Page 61 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
“Have you ever told him how…” I’m paralyzed as I just catch sight of someone out of the corner of my eye. Then I turn my head to see him. It’s Hercules Valentine. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, no tie, and slacks that showcase his sexy thighs and long manly legs. He stands like an aristocrat with perfect posture. I’m sure everybody knows he’s the most important person in the room and the sexiest. And he’s in New York City. Max was wrong, and Max is rarely wrong.
What should I do?
I couldn’t look away from him even if I wanted to. I’ve seen the woman he’s with. She has a short haircut and is as light and graceful as a ballerina. She was the person in the hallway yesterday. She wore a red coat. My heart sinks when Hercules easily puts his hand against the small of her back. The way he touches her seems so intimate, so possessive.I’m too late. He belongs to her.
“Oh, Hercules Valentine,” Lake says. “And Lilith Cope.”
I’m staring. I didn’t want to do that.I force my eyes, which are fake smiling, back to my lunch companion.
“Oh.” That comes out strained.
Lake’s eyes sparkle as she grins at me. “You’ll get over it.”
I frown. “Get over what?”
“The first time you see Hercules, you fall head over heels in lust. Then you get to know him, and he’s perfect in every way imaginable. But he’s such an enigma. I don’t think he dates. So you just get over him and move on to someone who’s catchable.” She rolls her eyes. “Although Mason is far from catchable. What’s his deal, anyway?”
I’m done trying to solve her problem. Sticking around was a bad idea. I turn to find the exits. Maybe if I get out now, he won’t see me.
I grab my purse, ready to leave my salad behind, taking one more glance before I tell Lake I have to go, and that’s when it happens. Hercules looks off as he says something, and just as it was in high school, I’m trapped by his gaze.
“Oh my God, he’s looking at us,” Lake says breathlessly. She starts combing a hand through her thick locks.
I can’t speak or look away from him. And then Mason walks up beside him and puts his hand on Hercules’s shoulder. They’re about the same height. Mason speaks to him. Now, they’re both looking at our table. When Mason smiles and points to me, I know for certain there’s no escaping. One month too soon, Hercules Valentine and I are about to come face-to-face.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Performance of My Life
Paisley Grove
Suddenly, I know how a deer caught in headlights feels. I’m aware that my demise is rapidly approaching, but I can’t race off and save myself. Instead, my derriere is glued to my seat as Hercules makes his approach. He’s observing me with an intensely probing gaze that I’m familiar with. My breathing has sped up. I’m afraid that the longer he looks at me that way, the closer he'll get to remembering who I am.
“Oh my…” Lake whispers.
I rip my gaze off Hercules to see if she’s as flushed as I feel.She is.But unlike me, her attention bounces between Hercules and Mason. They’re so close. My feet are stuck to the linoleum. And just when my chest clings to my last breath, I come to the realization that there’s no escape.
Mason points a hand at me as if presenting his new masterpiece. “Hercules, this is Lark Davenport.” Then he nods at my lunch partner. “And you already know Lake.”
Lake’s eyes dance as she beams. “Good afternoon, Mr. Valentine. Hi, Mason.”
Her gaze stays stuck on her crush. If it’s not obvious to Mason that she’s into him, then he’s stupid. And I know he’s not stupid—so he must be aware of how she feels about him.
Feeling antsy, I spring to my feet. “Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Valentine.”Damn it, I said that too loud.We shake hands. Touching him brings back a familiar sensation that I'm forced to repress.
His razor-sharp glower narrows a pinch more. “Nice to meet you too…” He tilts his head. “Have we met before?”
My mouth is caught open.We made love once, and it was the best sex of my life.Plus, we were in the same sixth-period class together in high school, which means for the entire school year, I crushed on you every Monday through Friday, excluding holidays and those rare occasions when you didn’t show up for class.All of that is on the tip of my tongue.
Everybody’s waiting for me to say something, including me. Instead, I’m in the middle of an uncomfortably long pause in which I’m refamiliarizing myself with the shape of Hercules’s mouth, every pore of his skin, and his eyes that can even melt thick cotton mommy panties. I wonder what he would say or do if he knew I was Paisley Grove. I wish I’d applied for the job under my real name. Hercules would have hired me for who I am—I know he would have.
Finally, he shakes a finger at me. “The hotel… about seven or eight days ago.”
My eyelids almost get stuck closed when I blink. I can hardly believe he remembers me. I close my mouth and swallow.“Um, yeah… I was in town, finding an apartment. I didn’t know who you were there, though.”Liar.“I’ve never seen you in person until now. That’s why I didn’t know who you were. But oh my God. It was you.”
Big liar.Bad liar. No—horrible liar.I’m kicking myself for laying it on way too thick.
His eyebrows ruffle even more. “Yes,” he says, still studying me intently. “That was you.”
