Chapter Two

Jager hadn’t felt so good in years. It was only a matter of time before the exquisite Lucilla became his. He’d never wanted a woman with such a hunger before. It consumed him from the first time he’d spoken to her on the phone to set up an appointment to review his profile. Her voice had that sensual quality that made a man break out into a sweat.

He shrugged out of his jacket then hung it in the closet. After the long day in the uncomfortable human confines of his business suit, he’d be glad to don the loose toga preferred by his people. He really didn’t understand how the Norms wore the things they did. A man needed freedom to move as the ancient gods intended, not hamper his motion with stitched seams and noose-like neckwear.

The cotton fabric draped loosely around his waist then over his shoulder. A brief image flashed in his mind of how Lucilla would look dressed as a Greek goddess. Heat pooled low in his groin. His hands closed involuntarily.

Her skin had been so soft. A smile spread across his face as he remembered the look in her eyes when he’d touched her. The bright green had gone all hot like the flame from a chemical reaction. It had taken all his power not to pull her from her chair and ravage her perfect Cupid’s bow mouth.

Oh, she’d be sweet as the richest nectar.

Comfortable in his native clothing, Jager moved to his home office to catch up on work. He’d spent so much time lately daydreaming over his dilemma with Lucilla, he hadn’t been paying much attention to his business. Fortunately, he had an excellent staff to take up the slack, but as a deposed god, he was used to a certain amount of hands-on in regards to his ventures. As a broker in his own ParaTrader firm, Jager called all the shots, but his problems of the past had taught him one very important lesson—micromanagement.

He sat down to his computer, listening to the pleasant sound of the electronics whirling to life. A lot could be said for the Technology Age. The plethora of microprocessor-driven gizmos on the market made every man or woman as efficient as any of godkind, which was a good thing, considering most of his powers were tempered after his downfall.

His computer chimed, indicating he had mail. Heat speared him. Not because of a few hundred emails he received everyday, but because Lucilla promised to send him one. He clicked the envelope icon. Would the message have a personal note? No, probably not. Even though Lucilla was the most quietly sensuous woman he’d ever met, she was also the most professional. Any letter she sent would contain directions as to how to contact the women she’d matched him with.

By the fires of Hades, how was he ever going to get through two more dates he had no want to be on when the woman he wanted might be on a date of her own?

Jager scanned the contents of his inbox. Lucilla’s email was sandwiched between a budgetary analysis by his CFO and the airline ticket confirmation for his trip to Japan.

His heart gave a disappointed drop as he read the greeting. The email was addressed to Mr. Cronus not Jager. Hope for a personal message dimmed.

He scanned the note. It mentioned only the contact information for both women being contained in the attached files. How unromantic.

He needed to find some way to capture her attention. So what if she melted when he touched her? That might mean she hadn’t been with a man in a while and longed for any male to caress her lovely skin.

The thought alone had Jager shifting in his seat. If she gave him a chance, he’d touch her all over, wherever she wanted and needed it the most.

He downloaded the files, promising himself he’d open them later and read them. Before he clicked on the next message, he hit reply and sent her off a quick note.

That’s Jager to you.

He was one of the few gods who didn’t mind being called by his name. It was, after all, a name he’d selected after he was overthrown by his ungrateful son, Zeus. The need to put all the unpleasantness behind him seemed easier accomplished with a name change. Yet, he insisted on keeping the name Cronus as a reminder of all he’d lost.

The phone rang, bringing him out of the swirling mass of memories from eons of a godly existence. A brief glance at the caller ID had him wincing—Rhea, his ex-wife and the mother of his egocentric son. What in all the heavens did she want? Probably half his thriving business. She was always looking for a damned handout.

He let the phone switch to voice mail. Whatever she wanted she could say to a recording. He had no use for her. After she used him for his godly seed, she’d accused him of killing their children. Not so. He’d never harm his offspring. As a matter of fact, he’d always dreamed of being a father.

The woman was a menace to the Titan race.

The vision of another woman flashed through his mind—Lucilla, with her clear green eyes and forthright manner. There was no way she’d ever play a man false. No guile appeared in her gaze. No lies fell from her lips like honeyed endearments.

He bet when she loved, she loved full throttle.

A familiar stirring under his toga made him lean back in his chair. He needed Lucilla badly. This deep aching for her wouldn’t go away until he stood with her in the circle and proclaimed his heart. It was a fanciful notion that, if any of his business opponents knew, would cause him no small measure of embarrassment.

They knew him as ruthless. Cold. Unfeeling. Not the sort of man who set his sights on a woman and decided without even knowing her to confess his undying love for her.

It was true, though. Ever since the first time he’d seen her.

At the time, he hadn’t known the owner of ParaMatch and she were one and the same. That realization hadn’t come until the first time he’d visited her office. No, the first time he’d seen her had been three years before, at the Legion Halloween Dance.

As one of the organizers, she had been standing near the banquet table, discussing something with the caterer. She’d worn a dark-colored sheath dress that hugged her perfect figure. Tiny silver stars and moons glittered on the surface of the material, painting her like a midnight sky. Jager had taken one look at her, backlit by the bonfire, her golden hair piled atop her head, the nape of her neck exposed and vulnerable, and he’d fallen.

He’d spent the rest of the night looking for her, only to come up short. No one he asked had seen where she’d gone. No one even knew of whom he spoke. She hadn’t seemed to make an impact on anyone but himself.

Jager took in a deep breath. The faint scent of burning wood clung to his senses as the memory faded.

He’d gone to ParaMatch looking for a mate—but more importantly, looking for her, hoping by some miracle she’d sought out the services of a respectable matchmaker to find her a mate. It was a long shot, he knew. But something in his gut had badgered him to take the risk, only to hit pay dirt the first time he’d walked through her office door.

He should have leveled with her weeks ago.

The phone rang again. He glanced briefly at the number. Maribon Seacrest. The selkie.

Might as well get it over with.

Jager took a deep, steadying breath and picked up the phone. “Miss Seacrest, I was just getting ready to phone you.”