black as the sprawling pupils. “I need to stay here...with you.”
“You’re not staying here with me.” She tried to speak gently—after all, he was probably insane. “You need to go to the hospital and let them check you out, not stay out here in the middle of the sidewalk.” She sensed a movement behind her and half turned to see Billy returning.
“Paramedics are on the way,” he said. He took a long look at the semi-conscious man. “He’s a dishy one, isn’t he?”
“Billy! He’s been banged on the head. Don’t look at him like that.”
“Looking at him isn’t going to hurt him any. What’s your name, Mr. Dishy?”
“Cupid. My name is Cupid.”
“Wow.” Aja shook her head. “He really is crazy.” It was disappointing, really. Still, sadly, it seemed like all the good-looking ones were taken or crazy. Or gay.
Still, it was with a surprising amount of disappointment that she passed him into the hands of the paramedics and watched the ambulance doors close behind him. It was a certainty, of course, that she’d never see him again.
* * *
He had to see her again. It was the one certainty that had never left his brain the whole time he’d been in the hospital, with mortals poking and prodding him and asking frankly rude questions about the marks on his back where his wings had been. Forget about returning to Olympus. Forget about trying to figure out how in the world he was going to function on this mortal plane if he couldn’t get back. The only thing driving him was his need to see the woman again.
He didn’t even know her name. The mark of the arrow, burned deep into his heart, would lead him to her, but it was a big city. She might not even be from here. What if she was a tourist? What if she was from the other side of the country? It could take him forever to find her.
They’d let him out the hospital after a few interminable hours, deciding there was nothing wrong with him that they could readily diagnose. Someone had mentioned the possibility of keeping him under observation for psychiatric evaluation, but Cupid had put that thought right out of the doctor’s head by making sure he noticed the petite and lovely, abundantly curvy nurse who walked in at that moment. Even without his bow and arrow, he was a formidable force, minor god or not.
So they’d provided him with some clothes, thank Hera, and sent him on his way. Another carefully engineered distraction kept him from having to fill out any annoying papers, and shortly after he’d been escorted down to the lobby, he was back out on the streets.
Where to start? It was a big city, yes, and he didn’t know her name, but he could wield his powers if he had to. He wasn’t quite sure how, but surely he could figure out something. He headed down the sidewalk.
He hadn’t walked quite three blocks when he stopped in his tracks, staring into the window of the electronics shop on the other side of the street.
She was there. Right there. Her face on the screen of a row of six flat-screen televisions, in full-color, high-definition glory. She was reading the news.
Aja Hastings , he read from the screen. NBC news. Reporting on the Olympics.
Cupid grinned. Well, then. Obviously finding her wasn’t going to be so hard, after all.
What was going to be hard was finding clothes that didn’t make him look like a vagabond. Ah, well. That was what being a minor god was all about. He set his sights on Bloomingdales.
Chapter Two
Aja was studiously sorting through Olympics results, trying to figure out which events had aired in the States and which hadn’t, when the phone on her desk rang. She jumped about nine feet, and her heart did a gymnastics routine worthy of a 10.0 even from the Russian judges. Too bad it was the Winter Olympics. She snatched up the phone. “Aja Hastings.”
“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s someone down here for you at reception.”
“Who?” It was hard not to be brusque when
“You’re not staying here with me.” She tried to speak gently—after all, he was probably insane. “You need to go to the hospital and let them check you out, not stay out here in the middle of the sidewalk.” She sensed a movement behind her and half turned to see Billy returning.
“Paramedics are on the way,” he said. He took a long look at the semi-conscious man. “He’s a dishy one, isn’t he?”
“Billy! He’s been banged on the head. Don’t look at him like that.”
“Looking at him isn’t going to hurt him any. What’s your name, Mr. Dishy?”
“Cupid. My name is Cupid.”
“Wow.” Aja shook her head. “He really is crazy.” It was disappointing, really. Still, sadly, it seemed like all the good-looking ones were taken or crazy. Or gay.
Still, it was with a surprising amount of disappointment that she passed him into the hands of the paramedics and watched the ambulance doors close behind him. It was a certainty, of course, that she’d never see him again.
* * *
He had to see her again. It was the one certainty that had never left his brain the whole time he’d been in the hospital, with mortals poking and prodding him and asking frankly rude questions about the marks on his back where his wings had been. Forget about returning to Olympus. Forget about trying to figure out how in the world he was going to function on this mortal plane if he couldn’t get back. The only thing driving him was his need to see the woman again.
He didn’t even know her name. The mark of the arrow, burned deep into his heart, would lead him to her, but it was a big city. She might not even be from here. What if she was a tourist? What if she was from the other side of the country? It could take him forever to find her.
They’d let him out the hospital after a few interminable hours, deciding there was nothing wrong with him that they could readily diagnose. Someone had mentioned the possibility of keeping him under observation for psychiatric evaluation, but Cupid had put that thought right out of the doctor’s head by making sure he noticed the petite and lovely, abundantly curvy nurse who walked in at that moment. Even without his bow and arrow, he was a formidable force, minor god or not.
So they’d provided him with some clothes, thank Hera, and sent him on his way. Another carefully engineered distraction kept him from having to fill out any annoying papers, and shortly after he’d been escorted down to the lobby, he was back out on the streets.
Where to start? It was a big city, yes, and he didn’t know her name, but he could wield his powers if he had to. He wasn’t quite sure how, but surely he could figure out something. He headed down the sidewalk.
He hadn’t walked quite three blocks when he stopped in his tracks, staring into the window of the electronics shop on the other side of the street.
She was there. Right there. Her face on the screen of a row of six flat-screen televisions, in full-color, high-definition glory. She was reading the news.
Aja Hastings , he read from the screen. NBC news. Reporting on the Olympics.
Cupid grinned. Well, then. Obviously finding her wasn’t going to be so hard, after all.
What was going to be hard was finding clothes that didn’t make him look like a vagabond. Ah, well. That was what being a minor god was all about. He set his sights on Bloomingdales.
Chapter Two
Aja was studiously sorting through Olympics results, trying to figure out which events had aired in the States and which hadn’t, when the phone on her desk rang. She jumped about nine feet, and her heart did a gymnastics routine worthy of a 10.0 even from the Russian judges. Too bad it was the Winter Olympics. She snatched up the phone. “Aja Hastings.”
“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s someone down here for you at reception.”
“Who?” It was hard not to be brusque when
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