Sons of Zeus: Risky Business Read online

  RISKY BUSINESS

  By

  Amanda McIntyre

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  RISKY BUSINESS, Sons of Zeus

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Amanda McIntyre

  ISBN: 1-59836-036-1

  Cover art and design (c) 2005 by DL Taylor

  Cover Model: Brooks Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  For information, you can find us on the web at

  www.VenusPress.com

  When I first began researching the mythological story of Eros and Psyche, their story struck me as that of star-crossed lovers, wondering if true love would ever be able to overcome the many obstacles facing them. Their story is the epitome of the true hero and heroine, proving that with tenacity and belief that love can conquer all, even a powerful and jealous goddess.

  Chapter One

  Erostatle Windgate. The embossed, gold lettering on his leather, black address book made his mouth twitch in a wry grin. There was little the gods had not freely showered on him; wealth, stature, and an incredible job. And charm? He was oozing with it. That and his impeccable good looks were two of the many reasons he was in the position he was in.

  Eros, as he was called by most, thumbed through the worn pages, perusing the names—all female—with home phone numbers, email, and cell phone numbers. Notations of work schedules, lunch breaks, and spouse's business trips accompanied some of them. Tall, skinny, voluptuous, short, well-endowed, svelte—it mattered little to Eros as long as she was willing and ready. His pleasure came in the screams and sighs of his female entourage, his faithful few.

  He glanced at the dank, rainy afternoon, before his gaze rested on one name in particular. As though choosing a fine wine for dinner, Eros settled in his high back chair and picked up his phone, propping his feet on his massive, cherry wood desk. Veronica was the perfect choice for a cozy dine-in evening. She liked picnics in front of the fireplace, good wine, a game of strip poker, and then whatever followed. She almost always lost. Eros smiled, wondering if either of them could really consider the outcome as a loss. The weather was despicable. Cold and sputtering, the kind of damp misty rain that soaked into your bones. But it was nothing that a cozy fire, a fur rug, a snifter of brandy, and Veronica's creamy thighs couldn’t handle.

  He often enjoyed a quiet evening at home, partaking in the traditional amenities of lovemaking. His arousal was enticed more often by his imagination, however, he was the president of one of the hottest adult toy industries in the northern continent, if not on a global scale. He was, what his mother labeled, an explorer and that too, was another reason he did so well in this business.

  His mother, Aphrodite, owned Aphrodite's Pleasures, but it was Eros that had made it the success that it was.

  "Ronnie, it's me. Have you been stuck in that dreary cubicle all day?" He waited patiently as she filled his ears with the trials of her day. He learned early on that most women just wanted a shoulder to lay their weary head on and he was more than willing to oblige.

  "You poor thing," he cooed into the phone, swinging his chair so he could reach his fireplace remote. "Why don't I fix us a little bite here at my place? You come on up after work and I'll have the Jacuzzi ready. Then you can tell me all about your horrid day." He pointed the remote toward the massive stone fireplace at the end of the great room. A bright light illuminated the room as the flames leapt over three feet high licking precariously at the cold stone.

  Eros smiled a lazy smile, satisfaction caressing his libido. Maybe he'd show her the new line of body icing tonight. Veronica was without question, the ultimate in after dinner dessert.

  "You don’t worry about a thing; I'll have everything you need right here. Even your favorite robe." He grinned hearing her delicious sigh, imagining her dark hair swirled into a clip as she slipped into the frothy bubbles. Even more delicious was removing that clip and watching her ebony tresses tumble over her naked shoulders. "Yep, the white one. You've barely worn it since I gave it to you. I should probably be insulted." Eros teased. "Can I help it? I'll try to restrain myself thorough dinner, my little goddess, but you do whet a man's appetite." He made a satisfied sound in his throat, enough to solicit a similar response from Veronica.

  Oh yeah, they were definitely on the same page.

  "About 6:00 then?" Eros murmured into the receiver, lowering his voice an octave on purpose. He knew how it would affect her. He'd perfected the tone so that it worked as foreplay with Veronica.

  Naturally, she all but purred into the phone. He stroked his rugged chin, kept satiny smooth by his daily facial treatments.

  The light on his phone flickered red, signaling that the call coming in was not just any call, it was coming down from the top floor. An office that did not like to be kept waiting.

  "Ronnie, see you later, I need to go."

  He grinned as he silenced her kissing noises with a sigh and punched the flashing red button with a hint of annoyance. This had better be good; he was on the verge of some decent phone sex.

  "Erostatle?"

  The prime voice laced with staunch don't-mess-with-me authority spoke in an even tone.

  "Good evening, mother. How are things in the clouds?" Eros propped his feet once more on the desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he tugged at the crease in his pinstripe pants.

  "We have a problem

  Problems were, as he could readily attest a part of any business. He preferred to look at them as glitches. "What is the problem? Are the mail girls causing problems with the copy boys again?" He chuckled under his breath. Lucky was any brave bastard who could handle one of the postal babes. They could be very creative in showing the effectiveness of proper licking technique.

  "Nothing so menial, Eros. I'm afraid this is much more serious."

  Eros straightened, dropping his feet to the floor, half-listening, as he made a mental checklist of his pasta primavera ingredients. "There's nothing that I can't fix. What's up? Dad's alimony stop again? Oops, we don't really have an idea who 'daddy' is, do we?" It used to bother him when he was very young. But it didn’t take long for him to learn how to use it to his advantage. Particularly when playing the "I've always been alone" card with women. Damn, they gobbled it up and most always made sure that he didn't 'feel' alone—at least for that night.

  "Must we dredge up that topic again?" Her tone was flat, businesslike. Pretty much the same as she was on every level. God help the man who tried to please his mother. Eros shuddered, sympathetic to whoever his real dad was. It was no great secret that the relationship between mother and son did not carry a lot of affection. It was more of a business arrangement, based on fact and market quotes.

  "By the way, how are the tests for the body icing coming? The holidays are coming up and we got to strike while the iron’s hot."

  Eros grinned, checking his fingernails with a bored glance. "Tests are going fine. I should be able to give you a full and complete report tomorrow."

  "Good. Now, I need you to check into so
mething else."

  "Anything for you, sweetheart. What's got your panties in a twist?"

  "Her name is Psychedelic Rainbo."

  Eros brow twitched, furrowing to a frown. His mother was many things, but to his knowledge she'd never mentioned a female lover. "Sounds like a throwback to the sixties. There was something to be said for love-ins, you know." Now she had his interest. "Who is she?"

  "Only our greatest competition. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her."

  "Our competition?" Eros held out the receiver with a questioning look. Placing it up to his ear he proceeded, albeit with caution. "What do you mean our competition?"

  "She's out to get us Eros. That woman and her books and half-assed theories about love—"

  There was a deep sigh in the receiver. His mother was truly in a state of panic. Oddly that came more often when she dealt with his grandfather Zeus.

  "You have to find out who she is, how she ticks. You're good at that."

  "It doesn't sound like she and I run in the same circles."

  "Don't get smart with me, young man."

  Eros sighed. What did this woman want? She relied on his snappy repartee in everything else. How could he be anything but his true self? Unless it was for purpose of role-play, of course.

  "You're going to have to infiltrate."

  Eros quirked a brow. Tempting as the term implied, he couldn’t help but tease his overly concerned mother. "I love it when you get all James Bond on me, mother." Eros stood and slipped his hand in his suit pocket. He withdrew a diamond-encrusted pair of handcuffs he'd had made especially for Veronica. Holding them up against the firelight's glow, they glittered like fairy dust. "Is she a kinky kind of girl, this Psychedelic woman?" His thoughts strayed to Veronica, wondering if he should call her back and remind her to wear those fantastic thigh high suede boots of hers. His penis quivered just thinking about it. Veronica was what Eros labeled purely experimental, just enough 'kink' to get his motor started.

  "Doubtful, my pet. Her philosophy, which seems to be creating quite a following, is absolutely archaic. She is into promoting romance, of all things. My god, if that isn't retro, I don't know what is. Still, her blasted book on the subject has moved up to the best-seller list in less than a week and her fan base keeps growing. She perpetuates healthy relationships, commitment, even love at first sight. Can you believe it?"

  Eros brows quirked. "She sounds positively horrid."

  "She's dangerous."

  Eros grinned knowing his mother often times stewed irrationally over even the slightest knock on her corporate success. "Mother, dangerous can be defined on many levels. Some of them we even promote. But, Ms. Rainbo hardly sounds 'dangerous'." Eros smiled as he tossed the cuffs on his desk and turned to gaze out over the darkening city skyline. Below, the streetlights began to flicker, causing the rain-dampened streets to reflect their luminescence.

  "She sounds old-fashioned and likely very lonely. It's those, in particular, that tout the importance of romance. That study was done years ago, if you recall."

  He placed his palm flat against the glass, watching as steam enveloped the space between his fingers. The window, cool and smooth to the touch helped to keep things in perspective, balanced.

  "That may be, but this new book of hers is creating a resurgence of these idiotic notions."

  "Where can I get a copy of this alleged literary wonder?" Eros removed his hand, staring at the condensation of his handprint left behind. Outside, rain tapped against the glass in syncopated rhythm.

  "I can send a mail girl to pick up a copy for you and bring it by tonight."

  As tempting as that sounded, he wasn't interested this evening in a ménage a trois.

  "I'll go out tomorrow and see if I can pick up a copy. Maybe scope out how well it's doing. Meantime, I'm due to oversee that experiment on body icing in an hour, must run."

  "Let me know what Veronica thinks, darling…and thank you."

  Eros grinned. His mother knew him so well.

  * * *

  Psyche wasn't used to this much publicity. In fact, she wasn't even sure she liked it all that much. The non-stop book tour had taken her to fifty cities in the span of three months. A string of sputtering neon motel lights and a blur of faces in the crowds that jammed the conferences where she spoke. Everyone it seemed wanted to know the magical formula for romance. It had drained her physically and emotionally, but she journeyed on, because this was her true passion. She did believe that there was a special someone for everyone out there and given enough time and patience, every goddess would indeed, find her god—as it were.

  The proverbial light bulb had gone on in the head of this attractive, single female. Though she'd had no proposals in her lifetime thus far (she was quick to add) she'd watched the dynamics of her sisters carefully, studying their interactions with the male populace.

  Though younger than she, they had managed to settle down with their Mr. Rights, cranking out children, one after another in rapid succession. It made her parents delirious with joy, while turning up the heat of impatience with her. Sunday afternoons in particular is when they cornered Psyche. At the weekly family gathering at her parents home.

  "I met a nice man at the market today, Psyche."

  Psyche stopped reading the recipe for Ambrosia rice and glanced up at her mother. She was beautiful, in an average way. Fine features, a pert nose, her hair, once golden, now streaked elegantly with silver. She’d married young, unlike Psyche, as she'd been reminded more than once.

  "Really?" She mumbled, masking the concern that her mother had gone and done something wicked like giving him Psyche's phone number.

  "He's the new assistant manager. Quite the catch, so I've heard."

  "And what circles would that be in, mother?" Psyche mixed the ingredients of her salad, trying to stay under her mother's radar. She tossed her a giddy smile just to lighten things up.

  Her mother was not in the mood for light banter—apparently.

  "It wouldn't kill you to just stop by and see for yourself. Psyche you are not getting any younger."

  Psyche noticed. Her biological clock fairly resonated like Big Ben inside her. Maybe her mother was right. What if true love never happened for her? Hell, what if a torrid affair never happened. Maybe…maybe she should consider seducing this studly assistant grocer. Just grab his arm and haul him behind a crate of fresh produce—

  "You're mind is wandering again."

  Her mother's droll voice obliterated the thoughts she was having with Mr. Produce.

  "Is not."

  "That's why you put pepper in the fruit salad?" She pointed her ladle toward Psyches bowl. Sure enough the cracked pepper mill laid culprit in her hand.

  "I think you need to get out more."

  Psyche turned her attention toward the sing-song voice of her older sister. Bright and cheery, the most popular girl at Venus High School, she'd dated every guy on the football team and married the quarterback of the college team. Psyche figured that her sister had, by now, a book of positions that would rival the Kamasutra.

  "You need to hit some dance clubs. I mean, you stay at home all the time writing those books of yours." She popped a grape in her mouth, stolen from the salad bowl.

  "Uh, I—" Psyche held up the pepper mill, but it was too late. She watched as her sister's face melted into a ghastly Dorian Grey rendition of her usual beautiful self.

  "What the heck is that?"

  "Your sister's been daydreaming again," her mother interjected.

  "See...I told you." She swallowed the grape with a distasteful look puckering her pretty glossed mouth. "It's those books."

  "Writing is my career, remember?" Psyche gently reminded the two women, glancing first at one and then the other.

  "There is more to life than a career, big sister." She wiggled a carrot stick in front of her nose.

  "I'm not into meeting guys at bars."

  "Don't tell Alicia." Her sister grinned, snapping the carrot between
her perfect white teeth.

  Psyche occasionally let it slip her mind that her baby sister met her perfect match in a nightclub. Roberto was a dancer there. His feet had little to do with his talent. "Thanks and I would appreciate you not mentioning that I said anything."

  Psyche picked up her glass of wine and took a healthy swig. Normally these family gatherings were fairly benign. On rare occasions, however, when the discussion turned to love, or the lack thereof in her case, the easy family feel made an exit, stage left.

  "I'm sorry, I just don’t get it. You obviously got all the looks in the family. Why don't you have a guy?" Her sister poked through the salad, inspecting the grape for pepper first before popping it in her mouth.

  Psyche turned to the kitchen window. Hadn't the same question popped into her head more than a million times? Not that she thought herself a raving beauty in comparison to her sisters. But she'd received all the same genetic blessings of her siblings. Yet they were happily swimming in their wedded bliss, while she kept her cat at her feet for warmth.

  Alicia sauntered into the room, her shoulder length blonde hair in disarray. Her petite figure screamed sex with her low hugging jeans and skimpy tank top. The grin on her face was unmistakable.

  "Sorry we're late." She kissed each of her sister's and their mother on the cheek with the innocence of an angel. Psyche glanced at Morganna, who cocked her brow in response.

  "That's okay. Dad hasn't thrown the steaks on the grill yet." Psyche leaned against the counter; grateful the interest buzzing in the air was no longer directed at her, but at Alicia. Her sister leaned over the kitchen counter and helped herself to the relish tray.

  "Roberto and I had a last minute errand." She grinned, glancing at her handsome husband as he entered the kitchen. He dutifully kissed his mother-in-law on the cheek, and sauntered over to his wife, giving her butt a playful squeeze before he propped his elbows on the counter next to her.

  There was no mistaking the look of utter joy and contentment on their faces. Nor was there any doubt that their 'errand' had happened recently. They were young and in love. Psyche smiled. She wouldn’t want it to be any different for either of her sisters. She just wanted some of that for herself.