And then, she walked in. First you saw the hair, flowing like silver moonlight. She handed her black cape to the attendant and strode into the room. She was wearing a sexy, low-cut black catsuit with strategically placed bands of gold. The leather suit rippled sensually in rhythm with her long confident stride, and Leyton almost dropped his drink. The music stopped. Gasps were heard and men’s eyes all over the room popped from their sockets and rolled around on the floor.
Storm.
She had to be. He’d been devouring comic books since learning to read. With that hair and that black leather suit, she couldn’t be anyone else. Everyone stared transfixed. She paused to let them get a good look at her masked beauty, and look he did. He instinctively knew she wouldn’t be paired up with the likes of him, but just the sight of her could keep a man in erotic fantasies for weeks. Tall, the way he liked, and that body—what could he say, but, oh, my. He gauged her to be a little less than six feet tall and she obviously took good care of herself. She gave off an air of power that said she was indeed as strong as the costumed character she pretended to be.
Still holding everyone riveted, she walked over to an unoccupied table and took a seat. The music started up again.
For the next half hour, Leyton positioned himself so that he could keep an eye on her. He’d seen her give the room’s entrances and exits a quick but nonchalant sweep, and it piqued his curiosity, as did her equally discreet look up at the sprinkler system. He had no idea why she’d be interested in the ballroom’s layout, unless under that sexy leather she was either law enforcement or there to cause harm. In the meantime, men in everything from donkey to penguin costumes, pimps and airplane pilots flocked to her like geese to corn, but not one seemed to make it past hello. He sipped his soda and smiled.
As she always did, Eve took a moment to check out the crowd, the entrances and exits, the locations of the overhead sprinklers and the fire extinguishers. She knew anything could jump off at a moment’s notice, and she needed to be prepared just in case. But the men who kept coming over and slyly proposing all manner of inappropriateness were getting on her last nerve. After the third indecent proposal, she decided to act like the goddess she was supposed to be and not to put up with the rude and obnoxious behavior.
She eyed the short man standing in front of her now. He was in a Mario video game costume, of all things, and obviously didn’t know that a goddess looked poorly upon having her breasts leered at.
“Who are you supposed to be? Storm?” Behind his mask, she could see his eyes were shiny with liquor.
“The goddess Oya. And you are?” she asked imperiously in the African-accented voice she’d used undercover.
“I’m Mario. How about we hook up later and I show you my magic coin.”
“I’m sorry to hear you’re only as large as a coin. There are implants for such deficiencies you know.”
He froze.
She waited.
Even with the mask on, his fury was obvious. “Bitch!”
“You say that as if it’s something bad. Go away before I turn you into a toadstool.”
He stormed off, tripping over a chair, which completely undermined his outraged departure.
Scanning the crowd, she was distracted by the eyes of a man dressed as a Roman centurion. He smiled under his helmet and toasted her with his glass. She gave him a regal nod and wondered who she would have to threaten in order to get the hell out of there.
Leyton watched her dispatch Fred Flintstone, a mail carrier and an old man dressed as Super Fly before he decided to make his approach. Stopping by the bar, he got another soda for himself and one for her, and headed in her direction. In the soft, southwest accent he’d picked up from living in Texas for a decade, he said to her, “Tribute from the empire, my lady.”
Eve turned, and for a moment got so lost in the dark eyes gauging her from inside the brass helmet, she couldn’t form a reply.
“I was going to offer my protection, but you seemed to be doing well on your own.”
She took the drink he offered. He was smooth. She had to give him that, so she smiled. “It’s easy when you command lightning bolts, centurion. Sit, if it pleases you.”
He sat, and Eve found herself intrigued. He was obviously educated and she was pleased by the role-play. Maybe the evening wasn’t going to be a waste after all. She sipped and did a quick scan of him. Six foot three, and every brown inch, hard lean muscle. Not many men could pull off a black armor-covered kilt and sandals, but his biceps and thighs looked right at home. Because of the helmet, all she could see of his face were the dark eyes, sculpted cheekbones and the strong mouth. For a woman who’d been celibate for two years, it was more than enough.
“Personal questions are forbidden according to the hosts, so I can’t ask what a beautiful woman like you is doing in a place like this. If it meets with your approval, I’ll sit and enjoy the lady’s company.”
She nodded her approval and smiled inside.
For the next few minutes neither spoke. They spent the time sipping their sodas and observing the costumed crowd on the dance floor. They also kept eyeing each other and did so without much pretense.
The music stopped, and the DJ announced, “All right, we’re going to hook you up with a partner for the evening. If you will bring the ticket you were given when you entered and put them in the hat, we’ll get started.”
Eve considered the men who’d approached her earlier and knew no way was she going to play along. She asked the centurion. “You have your ticket?”
He nodded.
“May I have it please?”
He handed it over, and she got up and walked to the DJ table.
The DJ was dressed up like Elvis. At her approach he grinned. “Hey, Storm. Looking good. Quite an entrance you made.”
“Thank you. I’ve chosen the centurion. What do we need to secure a room?” At least the centurion had manners.
He appeared confused, “Well, you’re supposed to wait like everybody else.”
“Lady Oya is not everybody else. Where are the rooms?”
“Well, um. Hold on a minute.”
While the crowd flowed around her to place their tickets in the blue hat for men and the pink one for women, Eve waited and watched as the DJ spoke with someone wearing a gorilla suit. The gorilla finally shrugged and handed the DJ a card-shaped door pass.
“Suite 2135.” he said when he returned. “Enjoy yourself, your majesty.”
“Thank you.”
She walked back to where the centurion sat waiting. She handed him the card. “Our room key—2135—unless that displeases you?”
He stood and bowed. “I’m honored.” His gaze held hers just long enough to almost make her lose her way again, then he gestured for her to precede him.
On the ride up in the elevator, even though he was standing a respectful distance away, Eve was very aware of his presence. The silence in the car only seemed to heighten the charged atmosphere and she wondered if she’d lost her mind. Since when did she go around picking up strange men: since putting on the catsuit and taking on the goddess persona, she thought to herself. And since she didn’t want to spend the evening with someone like that Mario guy, she added. The real Eve should be back in her hotel room watching the NBA and packing for the flight home to Chicago. Instead she was headed up to a hotel suite to spend the evening with a man she didn’t know from Adam’s cat.
The suite they entered was spacious and luxurious. Not even the Halloween pumpkins, tons of lit candles, black cats and witches could take away from the sumptuous surroundings with cream-colored upholstery and windows that looked out over the river. She could see the night lights of the city of Windsor, Ontario, on the opposite shore. Eve made decent money working for the government, but it wasn’t enough for a suite like this one, not even for a night.
Playing the centurion role, Leyton did his best to maintain his cool. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel threatened or uncomfortable. Watching her in th
e candlelit silence as she stood looking out at the river, he wondered again who she might be? Her regal bearing and African-accented voice were both on point. Was she an actress? Working girl? She didn’t seem to him to be a member of the world’s oldest profession; the way she’d dismissed the men in the ballroom proved that. In truth, he had no idea what she did in real life. But he hadn’t seen a body like hers since Tamara Dobson and Pam Grier from the old seventies blaxploitation movies his mom liked to watch. Curiosity aside, even if they spent the time doing nothing but talking, he was looking forward to what he hoped would be an enjoyable and memorable evening. As an arson investigator, though, he could do without all the candles burning everywhere. For him they were an accident waiting to happen.
“Would you like some wine?’ he asked softly. There were a number of unopened bottles sitting on the bar.
She turned from the window. “I would.”
“Red or white?” he asked, drinking her in with his eyes.
“White, please.”
After expertly removing the cork, he poured white for the lady and red for himself. After walking over to her he handed her a glass and raised his own to toast. “To the empire.”
She gave him a smile. “And to the Yoruba people.”
He liked her wit.
Their eyes bored into each other as they sipped. She set her glass down on a nearby table and seemed to be waiting for him to make the next move.
“Shall we sit?”
“Only if we can snuff out some of these candles. All this fire makes me nervous.”
He paused. Was she a mind reader? “I agree.”
A few minutes later, all but a few of the candles were extinguished, and the air held faint traces of smoke. To compensate for the darkness, he turned on a few lamps. The dimly lit atmosphere remained intimate but was potentially less dangerous.
“Thank you,” she said after taking a seat on the sofa.
He sat nearby in one of the upholstered armchairs. “My pleasure.”
Silence crept over the room again until he finally said, “I’ve never shared an evening with a goddess before, so my apologies for not knowing what to say or do.”
“This is uncharted territory for me, as well.”
“Then let’s see if we can find our way. What kind of music do you like?”
“World, preferably from the Mother continent.”
“Any particular countries?”
“Mali. South Africa.”
He was impressed. A lot of people didn’t even know Mali was a country, let alone that the people there were known for their music.
“And what kind of music does the centurion prefer?” she asked.
He liked the way she said centurion. It had a soft, almost possessive sound to it. “Jazz. Old school. Lonnie Liston Smith. Miles. Sonny Criss.”
For the next few minutes they talked about music, which led to a conversation about books, which led to movies.
“What’s your favorite?” she asked.
“Gladiator.”
“But of course,” she laughed.
“And yours?”
“Clash of the Titans—the old one”
He chuckled. “Really.”
“Yes. It’s pretty cheesy, and the special effects are terrible, and they turned poor Andromeda into a blonde, but I still enjoy it.”
“Andromeda? The constellation? What do you mean they turned her into a blonde?”
“Before she was made into a constellation after her death, the Andromeda of Greek mythology was an Ethiopian princess, not a blonde like in the movie. She was also the wife of Perseus who rode the winged horse Pegasus.”
“Never knew that.”
“Just a bit of goddess trivia,” she said and raised her glass.
“More comfortable now?” he asked.
She paused for a moment. “I am. Thank you for wanting me to be so.”
“You’re welcome.”
Eve decided she liked him. He was intelligent, well-read and considerate. He was also hot in that costume. Brawn and brains. For someone who’d been kicking and screaming about having to attend the party, she was having a good time.
There was a knock at the door. They stared quizzically at each other, then heard a male voice call, “Room service.”
The centurion stood. “I’ll take care of it.”
She noted his confident stride and wondered if he’d ever served in the military. As he’d said to her earlier, no personal questions were allowed, so she had no way of knowing who he was or what he did in his nine-to-five. Or even if he was married. Not wanting to deal with that possibility, she set it aside and reminded herself that tonight wasn’t supposed to be about worrying.
With that in mind, she watched the waiter roll in the cart holding the food, accompanied by the centurion. The elaborate meal provided by the party’s hosts was as grand as the suite: lobster tails, salad, sides and a variety of breads and desserts. To her delight, there was even Halloween candy corn in a fancy cut-glass bowl. She spied a bite-sized Snickers candy bar she planned on having later.
The table was positioned in front of the large windows overlooking the river, and once the waiter finished placing everything on the table, he quickly withdrew.
“This is very nice,” she said looking at the beautiful setting. A pair of tall white tapers in silver candleholders served as the centerpiece for the table, and the twin flames added an intimate touch.
“Yes, it is.”
“Shall we eat now?’
“A soldier dining with a lady should never sit with his back to the door, so…” He gestured in her direction.
She took the seat he offered, and when he came up behind her to help with her chair, his body brushed up against her. “Thank you.”
He sat framed by the opened drapes and the night. Her eyes met his. There was an underlying current running between them that had begun the moment he first approached her downstairs. Although he hadn’t exhibited any overt sign of desire, it was there. She could feel it as well as she could her own breathing.
Leyton felt it, too. When he’d drawn the short straw this morning, he’d never imagined he’d be spending the evening with a woman so beautiful. He ran his eyes over the graceful sweep of her shoulders and the shadowy allure of her arms accented by the gold rings. The black velvet domino covering her face only added to her mystery.
She said quietly in her royal voice, “We should probably get started before everything gets cold.”
They filled their plates, and as they ate, his focus kept straying towards her. He’d said it a hundred times in his mind, but good lord, she was gorgeous. The candlelight was flickering over her skin making him fantasize about how it might feel to brush his lips against the plane of her soft throat and to feel the lean strength of her arms under his hands. As befitting a goddess of Africa, her mouth was wide and ripe, and just looking at it made him want to taste it. Just thinking about her had him hard and aroused, so he thought it was probably a good idea to drag his mind to safer territory.
“What are you thinking, centurion?”
He looked up from his plate and for a beat tried to decide how to answer. “Truthfully? You don’t want to know.”
“I might.”
He studied her. “No.”
“Is it so terrible?”
“No. It’s so male.”
“I’m a big girl. Tell me.”
“You sure now?”
She nodded.
“Okay.” He put his fork down and let his eyes travel over her slowly before confessing in a rich voice, “I’m wondering how my lips would feel against your soft throat, and if your mouth will be as sweet as it looks when I kiss you.”
Eve had to tighten her grip on her glass or drop it. “Such honesty.”
“You asked, my lady.”
His helmet-shrouded eyes filled her with a heat that made her core pulse with such intensity she had to draw in a deep breath to calm herself. He hadn’t said if he kissed her but
when, as if it were a foregone conclusion. She wondered when she’d lost control of this game they’d been playing because it seemed that she had. Having worked with men her entire adult life, she’d always been able to hold her own, but the man seated across the table had rocked her.
“My apologies if my frankness offends.”
“Honesty is rarely offensive, centurion. Even bold honesty.” Maintaining her role as the aloof Oya was becoming difficult. “Are you always so seductive?”
He shrugged. “Depends on the moment and the woman.”
His conversation alone had her body open and pulsing. She couldn’t imagine how she’d react to his lips and touch.
“Your thoughts?” he asked turning the tables on her.
She answered more smoothly than she felt. “Honestly?” He nodded.
“How I might react to that kiss.”
He gave her a soft smile. “You play the role well.”
“Not as well as you, my centurion.”
A few more long, silent moments passed, and Eve came to a decision. Rising to her feet, she walked the short distance to his chair and held out her hand. “Shall we put the mysteries to rest?”
In response he stood and, holding her eyes, slowly brought her fingers to his lips. The impact of the contact turned her knees to sand. He placed an arm against the small of her back and eased her body in against him. The heat of his torso and thighs burned through the leather to her skin.
“If you don’t want this, please tell me now,” he whispered, but he was already brushing his lips against her jaw and down her throat.