Aphrodite's Secret by Julie Kenner Page A

weren’t gone, you wouldn’t be here with me.”
    He leaned closer, and she wanted to meet him halfway—really, she did—but somehow her brain sent the wrong message to her feet and head. She ducked, and his lips brushed gently over her ear.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not you. I’m distracted. It’s just. . .” She trailed off with a shrug, knowing she was being stupid.
    He hooked a finger under her chin and twisted her face up. The smile on his lips warmed her heart. “Let’s go to Sea World.”
    “What?” She blinked, surprised both that he’d tolerated her rejection and that he’d suggest such a thing. “Drive down to San Diego?”
    “Sure. We’ll be there in plenty of time to catch your sister-in-law before she calls it a day.”
    “But you’ve got a brief due next week. I thought you had hours of research ahead of you.”
    His shoulder lifted. “True. But I’ll make time for you.”
    Oh, man
. Her heart was going to melt. “That’s so sweet.”
    “So, let’s get going.”
    She took a deep breath, then shook her head.
    “No, that’s okay. I’m just overreacting. I’m sure you’re right—he’s just watching a show or something.”
    “You’re sure?”
    She drew another deep breath to strengthen her resolve. “I’m sure.” She licked her lips, then squeezed his hand. This was a truly sweet man. Maybe there weren’t sparks, but would sparks offer to drive her to San Diego? Hell, sparks hadn’t even hung around to meet his own child. She’d be a fool to let Aaron get away.
    “Lane?”
    She smiled, then lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Really,” she said. “Just take me home. And if you can spare a few minutes, why don’t you come in for coffee ... or something?”

    Zoë paced back and forth, desperate to figure out an escape from the small room. “Maybe we can pick the lock,” she offered. “Like MacGyver would.”
    “Sure,” Deena said, nodding. “Yeah. We can do that.” She cocked her head. “With what?”
    Zoë sighed. “I haven’t got a clue. I don’t suppose you’re wearing a barrette?”
    Deena shook her head, blond curls flying. “Nope. You?”
    “No.” As usual Zoë wore one long braid down her back, and it was fastened with a rubber band. And the band wasn’t even big enough to make a good slingshot.
    “You picked a really lousy time to get sick,” Deena complained.
    Zoë grimaced, feeling sheepish. Who knew that raging hormones would whack out her powers, making them come and go? Unfortunately,
go
was much more often than
come
. “Sorry,” she said, shoving uselessly on the wall’s metal door. “Apollo’s apples! This is making me nuts!”
    “Maybe if we both shove,” Deena suggested. She pressed her hands against the door and pushed, the muscles in her arms tightening visibly with the effort.
    “Hold on,” Zoë said. “If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right.” She steadied herself against the door. “On three. One . . . two . . .
three.”
They both pushed with all their might. The wall didn’t budge.
    “Well, damn,” said Deena.
    Zoë silently seconded the comment, but she didn’t say a word, too distracted by the craving washing over her. “Pickles,” she said. “In chocolate sauce.” She twisted around to look at Deena, who looked ready to gag. “Doesn’t that sound fabulous?”
    “That is just disgusting,” Deena replied, her nose wrinkling.
    “True. But it may be good news.” She rushed back to the door, needing to tackle it before the craving faded. She kicked, and this time when her foot contacted the solid metal, the door slammed outward, its hinges breaking free just as the craving—and her powers—faded once more.
    Deena let out a victory whoop, slapping her hand over her own mouth to muffle the sound, then followed Zoë out of the room. Outside, they both dropped to the ground and looked around. Zoë tried to get her bearings.
    “Oh ... my . .. God,” Deena said