by J. E. Taylor
“I can’t do this,” he whispered, opening his eyes and regretting the lapse, but the need coursing through his blood left him panting and aching to remove the rest of her clothing and do all the naughty things fluttering through her head.
Georgia smiled. “Yes you can.” She reached for the front of his pants, rubbing and unbuckling and unzipping. She leaned in again, kissing him with the same fervor as before and this time he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, letting her silky skin ignite him. The phrase “Georgia peach” drifted through his head and he grinned under the pressure of her lips, his hands skating over her flesh, intent on exploring every crevice.
The door swung open.
André pushed Georgia away, stumbling backwards into the table and knocking over a stack of binders. The smack of the plastic on the floor knocked his senses back in place and he shot his gaze to Georgia, who remained staring at him, her skin flushed and feverish even with her boss standing behind her.
Matthew swiped her shirt off the ground and handed it to her. “My office in ten minutes.” He barked the command and waited until she dressed and left the room before focusing on André.
Matthew closed the door behind him and balled his hands into fists, frustration screaming through his veins. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot,” André answered, glaring back at his father. He could have spouted a ream of excuses, but he knew none of them warranted his actions. “So I kissed Georgia. What the hell are you going to do about it?”
Matthew mentally shoved André and he slammed into the back wall hard enough to see stars. He blinked to clear his vision and straightened up against the wall. “Dad, you don’t want to play this game with me,” André warned, his own anger rearing its ugly head.
“Why not?” Matthew growled. A box of paper went flying off the shelf in André’s direction.
It stopped mid-air in the center of the room.
“Because you will lose,” André hissed and the box dropped to the floor with a thud.
The men glared from opposite sides of the room.
“What do you think this is going to do to Katrina?” Matthew asked.
The mere mention of her name slammed the fire out of André, replacing it with devastation so black it took the strength out of his legs. André slid to the floor and buried his head in his arms. He had been so frustrated with Katrina for the past few weeks that he almost tossed their marriage out the window at the first opportunity. “I can’t do this, Dad.”
“You can’t do what?” Matthew asked.
“I can’t be married and raise a family,” he said, his words muffled in his arms.
“You should have thought of that last year, André,” Matthew said with a voice as harsh as the truth. “I’ve got no sympathy for your ‘oh woe is me’ attitude. You’re the one who created this mess and now you’ve got to live with it.”
André raised his head, blinking away the red sheen of tears. “I can’t do this.”
Matthew walked over and crouched down in front of him. “No one ever said marriage is easy. If you thought it was, you are sorely mistaken. It’s a lot of work, same with raising a family. I never had an infant, so I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but you are not a quitter.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I didn’t raise you to be one,” he snarled and stood up. “Button up your shirt,” he added and walked out of the room.
André rethreaded the buttons and tucked his shirt back in, heading into the bathroom. He knew Georgia was only acting on the vibe he was sending out, but the thing that burned him the most as he stood looking at his reflection was this time he would have let her do everything her filthy mind insinuated if his father hadn’t interrupted.
André threw some cold water on his face and wiped it with a paper towel before heading into his father’s office. Matthew glanced up from the phone and pointed toward the door, his face pinched with concern.
André shut the door behind him, scanning Matthew’s thoughts, looking for what he was going to do but finding something much darker: the content of his current conversation.
“Out,” Matthew directed at André, covering the receiver with his hand.
André shook his head and took a seat on the couch, interested in the details he was peeling from his father’s brain and that of the official on the other end of the line.
Matthew turned the chair away from André and focused his attention back to the phone call. “Where is it now?”
André stared at the back of the chair, gleaning much more of the conversation than his father wanted him to. He broke into a cold sweat.
“How long until it hits? Tell the president we will have a plan together in two hours.” He swung the chair around and hung up the phone. “I really don’t have time for your little lapse right now, André.”
André stood on legs that felt like stilts. The latent fear hidden in his father’s heart seized his muscles into a tight bundle of nerves, but he knew he could stop the ball of destruction heading toward Earth. “I can stop it from hitting, Dad.”
Matthew raised his eyebrows. “Stop what?”
“The meteor,” André said. “You just have to bring me somewhere so I can see it coming.”
“André, there’s no way you could stop a meteor of this size. I’m not sure anything we throw at it will stop it.”
“I can.”
“It’s the size of Texas and traveling at over thirty-five miles per second.”
“Yes,” André said without hesitation. “Trust me, I can stop it.”
Matthew laughed.
“What’s so funny?” André snapped.
“I really don’t have time, André,” Matthew replied.
André walked over to the window. “How much does the annex to this building weigh?”
“I have no idea,” Matthew said, irritation creeping into his tone. “Now if you wouldn’t mind?” The sound of breaking glass and creaking metal filled the room and Matthew spun around, looking out the window, his jaw dropping at the sight before him.
The annex building, the equivalent of three city blocks, pulled out of the ground, foundation and all. The glass walkway shattered and the metal attachments twisted and broke, leaving a gaping hole between the buildings.
André glanced in his father’s direction, still concentrating on making the building rise.
“Put it back, André,” Matthew gasped, and the building lowered into the ground. He shot a glance at his son. “Jesus.”
“So are you going to take me up to space or what?” There would be hell to pay for what he just did, but André was ready, especially in light of the planet-killing machine vaulting toward them.
Matthew considered his alternatives and glanced at André. He turned and picked up the phone. “Emma, get me the president,” he said. “I understand. Just get me the president.” He hung up. “You realize this is your coming out party.”
André glanced back at the building and nodded, pushing the exhaustion raking his bones away. He looked up at the sky beyond the dome and prayed he was right. “Where is it supposed to hit?”
“The Atlantic Ocean,” Matthew replied.
“When?”
“Ten days.”
“Where do you want the thing to go?” André said, still studying the sky.
“Pardon?”
“Where do you want it to go instead of here?” He looked at his father. “Do you want it to end up orbiting the moon or continue into the sun?”
The phone rang and Matthew picked it up. “I don’t need two hours, Mitch,” he said to the president. “I’ve got the answer in my office.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s going to mean that secret we discussed last month will have to be revealed.” He glanced over at André. “He says he can stop it and after the little display of his, I think he may be our only shot.” He smiled a little at the response. “He lift
ed the annex building right out of the ground, foundation and all.” He listened again. “You want to fly with us?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice. “You still get airsick?” Matthew laughed at the response. “We’re going up tomorrow and will be up there for a couple days. You sure you want to float in space with us?” He nodded. “I’m scheduling take off at noon.” He glanced at André. “See you then, sir.” He hung up the phone. “I’ll let the president answer that when we are up in space,” he replied to André’s last question.
André continued to look at the sky. “Don’t fire Georgia,” he said, without looking at his father.
“She tried to seduce a minor,” Matthew replied.
André smiled and glanced sideways at his father. “Before I hooked up with Kat, I screwed anyone who’d spread their legs for me and there were a lot of willing girls at school. So blaming Georgia doesn’t fly. She’s just reacting to whatever vibe I’m sending off.” He paused, returning his gaze to the window. “I could have said no and that would have been the end of it.” He aimlessly turned his wedding band around on his finger.
Matthew sighed and pressed the intercom. “Send her in,” he told Emma.
Aggravation pulsed in his temple and he tightened his jaw, sliding his glance toward the door as Georgia entered the office.
The door closed behind her and she jumped, her mouth dropping with a gasp of surprise before she caught sight of André. Her demeanor changed from nervous to sensual and her stride turned sultry like a hungry panther on the prowl. She crossed to the chair and slid into it, licking her pouty lips before turning her attention back to Matthew.
“Ms. Simmons, do you know why I called you in to my office?” he asked.
Georgia’s eyes wandered over to André. “No,” she said as she looked back at her boss.
“You tried to seduce my son today,” he said, leaning back in the seat, studying her expression.
Georgia nodded, letting her eyes wander back to André.
“He’s only seventeen,” Matthew replied.
Georgia’s eyes widened. “Sev...Seventeen?” She looked back at Matthew.
André glared at his father. Stop! he silently demanded.
Matthew glanced directly at him. “You’re fired,” he said.
“Dad, you can’t fire her,” André argued.
“I’m not. I’m firing you.”
André’s mouth dropped. Of all the responses he expected, this wasn’t one of them. He blinked and closed his mouth. The dull throb of anger colored his vision and he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Before he acted on the irrational emotion overtaking him, he stormed out of the room and continued right out of the building without looking back.
Chapter 15
André lumbered down the road, his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets. How am I going to explain this to Kat?
Hands yanked him into a hovercraft and threw him on the floor, the door shutting behind him before he got his bearings and looked around at his abductors.
Anna laughed. “Think you can get away from me that easily?” she asked. “Go!” she yelled at Amanda.
The craft shot off like a bat out of hell.
“What are you doing?” André said and shifted onto the seat, looking from Anna to Liz and Amanda in the front seat.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Anna’s eyes flashed with both anger and wanting.
André glared at her. “I’m not in the mood, Anna.”
“You made a fool out of me in front of everyone.” Her smile faded. “I don’t like to be made a fool of.” She swung her fist at his face.
André grabbed her wrist before she connected with his nose. “You don’t seem to get it. I’m not in the mood for your shit,” he growled. The craft suddenly plummeted to the ground and stalled. The door on André’s side flew open and he stepped out, letting go of Anna’s wrist and slamming the door on her shocked face. He turned and stormed off in the direction of his house.
If I can’t have that son of a bitch, nobody can.
André turned and put his hand up in front of him, pushing with a small fraction of his power and the craft stopped inches from running him over. You don’t want to fuck with me, Anna. He sent the thought at her and saw the recognition in her face as she heard his voice in her mind. That’s right, you better be afraid of me right now. I could crush you like a bug if I wanted to. He smiled in satisfaction at the fear in her eyes. André stepped to the side, out of the way of the vehicle and released his hold, watching as it went careening out of control until Anna pulled it up in the travel lane, zooming away as fast as she could. He shook his head and resumed walking toward the house.
The house was empty. He didn’t bother calling out, knowing already that neither his mother nor his wife and son were in the vicinity. He bounded up the stairs, stripping off his work clothes as he went and fell on the bed in exhaustion. Sleep came quick, refueling him and he woke an hour later with the sun blinding him through the window.
Rummaging through his drawers, he found his bathing suit; slipping it on along with his sneakers, he grabbed a beach towel from the hall closet. He took off for the lake, doing exactly what he had wished he could do this morning. André jogged onto the beach, slipping his shoes off and dumping the towel on top of the discarded sneakers. Ignoring all the innuendo broadcasting in his direction, he bolted into the water and dove under, coming up a few yards short of the raft. He climbed up the ladder and shot a quick look at the crowd sitting on the benches, his gaze landing on Katrina.
He wiped the water off his face and blinked, thinking he was delusional. But she was there, sending the same heat waves as the others around her, and he smiled. “Where’s Sammy?” André asked as he approached his wife, ignoring everyone else in the vicinity.
“I needed a break so your mom took him for the day,” Katrina answered. “What are you doing here?”
“Letting off steam,” André answered and glanced around at the other girls on the raft. They were all staring at him with the same expression that Georgia had when she entered the copy room. His gaze snapped back to Katrina, and he let it drift over her. She looked particularly hot in her two-piece bathing suit. He couldn’t believe she had given birth to their son only five weeks before. “Have I told you just how terrific you look?” His eyes found hers again.
Katrina blushed and stood, closing the distance between them in two strides. “No, you haven’t,” she answered and stopped in front of him, looking up into his blue eyes.
André leaned down and kissed her. “You look great, babe,” he said and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked, trying to pry into his closed mind.
“I’m going on a trip with Dad tomorrow,” he said, avoiding the direct question.
Katrina’s brow creased. “You’re hiding something.”
André pulled away and stepped up onto the diving board, executing a perfect dive. He turned in the water and looked back at her before heading for shore. André walked out onto the hot sand, shaking the water from his hair, not realizing what that simple act did to the female population on the beach. He headed toward the small playground and sat on one of the swings, gently arching back and forth, digging a path in the sand with his bare feet.
Katrina approached and took the swing next to him. “What’s wrong?”
“How much do you love me, Kat?” André asked, looking out at the lake.
Katrina was quiet as she studied his troubled profile. “Why?”
André looked at her. “Because I fucked up and Dad fired me today.”
“But you said you were going on a trip with him?”
André nodded. “I’m going up into space with him tomorrow.” He looked up at the sky and then over at her.
“I don’t understand,” Katrina said, her expression reflecting her utter confusion.
“Put the trip aside for the time being,” André said. “It isn’t related to my job.” He gl
anced at the wedding band on his finger, still fully blocking her from getting into his head. “How much do you love me?”
“Enough,” Katrina answered.
“Enough for what?” he persisted, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten.
“Enough to get through anything,” she whispered.
André hung his head, letting his wet locks fall into his eyes. “I screwed up so bad, Kat,” he whispered without looking at her.
“What do you mean?”
André shook his head; he didn’t want to tell her. He could already feel the dread pulsating off her.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
“I lost control,” he said so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him but he opened his mind, showing her his mistake in Technicolor.
Katrina looked back at the water, the muscles in her jaw tightening.
“She cornered me in the copy room, and I didn’t stop her.”
Katrina got up and walked to where she had set up her chair and towel, and quickly packed up her beach belongings. She left minutes later without another glance at André.
André stayed swinging in the playground for a few moments with his head down and eyes closed, trying to gauge Katrina’s emotions. Furious didn’t begin to describe it.
Another train of thought assaulted him and his eyes flew open. André bolted out of the playground, sweeping his sneakers and towel in his hands as he ran by them. He couldn’t see the source of the thoughts that set him into action, but he was running at top speed, praying he would get to Katrina first.
He saw her in the distance and he shot a glance to the side in time to see the hovercraft speeding straight at his wife. “NO!” he bellowed and sent a flash of energy at the craft.
You won’t make it in time to save the bitch.
Katrina spun toward the craft, her eyes going wide and she froze like a deer in headlights. André yelled behind her and the air around the craft rippled. The explosion sent Katrina backwards onto the grass, knocking the wind out of her.
