She couldn’t argue with any of them. Outside barely two minutes, and she had already started to sweat. On her homeworld, with its mild year-round climate and low humidity, she loved being outside, but that wasn’t the case here. By the time she walked the three blocks to work, she’d need another shower.
No other residents were out and about, which wasn’t surprising. Most of her construction worker neighbors had left hours before, heading first to Milton’s for breakfast or stopping by the new bakery for coffee and a donut before reporting for a grueling ten-hour day in the unrelenting midsummer heat. She’d treated several cases of dehydration and thermic exhaustion during her time here.
Flushed and shaking, the men would come staggering in, their overheated bodies unable to cool sufficiently. The more severe cases presented with confusion and disorientation, on the verge of what the humans called heat stroke, and they usually arrived in the arms of several of their coworkers.
A sudden tickle in her nose made Adria sniff. When that didn’t help, she wiggled and twitched her nose. After a moment, the tickle prompted a sneeze. It wasn’t delicate and feminine, and neither were the two following in quick succession. For some reason, they always seemed to come in threes.
Sniffling and rubbing her nose afterward reminded her of something else different here—allergies. She’d never gotten watery eyes or an itchy nose on Primaria. Eyeing the woods behind the few buildings lining the street, she suspected the culprit responsible for her symptoms resided there, in the thick overgrowth of vines, wild plants, and trees. Although she tried to avoid contact with all of them, it was impossible since it was often windy, sudden pollen-filled gusts not unheard-of day or night, and, in order to build the fledgling colony, they had cleared a section of the jungle and erected the town right in the middle of it.
It could be the dust created by the construction of dozens of buildings at once. The stuff settled over everything. The only respite from it was when it rained, which didn’t happen often in summer. But when it did, it wasn’t just a few sprinkles. It came down in a deluge and quickly changed the pervasive dust on the hardpacked, sunbaked ground to mud.
Adria sighed.
Compared to Ariad, the capital of Primaria, a perfect pristine city in her eyes—it was her home so naturally she was a bit biased—the new Earth colony had very few redeeming qualities. Strangely enough, despite the heat and her itchy nose, she liked it here. Her work at the clinic was a big reason why. It could also be that, for the first time in her life, she was truly—okay, mostly—independent.
Her freedom would end with her assignment here, however. That day would be bittersweet. With her coursework and clinical training complete, she’d be ready to take her examinations and become the first female physic in Primarian history, which was something she’d worked diligently for and was a long time in coming. It also meant going home to her own bed, being among friends and family who she missed dearly, and breathing easy again—literally.
On the downside, she’d return to Trask’s supervision. Not that she didn’t love her big brother. Older by ten annum, he had practically raised her after their parents died. She’d had a bad case of hero worship for him most of her life. That he was a good man, but also revered and respected as the top military mind in the Primarian Army—the supreme general by title—had a lot to do with it. Like most Primarian males, particularly of the warrior breed, he was protective, sometimes to the point of smothering. And being home again meant having a host of uncles and cousins—all male—who felt it was their duty to keep an eye on her since she didn’t have a mate. If that wasn’t enough, Trask’s warriors, each with an unshakeable sense of honor, were compelled to do the same. She compared it to having an entire regiment of adopted older brothers and her the only kid sister.
Little wonder she wasn’t mated.
But, no. She couldn’t fault Trask, his many warriors, or her male relatives for that; the reason went far deeper.
With her mind wandering, Adria didn’t notice the man standing in her path until the last moment. She skidded to a halt, coming close to slamming into him. He wasn’t alone—several men stood in a line in front of him. After a quick glance at her surroundings then turning and looking where she’d just come from, she realized she’d been so lost in thought, she’d missed the turnoff to the clinic.
Adria closed her eyes, irritated with herself. It was too hot to have to double back over silly daydreams, and she really regretted not putting her waist-length hair up before leaving the apartment. It was too long to wear down while she worked, for both professional and sanitary reasons. But wearing it up made her head ache and her scalp sore by the end of the day. She had hoped to put that off until she arrived at work, which, in retrospect, hadn’t been a smart idea.
After gathering the heavy mass in a fist high on her head, she had to peel several clingy tendrils from her damp neck. At a sudden flash of pink light, she looked up. The second sun was peeking over the tall barrier of trees at the end of the street. With them both beating down, she could see heat waves bending the light, and it wasn’t yet eight o’clock.
“It’s gonna be another scorcher,” the man in front of her observed, seeming as thrilled about it as she did.
“Excuse me, sir,” she asked. “Why are you in line?”
“Coffee,” he answered, the word sounding mostly like a grunt.
“And Jerry better open up soon,” the impatient man ahead of him put in. “This hot and this early, the natives are bound to get restless.”
Adria couldn’t fathom how they drank the stuff in this heat, but humans were in love with the pungent brew. Why confounded her. She had tried it shortly after her arrival when her human coworkers raved about it. Even adding a heaping spoonful of sweetener and a large dose of cream—the fake stuff because that was all they had —didn’t make the bitter coffee palatable.
Cheers mixed equally with complaints greeted the man who unlocked the door and held it wide for his eager customers to enter.
“Oversleep again, bud?” one of the patrons inquired.
“We’re going to be late, again, Jerry,” groused another. “You need a new alarm clock.”
“Or a wife to shove your lazy ass out of bed,” someone else commented, changing the grumbles to laughter.
With almost an hour before the clinic opened and looking for a reprieve from the heat before she retraced her path, Adria followed them into the air-conditioned bakery.
The place was popular, and little wonder. The smell of fresh-baked cookies, pies, and bread had her mouthwatering as soon as she stepped through the door. The staff—only two Adria could see—hurried to fill orders. She didn’t mind waiting because the cool air felt wondrous against her damp skin. It also gave her a chance to peruse the offerings inside the display case.
She’d been here once before. With so much to choose from, she’d had a hard time making a selection. The same held true this morning. As she debated between an iced pastry and one topped with nuts in a sticky syrup, the hairs on her arms suddenly stood on end.
A quick glance around the shop filled with construction workers showed nothing amiss. Just as she resumed her debate of sweet versus sweeter, the bell over the door jingled. When she turned toward the new arrival, her gaze collided with the arresting pale-blue eyes of the man behind her in line.
She hadn’t noticed Beckett Kincaid’s presence, and now, she couldn’t figure out how she’d missed him. The sun shining through the glass door glinted off his light-brown hair, making it appear streaked with gold. It also outlined his big, muscular body. He towered over the other men by several inches and was an imposing figure in his snug-fitting T-shirt and the same type of trousers—made of a heavy material they called denim—as the other men wore. Although, none of them filled theirs out the way Beck did.
A single glance at his handsome face, brawny arms, lean hips, and long muscular legs was all it took to make her heart beat erratically.
Unfortunately, the last time
they’d spoken hadn’t gone well. As the lone female in a traditionally male profession, she strived to keep her emotions in check. The only time she really let go was with her family or close friends she could trust. When Mr. Kincaid appeared in the clinic, carrying a sick employee in his arms, she’d let her control slip in a show of temper. Her out-of-character reaction in front of a complete stranger was embarrassing, but allowing her personal feelings to interfere with the care she provided a patient had been completely unacceptable.
That the sick employee was her brother’s human mate, who had left him most cruelly to return to her homeworld, shouldn’t have factored. Except it had and she’d let the scene turn ugly. Lana’s boss had been shocked, then outraged, and was well within his right to insist on a different attendant, which he did. She’d apologized, but his first impression of her couldn’t have been good.
Beckett Kincaid sat on the joint leadership council. Consisting of six members—two other respected men from the budding community and three of her own people, Trask and two of the elders—the council was the only authority they had until a contingent of military arrived from Earth, a police force was in place, and elections were held by the colonists, which could be a while. This made the city planner and sole construction contractor for the new colony an influential man. She should try to smooth things over with him, perhaps explain. As protective as Trask was of her—her feelings for him were equally so, and Lana had hurt him, badly.
Surely, he would understand.
“What can I get you, miss?”
Adria faced the man behind the counter, at a loss because she’d failed to make up her mind.
“I thought perhaps a cinnamon roll,” she said, tapping her lips with a forefinger. “But the sticky bun looks tasty, too. What do you recommend?”
“Why not get both?”
The question came from directly behind her.
Another heart-stirring feature of the big, sandy-haired human, his sultry baritone. Low and smooth, it slid over her skin like a decadent fabric.
Glancing over her shoulder, she angled her face up to his, a considerable distance above her own. Not for the first time, she marveled over how very tall he was for a human. “I’m afraid one is too much, Mr. Kincaid. Both would be my allotment of sugar for an entire week.”
His lips curved into a smile as his eyes skimmed over her. “Sugar doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.”
At the compliment, her cheeks burned, and she averted her gaze. Maybe things wouldn’t be as strained between them as she’d expected.
“I’ll indulge every now and then but try not to make a habit of it. The studies we’ve seen from your world show the health problems your refined sugars can cause in humans. We don’t have enough data to know the effects on Primarian physiology, and I’m not willing to risk it.”
“Spoken like a true physic-in-training.”
Since that was what she was, she didn’t know how to reply.
“If you must choose, go with the cinnamon roll. They are my favorite.” He leaned close, lowering his voice as though imparting a secret. “It’s all about the icing.”
His stunning blue eyes twinkled, and the little fanning out toward his temples crinkled. Captivated by the handsome human, she silently nodded, her tongue forgetting how to work.
The crinkles deepened as he smiled, saying without taking his eyes from her, “Make it two Cinnabon’s and two coffees, Jerry.”
“Coming right up, Beck.”
Hearing the abbreviated version of his name snapped her out of her infatuated trance. She hurriedly told the bakery owner, “No coffee for me, thank you. I’ll take water. Unless you have milk?”
The older man shook his head. “Our supply delivery is still two days away. Powdered is all we’ve got, I’m afraid.”
Adria wrinkled her nose. The dehydrated stuff tasted awful and had a distinct bluish tint. “Just water for me, thank you.”
“Water with Cinnabon,” his deep voice intoned near her ear. “There’s something fundamentally wrong in that.”
Her attention slowly shifted to him. “Excuse me?”
He grinned. “I’m joking. Although, no human of my acquaintance would pass up a cup of Joe with a cinnamon roll, especially at 8:00 a.m.”
“Six credits for both,” Jerry told him.
Beck didn’t hesitate in putting his thumb on the scanner.
“Oh no.” She reached her hand out in protest. “I have an account.”
“It’s my treat today. You can get it next time.” He picked up the tray and nodded toward the crowded dining room. “If we hurry, we can get the last table by the window.”
He didn’t invite her to join him, just headed that way with her food and drink.
Adria followed him over, unsure what was going on. “That was generous, Mr. Kincaid, but unnecessary. I’m in training but am compensated, and Trask set me up with enough credits to keep me in cinnamon rolls for an annum.”
Already seated, he looked up at her, a smile playing around his lips though, as far as she knew, she hadn’t said anything funny. “Call me Beck, darlin’.”
Using his foot, he slid out the chair opposite him. He didn’t say more, instead, he busied himself by pouring the powdery cream substitute into his cup.
She watched as his long fingers stirred with the little plastic stick, the fake cream turning the brew from a dark brown to a light tan, almost identical to his skin.
“Aren’t you going to join me?”
Her gaze shifted to his face. “Why?” she blurted out, noting the crinkles were still there. “I didn’t think you liked me.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and admitted, “I didn’t, at first. After Lana explained your remark, I changed my mind.”
She’d been quite vocal during their first meeting. None of her comments were directed at him, however. Puzzled, she tried to recall which remark might have offended him.
“I believe you mentioned something about not liking our kind.”
“What?” she shrieked in alarm, drawing the attention of several patrons nearby.
Quickly, so as not to make more of a scene, she sat in the vacant chair and leaned toward him. “I’m no purist,” she declared in an urgent whisper. “I’ve welcomed humans into our lives. It was only Lana I had a problem with.”
“So she said. You were pissed at her for leaving your brother.”
She sat back. “Pissed? I don’t—”
“Angry.”
“Oh, yes, well... She left Trask abruptly without any explanation, not giving him so much as a goodbye.” She looked down at her hands, one clasped tightly around the other. “I didn’t get one either.”
“Which hurt you, too,” he observed.
Peeking up at him, she noticed his amusement had faded and the crinkles by his eyes had smoothed out.
“Yes,” she admitted, although hurt was an understatement. When she heard Lana had left on the ship to return to Earth, she’d been shocked at first then enraged on her brother’s behalf, and because she had come to care for Lana, she felt betrayed, too. “I thought we were friends, and could eventually be like sisters. It doesn’t excuse my behavior. She was a patient and needed me to act like a professional. Looking back, I’m appalled.”
“We all have our moments, especially when feelings run deep.” His words were laced with understanding, and, from his earnest tone, he truly seemed to. “Think nothing of it.”
Relieved, she smiled and reached for her cup and plate. “He’s taken her home now, determined to get them on the right path again as mates.” Adria took a sip of her water then spread her cloth napkin in her lap. Once done, she glanced up at Beck. “You two are close. Did she happen to say why she left? Trask still doesn’t know.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Some of it, but not all. That girl is as close-mouthed as a snapping turtle. I think there’s more to this than you and I will ever know. Certainly, more than she’s willing to admit, at least for now. But if I did k
now, that would be her story to tell, not mine.”
Snapping turtle—yet another of his references that flew right over her head. She guessed he referred to Lana’s stubbornness. Strangely ill before she’d left Primaria, her brother’s mate had been under her care, so she knew firsthand how obstinate she could be. That Beck would keep a friend’s confidence made her esteem for him inch higher than it already was.
At a stopping point in the conversation, she raised the sticky, fragrant sweet roll to her lips and took a small bite. The mixture of exotic flavors—yeasty bread swirled through with cinnamon and creamy icing—exploded on her tongue. Nothing like this existed at home. She closed her eyes as pleasure swept through her, and a little sigh slipped out.
As though it could contain other embarrassing sounds, Adria’s free hand flew to cover her mouth, and she peeked up at him, disconcerted by her lack of manners.
From the smile lighting his face, Beck hadn’t taken offense. In fact, he surprised her by winking. “Was I wrong? Isn’t it all about the icing?”
Before she could comment, he took a bite of his sweet roll—one at least twice the size of hers. His response was very much like her own. He closed his eyes, his gold-tipped lashes lying like a fan against his cheeks, and he groaned. The deep rumbling sound made her skin tingle as well as other places that really shouldn’t, especially in public.
Like her, when he became aware of his noises, his blue eyes popped open and homed in on her. He seemed surprised rather than mortified, however.
“Eat up,” he ordered, with a nod at her plate. His tone had changed, growing huskier than usual, and he sat up straighter—appearing tense. He didn’t meet her gaze again until they left the bakery, too focused on shoving the other half of his cinnamon roll into his mouth.
Beck insisted on walking her to work. It was a short distance, and they chatted easily, moans and groans over pastries deliberately forgotten.
At the clinic, he waited until she was inside before he left to go about his day.
Adria paused to watch him through the big plate glass window in the lobby. There was an air of confidence about him, and though she hadn’t detected conceit, he moved with a graceful swagger through the town he had designed and his men had constructed. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the powerful set of his shoulders and the way his broad back tapered to a lean waist, and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, at how nicely he filled out his trousers.
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