"Asha? That’s nuts. She’s just a kid."
"So, not seeing her?"
"No."
"Oh, good."
"Blast it, Ryelle, you are not in love with me."
She opened her mouth to contradict him, but Pete interrupted her. "Ah, Mem? Could you stop doing that? You’re freakin’ out the miners."
"What are you doing?" Declan asked with uncalled-for suspicion. Then he repeated the question to Pete without waiting for her answer.
"She sorta took over the whole mining operation," Pete said with a little grimace of apology at Ryelle, tugging industriously on an earlobe.
"I don’t know what they have to freak out about," she said in a disgruntled mutter. "I’m doing their job for them."
"Why are you doing their job for them?"
"Just working off nervous energy. It’s not every day I tell the man I—"
"Don’t say it."
"Fine."
Pete approached with a hesitant smile. "You want a seat, Mem? Figure you gotta be a little tired by now…"
"Thank you, Pete, but I’ll stand. How’s the unit speed?"
"Good. Nice and steady. Course, they’ll be surprised to get so much of it…" he added with a sidelong glance at her, his wide mouth twitching.
"Are you picking on me?"
"Wouldn’t dream of it, Mem."
"Um-hmm. So what happened to the ball game?"
"They’ve been watching you instead. You’re kinda, y’know, entertaining."
"I’ll bet you say that to all the girls," she said dryly, grinning when he snickered.
Declan sighed in her ear, sending chills down her spine. "Ryelle," he said in a warning tone.
"Your boss doesn’t want me charming and seducing you, Pete."
"I’m devastated, Mem. Maybe you could just flirt with me a little."
"No goddamned flirting," Declan growled in her ear.
Ryelle’s grin widened and she slipped her arm through Pete’s with a lascivious wink. "You’re on, handsome."
"Ryelle, I’m going to beat you. And then I’m going to fire Pete."
Pete, who hadn’t heard his boss, said, "If you wanna say that a few hundred more times, I won’t stop you."
"And now I’m going to beat him, too," Declan snarled.
"I’d love to, Pete, but I have to be honest. I’m only doing this to make your boss jealous."
Declan sputtered, while Pete gave her a sunny smile and said, "Works for me."
"Ryelle, get your ass in my office right now."
Ryelle chuckled and gave Pete a peck on the cheek. "I think it worked. Thank you, sweetie."
"Anytime," Pete said with a dopy grin as she headed for the door.
"Sweetie?" Declan asked in a low, outraged voice.
Ryelle smiled to herself and said nothing. When she stepped through his office door, she stopped short and stared. He was cleaning. Or at least, piling the clutter. There was now a straight path to his desk and a narrow open area near the door, enough for her to pace without crowding him.
"Wow," she said mildly.
He threw her a black look and tossed something metal in a corner. It crashed alarmingly.
Ryelle winced. "Did you want that broken? ‘Cause—"
"Not another word," he snarled, moving at a dangerous prowl to his desk. "Fleet responded. Vanguard will be here in about four days."
"Well, I expect the GenTec to mobilize before then, but that’s all right. Better late than never."
He frowned at her, thumb tapping on the side of his desk. "You still want to be bait?"
"That’s the plan."
"I think we should wait for the Fleet."
She tried out her new pacing range and smiled her approval, though she was careful not look at him when she did. "Why? We have a good guess of what they want and I’m here to test it out. Waiting for the Fleet is as useless as me flattening them right now. We would know nothing more than their resumed aggression."
"Because I’m afraid they might make you flatten ‘em and you thought it was murder last time."
She turned slowly to face him. When their eyes met, he dropped his gaze and his frown to the desk. Sweet warmth spread through her and she couldn’t keep a smile from curving her lips. He was concerned for her, but judging by his expression, he wasn’t happy to be caring. That frown was the only thing keeping her from leaping on him.
Taking a deep, steadying breath and folding her arms across her chest to confine the urge to climb him, she said in a careful voice, "Thank you. But I’ll be all right, Declan."
"I can still feel you working," he said in apparent disapproval to the desk. "What are you doing?"
"Just what I contracted for, moving the cargo and watching for visitors. The supply ship is closing in and so are the screamers, but it’s not time yet."
"You’re doing all that at the same time?"
"I’m fairly well trained to multi-task, Declan," she said with dry humor. "I can weave a basket, too—want to see?"
He finally looked up at her, frown fading into reluctant amusement as he sat on the edge of his desk. "I’ll pass."
"Probably for the best. I don’t have a creative bone in my body. My baskets usually look like hell."
"In that case, I’ll take ten," he responded with a fleeting grin. "Can sell ‘em as alien art."
"You know, it’s not nice to make fun of the craft-challenged." She gave him a severe stare but couldn’t keep her lips from curling.
He snorted, folding his arms over his chest. "Like anything you touch won’t fall right in line."
"Well, you haven’t. Then again, I haven’t really got my hands on you yet, have I?" She waggled her fingers at him and gave him a toothy smile in response to his glower. "Which reminds me—weren’t you going to beat me?" She fluttered her lashes at him. "I was so looking forward to it."
His skin darkened and though she wanted to believe it was desire, his thunderous expression made anger much more likely. "Damn it, Ryelle—"
The opening door interrupted him. A woman stepped in with the casual confidence of someone secure in her welcome. Her features were too strong to be called beautiful, but she was striking, tall and full-figured, with an abundance of rich reddish-brown curls rebelling from the restraining clasp at the back of her head. "Declan," she began but stopped abruptly when she saw Ryelle.
Ryelle felt a wicked stab of jealousy at the comfortable way the woman spoke and entered, until she met her gaze. She had Declan’s indigo-spiked, brilliant blue eyes. Delight sparkled through her when she realized that this was Declan’s legendary mother, Regina McCrae. She began to smile but lost the urge when those blue eyes narrowed in predatory fury.
"You," the woman snarled.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Declan jerk to his feet and head their way. "Mom—"
"Why did you come here? Haven’t you done enough?"
"Mem McCrae," Ryelle began with bewildered hesitance.
Declan interrupted. "Mom, now’s not the time." His voice was grim, features set in a stern frown as he clasped a restraining hand around his mother’s upper arm.
She ignored him, eyes focused with murderous intensity on Ryelle. "Didn’t you do enough damage the first time around? If you think I’m going to let you walk back into my son’s life and—"
Declan’s hand clapped over her mouth. "Mom!" He gave her a little shake, and she transferred her furious gaze to her son. "Not the time. You need to get the hell out now."
She pulled out of his hold with an exasperated look. "But Declan, she’s…"
Declan glared at her, hands resting on lean hips.
She pursed her mouth, sending Ryelle an assessing glance, before she shrugged. "Fine. Getting the hell out." But her eyes promised dire things while she turned toward the door.
Ryelle wasn’t exactly sure what horrible acts she was supposed to have performed to elicit this level of hostility, but she could empathize with a mother’s need to protect. "Mem, if it helps a
ny," Ryelle said in a diffident voice, "I came here because I’m hopelessly in love with your son."
The woman stopped and stared at her wide-eyed.
Declan planted a hand on her back and got her moving again, shooting Ryelle a dark glance. "No, she’s not," he growled.
Ryelle smiled winningly at his mother. "Don’t mind him, he’s just saying that because…" Her smile faltered and she sent Declan a flash of irritation. "Actually, I don’t know why he says that. But I love him anyway."
"Bullshit. We knew each other a few days when we were kids. Even if you thought you loved me then, that was fifteen sarkin’ years ago. You don’t know anything about me now, Ryelle, so give it a rest."
She sighed and looked at his mother. "Is he always this cranky?"
"Not usually. Seems you bring it out in him."
Ryelle rolled her eyes. "Swell. Since you’re already pissed, I may as well confess that I’ve been sort of stalking you over the years. From a distance. Don’t worry, the color of your underwear is still a state secret, but I’ve followed your career pretty closely. The VR maintenance job looked interesting and I swore you’d stick with the AI managing system. But I can see now that this place is perfect for you."
They stood side by side and gave her identical blank stares. She took the opportunity to study and compare their features.
"That’s so amazing. You have the same chin, too."
Mother and son looked at one another then Mem McCrae cleared her throat. "So, she’s a little loopy in the head," she said to her son.
"Yeah."
"Well, you’ve done worse," she responded with a resigned sigh and left.
Ryelle contemplated the closed door for a moment. "Somehow your mother has gotten the wrong impression of me. I’m not loopy. And what damage was I supposed to have done?"
Declan ran a hand over his face with a weary sigh. "Do me a favor and never talk to my mother again."
"What? You don’t think she likes me?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered curses for a while.
"You look tired, Declan. Didn’t you sleep well last night?"
He dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes on her, gaze filled with dark indigo heat. "And how the hell was I supposed to sleep well," he growled, prowling toward her, "with you teasing and suggesting and looking at me with those damned dark eyes of yours?"
Ryelle backed up hastily, trying to be good and keep her talent to herself. Not to mention her hungry hands. The dangerous way his body moved made everything inside her catch fire and liquefy. She was desperate to feel those sleek muscles flex under her hands and around her body.
"I’m telling you right now I do not want to be seduced. So tone down the sexy, stop flirting with my staff, and leave me the hell alone."
She bumped against the wall and froze, quivering with the effort to behave. "Are you sure, Declan?" she breathed. "Our last kiss has kept me up nights for years. It was the hottest, most erotic moment of my life, before or since. You torment me just by being in the same room. I’d give anything to touch you, or even kiss you one more t—"
He interrupted her by sliding a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her toward him with a rough sound in his throat, eyes blazing with hot blue fire. "Damn you, Ryelle," he muttered as his mouth came down on hers. Instantly she was molten, rising on tip-toe to wrap her arms around his neck even as his other hand splayed in the small of her back to press her closer. Everything in her blazed to life, incandescent with joy and vibrating with need.
Maybe her memory was faulty, but the man seemed to know a damn sight more about kissing than he had back then. Or maybe her own experience helped—either way, the wild and carnal way their mouths melded and the smoky hot taste of him burned through all her senses and her control. She could no more keep her talent from wrapping around him than she could keep her hands from fisting in his hair, the need to get closer, to climb inside him, driving all caution and thought from her mind.
He made a savage, animal sound in his throat, shoving her hard against the wall. She had a moment of déjà vu at the feel of his hot, hard body pressing against her and mouth demanding everything she had to give. But the moment couldn’t hold—she was no longer an inexperienced girl to be shocked by hard muscle and fierce desire. She exalted in it, bracing her arms to lift herself and wrap her legs around his waist with a feminine growl. He groaned, fingers digging into her hips before sliding under her bottom to catch her weight as he settled between her thighs.
When his heavy erection pressed against her center, she cried out from the excruciating stab of pleasure, the sound muffled by his mouth. He shuddered and every muscle in her body quivered in reaction. She’d never felt such desperate and consuming lust, her body writhing against him without direction from her smoking brain. The resulting friction nearly made her fly out of her skin.
Now she was shocked. Orgasms for her had always been slow building, elusive things, which broke over her in gentle waves. In Declan’s arms, she was half a minute away from a hard and fast explosion which promised cataclysmic results, without even taking off her clothes. She whimpered, a high, keening sound that he absorbed, and tightened all her muscles around him.
The alarm barely impinged on her senses, but something seemed to snag on her talent, tugging at her attention. When she realized what it was, she almost ignored it. She was so close to the edge it was practically a lost cause. But Pete’s urgent voice calling for his boss over the com gave her a shaky, hair-thin sliver of control. With a sob of regret, she picked Declan up, spun him through the office, and deposited him behind his desk.
Without his supporting hands, she collapsed to the floor. Pressing her forehead to her knees and wrapping shaking arms over her head, she tried desperately to contain the agonizing throb between her thighs and focus on the evolving situation in space.
"Ryelle…" Declan panted in an almost unrecognizable voice.
"Oh God, Declan," she moaned, "They still have the worst timing in the universe." She made a sound that was half laugh, half whimper. "The GenTec are after your supply ship."
He swore savagely.
"You can say that again," she muttered. "I’ve got it. Tell them to turn the alarm off and stop panicking."
There was a moment of silence when she tried very hard not to listen to his rapid, harsh breathing. She wasn’t touching him with her talent any longer, but if he’d been as close as she to the edge, than regaining his composure wasn’t going to be easy. She heard him contact Pete and let him know in clipped tones that Telenetic Soliere was handling the situation.
While he spoke, she concentrated on the onrush of attackers, deflecting their initial weapons fire and reminding herself to go gently. She was supposed to be impersonating a normal telenetic, level five at most. The first attacker veered off and she gave the second a light nudge, just enough to foul their aim as they also took a shot at the supply vessel. The three attacking ships arched around their target, reforming their attack pattern and swinging back for a concerted run. All three opened fire, their aim and intent deadly.
They were testing her skill, testing her strength. She covered the supply ship with a thin film of protection, allowing it to jounce with the blasts and even allowing some blast energy to scatter over its hull. But she made certain that the ship remained intact. Hopefully, the crew knew enough to ride out the storm in safety straps.
The three attackers passed over the supply ship and headed directly for the asteroid field at top speed.
Ryelle sighed and lifting her head to slump against the wall, keeping her eyes closed. "Mission accomplished. The GenTec are now under the impression that there is a level four-ish telenetic on board your station. Supply ship is battered but still functional. Do you want me to reel it in?"
"No, we got it. You okay?"
She snorted and opened her eyes to look at him. He immediately looked down, handsome face tense with some extreme emotion. "I don’t think I could stand if my life depe
nded on it, but that’s got nothing to do with the attack. I’ll be fine. Eventually. Just do what you need to do and ignore me."
She wasn’t sure she should be relieved or insulted when he did just that.
Chapter 16
Declan kept his eyes on his work out of sheer self-preservation, fighting for every scrap of control he could piece together. If he took another look at those sultry eyes, passion-kissed skin, and lips full and moist from their kiss, he was afraid he’d launch himself over the desk and take her on the floor of his office.
The brief, steaming image that came with that thought made a shudder of lust twist his spine. Focus, goddamn it, he admonished himself, biting hard enough on the inside of his cheek to taste blood. He had work to do. He checked in with the supply ship, making certain the crew was well and the ship functional enough to resume course to docking.
Then he contacted Pete and made sure his people, station, and wormhole mechanics were still intact. Pete’s voice was still anxious, probably a response to Declan’s own less-than-calm tone, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. He told Pete to run diagnostics on the wormhole and reassured him that he’d be in main operations shortly. After that he worked on calming the frantic miners, who hadn’t appreciated yet another violent interruption by the attackers.
All the while, he could feel Ryelle working, like a tingling, electric kiss spreading over his skin, the delicious pressure of her power just out of range. He guessed she was monitoring the path of the attackers, but he didn’t ask, not wanting to shred his control with the sound of her husky, impassioned voice. That tingle was bad enough, keeping his body pounding with urgency and reminding him of what she could do with the slide of her power, the heat of her sleek little body, and the carnal lure of her too-talented mouth.
"Damn it, Ryelle, go do that somewhere else," he finally said in a harsh voice without looking up.
She left without a word and he was both relieved and keenly disappointed to feel her go. With her gone, he braced his shaking hands flat on the desk and took a moment to breathe deep, to calm his aching body. He needed to be in main operations, but he didn’t want to shock his people and embarrass himself by showing up with a diamond hard erection the size of a mega blaster.
No Such Thing Page 21
