Free Tall, Dark and Divine by Jenna Bennett

five flights of stairs. The least she could do was bake a batch of cookies and give them to him as a thank-you.
    His wife had left him; it had probably been a while since anyone baked him cookies.
    And maybe she could drop them off in the reception area of his office; that way she wouldn’t actually have to face him. She had to go to work anyway in—she glanced at the clock ticking a bit too loudly on the bedside table—just over two hours.
    That was just enough time to whip up a batch of dough and stick a tray of cookies in the oven, before taking a shower and self-medicating with half a bottle of aspirin and black coffee.
    Groaning, she rolled over and dangled her feet off the side of the bed.
    Two hours later, she was upright, moving down the street, and almost back to normal. Her body still felt nice and relaxed, but the banging headache more than made up for it. The aspirin and coffee hadn’t done as good a job as she’d hoped, and she’d had to resort to wearing sunglasses, even though it was overcast and a bit gloomy. It wasn’t raining, but the sky looked like it was thinking about it.
    The way to work ran past Dionysus’s bar, and she slowed her steps as she approached. But it was closed this early in the morning, the door firmly locked and the neon signs turned off. Which took care of her idea of going in to ask for a hair of the dog that bit her. It was probably just as well, actually, because she wasn’t sure she trusted Dion. He was a friend of Eros’s—Ross had said they’d known each other forever, and she did trust Ross; at least she was pretty sure she did—but Dion had mixed those Cosmos a lot stronger than any others she’d ever had, and she had a feeling he’d put something else in them, too. Something more potent than alcohol.
    Although if he were going to drug someone, he probably wouldn’t have chosen Annie. And anyway, why would he, when he could have any woman he wanted simply by crooking his finger?
    At any rate, the bar was closed, the door closed, and the windows dark, so it didn’t matter. As she rounded the nearest corner and headed down Steinway Street, a part of her—the small, cowardly part—wondered whether perhaps the matchmaking agency might be closed, too. That would be preferable, in a way. Part of her didn’t want to see Ross again. It would be awkward. She was pretty sure last night had included things that would embarrass her if she could remember them.
    If she’d thought there was a chance she might be able to get away with never seeing him again, she’d totally try. She hadn’t seen him in the two years she’d worked across the street from him, true, but now that they’d met—now that they’d done the horizontal mambo—she’d probably stumble over him every time she turned around. Every time she stuck her nose outside the door, there he’d be. Accidentally, of course. And it would probably be just at those times when she was either hung over, or sweaty from work, or running late, or when she had spilled lunch on her shirt or it had been a while since she’d washed her hair.
    No, much better just to get it done now, and then forget about it.
    With a little prayer— God, if you’re up there, please let me get through this with at least the shreds of my dignity intact —she pushed down the handle and leaned on the door.

Chapter Ten
     
    The door opened more easily than she’d expected and she practically fell into the room. The only thing that would have been worse was if Ross had been there to see her. Thankfully, he wasn’t. The reception area was full of people, but none of them was Ross.
    A huge desk took up space in the middle of the room, and the sleek Ariadne sat behind it. She was wearing deep brown today, a suit several shades darker than her hair, which was twisted into that elegant chignon at the back of her head. Up close, her face was even more beautiful than Annie had imagined.
    “Can I help you?” she said.
    Annie looked around. The