Julian kissed her lightly on the cheek.

After they both got in, and were buckled up, Grace looked sideways at him. "You know, it seems to me there are two things in New Orleans that you have yet to experience."

"Number one, I have yet to take you on a-"

"Would you stop!"

He cleared his throat. "Okay, what's your list?"

" Bourbon Street and modern music. One of which I can take care of right now." Grace switched on the radio.

She laughed as she recognized "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner. How apropos, given her passenger.

Julian listened, but didn't appear impressed.

Grace changed the station.

Julian frowned at her actions. "What did you do?"

"I changed to another station. All you have to do is press these buttons."

He toyed with it for several minutes until he found a station playing "Love Hurts" by Nazareth. "Your music is interesting."

"Does it make you miss your own?"

"Since most of the music I heard was pipers and drummers leading us into battle, no. I think I can appreciate this."

"Appreciate what?" she asked flippantly. "The music or the fact that love hurts?"

The humor fled his face. "Since I've never known love, I wouldn't know whether or not it hurts. But I can't imagine how being loved could possibly hurt as much as not."

Her chest tightened at his words.

"So," she asked, wanting to change the subject, "what do you plan to do as soon as you get home?"

"I don't know."

"You'll probably go kick Scipio's butt, right?"

He laughed at that. "I would like to." "Why? What did he ever do to you?" "He got in my way."

Okay, not what she expected to hear. "You don't like anyone to get in your way, do you?" "Do you?" She thought about it. "I guess not."

By the time they reached Bourbon Street, the Sunday afternoon crowd was swarming. Grace fanned her face as she fought the oppressive heat.

She looked up at Julian who even sweated attractively. His damp hair hung in becoming curls around his face, and with those sunglasses on… ooo, baby!

Of course, the look was helped by the white T-shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and his lean, flat six-pack of abs. As she trailed her gaze over the button-fly jeans, she wished she had opted for a baggier pair.

But then given his confident, seductive walk, she doubted if even baggy jeans could hide such raw, overt sexiness.

Julian paused as they passed by a strip club. To his credit, he didn't gape at the scantily clad women in the window, but Grace sensed his shock plainly enough.

Staring at Julian as if she'd like to devour him, the exotic dancer bit her full bottom lip, then ran her tongue around her lips suggestively as she groped at her breasts. She crooked her finger for him.

Julian turned away.

"Never seen anything like it, have you?" Grace asked, trying to mask her discomfort at the woman's actions and relief at Julian's reaction.

" Rome," he said plainly.

She laughed. "They weren't that decadent, were they?"

"You'd be amazed. At least no one's having an orgy on the…" He broke off as he walked past a couple making out on the corner. "Never mind."

Grace laughed.

"Ooo, baby," a prostitute called to Julian as they passed another club. "Come inside, and I'll do you for free."

He shook his head without breaking his stride.

Grace grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. "Were women like this before the curse?"

He nodded. "It's the reason Kyrian was my only friend. The men around me couldn't stand the attention I received, and women followed me everywhere I went, trying to shove their hands under my armor."

She thought about that for a minute. "And you're sure none of these women loved you?"

He looked at her drolly. "Love and lust are not the same thing. How can you love someone you don't know?"

"I guess you're right."

They headed down the street. "So, tell me about this friend of yours. Why didn't he mind the way women gawked at you?"

Julian flashed his dimples. "Kyrian was deeply in love with his wife, and couldn't have cared less about any other woman. He never saw me as competition."

"Did you ever meet his wife?"

He shook his head. "Even though we never discussed it, I think we both knew it would be a very bad idea."

Grace watched him as his face changed. He was remembering Kyrian, she was sure of it. "You're blaming yourself for what happened to him, aren't you?"

Julian clenched his teeth as he thought about what Kyrian must have felt when the Romans captured him. Considering how badly the Romans had wanted the two of them, there was no telling what else they'd done to Kyrian before they took his life.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I know it's my fault. Had I not angered Priapus, I would have been there to help Kyrian fight them."

And there was little doubt in his mind that half of Kyrian's fate had come from the fact that Kyrian had been foolish enough to befriend him.

Julian sighed. "What a waste of a brilliant life. Had he ever learned to master his recklessness, I know Kyrian would have made a fine ruler one day." He took her hand in his and gave a light squeeze.

They walked in silence while Grace tried to think of some way to cheer him.

As they passed Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo, Grace stopped, then dragged him inside.

She explained the origins of voodoo to him as they toured the miniature museum.

"Ooo," she said, picking up a male voodoo doll from a display. "Want to dress him up like Priapus and stick little pins in him?"

Julian laughed. "Want to pretend it's Rodney Carmichael?"

Grace suppressed a smile. "Now that would be unprofessional of me, wouldn't it? But it is tempting."

Grace set the doll down as her gaze fell to the glass display case that held assorted amulets and jewelry. In the middle of the case was a necklace of black, blue, and hunter green threads braided so intricately that it looked like a thin black wire.

"It brings good luck to the wearer," the saleswoman told her as she noticed her interest. "Would you like to see it?"

Grace nodded. "Does it work?"

"Oh, yes. The thread pattern is strong magic."

Grace didn't know if she believed that, but then, a week ago she would never have believed two drank women could conjure a Macedonian general to life, either.

She paid the woman for it, then turned to Julian.

"Lean down," she told him.

He looked skeptical.

"C'mon," she teased. "Humor me."

The saleswoman laughed at them as Grace fastened it around his neck. "That boy don't need no luck charm, chere, he be needing a spell to thwart the attention of those women staring at his rear while he's stooped over."

Grace looked past him to see the three women who were indeed ogling his butt. For the first time, she felt a vicious stab of jealousy.

The feeling evaporated as Julian kissed her cheek tenderly before straightening. His look devilish, he draped a possessive arm over her shoulders.

As they passed the women, Grace couldn't suppress her own mischievous impulse. She paused by the women. "By the way, he looks even better naked."

"You would certainly know, my sweet," Julian said as he put his sunglasses on, then draped his arm back over her shoulders.

Grace slid her hand around his waist and into his front pocket as he hugged her against his side.

"You know," Julian whispered to her. "If you want to move that hand a little lower in my pocket, I wouldn't mind a bit."

She squeezed him, but kept her hand where it was.

The women's envious stares followed them all the way down the street.

For dinner, Grace took him to Mike Anderson's Seafood to eat. She cringed as they brought out Julian's oysters and placed them on the table.