"Depends. Can you walk three blocks in those shoes or would you rather drive it?"

"I can walk three miles in heels. I'm a professional female."

"Can't argue with that. And because I can't, I'd like to do what I've been thinking about doing since I landed on top of you."

He moved in. That's what Malory would think later, when her brain started to function normally again. He simply moved into her, ran his hands up the sides of her body, over her shoulders, along her throat, then cupped her face in them.

It was all very slow, all very smooth. Then his mouth was on hers, taking its own sweet time. Somehow she was backed against the counter, pressed snugly between it and his body. Somehow her hands were gripping his hips, her fingers digging in.

And somehow she was sliding into the kiss without a single murmur of protest.

His fingers threaded back into her hair, and he nipped, not so playfully, at her bottom lip. When her breath caught, the tone of the kiss changed from flirty warmth to flashing heat.

"Whoa. Wait." She managed to catch the fading echo of warning bells ringing in her head, but her body stayed plastered against his.

"Okay. In a minute."

He needed another minute of her, of the taste of her, and the feel of her. There was more here than he'd expected, and he'd expected quite a punch.

There was something erotically sharp about the flavor of her, as if her mouth was a rare delicacy that he'd only just been allowed to sample. And something so soft about her texture, all those clouds of gilded hair, all those lovely curves and dips.

He gave her lips one last rub with his, then eased back.

She stared at him, those blue eyes he'd decided were irresistible, now wide and wary.

"Maybe…" She hoped the long, slow breath would level her voice again. "Maybe we should just start walking now."

"Sure." He offered a hand, and found himself flattered when she not only evaded it, but skirted around him to get her purse. "I figured if I kissed you now, I wouldn't be thinking about it all during dinner and lose track of the conversation."

He went to the door, opened it for her. "The trouble is, now that I have kissed you, I'm probably going to be thinking about kissing you again all during dinner and lose track of the conversation. So if you notice that my mind wanders, you'll know where and why."

"You think I don't know why you just said that." She walked out into the shimmering evening light with him. "By saying that, you'll plant the seed in my head so I'll be thinking about you kissing me all through dinner. Or that's the plan."

"Damn, you're good. If you're quick enough to unravel the dastardly plots of men regarding sex, the puzzle of the key ought to be child's play to you."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But the simple fact is I've had more experience with the dastardly plots of men regarding sex than I have with puzzles regarding goddesses and mythological spells."

"I don't know why"—he caught her hand in his, grinned at the sidelong look she sent him—"but I find that very exciting. If I ply you with wine at dinner, will you tell me about those experiences? There may be some plots I've missed along the way."

"You're going to buy me a martini, then we'll see." He'd chosen one of the town's prettiest restaurants and had arranged for a table on the back terrace with a view of the mountains.

By the time she was sipping her martini, she was relaxed again. "I'd like to discuss the key. If I find your attention wandering, I'll kick you under the table."

"So noted. I'd just like to say one thing first."

"Go ahead."

He leaned toward her, breathed deep. "You smell terrific."

She leaned toward him. "I know. Now, would you like to know what I did today?" She waited a beat, then kicked him lightly on the ankle.

"What? Yes. Sorry."

She lifted her glass for another sip to hide her amusement. "First I went to see Zoe."

She relayed the gist of their conversation, pausing when the first course was served.

"The little yellow house." Flynn nodded as he brought the look of it into his mind. "Used to be dog-shit brown. She's really fixed it up. I've seen the kid in the yard, now that I think about it."

"Simon. He looks just like her. It's almost spooky."

"Now that you mention it, I would've put that together when I met her if I'd been able to take my eyes off you for two minutes."

Her lips twitched, and damn it, she was flattered. "You've very good at that—both timing and delivery."

"Yeah, it's a gift."

"Then I went to see Dana at her apartment. She was buried in books and brooding."

“Two of her best things."

"She hasn't been able to track down a version of the

Daughters of Glass story yet, but she's working on it. Then I got this idea. Goddesses equal worship. All the reading I've been doing indicates that a lot of churches were built on pagan worship sites. Most Christian holy days coincide with the early pagan holy days, which were based on seasons, agriculture, that sort of thing. So I went to church. In fact I went to every church and temple in a twenty-mile radius."

"That's an interesting connection. Good, clear thinking."

"That's one of my major skills. I kept going over and over the clue. Look within, look without, singing goddess, and so on. So I went looking. Didn't expect to walk in and see the key waiting for me on a pew. But I thought maybe I'd see the symbol of it, you know? Something worked into a stained-glass window or a molding. But I didn't."

"It was still a good idea."

"A better one might be to go back to that house and talk to Rowena and Pitte again."

"Maybe. Want to know what I found out?"

"I do."

He waited while their entrees were served, then studied her fish and his steak. "How do you feel about surf and turf?"

"Amenable." They cut off portions, passed them.

"You know, this could develop into a serious deal. You and me? A lot of people are fussy about sharing food. I never get that." He sampled the steak. "I mean, it's food. You're supposed to eat it. What's the difference if it was on somebody else's plate first?"

"That's an interesting element to factor into a potential relationship. Now, what did you find out?"

"I talked to my grandmother about the story. There were some details I didn't remember clearly. First, there was dissension in the ranks over the god-king making a mortal his queen. It was okay to fool around with mortals, but he brought her behind the Curtain of Power—or the Curtain of Dreams. It's called both. And he took her as his wife. Because of this, some of the gods set themselves apart from the young king and his mortal wife, established their own rule."

"Politics."

"Can't get away from it. Naturally, this didn't sit too well with the king. There are other stories, full of war and intrigue and heroics, and that brings us to the daughters. Beloved by their parents, and by those loyal to the king and his wife. Each had beauty, as you'd expect, and each had power—a talent. One was an artist, one a bard, and one a warrior. Devoted to each other, they grew up in the kingdom, taught by a young goddess of magic, guarded by the king's most trusted warrior god. Either the teacher or the guard was to be with them at all times, to keep them safe from the plots surrounding them."

"In the painting there were two figures, a man and a woman, in the background. They seemed to be in an embrace."

Flynn gestured with his fork, then speared more steak. "That fits with what's coming. The king's advisers were campaigning to have the daughters marry three gods of rank from the opposing faction. To unite the kingdom again. But the self-proclaimed king of the opposing faction didn't like the idea of giving up his throne. Power had corrupted him, and his thirst for more, for complete dominance of this, let's say, netherworld, and the mortal one, consumed him. He wanted to kill the daughters, but he knew that if he did, all but his most devoted followers would turn against him. So he devised a plot, and the two who were closest to the daughters aided him, by falling in love."

"They betrayed the daughters?"

"Not purposely." He tipped more wine into their glasses. "By distraction. By looking at each other rather than looking after their charges. And as the daughters were young women, fond of their keepers, they made it easy for the lovers to slip away from time to time. And one day when they were unprotected, the spell was cast."

"Their souls were stolen."

"It's more than that. Are you going to eat the rest of that steak?"

"Hmm." She glanced down at her plate. "No. Do you want it?"

"For Moe. I go back empty-handed, he'll sulk." He asked the waiter to box up the leftovers, then smiled at Malory. "Dessert?"

"No, just coffee. Tell me the rest."

“Two coffees, a crиme brulee, and two spoons. You'll never hold out against the crиme brulee," he said to Malory, then leaned forward to finish the tale. "The bad king's a clever guy, and a sorcerer. He doesn't take heat for slaying innocents, and he turns the good king's choices and policy against him. If a mortal is fit to be queen, if three half-mortals are worthy of rank, then let the mortals prove it. Only mortals can break the spell. Until that's done, the daughters will sleep—unharmed. If mortal women, one to represent each daughter, can find each of the three keys, then the Box of Souls will be unlocked, the daughters' souls restored, and the kingdoms united."

"And if they fail?"