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done
for her today. She’d dated men before who planned romantic gestures—roses, a
nice dinner out, the usual suspects. But she’d never had someone really think
of her the way the god had. Men usually fled from her friends. Four extroverted
art majors in one room, drinking wine, giggling and painting, was their
nightmare. And for him to actually plan that whole evening, just for her? To
pick up on what she’d said about her house feeling bare and drab, and how much
she missed her painting?
    If only he were her real boyfriend. If he were free of the
curse, would he still choose her?
    She blinked away the beginnings of tears. Don’t be
ridiculous, James. Enjoy what you have, while you have it.
    The shower shut off, so she ran a comb quickly through her
hair, trying to fluff it, but it hung straight to her waist as usual. She
wrinkled her nose. Jaime would have to do something about her hair—it looked
like dry straw. It always had. She should have cut it all off as soon as her ex
had left. For now, she let it hang there. She pulled her robe tight.
    There was a tentative knock from the other side of the
bathroom door.
    “Come in,” she said. Couldn’t think of something sexy,
James? Maybe put the emphasis on come a little more?
    Well now, that doesn’t even make sense as a pun.
    He opened the door. He wore the new shirt, a button-down top
in a deep burgundy that complemented his tan, slightly olive skin tone. He had
replaced the brown bellbottoms with a pair of dark indigo wash jeans, slightly
baggy. It was very different from his previous style, but Dionysus had said
last night that he preferred to fit in with modern fashion if possible. A belt
of woven leather completed the look.
    She walked over to him and kissed him deeply. He reached for
the tie around her waist but she pushed his hands back, leaning into him. “My
turn to take the lead tonight,” she said.
    He raised his hands in mock surrender, a smile playing at
his mouth. “I await my orders.”
    “Stand still.”
    “My pleasure.”
    She leaned in to kiss him again. “And be quiet.” He nodded
his acceptance, dark eyes twinkling with splashes of light.
    Jaime ran both hands down his chest, feeling him under the
light shirt fabric. She touched the outline of his pectorals, skimming a finger
across one of his nipples, then growing bolder and placing both palms flat on
his stomach, pushing him against the dresser, one of the only surfaces in the
room without wet paint. She undid each button of his shirt slowly, teasing him.
“Tonight,” she said softly, “is my thank-you for the house today. I loved your
present. And my friends loved you too.”
    That’s an awful lot of the L-word, James.
    Shut up.
    “But it’s also for me,” she said. “I think we both had the
same idea today. Something in your arrival reminded me of how much I loved art.
I don’t know, maybe it was exposure to magic again.” She slipped the last
button free and pulled the shirt open, leaning forward to blow lightly across
the hair on his chest. He sighed in response. “When I first picked up a
paintbrush and realized I could mix any color I wanted—that was a form of
magic,” she said.
    “The first time I had an orgasm, well, that was magic too.”
She slid the shirt over his shoulders, exposing his tattoos. The shirt fell to
the ground. She pressed her lips into his neck and stood beside him, running
her tongue slowly down the vines on his shoulder. She traced them with her
tongue, leaving a moist trail behind, down his arm, lowering herself to the
ground as she moved, dipping her tongue into the crook of his elbow, finally ending
on her knees.
    “You remind me there’s still magic in the world. It’s easy
to forget that after the hurt of my divorce. So, thank you.”
    Okay, enough seriousness for one night.
    “I have always wanted to undo a man’s belt with my teeth.
Mind if I try?” She looked up at him without hesitation this time. He shook his
head with a