Goddess of Light by P. C. Cast Page A

like we understand each other.”
    Vernelle opened and closed her mouth. She stifled the litany of warnings that were running through her head. “Pammy, I think that’s wonderful.”
    â€œSo I’m not being stupid?”
    â€œNo, doll. You’re being young and single. There’s not a damn thing wrong with that,” V assured her. “Go for a walk with the tripod. Flirt your cute little butt off. But no more wine tonight, okay?”
    â€œI’ve already cut myself off.”
    â€œGood. And use a condom.”
    â€œ Vernelle! I am not going to have sex with him.”
    â€œPamela!” V mirrored her friend’s shocked tone. “Here’s a news flash—if you want to have sex with him, you can! What I want is a full report tomorrow. Good-bye, Pammy.”
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    PAMELA was picking at the Band-Aid when Phoebus walked back around the corner. She felt her eyes widen, and a thrill that was liquid and hot ran the length of her body to settle deep inside her thighs. In his god costume he had been handsome and exotic in an unbelievable kind of way, like an actor to be “fallen in love with” during a movie. In normal clothes he was no less gorgeous, but now he was suddenly real and no longer something unattainable. He had become a living fantasy. He was wearing cream-colored linen Armani slacks that hugged his sleek waist and hips, and a silk knit pullover that was the same amazing blue as his eyes. Those eyes locked with hers as he approached her. He stopped beside her stool. For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he pulled nervously at his shirt and smoothed both palms down the front of his pants. His smile seemed uncertain, which totally baffled Pamela. How could someone who looked like a Greek god be worried at all about his appearance? The silence stretched between them. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt.
    He was definitely nervous, which was undeniably adorable.
    â€œDo you like the new clothing?” he finally asked.
    â€œYou look like a walking Armani ad.”
    â€œIs that a good or bad thing?”
    â€œGood. Definitely good. What did you do with your outfit?”
    The worry that had tightened his face relaxed. “I left it with the Armani servant. I will retrieve it later. As for now, shall we walk?”
    He held out his arm for her to take, just like she was a princess. Or maybe, she thought, glancing up at his profile, a goddess. She placed her arm through his and slid off the stool. She could swear that she felt every nerve ending on her bare arm prickle where it touched his.
    â€œThe servant at the Armani shop told me that if we leave Caesars Palace, turn to the right and cross the street, we will come to a pool of magnificent dancing fountains.”
    â€œThe Bellagio fountains. I’ve heard about them, but I haven’t seen them.”
    â€œHe said it is but a short distance.” He raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at her.
    What in the hell was she supposed to do? Of course she wanted to go with him, but would walking to the Bellagio fountains at—she glanced at her watch—at almost 11:00 P.M. be smart? Of course 11:00 P.M. Vegas time was like prime time anywhere else. The streets would be filled with people rushing from casino to casino. Wouldn’t they? It should be okay.
    On the other hand, she didn’t want to make the mistake of being one of those women who acted too stupid to live. And she certainly didn’t want to be hacked up into little pieces by a gorgeous but crazy serial killer and have a tragic CSI episode based on her last hours.
    â€œPamela,” he unlinked their arms to take her hands in his. “You have nothing to fear from me.” His eyes caught hers and held, and he read the indecision there. It pained him to think that she did not trust him. If only she knew who he was! He quickly cast aside the fleeting thought. If she truly knew who he was, she would