Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(28)

Apollo turned Pamela so that she was facing him. He kept her within a loose circle of his arms. He was reluctant to let her go, but he didn't want to frighten her or entrap her. The night had been filled with firsts for him. And now, for the first time in all the eons he had been in existence, he wanted a woman to come to him willingly, not as a bedazzled maiden overcome by the presence of Apollo, God of Light, and not as a seductive goddess, looking for a temporary partner with whom to dally. He wanted her to choose him, as a mortal woman would choose a man.

"I was not speaking only of the dancing waters," he said.

"Neither was I."

When he bent to kiss her, he couldn't stop himself from cupping the back of her head with his hand and letting his fingers splay through the short, tousled hair that he had so longed to touch since he had first glimpsed her. She didn't pull away from him, but she also didn't sink into the kiss. Her lips were warm and yielding under his, but they didn't open immediately in invitation. Instead it was as if they were posing a question for him to answer before he would be allowed to continue. Think! he ordered himself. What is it women want?

He realized shamefully that in spite of all of his experience, he wasn't sure how to answer that question. He concentrated, reading her body and through it trying to understand what she desired of him. Moving slowly, he forced himself to ignore the heady lust that touching her evoked. Instead of behaving like a boorish, arrogant god, Apollo held himself tightly in control. He tenderly kissed her full bottom lip, and then he took it gently between his teeth and pulled at it teasingly, but only for a moment. He moved from her lips to plant a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, and was rewarded with her smile, which he promptly kissed at the corners. His fingers played in her short locks as he nuzzled her ear, and then whispered into it.

"I like your hair very much. It reminds me of the proud, free race of Amazons." His lips traveled down. "And it leaves your neck so enticingly bare."

He felt her shiver, and he raised his head so that he could look into her eyes, which were still filled with the emotions the music had made both of them feel.

"I want you to be what you seem," she said slowly. "I don't want another man who pretends to be one thing, but is really another."

He felt his heart go still.

"Earlier tonight I admitted something to myself that I had been hiding from for a very long time. I admitted that even though I am content, I am not actually happy. I have locked myself away from even trying for happiness." A small smile lightened her serious expression. "Then I made a silly wish. Out loud. And what I think I was really wishing for was to be able to trust my instincts again."

"And what do your instincts tell you about me?" Apollo asked.

She cocked her head and looked at him. "They tell me that you really are different. I've never met a man like you."

"I can assure you that your instincts are correct."

He bent to kiss her again, this time with all the passion he was feeling, but just before his lips touched hers, the sky opened, and a steady rain began to fall.

Pamela made a little shrieking noise and held her ridiculously small purse over her head in a futile attempt the shield herself from the rain.

Apollo scowled and looked fiercely around them. Rain in the middle of a desert night? No matter how odd the modern world had become, it could not change the weather patterns. But Gods could. This rain was definitely suspicious. It had the mark of immortal interference. Probably that toad Bacchus at work causing mischief again.

People all around them were running towards the nearest buildings. Deftly, Apollo guided Pamela between the scampering mortals to the closest tree. With an almost imperceptible movement of his hand, he solidified the leaves above them into one frondlike mass so that they were sheltered from the rain. He encircled her with his arm, and they stood together, peering out through the downpour.

"This seems like weird weather," Pamela said, wiping water from her face. "I thought it hardly ever rained here. Ugh," she frowned down at her shoes. "I think I just ruined my fabulous Jimmy Choos."

Apollo smiled crookedly at her. "How do you walk on those daggers?"

Pamela swung her foot out. She admired her soggy shoe. He admired her shapely calf. "Walking on three-and-a-half-inch slides is the mark of a true woman." She ran her hand through her hair, causing it to stick up in adorably messy spikes. "You wouldn't think such a little tree would give so much protection." She glanced up. "It's like a green umbrella."

"Oh, there's some rain getting through," he said, pointing upwards in a small motion that instantly let a drop or two leak through his divine protection. "At least the rain has cleared away the crowd."

Not giving the tree another glance, she grinned and nodded. "It's like we're in our own little world."

He touched one short strand of her hair. "I think that we are."

And then through the veil of rain and intimacy the fountain came alive again, and Faith Hill's sexy voice swirled around them through the water:

"I don't want another heartbreak,

I don't need another turn to cry.

I don't want to learn the hard way,

baby, hello, oh no, good-bye."

This time they didn't watch the show.

"Are you doing this?" Pamela whispered. "Did you pay them to play these songs?"