Kathy Love: Demon Cant Help It

God, he was actually feeling like he was in competition with a carbonated beverage. Pathetic.

Just then, Maggie's laugh drew their attention toward her. Ren, Vittorio, and the rest of the band were off the stage, and Ren had come up and captured his wife around the waist, catching her off guard.

"Come outside," Vittorio said to the women. "We can talk easier without the music." He gestured toward the speakers now playing recorded Top 40 pop tunes.

They all gathered their drinks and headed out to the sidewalk, where they could chat until the band was finished with their break. Jo followed them, not even looking back.

Maksim stared after her as she disappeared outside, confused and frustrated. What was it about that woman? And how was it she didn't seem to notice he existed? He was no fool. He knew he was attractive to the opposite sex—sometimes the same sex, too, although that kind of "getting his freak on" didn't appeal. The point being he knew he was good looking. He'd made that a fact when in the mortal realm.

As if to prove his point, a woman who'd been trying to get his attention all night approached him, blocking his view of the doorway where Jo had just exited.

"Hi," she greeted him with a wide smile and a flip of her long blond hair. "I was wondering what you are doing after you get off work."

He didn't react right away, still mystified by Jo's lack of reaction. Finally he focused on the woman. She was very pretty, curvy, and soft. And there was no question about the interest clear in her light blue eyes.

Now, Maksim was never one to waste time on futile ventures. He liked challenges, yes. But he wasn't wasting time chasing someone who didn't want to get caught.

Okay, this was in fact the first time he could recall meeting someone who didn't want to get caught, but still he didn't believe in working too hard. After all, there was always something, if not better, then just as good coming around the corner. And this was plainly one of those moments.

He smiled at the blonde, who practically glowed back at him, thrilled with his attention.

"I'm getting off work around two. Why? What do you have in mind?"

The blonde giggled. "Well, I can think of a few things."

His smile broadened. "I can, too." Then he extended his hand. "I'm Maksim."

She slipped her fingers into his. "Jenna."

See, he could forget about dark-eyed, dark-haired mortals just as easily as that.

But even as he told himself that, his gaze returned to the doorway that Jo had walked out.

"When did that guy start working here?"

Erika frowned at Jo, then glanced around the street where they stood with the band. "What guy?"

"The bartender." Jo remembered his name, but she couldn't even bring herself to say it. For some reason, she felt as if remembering his name would show too much…

Well, just too much.

Erika still frowned.

"I think she means Maksim," Vittorio supplied even though Jo didn't realize he'd been listening.

"Oh," Erika said, her tone not exactly negative, but not exactly amiable, either. "He's been working here for…" She glanced at Vittorio for an answer.

"A couple months," he said. "Right after we got married, he started here."

Jo nodded. She remembered him at Erika and Vittorio's wedding. He'd looked stunningly handsome in his expensive, designer suit. He'd just screamed money, power, and sex appeal. He still did—even slinging beers.

"I wouldn't have pegged him as being a bartender for a living," Jo said. "He seems too…" She couldn't find that right word.

"High and mighty," Maggie suggested.

"Yes," Jo agreed. "That's it exactly."

"Oh, he's definitely not from around here," Ren said with a enigmatic smile, making Jo realize that everyone was aware of the topic of conversation.

Jo didn't quite know what Ren meant by his statement or how it tied in to the man's demeanor. And his accent stated he wasn't from Louisiana—or even the U.S. She'd been more focused on the fact that he seemed like the type who was waited on—not doing the waiting.

She could easily picture him in one of those ritzy nightclubs, the ones with dress codes and guest lists. Five-star restaurants and yachts with sexy women in bikinis. She certainly didn't see him working behind a bar in the French Quarter.

So what was he doing here, then?

"Are you interested in him?" Maggie said after everyone had moved on to the subject of whether Drake's guitar solo in Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me" was too long.

Jo blinked. "Interested in him? Hardly."

Maggie nodded, seeming to readily accept her words, then she added, "He's interested in you."

Jo shook her head. "No, he isn't."

"Trust me, he is." Maggie stated, and Jo couldn't decide how her friend felt about the observation.

But then, she wasn't sure what her feelings were, either. Jo wasn't completely oblivious. She noticed the way the man watched her. She'd noticed it the past times she met him, too. But at the time she'd been too involved in her own issues to give it any thought. And frankly she didn't have time to think about it now, either.

Plus, Maksim—and at least she didn't have to pretend she didn't know his last name because she didn't—wasn't the type of man she found attractive.

Okay, that wasn't strictly true. Maksim Whatever-His-Name-Is was the type of man all woman found attractive. Truthfully, he was probably the most stunningly beautiful man she'd ever seen. Well, one of the most beautiful.

For a moment, her mind returned to her own problems and the mess she left behind in D.C. But you didn't leave it all behind, did you?

She shoved those thoughts aside and glanced in the doorway, catching a glimpse of Maksim serving a large, fruity-looking drink to a curvaceous blonde.

So sure, she'd noticed Maksim. He was hard to miss with his unusually pale green eyes that reminded her of peridots. His sexy smile that turned up just slightly at one corner. And his body, tall and lean with broad shoulders and—

All right, she sighed, closing her eyes just briefly, trying to block out the image of him. So she'd noticed him. He was a gorgeous man. But she also knew his type. Along with all that masculine beauty, she knew he had an ego the size of St. Louis Cathedral, and she had no use for that. Absolutely no use.

And in the end, he'd have no use for her, either. She'd learned that firsthand. Again, she told herself not to think about it. She had other things to focus on. Like work and friends and starting a new life. Starting a new life…

A wave of nausea, sudden and intense, hit her, and she looked around, panicked, deciding if she should rush to the restroom.

Calm down. Calm down. She swallowed several times and the feeling gradually subsided.

Erika appeared at her side. "The guys are going back in for one more set." She studied Jo. "Are you okay?"

Jo nodded, not quite sure she was ready to speak. She swallowed again, then pulled in a slow, deep breath.

"I'm fine." She forced a closed-mouth smile.

Erika still watched her, her finely arched brows drawn together with concern.

"Are you sure you want to stay?" she asked.

Jo nodded. "Sure." She wasn't ready to be alone with her thoughts at the moment. She'd long ago realized that keeping busy was the best way to avoid things she didn't want to think about. Busy was good.

"Okay," Erika said, her voice uncertain. She glanced at Maggie again. Another knowing look shot between them. This time it irritated Jo.

"I'm fine," she repeated, more firmly, and her friends didn't say anything. They just followed her back into the dark bar.

A group of partiers boogied on the dance floor. The air was hazy and seemed to glow, smoke lit by neon beer signs. Jo ignored the overwhelming scent of cigarettes mingling with stale beer and headed toward the back of the bar to an empty round high-top table. It was a little quieter away from the stage. And she couldn't easily see Maksim from this angle. Noticing his eyes and body and smile wasn't doing her any good.