Selena watched as Julian paced back and forth in front of her stand while she gave a reading to a tourist. Ooo boy, she could watch that man walk all day long. He had such an eye-popping gait that it made her yearn to rush home to Bill and do some wicked things to him.

Over and over, women approached Julian, and he kept sending them away. It was actually funny to watch women strut around him while he remained oblivious to their machinations. She'd never known such a man existed.

But then, even she could get sick of chocolate if she ate too much of it.

Judging by the way women responded to Julian, she was sure he had quite a bellyache from overindulgence. Worse, he looked terribly troubled.

And she felt awful for what she had done to both of them. Her idea had seemed flawless at first. If only she'd thought it through a little more.

How was she to know who Julian had been? If only his name had rung a bell. But her specialty was Bronze Age Greece which had been ancient history even in Julian's time.

Even worse, she hadn't really thought about the man in the book as being a real person. She'd thought he was some kind of genie-like creature without a past or feelings.

Boy, when she screwed up, she always managed to do it in a big way.

Shaking her head, Selena watched while he turned down yet another offer from an attractive redhead. The man was a serious estrogen magnet.

She finished the reading.

Julian waited a few minutes before heading back to her table. "Take me to Grace."

It wasn't a request. He said it in a tone of voice she was sure he'd once used to order his troops into battle formation. "She said-"

"I don't care what she said. I need to see her."

Selena wrapped her cards in her black silk scarf. What the hell? She didn't need a best friend anyway. "It's your funeral."

"I wish," he said in a tone so low she wasn't sure she heard it correctly.

He helped her close up her stand and wheel her cart to the small shed she rented to house it.

In no time, they were headed to Grace's.

They pulled into the drive at the same time Grace was packing her car.

"Hey, Gracie," Selena called. "Where you going?"

Grace glared at Julian. "Away for a few days."

"Where?" Selena asked.

She didn't answer.

Julian left the car and headed straight for Grace. He was going to set this right, no matter what it took.

She tossed a bag in the trunk of the car and started away from him.

Julian grabbed her arm. "You didn't answer her question."

Grace shrugged his hand off. "What are you going to do, manhandle me if I don't answer?" Her eyes narrowed on him.

He winced at her rancor. "And you wonder why I want to leave?"

Then he saw it, the tears she was trying so hard to hide. Her eyes were bright and shiny.

Pain cut him deeply. "I'm sorry, Grace," he whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Grace watched the regret and longing war on his face. His touch was so warm and gentle. For a moment, she could almost believe he did care for her.

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered. "I know it's not your fault."

He gave a bitter half-laugh. "Actually, everything about this is my fault."

"Hey? Are you two kosher?" Selena asked.

Julian's gaze burned into Grace's, making her tremble from its intensity.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

No, she didn't. That was the whole problem. She never wanted him to leave her again. Ever.

She took his hands into hers, then lowered them from her face. "It's okay, Selena."

"In that case, I'll be heading home. Later."

Grace barely heard her drive away. Julian commanded all her attention.

"Now, where were you going?" he asked.

For the first time since the police had left, she actually felt as if she could breathe again. With Julian's presence, all her fear had evaporated like mist under sunlight.

She truly felt safe. "Remember I told you about Rodney Carmichael?"

He nodded.

"He came by a little while ago. He... he worries me."

The hard, cold rage on his face stunned her. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. The police came and he vanished. That's why I was leaving. I was going to stay in a hotel."

"Do you still want to leave?"

She shook her head. With him here, she felt completely protected.

"I'll get your bag," he said.

He pulled it out of her car, then closed the trunk.

Grace led the way back into the house.

They spent the rest of the day in quiet solitude. That evening, they were lying on the floor in front of the couch, supported by cushions.

Grace lay with her head on Julian's hard stomach as she read him the rest of Peter Pan, and did her best not to notice just how wonderful he smelled. And how wonderful he felt.

It took all her willpower not to roll over and explore his taut, muscled chest with her mouth.

He brushed his hand slowly through her hair as he watched her. Oh, how his touch burned her. How it made her wish she could strip those clothes off his body and taste every single inch of him.

"The end," she said, closing the book.

The heated look on his face took her breath.

Grace stretched, arching her back ever so slightly against him. "Want me to read something else?"

"Please. Your voice soothes me."

She stared at him for a long minute, then smiled. She couldn't remember the last compliment that touched her as profoundly as that one.

"I keep most of my books in my room," she said, getting up. "Come on, and I'll show you my special treasure trove and we'll find something else."

He followed her upstairs. Grace didn't miss the hot, longing gaze he gave the bed, then her.

Choosing to ignore it, Grace opened the door to her large walk-in closet. She turned on the light and brushed her hand lovingly over the homemade shelves her father had built years ago.

He'd been so funny when he and his best friend assembled the bookshelves. Both of them scholars, they'd made a terrible mess and ended up blackening two of her father's fingernails before the project was completed. Her mother had teased her father endlessly by calling him a Keystone Carpenter. But her father hadn't minded, and the look on his face when he had proudly finished and placed her books on the shelves was indelibly imprinted in her heart.

How she adored this room. It was here she truly felt her parents' love. Here she went to escape any trouble or pain that plagued her.

Every book in the closet was a special memory, and they all meant the world to her. To her left she glanced at Shanna, which had started her addiction to romance novels. The Wolfling, which had introduced her to science fiction. And her prized Bimbos of the Death Sun, which had been her very first mystery novel.

Her father and mother's old novels were in here, too, as well as three copies of the textbooks her father had written before she was born.

This was her special sanctuary and Julian was the first person, other than her parents, she had ever let inside it.

"You've been collecting books for quite some time," Julian said as he glanced around the crowded shelves.

She nodded. "They were my best friends growing up. I think the love of reading is probably the greatest gift my parents ever gave me." She held up Peter Pan. "This one was my father's when he was a boy. It's my most prized possession."

She put it back on a shelf and picked up a copy of Black Beauty. "This was the one my mother read over and over to me."

Grace gave him a quick tour of her books. "The Outsiders," she breathed reverently. "This was my favorite book in junior high school. Oh, and this one, Can You Sue Your Parents for Malpractice?"

Julian laughed. "I can tell how much they mean to you. Your entire face is glowing."

Something in his eyes made her think that he was contemplating a way he could make her glow, as well.

Swallowing at the thought, she turned and rummaged through the shelf on her right where she kept her classics while Julian looked at the books to her left.

"How about this one?" he asked, handing her one of her historical romance novels.

Grace laughed nervously at the half-dressed couple entwined on the cover. "Oh, I don't think so."

He looked at the cover with one highly arched brow.

"Okay," she said, taking it from his hand. "You've discovered my guilty secret. I'm an awful addict when it comes to historical romances, but the last thing you need is for me to read a steamy love scene out loud, thank you very much."

His gaze focused on her lips. "I would much rather create a steamy love scene," he breathed, moving to stand in front of her.

Grace trembled. With her back to the bookshelf, she couldn't retreat. He braced an arm above her head as he pressed his body against her, then lowered his mouth to hers.

Closing her eyes, all she could taste or smell was Julian. He surrounded her in a most disturbing way.

For once, he kept his hands to himself and touched only her lips with his. It didn't matter.

Her head still swam.

How could his wife ever have chosen another man over Julian? How could any woman in her right mind not want this man? He was heaven.

Julian deepened his kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She felt his heart pounding as he pressed her back, felt his muscles flexing all around her.

Never before had she been so aware of another human being. He set her on edge, made her feel sensations she'd never known existed.

He pulled back and pressed his cheek against hers. His breath stirred her hair and sent chills all over her.

"I want to be inside you so badly, Grace," he whispered. "I want to feel your legs wrapped around me, feel your breasts against my chest, hear you moaning as I make slow, sweet love to you. I want your smell on my body, your breath on my skin."

His entire body went rigid before he pushed himself away from her.

"But then, I'm used to wanting things I can't have," he whispered.

She reached out and touched his arm. He captured her hand with his, then lifted it to his lips where he lightly kissed her knuckles.

The longing on his handsome face made her ache. "Find us a book, and I shall behave."

Grace swallowed as he left her. It was then her gaze fell to her old copy of The Iliad. She smiled. He would like that, she was sure of it.

Grabbing it, she went back downstairs.

Julian sat in front of the couch.

"Guess what I found!" she said excitedly.

"I have no idea."

She held it up and grinned. "The Iliad!"

His mood instantly lifted as he flashed those dimples at her. "Sing to me, O goddess."

"Very good," she said as she sat down beside him. "And you'll like this even more. It's got both the original Greek and the English translation."

She handed it to him.

He looked as if she had just handed him a king's treasure. He opened the book.

Immediately his eyes danced across the pages as he ran his hand reverently over the ancient Greek writing.

Julian couldn't believe it as he saw his language again after all this time. It had been so long since he'd last seen it anywhere other than on his arm.

He'd always loved The Iliad and The Odyssey. As a boy, he'd spent hours hidden behind the barracks, reading scrolls over and over again, or sneaking out to hear the bards in the town square.

He well understood how Grace felt about her books. He'd been the same way in his youth. Every chance he'd gotten, he had escaped into the world of fantasy where heroes always triumphed. Where demons and villains were vanquished. Where mothers and fathers loved their children.

In the stories, there was no hunger, no pain. There was freedom and hope. It was through such stories that he learned of compassion and kindness. Of honor and integrity.

Grace knelt beside him. "You miss your home, don't you?"

Julian looked away. The only thing he missed was his children.

Unlike Kyrian, he had never cared for battle. The stench of death and blood, the moans of the dying. He'd fought only because it was expected of him. And he'd led because, as Plato said, everyone by nature was suited to a particular activity, which ideally they would pursue. By his nature, Julian had always been a leader and not one to follow others.

No, he didn't really miss it, but...

"It was all I knew."

She touched his shoulder, yet it was the concern in her light gray eyes that undid him.

"Did you want your son to be a soldier?"

He shook his head. "I never wanted him to be cut down in his youth like so many of my soldiers had been," he said, his voice hoarse. "Rather ironic, isn't it? I wouldn't even allow him to keep the play-sword Kyrian had given him as a birthday gift, or to touch mine when I was home."

She placed her hand against his neck, then pulled him to her. Her touch was so incredibly soothing. So warm. It filled him with aching loneliness.

"What was his name?"

Julian swallowed. He hadn't uttered his children's names aloud since the day they'd died. He hadn't dared, and yet he wanted to share that with her. "Atolycus. My daughter was Callista."

Her smile was edged by sadness as if she shared his pain at their loss. "They had beautiful names."

"They were beautiful children."

"If they were anything like you, I can believe that."

That was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him.

Julian ran his hand under her hair and let the silken strands fill his palm. Closing his eyes, he wanted to stay like this forever.

Fear of letting her go ripped through him. He'd never liked the idea of being sucked into his empty hell, but now the thought of never seeing her again, of never again smelling her sweet skin, of never again laying his palm against the warm blush of her cheek...

It was more than he could bear.

Gods, and he had thought himself cursed before.

She pulled back and kissed him lightly on the lips, then picked up the book.

Julian swallowed. She wanted to save him, and for the first time in centuries, he wanted to be saved.

He slid down lower on the floor to where she could return to lying against him. He loved feeling her there. Feeling her hair spilling across his arms, his chest.

They lay on the floor until the wee hours of the morning while Julian listened to her read of Odysseus and Achilles.

He watched as she grew tired, but she continued to read. The clock above struck three as she yawned and turned a page.

She tried to blink her eyes open, but her exhaustion was too much. Finally, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Julian smiled as he took the book from her hand and set it aside. He cupped her cheek while he watched her.

He wasn't sleepy. He didn't want to miss a single second of being with her. Watching her, touching her. Absorbing her. He would treasure it forever.

Never had he spent an evening like this, just lying comfortably with a woman without her groping his body, demanding that he touch and fill her.

In his day, men and women didn't spend much time together. During the times he was at home, Penelope had seldom spoken to him. In fact, she hadn't shown much interest in him at all.

On the nights when he sought her out, she hadn't refused him. But she was never eager for his touch, either. He'd always been able to coax a heated response from her body, but never one from her heart.

He brushed his hand through Grace's sable hair, delighting in the way it wrapped around his hand. His gaze dropped to his ring. It glinted dully in the light.

In his mind's eye he could see it coated in blood. Feel the way it bit into his finger as he wielded his sword in battle. That ring had meant everything to him, and it hadn't come easy. He'd earned it through the sweat of his brow and at the price of stinging attacks on his flesh. It had been costly, but it had been well worth it.

There for a time, if not loved, he had been respected. In his mortal life, that had meant everything to him.

Signing, he leaned his head back against the sofa cushion behind him and closed his eyes.

As he finally drifted to sleep, it wasn't the faces of the past that haunted his dreams, it was the vision of light gray eyes laughing with him, and of dark hair spilling over his chest as a warm, soft voice read words that were familiar and yet somehow foreign.

Grace stretched languidly as she came awake. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find her head lying on Julian's stomach. His right hand was buried in her hair and by the deep even breaths she knew he was still asleep.

She looked up at him. His face relaxed, he looked almost childlike.

And it was then she realized his nightmare hadn't come. He had slept through the night.

Smiling, she rose slowly, trying not to wake him.

It didn't work. The instant she withdrew, his eyes flew open, searing her with their heat.

"Grace," he breathed.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right."

Grace motioned to the stairs with her thumb. "I was going upstairs to shower. Should I lock the door?"

He raked a searing look over her. "No, I think I can behave."

She smiled. "It seems I've heard that one before."

He didn't respond.

Grace went above and took a quick shower.

When she finished, she went to her bedroom and found Julian lying on the bed, flipping through her copy of The Iliad.

He did a double-take as he looked up to see her wearing nothing but a towel. Those dimples flashed lecherously and sent heat dancing all over her body.

"I'll just get my clothes, and-"

"No," he said in a commanding tone.

"No?" she asked in disbelief.

His face softened. "I'd rather you dress in here."

"Julian-"

"Please."

Grace squirmed uneasily at his request. She'd never done anything like that in her life.

"Pretty please," he asked again with just a hint of a smile.

What woman could say no to that look?

She looked askance at him. "Don't you dare laugh," she said as she hesitantly opened the towel.

He dropped a hungry look to her breasts. "You can rest assured laughter is the farthest thing from my mind."

Then he left the bed. He moved like a graceful predator as he opened the drawer where she kept her underwear. A strange shiver went over her as she watched his hand moving through her panties until he found the black silk ones Selena had given her as a gag gift.

Pulling them out, he knelt on the floor before her to put them on her. Breathless and hot, she looked down at the top of his golden head. She lifted her foot and let him dress her.

As his hands slid the silk up her leg and his lips kissed a trail behind them, she trembled. He splayed his hands against her flesh for maximum devastation to her senses. Worse, once he had them in place, he caressed her lightly between her legs before moving away.

Next, he pulled out the matching black bra.

Like a doll with no will of its own, she let him put it on her. His hands brushed her nipples as he closed the front catch, then he slid his hand between the satin and her skin and gave a hot caress that sent chills all over her.

Julian bent his head down to capture her lips with his. Even now he felt the fire coursing through him, demanding he take her. Demanding he ease the pain in his groin if only for an instant.

Grace moaned as he deepened his kiss. Her will gone, she felt him lift her to the bed where he set her before him. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hissed at the feeling of those steely abs pressing against the center of her body.

Julian ran his hands over her back. The image of her wet, naked body was branded in his mind. He was almost to the point of no return when a bright light flashed through the room.

His eyes aching from it, Julian pulled away from her.

"Was that you?" she asked breathlessly, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

Amused, Julian shook his head. "I wish I could take credit for it, but I'm quite sure it had another source."

Looking around the room, his gaze fell to the bed. He blinked.

It couldn't be...

"What is that?" Grace asked, turning to look at the bed.

"It's my shield," he said, still unable to believe his eyes.

He hadn't seen his shield in centuries. Stunned, he stared at it where it rested in the center of the mattress, glinting dimly in the light.

He knew every dent and scratch on it, remembered the blows that had made each mark.

Afraid he was dreaming, he reached his hand out to the bronze relief of Athena and her owl.

"And your sword, too?"

He grabbed Grace's hand before she touched it. "That's the Sword of Cronus. Never touch it. If anyone handles it who doesn't have his blood in them, it burns their skin forever."

"Really?" she asked, sliding off the bed, away from it.

"Really."

She looked back at the bed with a stern frown. "Why are they here?"

"I don't know."

"Who sent them?"

"I don't know."

"Well, that's not really helpful."

Julian didn't seem to hear her sarcasm. Instead, Grace watched as he stared at his shield. He ran his hand over it like an adoring father who had found a long-lost child.

He pulled sword from the mattress, then slid it far beneath the bed. "Don't forget it's under here," he said sternly. "Make sure you never touch it."

His frown deepened as he straightened up and looked at the shield. "My mother must have sent them to me. Only she or one of her sons could have done it."

"Why would she do that?"

Julian narrowed his eyes as he remembered the rest of the sword's legend. "I'm sure she sent it in the event I have to face Priapus. The Sword of Cronus is also called the Sword of Justice. It won't kill him, but it will cause him to take my place in the book."

"Are you serious?"

He nodded.

"May I touch the shield?"

"Sure."

Grace ran her hand over the gold and black inlays that formed the image of Athena and her owl. "It's beautiful," she said in awe.

"Kyrian had it made as a gift for me when I became a full commander."

She touched the engraving below Athena. "What do the words say?"

" 'Death before dishonor,' " he said, the words catching in his throat.

Julian smiled wistfully as he remembered Kyrian standing at his side during their battles together. "Kyrian's shield read, 'Spoils to the Victor.' He used to look at me before battle and say, 'You take the honor, adelphos, and leave the booty for me.' "

Grace paused at the odd note in his voice. Trying to imagine what he must have looked like holding his shield, she pulled it closer. "Kyrian? The man who was crucified?"

"Yes."

"You liked him a lot, didn't you?"

He smiled sadly. "It took a while for him to grow on me. When I was twenty-three, his uncle assigned him to my command with the strictest warning of what would happen to me should I let His Highness get hurt."

"He was a prince?"

Mian nodded. "And he was truly fearless. Barely twenty, he would charge into battle or fights half-cocked, daring anyone to hurt him. It seemed every time I turned around, I was hauling him out of some bizarre mishap. But he was a hard man to hate. In spite of his hot-headed ways, he had a great sense of humor and was loyal to a fault."

He ran his hand over his shield. "I just wish I'd been there to save him from the Romans."

Grace rubbed his arm in sympathy. "I'm sure the two of you could have battled your way out of anything."

A spark came to his eyes at her words. "When we marched our armies together, we were invincible." His jaw flexed as he looked at her. "It was just a matter of time before Rome would have been ours."

"Why did the two of you want Rome so badly?"

"I vowed to destroy Rome after they took Prymaria. Kyrian and I had been sent for, but by the time we arrived, it was too late. The Romans had cold-bloodedly rounded up and murdered every woman and child in the city. I'd never seen such carnage." His eyes darkened. "While we were trying to bury the dead, the Romans ambushed us."

Grace went cold at the words. "What happened?"

"I had Livius routed and was about to kill him when Priapus intervened. He sent a lightning bolt into my horse and I was thrown to the Romans. I was sure I was dead; then out of nowhere Kyrian appeared. He drove Livius back until I was able to regain my feet. Livius called for a retreat and vanished before we could kill him."

Grace realized Julian stood directly behind her, his body so close to hers that she could feel his body heat. He placed his arms on each side of her, braced against the mattress, before he pressed his chest against her back.

Grace clenched her teeth at the ferocity of the desire that swept through her. He didn't hold her, but the devastation to her senses was just as profound. He bent his head down and nuzzled her neck.

His tongue on her skin fired every hormone in her body. Grace arched her back as her breasts tingled. If she didn't stop him...

"Julian," she breathed, but her voice was far from carrying the warning note she intended.

"I know," he whispered. "I'm on my way to take a cold shower." As he left the room, she heard him snarl an angry word under his breath. "Alone."

After they had breakfast, Grace decided to teach Julian to drive.

"This is ridiculous," he said as she pulled into the high school's parking lot.

"Oh, come on," she teased, "aren't you curious?"

"No."

"No?"

He sighed. "Okay, a little."

"Well, then, just imagine the stories you can tell your men when you get back to Macedonia about the great steel beast you drove... around a parking lot."

He gave her a puzzled stare. "Does this mean you're okay with my leaving?"

No, she wanted to shout. But instead she sighed. In her heart, she knew she could never ask him to give up all he'd been to stay here with her.

Julian of Macedon was a hero. A legend.

He would never be a mild-mannered twenty-first-century man.

"I know I can't keep you. You're not some lost puppy who followed me home."

Julian tensed at her words. How true to form they were. It was what made leaving her so damn difficult. How could he give up the only person who had ever seen him as a man?

He didn't know why she wanted to teach him to drive, but then, sharing her world with him seemed to please her. And for some reason that didn't bear thinking about, he liked making her happy. "All right, then, show me how to tame this beast."

Grace parked the car and they traded seats.

As soon as Julian got in, she cringed at the sight of a six-foot-three man wedged into a space meant to accommodate a five-two woman. "I forgot to move the seat back. Sorry."

"I can neither breathe nor move, but that's okay."

She laughed. "There's a lever under the seat. Pull it out and you can move the seat back."

He tried, but he was crammed in so tightly that he couldn't reach it.

"Here," Grace said. "I got it."

Julian threw his head back as she leaned over his thigh, pressing her breasts to his leg while she reached between his knees. His body snapped to attention, instantly hot and hard.

When she put her cheek against his groin as she struggled with the release, he thought he would die from it.

"You know, you're in the perfect position to-"

"Julian!" she snapped. She pulled back and saw the bulge in his jeans. Her face turned bright red. "Sorry."

"Me, too," he breathed.

Unfortunately, she had yet to move the seat, so he was forced to endure the position one more time.

Grinding his teeth, Julian reached one arm over his head to grab the headrest and clench it tightly. It was all he could do not to yield to the fiery lust inside his body.

"You okay?" she asked once she released the seat and returned to her own.

"Oh, yeah," he said sarcastically. "I'm just fine considering the fact I've walked through burning fires that hurt less than my groin does right now."

"I said I was sorry."

He just looked at her.

She patted his arm tenderly. "Okay, can you reach the pedals?"

"I'd like to reach your pedals..."

"Julian!" Grace snapped again. The man was truly lecherous. "Would you concentrate?"

"All right, I'm concentrating."

"I don't mean on my breasts."

He dropped his hungry gaze to her lap.

"Or there, either."

To her amazement, he playfully poked his bottom lip out like a pouting child. The look was so uncharacteristic of him that she laughed again.

"Okay," she said. "The pedal on the far left is your clutch, the middle is the brake and the one on the far right is the gas. You remember what I told you about them?"

"I remember."

"Good. Now the first thing you do is press in the clutch and slide the gear into reverse." She placed his hand on the gear shift in the center of her car, and showed him how to move it up and down.

"You know, you really shouldn't fondle that in front of me, Grace. It's cruel."

"Julian! Do you mind? I'm only trying to show you how to shift my gears."

He snorted. "I wish you'd shift my gear like that."

Grace growled at him.

With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he looked totally unrepentant.

Then he attempted to back up, but he released the clutch too soon and stalled the car.

"It's not supposed to do that, is it?" he asked.

"Not unless you want to have a wreck."

He sighed and tried again.

An hour later, after Julian still hadn't managed to drive around the parking lot without hitting a curb or stalling the car, Grace conceded failure.

"It's a good thing you were a better general than you are a driver."

"Ha, ha," he said sarcastically, but there was a glint in his eye that let her know he wasn't truly offended. "All I have to say in my defense is that my first car was a war chariot."

Grace smiled at him. "Well, we're not at war on these streets."

Looking skeptical, he retorted, "I wouldn't say that. You forget, I've seen your late-night news."

Julian turned the engine off. "I think I'll let you drive for a while."

"Probably wise. I can't really afford a new car right now anyway."

She got out to exchange sides with him again. But as they crossed paths at the trunk, Julian grabbed her for a hot kiss that made her dizzy. He took her hands in his and held them tightly against his lean hips as he nibbled her lips.

Goodness, a woman could get used to this. Really, really used to it.

Julian pulled back. "Want to take me home and let me nibble on other things?"

Yes, she did, which was why she didn't dare. In fact, she was so delirious from that one kiss that she couldn't even speak.

Julian smiled at the dazed, hungry look on her face. She stared at his lips as if she were still tasting them. In that moment, he wanted her more than he ever had before. Most of all, he wanted to take the band from her ponytail and let her hair spill over his chest.

How he wished they were back at her house where he could peel the short set from her and listen to her sweet murmurs of pleasure as he...

"The car," she said, blinking her eyes as if awaking from a dream. "We were getting into the car."

Julian kissed her lightly on the cheek.

After they both got in, and were buckled up, Grace looked sideways at him. "You know, it seems to me there are two things in New Orleans that you have yet to experience."

"Number one, I have yet to take you on a-"

"Would you stop!"

He cleared his throat. "Okay, what's your list?"

"Bourbon Street and modern music. One of which I can take care of right now." Grace switched on the radio.

She laughed as she recognized "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner. How apropos, given her passenger.

Julian listened, but didn't appear impressed.

Grace changed the station.

Julian frowned at her actions. "What did you do?"

"I changed to another station. All you have to do is press these buttons."

He toyed with it for several minutes until he found a station playing "Love Hurts" by Nazareth. "Your music is interesting."

"Does it make you miss your own?"

"Since most of the music I heard was pipers and drummers leading us into battle, no. I think I can appreciate this."

"Appreciate what?" she asked flippantly. "The music or the fact that love hurts?"

The humor fled his face. "Since I've never known love, I wouldn't know whether or not it hurts. But I can't imagine how being loved could possibly hurt as much as not."

Her chest tightened at his words.

"So," she asked, wanting to change the subject, "what do you plan to do as soon as you get home?"

"I don't know."

"You'll probably go kick Scipio's butt, right?"

He laughed at that. "I would like to."

"Why? What did he ever do to you?"

"He got in my way."

Okay, not what she expected to hear. "You don't like anyone to get in your way, do you?"

"Do you?"

She thought about it. "I guess not."

By the time they reached Bourbon Street, the Sunday afternoon crowd was swarming. Grace fanned her face as she fought the oppressive heat.

She looked up at Julian who even sweated attractively. His damp hair hung in becoming curls around his face, and with those sunglasses on... ooo, baby!

Of course, the look was helped by the white T-shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and his lean, flat six-pack of abs. As she trailed her gaze over the button-fly jeans, she wished she had opted for a baggier pair.

But then given his confident, seductive walk, she doubted if even baggy jeans could hide such raw, overt sexiness.

Julian paused as they passed by a strip club. To his credit, he didn't gape at the scantily clad women in the window, but Grace sensed his shock plainly enough.

Staring at Julian as if she'd like to devour him, the exotic dancer bit her full bottom lip, then ran her tongue around her lips suggestively as she groped at her breasts. She crooked her finger for him.

Julian turned away.

"Never seen anything like it, have you?" Grace asked, trying to mask her discomfort at the woman's actions and relief at Julian's reaction.

"Rome," he said plainly.

She laughed. "They weren't that decadent, were they?"

"You'd be amazed. At least no one's having an orgy on the..." He broke off as he walked past a couple making out on the corner. "Never mind."

Grace laughed.

"Ooo, baby," a prostitute called to Julian as they passed another club. "Come inside, and I'll do you for free."

He shook his head without breaking his stride.

Grace grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. "Were women like this before the curse?"

He nodded. "It's the reason Kyrian was my only friend. The men around me couldn't stand the attention I received, and women followed me everywhere I went, trying to shove their hands under my armor."

She thought about that for a minute. "And you're sure none of these women loved you?"

He looked at her drolly. "Love and lust are not the same thing. How can you love someone you don't know?"

"I guess you're right."

They headed down the street. "So, tell me about this friend of yours. Why didn't he mind the way women gawked at you?"

Julian flashed his dimples. "Kyrian was deeply in love with his wife, and couldn't have cared less about any other woman. He never saw me as competition."

"Did you ever meet his wife?"

He shook his head. "Even though we never discussed it, I think we both knew it would be a very bad idea."

Grace watched him as his face changed. He was remembering Kyrian, she was sure of it. "You're blaming yourself for what happened to him, aren't you?"

Julian clenched his teeth as he thought about what Kyrian must have felt when the Romans captured him. Considering how badly the Romans had wanted the two of them, there was no telling what else they'd done to Kyrian before they took his life.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I know it's my fault. Had I not angered Priapus, I would have been there to help Kyrian fight them."

And there was little doubt in his mind that half of Kyrian''s fate had come from the fact that Kyrian had been foolish enough to befriend him.

Julian sighed. "What a waste of a brilliant life. Had he ever learned to master his recklessness, I know Kyrian would have made a fine ruler one day." He took her hand in his and gave a light squeeze.

They walked in silence while Grace tried to think of some way to cheer him.

As they passed Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo, Grace stopped, then dragged him inside.

She explained the origins of voodoo to him as they toured the miniature museum.

"Ooo," she said, picking up a male voodoo doll from a display. "Want to dress him up like Priapus and stick little pins in him?"

Julian laughed. "Want to pretend it's Rodney Carmichael?"

Grace suppressed a smile. "Now that would be unprofessional of me, wouldn't it? But it is tempting."

Grace set the doll down as her gaze fell to the glass display case that held assorted amulets and jewelry. In the middle of the case was a necklace of black, blue, and hunter green threads braided so intricately that it looked like a thin black wire.

"It brings good luck to the wearer," the saleswoman told her as she noticed her interest. "Would you like to see it?"

Grace nodded. "Does it work?"

"Oh, yes. The thread pattern is strong magic."

Grace didn't know if she believed that, but then, a week ago she would never have believed two drunk women could conjure a Macedonian general to life, either.

She paid the woman for it, then turned to Julian.

"Lean down," she told him.

He looked skeptical.

"C'mon," she teased. "Humor me."

The saleswoman laughed at them as Grace fastened it around his neck. "That boy don't need no luck charm, chere, he be needing a spell to thwart the attention of those women staring at his rear while he's stooped over."

Grace looked past him to see the three women who were indeed ogling his butt. For the first time, she felt a vicious stab of jealousy.

The feeling evaporated as Julian kissed her cheek tenderly before straightening. His look devilish, he draped a possessive arm over her shoulders.

As they passed the women, Grace couldn't suppress her own mischievous impulse. She paused by the women. "By the way, he looks even better naked."

"You would certainly know, my sweet," Julian said as he put his sunglasses on, then draped his arm back over her shoulders.

Grace slid her hand around his waist and into his front pocket as he hugged her against his side.

"You know," Julian whispered to her. "If you want to move that hand a little lower in my pocket, I wouldn't mind a bit."

She squeezed him, but kept her hand where it was.

The women's envious stares followed them all the way down the street.

For dinner, Grace took him to Mike Anderson's Seafood to eat. She cringed as they brought out Julian's oysters and , placed them on the table.

"Ew," she said as he ate one.

Offended, he scowled at her. "They're delicious."

"I don't think so."

"That's only because you don't know how to eat them."

"Sure I do. You open your mouth and let the slimy thing slide down your throat."

He took a swig of beer. "That's one way of doing it."

"That's how you just did it."

"True, but would you like to try another way?"

She bit her lip in indecision. Something in his demeanor warned her it could be most dangerous to take him up on this challenge. "I don't know."

"Trust me?"

"Hardly," she scoffed.

He shrugged and took another swig of beer. "Your loss."

"Oh, all right," she relented, too curious by now to continue declining. "But if I gag, remember I warned you."

Julian hooked his heels around her chair legs, and pulled her so close to him that their thighs were pressed together. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then picked up the smallest oyster on his plate.

"All right, then," he murmured in her ear. He draped his arm over her shoulders. "Tilt your head back."

She did. He stroked her throat with his fingers, causing chills to erupt all over her body. She swallowed, amazed by the tenderness of his touch. Amazed at just how good he felt by her side.

"Open your mouth," he breathed as he nuzzled her neck with his nose.

She obeyed.

He tilted the oyster to slide into her mouth. As the oyster slid down her throat, he ran his tongue up her neck in the opposite direction.

Grace shuddered at the unexpected sensations. Her breasts tingled and a thousand chills went through her. It was incredible! And for once, she didn't mind the taste of the oyster at all.

Her face flamed as she remembered where they were. Opening her eyes, she was immediately grateful that they were seated in a dark corner.

"Did you like it?" he asked playfully.

She couldn't resist smiling. "You are incorrigible."

"I endeavor to be, anyway."

"And you succeed admirably."

Before he could respond, her cell phone rang.

"Ugh!" she said, pulling it out. Whoever it was, it had better be darn important.

She answered it.

"Grace?"

She cringed as she heard Rodney's voice. "Mr. Carmichael, how did you get this number?"

"It was in your Rolodex. I came by to see you again, but you're not home." He sighed. "I was so looking forward to being with you today. We still need to have that talk. But that's okay. I can come to you. Are you down in the Quarter again visiting your psychic friend?"

Fear cut through her. "How do you know about my friend?"

"I know lots of things about you, Grace. Hmmm," he breathed into the phone. "You scent your underwear with rose potpourri."

Grace froze as her terror swelled to titanic proportions. Her hands started shaking. "Are you in my house?"

She could hear drawers opening and closing on the other end of the line. Suddenly, he let out a curse. "You slut!" he snarled. "Who is he? Who the hell have you been sleeping with?"

"Now that's-"

The line went dead.

Grace shook so badly, she could barely turn the phone off.

"What is it?" Julian asked, his brow knitted with concern.

"Rodney's at my house," she said, her voice quaking. She immediately dialed the police to notify them.

"We'll meet you there," the officer told her. "Whatever you do, don't go inside until we get there."

"Don't worry."

Julian covered her hands with his. "You're shaking."

"You think? I only have a psycho in my house sniffing my lingerie and calling me names. Why should I be shaking?"

His deep blue eyes soothed her with their protectiveness. He tightened his grip on her hands. "You know I won't let him hurt you."

"I appreciate the thought, Julian, but this man is-"

"Dead if he comes near you. You know I won't leave you."

"Not until the next full moon anyway."

He looked away then, and she saw the truth of it. "It's okay," she said bravely. "I can handle this, really. I've been on my own for years now. He's not the first client to harass me. I doubt he'll be the last."

Julian's eyes snapped blue fire as he met her gaze. "Just how many of these people harass you?"

"It's not your problem. It's mine."

He looked as if he were ready to strangle her.

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