Her face burned. Okay then. She knew what he thought of her. Still a whore, just a higher class of one.
He shook his head, a crease between his brows. "Whatever you're thinking, no. I wasn't offering to keep you," he said. "Though I would be glad to do that."
He'd be glad to keep her? She gaped at him. When his gaze fell to her mouth, she closed it with a snap. "Exactly what were you offering?"
He walked around the table toward her. "To help you. We can discuss it later. Over lunch, perhaps?"
"Um—no, I can't. I've my business."
"Dinner, then." He pulled a comlink from his belt in one smooth motion. "Giles, Ms. te Nawa is leaving. Pick her up at the side entrance, please.
"Giles will take you to the port. He'll also pick you up later, if you wish."
She nodded, not sure what to say.
"You can wait there," he indicated a passageway at the end of the large area. "He'll be up in a few moments. I've business of my own to attend to."
She waited for him to walk away, but he stopped beside her, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. He lifted his right hand and stroked his fingertips down her cheek. She stared at his collar, fighting the urge to turn her face into his warm hand.
Her gaze lifted as high as his cleft chin, then that firm mouth. It curved up slowly in a smile of pure amusement, but there was heat there too.
"I'll see you later, little cat."
That lifted her gaze to his. She frowned. "Why do you call me that?"
His smile deepened. "Don't you know?" he murmured. "Because you remind me of a sleek, lovely little cat, purring one moment, then hissing and showing your claws the next. You've Tygean blood in you."
"My mother," she answered, torn between charm and irritation by his description of her.
"Ah. Perhaps sometime we'll visit Bryght, and see what effect the mating moons have on you."
And with this outrageous suggestion, he pinched her chin gently, turned and strode away, through a wide door that hissed open at his approach, revealing a glimpse of a series of holovid screens glowing, and then shut again.
The big room was very quiet, almost empty without his vital presence.
Kiri forced herself to turn and walk into the passageway. As she entered it, the hatch hissed shut behind her.
She looked back for a sec and then squared her shoulders and walked toward the landing pad. Would she really be back, or was this the end of a brief, strange interlude?
Everything around her seemed slightly unreal, as if she'd wake up any sec in her tiny, noisy apartment and find that it was time to rise and hurry to work, with Logan Stark not even a memory.
He wanted to see the effect of the mating moons of Bryght on her? Great God beyond, the man had no inhibitions when it came to making sexual suggestions. She blushed again, this time all over.
Full-blood Tygers, both male and female, were known throughout the galaxy to be transformed by the pull of their mating moons into sensual creatures still mostly human in form, but more big cat in nature, who for a week or longer craved sex more than food or water.
Her mother had given that up to travel to Earth II with Kiri's father, but Kiri had read enough to know that being part-Tygean herself, the female mating moons of her mother's home planet would have some effect on her too if she traveled there. Which she would never do. She might enjoy sex, but she had no intention of trusting her sexuality to the mercy of the lunar pull.
Foolish enough to trust it to this man.
Chapter 7
What would it take to get her to trust him?
In his office, Stark poured coffee into the mug waiting beside a steaming carafe. Taking a drink, he turned to pace before the streamlined space with its banks of waiting holovids and input station. His little cat was going to be a handful.
He remembered the night before with a mixture of satisfaction and irritation. It wasn't as if she was the type of woman he usually preferred. She wasn't tall or bosomy, and her hair had been hacked by an inexpert hand.
There was just … something about the combination of feisty, independent cat and the pliant sweetness of her lithe body that drove him wild. As well as her husky voice and that laugh of hers. Even when she'd been strung tight with nerves, he'd still been able to make her laugh. What had they been speaking of? Ah, skrog, of all things. He smiled to himself, imagining her face when she first saw the creatures, as well as any number of other wonders in the galaxy. She hadn't traveled, judging from her questions.
She'd known her share of loss, though. No people, although she'd let slip she'd had a brother. So she'd lost him as well as her parents. Now she'd lost even her dubious shelter and most of her credit.
The dazed, animal pain in her eyes after the explosion of her apartment building had hit him hard. He knew what it was to lose even one's shelter, to be cast onto the streets of this city with nothing, with survival hinging on every move, every decision. He'd done it and she probably would too, but at what cost?
He'd slid into bed with her last night so that she wouldn't be alone when she woke. He could have left Opal or his housekeeper, Natan, on night watch, or even set a holovid droid to hover by the bed, alert for any sign of agitation, but he'd wanted to be the one to comfort her.
No hardship there, but he hadn't expected her to seduce him so determinedly. He would have done many things to chase the shadows from those Tyger eyes of hers, but she'd asked the very thing he wanted to do anyway. And then she'd delighted him by accepting his domination, even being comforted by it.
He wanted her to submit to him further. He wasn't even sure all the ways yet. He'd make them up as they went along. She pleased him as few other women in his memory.
He froze, cup at his lips, steam curling against his face. Surely that couldn't be true. He'd had courtesans from several planets. Beautiful women who knew tricks this little cat would never dream of. No, he was just bored. His businesses and investments were burgeoning on three planets and in space via his cruise ships, but lately he'd been a bit … restless.
He smiled wickedly into his coffee cup. The advice psychs did say to keep a pet. So perhaps he owed it to himself to take on a Tyger kitten.
He'd keep his emotions out of it, of course. He always did. There were several beings in the galaxy he counted friends. There were only two he'd die for—his younger brothers, Joran and Creed.
He'd been in love once; for a time even nursed a broken heart.
Adora, his first and only 'love'. He grimaced, taking a swig of scalding coffee.
A less aptly named female had never been born. Behind a face of sweet innocence had lurked a heart so mercenary he'd been unable to believe the evidence of her betrayal. Until, of course, he'd seen it with his own eyes. Then the truth had taken him down like a charging Mauritian.
Now he held himself apart from the idiocy that drove beings to make fools of themselves, risking fortunes and self-respect for hormone-ruled emotion. He'd risked worse than that—his brothers' well-being.
He'd never again allow himself to be led by his cock. Sex was a necessity of life for him and Kiri's cunt was sweet and wild, but he controlled when, how and all the rest.
It was merely curiosity that led him to bring up a one-way feed on the holocams. "Departure station and cruiser cabin," he said.
Two holovid screens sprang to life. One showed the empty passageway out of his penthouse. The other gave him a clear view of the cabin of his cruiser and the woman curled in one of the big chairs. Kiri gazed out the porthole, arms wrapped around her slender midriff. As he watched, she moved to tuck her feet up beside her in the chair, then stopped, casting a guilty look over at Opal, who stood in the passageway to the cockpit, chatting with Giles.
"Camera, close up." The holocam zoomed in on Kiri's face as she turned back to the porthole. Limned in the grayed light of another rainy day in New Seattle, her lovely face was taut, troubled. Gazing past the holocam, she touched one hand to her lips and then blew out a sharp breath, nearly a so
b in the sensitive microphones.
His guest was upset, was she? He sat in his big skrog leather and cerametal chair, taking another drink of his coffee. Realizing just what a chore lay before her. She'd attempt to scrape her life back together. When she'd had time to realize she needed him, he'd move in again. It was just a matter of time and strategy.
He looked away, satisfied. Time for other business."News channels, up. Earth II, primary."
An attractive blonde in a fitted suit filled the screen. "In our top local news story, rioting broke out again last night near the sea docks, and an entire block of buildings was destroyed. Looters were seen leaving the area before the explosion. Many are missing and feared dead in this latest wave of violence between the unemployed and the security forces for local unions and business owners. According to the mayor's office, Intergalactic Space Forces have been called in to police the docks. More on that story shortly."
Stark watched without surprise. This merely solidified his decision to consolidate his holdings here and sell the wharf-side factory to his employees. His security people were doing all they could keep it from going up in flames until the IGSF was able to restore law and order.
The news anchor turned to another camera, which angled in. "In other news, we take you now to the New Seattle Spaceport, where safety concerns have been raised, after a local businessman was found murdered. Let's join reporter Randy Mega on the scene."
Nothing new here, either. Probably some poor sod in debt to organized crime. Stark sipped his coffee as the holocam switched to a young man smiling toothily from a small, gleaming white hovie with the news station's logo. Travelers filtered by behind him, gawking curiously. One human boy broke away from his mother and made a face into the holocam before being recaptured.
The reporter furrowed his brow earnestly as he gazed into the holocam. "Yes, Gretchen. Gral Roden, Vulpean owner of a gambling kiosk here on the Astrid concourse was found murdered this morning in the service passageway behind his place of work. Roden was under investigation by local police and, we've just learned, by the IGSF for allegedly fixing several of his games."
Stark set his mug down on his desk, foreboding tightening his gut.
Randy Mega smirked confidentially into the camera. "Witnesses say that another local business owner, from this coffee stand—" The holocam swiveled to show Kiri's Kaffe, closed and quiet, and then switched to a security feed of her standing at the counter in her kiosk, smiling and chatting with a customer as she handed him a disposable mug. "—had a loud confrontation with Roden just yesterday evening, in which she accused him of cheating her out of a large sum of credit. She is also alleged to have made actual death threats. As you can see, she has not shown up to open her stand this morning. Neighboring business people say they have no idea where she may be."
"Seven hells." Stark palmed his com unit from his belt. "Giles, if you're still in the air, turn around. I need you to bring Ms. te Nawa back here."
His pilot's tough, square face filled the screen. "Sorry, sir. Just dropped her off at the space port. Problem?"
"Yes, a continuation of yesterday's, I believe. Come and pick me up, please."
Opal and Giles had been monitoring him through the space port yesterday, a standard security procedure, so they'd seen him rescue Kiri from her attempted assault on the crooked gambler.
"Be there in exactly twenty secs, sir."
"I'll be waiting." Logan rose and strode out into the main room. Natan, a slender Pangaean, was clearing the table. He straightened with dishes in his hands.
"Good breakfast," Stark said. "Our guest will be returning for dinner."
"Very good, sir." Natan's greenish-blond hair stirred slightly in excitement, although his slim, pale face remained politely impassive. "She has an excellent appetite."
"Yes," Stark said. "She does indeed." In more ways than his butler knew.
He collected his jacket from the closet by the passageway and strode down the passageway, just as the hatch at the end opened to reveal the cruiser, with Opal waiting.
"Back to the space port," Stark ordered as he strode on board. "Your passenger is going to need rescuing again."
"Really, sir?" Opal didn't sound too surprised.
But then, reflected Stark wryly, neither was he.
As he sat back in his comfortable seat, he found himself chuckling. He should have had Giles fly in the opposite direction. The woman was a menace, to herself and possibly anyone in her vicinity. Nothing sly about her—she broadcast her emotions for everyone to hear and see.
He wasn't even sure he could keep her out of trouble.
* * *
Kiri thanked Stark's flight attendant, or guard, as the woman opened the cruiser hatch for her to disembark at the space port, but neither of them bothered with a smile this time. Kiri wasn't wasting any friendliness on the woman after she'd spent the entire flight keeping an eye on Kiri, as if that was the only thing preventing her from stealing the towels from the lavatory.
As Kiri exited the cruiser, she passed the cockpit. It looked fascinating, full of gauges and lights and holovid displays. She wished she could step in and see what it felt like to sit up there, mistress of her own destiny, instead of a rather unwelcome passenger.
Opal nodded curtly, and Kiri hurried along the podway toward the concourse, shivering in her thin tunic. Even though they were enclosed, the podways were always cold and damp, and permeated with the harsh stench of the port. Her shivers reminded her with a sickening jolt that she no longer owned a jacket, or indeed any clothes other than the ones she wore.
She stopped just before the entrance to the concourse, one hand to her face, light-headed even after her sumptuous breakfast.
"Better get busy and sell some coffee, Kiri," she muttered to herself. A fashionably dressed woman looked at her as she passed, then hurried on.
Kiri glowered after her. The woman had looked at her as if she were a crazy, someone to be avoided. Well, at least she had nice undies on, she thought with a flash of dark humor. Probably nicer than those the fashionista wore.
And she wasn't entirely alone. She had Logan Stark. This memory lit a small, warm glow of hope in her chest.
Then she reminded herself not to depend on him. Ships in the same port, that was all they were, docking for a short time and then moving on.
* * *
Kiri walked out onto the concourse and into yet another nightmare.
A crowd had gathered between her kiosk and the gambling den on the other side of the concourse. She stared in amazement at a news reporter holding forth in the glare of the spotlighted holovid cams. Even the space port police were here, their cycles hovering behind them as they worked the crowd. They seemed to be asking questions.
At the back of the crowd was a familiar figure. Maury was an older woman who worked the kiosks, selling packets of souvenirs. Under a cloud of silver hair, her dark, lined face held the remnants of beauty. She dressed in rag-tag ensembles, adding more layers in the winter, shedding some in the summer.
Kiri bought things from her when she could, but the magnets, clips and hovertoys were cheaply made, and she had trouble getting rid of them. Sometimes she gave them away free with a latte just to clear the counters. She would keep buying them, though, because Maury had an air of brave gaiety despite the grueling miles she put in every week. She couldn't use the hoverways and stop at all the kiosks along the concourses, so she walked. Of course a personal hoviecycle was out of the question. They were very expensive, only for the space port guards and the wealthy elderly.
Kiri stopped beside the older woman. "Maury? What's happening?"
The peddler turned, eyes wide. She dropped the handle of her hoviecart and embraced Kiri in a hug scented with stale perfume, hookah smoke and cooking odors.
"My dear girl. You're all right. I feared—well. Perhaps that you'd been murdered, too."
Kiri pulled back, aghast. "Murdered? Who's been murdered?"
Maury stiffened, her eyes fastene
d on something over Kiri's shoulder. "Quickly, hide your face. They're looking this way."
Too late. "There she is," called a raucous voice, rough with smoke. "It's her, the coffee seller."
Kiri froze as one of the bar habitués pointed at her. Others turned to stare. They conferred in hushed voices, watching her avidly.
"Oh, dear," Maury fretted. "They've seen you now."
'They' were the space port police. Kiri watched in horror as two of the helmeted, armor-clad officers leapt on their hovies and zipped over the crowd, dropping to either side of her and Maury, who clung to her protectively, her shabby shawl draped as much over Kiri as herself.
"State your name and occupation," the taller of the two officers said through his microphone, stepping to the floor before Kiri. She couldn't make out his face behind the reflection on his helmet's clear face shield.
Kiri opened her mouth, closed it, tried to swallow the husk in her dry throat, and opened it again. "Kiri te Nawa. I sell coffee … over there." She nodded toward her kiosk. "That's my shop."
"She's the one who had the altercation with the gambler," the other officer said from the height of her cycle. "Better bring her in for questioning."
"Bring me in?" Kiri repeated, ice creeping through her gut. "For what? What's happened?"
"That awful little gambler," Maury said in her ear. "They found him behind his shop—murdered."
The Vulpean? Murdered right here? How horrible, even if the little rat had deserved it. "But—but I didn't do it. I wasn't even here."
"You'll have the chance to call witnesses to attest to your whereabouts," the tall officer said. "Come along now."
"We can't leave yet," the female officer told him. "We haven't finished canvassing the witnesses to the altercation. Hold her here until we're finished."
"Hey, wait a sec!" Kiri protested, angry now.
The helmets ignored her. Maury patted her shoulder fiercely. "It's all right, dear," she said. "You just need … well, you need—"
Kiri held herself stiff, outwardly defiant, staring back at the gawkers, their gaze avid, mouths busy gossiping. A craven part of her wanted to bolt through the crowd. The helmets were going to take her to space port police headquarters and question her. She didn't know if she could stand it—it would be too much like ... that other time.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 82
