Chapter Four

Jager pulled up at the sprawling seaside mansion precisely at seven. Their dinner reservations were for seven-thirty. He only hoped she was a prompt woman. If there was one thing he hated it was waiting on the primping ritual to end while he cooled his heels looking at useless knickknacks in an over-decorated living room.

He’d often wondered why women found it alluring or even fashionable to keep a man waiting. The only thing Jager had ever found it was irritating as all hell.

The house stood on the edge of a cliff. One good mudslide and the entire structure would become one with the sea. But as a selkie, Maribon would no doubt enjoy returning to her watery home for good. Why she maintained a life on land, he didn’t know. What he knew of the selkie race was that they were very protective of their seal pelts and went to great lengths to keep them from their lovers. Well, at least human lovers. Perhaps a Para lover was a different story for her kind. Even so, it wasn’t a risk he’d take. His heart had already been given completely to the little matchmaker.

But a deal was a deal. He’d get through tonight, go out with the djinn, then sit back and wait for Halloween.

The door buzzer was an odd piece of hardware, shaped like a sea serpent. The chime was more of the sound of waves crashing on the shore than an actual buzz. Any relationship this woman had with a man would have to be done in the water behind her house. It was obvious the sea still held sway on her emotions.

She answered the door with a sly seductive smile, wearing a black dress that fit like a second skin. Her eyes and hair were darker than the depths of the ocean. “Jager?”

“The one and only.”

She gave him what amounted to a dazzling smile, but it failed to do anything for him. Not like Lucilla’s smiles. “Let me grab a wrap and we can go.”

At least she wasn’t going to keep him waiting.

They arrived at Avalon on the Bay and were seated immediately. The maître d’ treated Jager with deference, showing them to the best table in the exclusive restaurant. Fine chandeliers, candles in golden glass bowls, and deep, rich wood accents bathed the interior in a romantic glow.

Men seated at nearby tables stared at Maribon as she took her seat. She looked up at Jager with an appreciative glance over her shoulder as he held her chair for her. It looked more of an artful pose to him, used to expose the gentle curve of her throat. She really was a beautiful woman.

Now came the part of these first dates he hated the most—the get-to-know-you segment of the program. Considering he had no intention of repeating this experience with her, he failed to see why he needed to sit and listen while she extolled her many virtues like items on a grocery list. But he’d listen because it was the polite thing to do.

Silence stretched between them. Honestly, for a man who spent his life enduring the constant flow of acquaintances through his existence, he should have acquired the necessary small-talk skills. But he hadn’t. Probably came from centuries of being an all-knowing deity. Who needed small talk when you could pick their brains at thirty paces?

“I’ve never been out with a Titan before.” Maribon folded her arms and leaned over the table. The low, plunging neckline of her dress barely contained her impeccably pert breasts.

“There aren’t that many of us around.” Jager watched the waiter try to avoid looking down Maribon’s dress while filling their water glasses. The poor man almost met his goal.

She fished an ice cube from her glass, running it seductively along her bottom lip. “Is it true that the bigger the better?”

He pretended ignorance of her innuendo. “You can’t tell from my ex-wife.”

The tinkle of practiced laughter floated over the table. Her deep brown eyes sparkled in the light of the candle. “Your ex was a Titan?”

“As far as I know she still is.”

Her perfectly manicured brows wrinkled slightly at the distinction of tense. She didn’t appreciate the correction. “I’ve never been married before. It just never felt right.”

Probably because all her dates tried to steal her skin. She no doubt had the damn thing in a safe somewhere so no man had the opportunity to entrap her. Not that he blamed her for taking such precautions.

“I wouldn’t worry about the length of time you’ve been single, Lucilla is very good at what she does.” Jager tried to sound reassuring. “I understand her success rate is very high.”

“It would have to be, right?” The words hung on the air as they gave the waiter their order. When they were alone again, Maribon picked up a roll from the breadbasket and tore it into little pieces on her plate. “I mean she’s a non-talented witch from a prominent family. If you ask me, she doesn’t have a choice but to make a go of her business. A failure would be another black mark against her.”

Check, please.

If she only realized what bad form it was to diss—was that the word he’d heard lately to indicate negativity—your matchmaker. Especially when she’d set you up with someone you were trying desperately to impress. And Maribon was trying. Too hard.

This dinner needed to move at mach speed.

“Lucilla has nothing to apologize for,” he said over his wine glass, giving Maribon a steady stare. Hearing someone make disparaging remarks against the woman he planned to marry one day put him in a bad mood.

The waiter served their salads. Jager put his glass down then stabbed the unsuspecting lettuce, telling himself to cool down.

Maribon flipped her long fall of raven hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to insult her. I think Lucilla’s wonderful.”

A little too late to guard her words.

Luckily the dinner courses were served quickly. Jager continued to answer Maribon’s various questions. He didn’t expound on any topics, or offer any more information than what the question required for him to answer. His tactic didn’t seem to dull her enthusiasm for enticement.

The desserts were served. Maribon ordered fresh strawberries with whipped cream. The provocative way she licked the cream from the berries should have garnered an “X” rating in the exclusive restaurant. Waiters stopped to stare, men at other tables ogled. Jager just wanted to get the Hades out of there. The woman had no couth whatsoever. Not like Lucilla. Lucilla was a class act all the way.

 

Later, when he walked Maribon to her door, Jager thought to give her a quick, friendly peck on the cheek so as not to make the evening end awkwardly.

Maribon had other ideas.

When he tried to pull back into his own space, she grabbed hold of him, winding her hands into his lapels, anchoring him to her.

He tried frantically to free himself, but the damn woman had more hands than a Hindu god.

No sooner had he freed his jacket from the clutch of her hand, she put a chokehold on his privates.

“Ms. Seacrest!”

“Mr. Cronus.” Her voice went all silky as she started rubbing him.

He’d never been so disgusted by a hot woman in his entire life—and that said a lot.

He grabbed her hand, finally managing to free his junk from her over-amorous clutches. Jager straightened his jacket, ran a hand through his hair and started for his car before she took it in her mind to tackle him on the lawn. 

Oh no, this date would not be repeated.