed them raw? Pan could only guess. What he did know was he’d miss the old man, his voice of reason, his subtle, caring thoughts.

Even though Rutherford’s eyes looked tired, his mouth turned up in a peaceful expression. He’d found tranquillity somewhere with Eleanor. Pan was sure of it, and that thought gave him at least a little comfort.

Collapsing against the side of the bed, Pan fell to his knees. He had no one to turn to, nowhere to go. None of the gods on Mount Olympus would care, nor all the maidens who giggled and shrieked with glee at his presence. They were nothing to him, and Rutherford was everything.

He picked up the phone and dialed the emergency operator. Somehow, he’d have to get hold of Rutherford’s estranged son.

Chapter Eight
Company for the Road

Syrinx knelt beside Kaye as they replanted a crop of marigolds into bigger pots. Kaye fumbled with the spade and dropped it on the floor with a clang. “Drat! If only my hands and feet did what I told them to. I’m such a klutz.”

Syrinx smiled, wishing she could give Kaye some of her natural elegance. She picked up the spade and handed it back to her. “You might be uncoordinated, but your wit is sharp as a bee’s sting, and you have an imagination bigger than life.”

“And what can I do with either? Outsmart the flowers or dream up big profits?”

“You’ll find a use for your talents. You already help me balance the books and keep track of our debt and our profit margins.” In fact, when Syrinx entered the mortal world, she had no idea of such things. Gods didn’t need checkbooks or bank accounts.

Kaye wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, smearing a line of dirt across her face. “It’s the least I can do for you giving me a job. When I applied, I’d just been fired for dropping a tray with hot coffee on a customer’s lap. You were the only employer who’d give me a second chance.”

“Nah. A lot of employers would be lucky to have you.” Syrinx patted the soil around a golden blossom.

“You’d think that. But you’d be surprised how hard it is to get a job after you’ve been fired.”

“It wasn’t hard for you to get this one.” Kaye had impressed her in the interview with ideas for a strategic plan for the floral shop. On top of that, she was friendly without asking too many probing questions. A wave of guilt riled her. Syrinx glanced down at the soil. Kaye had turned into more than an assistant. She was her only friend in this world, and Syrinx had kept so many things from her. With Pan supposedly gallivanting around, maybe now was the time to tell her the truth.

Syrinx swallowed a lump in her throat. “Kaye, have you ever had to tell someone a secret? Something you’ve never told anyone before?”

Kaye glanced up at her and swiped at a fuzzy moth who’d used their greenhouse as an inn over the rainy night. “Not really.” She scrunched her nose. “Usually, I say what I mean right on the spot. No brain filter.”

Syrinx sighed. How would she react when she found out Syrinx had hidden her identity for so long? It wasn’t as if she’d lied about her hair color or her age. Hiding your Greek god status was one hell of a thing to hide. Kaye gave her a mischievous smile. “Why? Want to spill the beans on something you did as a kid?”

Syrinx pressed firmly on the soil to keep it in place around the orange marigold. “Not exactly.”

“Then what’s up?”

The moth had changed direction, and was now fluttering around Syrinx’s face. She knew it would only be a matter of time before it was drawn to her. She waved it away. “If I told you something about me, could you keep it a secret?”

“Who am I gonna tell? The NBC
Nightly News
?” Kaye smiled reassuringly.

When Syrinx didn’t respond, Kaye sat on her butt holding the small shovel. “Well, are you gonna tell me or not?”

Syrinx swallowed, but it did nothing to remove the lump in her throat. This was it. Go for broke. “I’m a…you see, I have…”

The front door bells tinkled, breaking the anticipation in the air between them. A wave of relief hit Syrinx as Kaye peeked around the table and muttered under her breath. “Look who we have here.”

Kaye’s tone told her all she needed to know. Syrinx whirled around. Parker Thomas came through the door, but he wasn’t the same man who’d teased her about her name. He wore rumpled clothes, and his usually moussed hair stood up in all angles on his head. His mischievous face had fallen into a long frown. His dancing copper eyes were sad and dark.

Syrinx stood, wiping her soiled hands on her apron. Her heart thudded in her chest despite her will to secure it down with chains. “Can I help you, Mr. Thomas?”

His face softened when he saw her. “Sylvia. I’m so glad to see you.”

“I tried calling to update you on your order, and no one answered.” Syrinx tried to keep her tone casual, but an underside of irritation crept in.

“I’m sorry.” Parker ran his hand through his unruly hair—which looked wildly sexy in its unkempt state. “Rutherford has passed away.”

Syrinx thought back to the kind man who greeted her at the mansion just the other day. He was old, certainly, but he didn’t look on his deathbed. Mortals were so unpredictable. They could die at any time—which was another reason why she shouldn’t get so attached to a certain hot mess standing at the cash register. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his chin as if collecting his thoughts. “The doctors said he died in his sleep of natural causes.”

To an immortal god, all forms of death were unnatural. But Syrinx didn’t say so. “At least he had a peaceful passing.”

“Indeed.” Parker looked away, his eyes watery.

Syrinx couldn’t believe how much he cared for his employee. “You were close?”

Parker nodded. He blinked away his tears, and his face hardened as if he had no more to say on the matter. “I’m here to order a funeral bouquet. White lilies.”

“Of course.” Syrinx picked up the pad of paper by the cash register and wrote down his order. “How many? And when do you need it by?”

He grimaced. “Whatever you can scrounge up. I’m afraid I need it today. I’m going up to a funeral a few hours north of here, and I was hoping…”

Syrinx mentally calculated what she had in her store. “No problem. We might have to fill it out with white carnations and delphiniums, but I’m sure I can do something. I can work on it right now.”

“That’s great.” He almost smiled. “You’re a lifesaver. I should have ordered them yesterday, but I had too much on my mind.”

“I’m sure you did.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. It felt good to touch him again. “If you want to wait right there, I can go out back and put it together.”

“Thank you, Sylvia.”

Sylvia.

How nice would it be to hear her real name from his lips? But who was she kidding? She couldn’t even tell her best friend her secret, never mind some hot guy who made her tongue-tied just talking about flowers.

She put together the most beautiful bouquet she could and brought it out for him to see.

“It’s gorgeous.” Parker touched a white lily.

Syrinx tried not to blush. She’d made it for Rutherford, not to impress Parker. “It’s the best I can do on the spur of the moment, but I think it turned out really well.”

He took the bouquet from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers. Was it her imagination, or did he linger a moment with the contact? “A pity it will be the only passenger accompanying me on the long ride.”

“You mean you don’t have any family to ride with?” Syrinx tightened her tingling fingers into fists.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any family at all.”

“Not at all?” Kaye blurted out.

He coughed. “I mean…in the area, of course.”

Kaye elbowed Syrinx. “Sylvia could go with you. We’ve done almost all our work for today, and I can cover for her for the rest of the day.”

Parker smiled at Kaye as if thanking her. “That’s very kind of you, but I won’t be returning until tomorrow.”

“All the better, then.” Kaye spread her arms out. “That’s Sylvia’s day off.”

Syrinx wanted to whop Kaye in the stomach. Instead, she gave her betraying assistant a sweet smile. “You know I can’t take a day off right now.”

“Yes, you can,” Kaye whispered, then turned back to Parker. “We’ve finished all our orders for the rest of the week. We were passing the time by repotting marigolds that aren’t even three inches tall.”

Syrinx laughed with embarrassment. “You make me sound like a plant Nazi.”

Kaye crossed her arms. “Well, sometimes you are.” She pushed Syrinx forward. “Go. You could use a day off. Don’t worry about the shop. I’ll take care of it.”

Syrinx gazed up at Parker, trying not to imagine all the possibilities brimming in her thoughts. A long car ride? An overnight date? So many opportunities for closeness, and so many temptations to break her oath.

Parker had perfected the ultimate hot-guy, pouty face. “Will you go with me, Sylvia?”

Her desire had won over her self-control. He was just too cute when he was vulnerable. Now all she had to do was say it out loud. “I’ll have to pack a few things…”

Parker checked his wristwatch. “Since the bouquet took so little time, I can wait a little while longer.”

Syrinx took off toward her apartment in the back as though the vile bats of the underworld were hot on her heels.

…

They took the highway north as the sun reached its zenith in the middle of the sky. Syrinx picked soil off her skinny jeans, wishing she’d changed into something a little nicer for the trip. Hopefully, she’d get a chance to change before the service. At least she had the presence of mind to ditch the apron before she left.

Parker had been quiet during the first fifteen minutes, which was understandable considering the circumstances. He needed his space. Still, he did ask her to accompany him, so it wasn’t as though he wanted to be alone. Maybe he just needed some prodding? Syrinx decided to try some conversation to lighten the mood.

“So why is this funeral so far away?”

“Rutherford has family up north—a son and a few cousins. His wife is buried in a cemetery there, so they wanted the service to be next to his family’s plot.”

Parker must have been closer to Rutherford than she thought. “Have you met any of his family?”

“No. He spoke of his son, but only briefly.”

“Oh.” Syrinx sat back, trying to think of something else to say.

Parker shifted uneasily in his seat. “I’m hoping his son can shed some light on a mystery.”

She perked up. “What mystery?”

Parker passed a large truck and pulled back into the slow lane. “When I hired Rutherford, I agreed on a certain amount to compensate him for his services. I issued the checks to him at the end of each week. By now, I’d given him fifty-two.” Parker rubbed his chin uneasily, then put his hand back on the wheel. “I found the checks folded under the pencil sharpener on his desk with the envelopes unopened. He didn’t cash any of them.” He shook his head. “Granted, I should have checked my accounts. I don’t check them enough. But I don’t understand. Why take the job if you didn’t need the money?”

“Maybe he was saving them up to deposit at a later time?” As soon as Syrinx said it, she realized how ridiculous her suggestion was.

“Maybe, but when I think back to the interview, he wasn’t interested in the particular sum. Only in his purpose at the estate.”

“That’s weird.” Strange as it was, Syrinx couldn’t think of the old man as a swindler or a deceiver in any way. “Although I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this.”

Parker ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I hope so. It only makes me feel worse about his passing, like I didn’t do one thing for him, yet he did so much for me.”

“Oh.” Syrinx searched for the right thing to say. She needed to be comforting and sympathetic. She needed to make him feel better about his relationship with the old man. “I’m sure he’d appreciate you taking the time to drive and meet his family.”

Parker sighed. “It’s the least I can do.” He glanced over at her, looking deep into her eyes. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Syrinx placed her hand gently on his arm. “Anytime.” She meant it. Parker Thomas’s earnest vulnerability started to crumble all the walls she’d built around herself. She was the goddess of chastity, but she was also a river nymph, and river nymphs were a passionate, caring people. Well, at least besides Coral.

Parker Thomas reminded her of a man who’d visited her river’s banks eons ago every year on the third day of spring. His betrothed had drowned while swimming in Syrinx’s domain. Syrinx had tried to save her, but when she dove in, she found the woman tangled in the riverweeds at the bottom. By the time Syrinx had reached her, she only had seconds to live. Syrinx tried to breathe air into her mouth, but the woman fought her and panicked. The last bubbles of air drifted from her lips, and she became lifeless as Syrinx untangled her.

Syrinx surfaced with the lifeless body in her arms. The young man spited her and cursed her for letting his love die. “May you never find true love,” he shouted as she laid the woman’s body on the shore. He cursed her every year on that same day. Syrinx would stand on a drifting log and take his words in silence before returning to her watery depths below.

The man came back every year, until white hairs spread upon his head, and he hobbled to the bank with a cane. Finally, he came no more. Syrinx had checked in town even though she knew what had happened. Only one thing could keep him away. The man had died, and Syrinx mourned his death. Even though he despised her, his loyalty and dedication to his love drew her to him each time he’d come.

The farther they rode, the cloudier the sky became until a persistent drizzle accompanied them into the mountains. Syrinx watched the countryside change from small landscaped trees to giant evergreens. The forest towered over the highway and stretched on in valleys and peaks as far as she could see. The drizzle turned into a pelting rain, pattering against her window.

Syrinx realized she was drifting off, leaning on the passenger door and watching the endless blur of foliage. Parker stirred beside her. “Have a good nap?”

“I don’t take naps.” She answered groggily before she realized that didn’t sound too mortal. “I mean, I don’t usually take naps.”

“Of course. You work too hard to take naps. I can’t imagine managing a business like yours.” He gave her a knowing look. “You must never sleep.”

She turned away toward the window so he didn’t see the uncomfortable look in her eyes. “Let’s play that game from dinner.” It would shift the conversation and tell her more about him in the process. He’d been right about the game the first time. She’d enjoyed deducing aspects of his personality from his answers. “Sleep.”