Enemy of Mine by Red L. Jameson Page A

woman before. Would you tell me how? To do that? Exactly?”
    Paul smiled. “I don’t think there is an exactness to seduction, but I’m more than willing to help you. As for my misinterpretation, if I had proclivities for men, I might try to seduce you.”
    “I’m flattered,” Will said flatly.
    Paul chuckled again, before growing serious. “Tell me, why do you think I could help you seduce the lady?”
    Will rolled his eyes. “I wake before you, which means I’ve seen many a woman leaving your chambers. Clear evidence of your knowledge of seduction.”
    “How do you know we weren’t...praying?”
    “Ah, yes, I’m sure you were.”
    Paul snickered. “All right, I’ll help. Let us remove ourselves from the foyer, and I believe we need brandy for what we shall discuss. A lot of it too.”
    When Paul wrapped an arm around Will’s neck and half hugged him, half throttled him, Will couldn’t help but smile. Paul was shorter than he by almost six inches, so any embrace by the muscular man was more of a wrestling move than anything else.
    “By the by,” Will said. “What accent do those two maids have?”
    As Paul led him to the library, he shrugged. “I was wondering that myself. I know this sounds odd, but I thought they sounded Greek.”
     

 
     
    Chapter 10
     
    T he two, er, maids—what were they?—hefted Erva on the four-post bed with the ginger and pink floral duvet and smiled down at her. Although it had been dark when they’d entered the room, instantly all the candles and lamps were aflame with warm amber light, making the moment even more nauseatingly surreal. One of the maids raised her hand and snapped. Promptly the door swung closed, shutting Erva in with the two women who’d been in her dream. Or were they a part of her craziness? She tried to repress a scream that bubbled in her throat.
    “I’m sorry your knee is injured,” the one with her ruffled cap in place over what appeared to be a huge mess of dark red hair said. “But are you having a good time otherwise?”
    The other maid, whose cap was askew and falling over a slender shoulder, arched a brow. “She has swollen, red lips. I think she was having a very good time.”
    They giggled.
    Erva shook her head, wanting to run from the maids, but somehow feeling trapped. “I—I dreamed you.”
    “I told you, Erva, it’s not a dream.”
    “How do you know my name?” Erva scooted her butt away from the two.
    The one with the cap straight on her head sighed. “Well, as creepy as it sounds, I was watching you. I have been for a long, long time. But in my defense, it’s my job to watch you.”
    “You are homeland security. Am I tripping out on some drug you gave me?”
    The maid softly chuckled. “No, this isn’t a dream; it’s not a hallucination. And I don’t work for your government. I work for myself. Call me self-employed.”
    “What do you mean?” Erva’s voice had gone soft and quiet. She kept wiggling to see if there was a way to escape the duo, but she flinched when she bent her knee too much.
    “She’s panicking, Sis,” the jaunty cap-wearing maid said. “Tell her who we are, so she won’t hurt herself.”
    The other reached out her hands, but didn’t touch Erva. “Sweetie, Minerva Ferguson, child of history, I’ve been watching you since your father passed away. I was there after your father’s funeral when you picked up one of his books about World War II. The book gave you solace, unlike anything else. You learned about the strategy of air defense. Something your father thought much of, even though he was a land-based Marine. In you, he had confided how he’d always wanted to be a pilot, but since he never went to college, he never thought he could do much more than be a jarhead. In you, he placed all his dreams. He begged you to do more than him. He didn’t care what your dreams were, but just that you reach for them. It is the one thing you wouldn’t let your mother control, your desire to become a