When Stars Collide

by Aliyah Burke

  She knew the answer. Logical thinking had played absolutely no part in her decision. All her determination to remain aloof had vanished like a puff of smoke the second he’d laid his blue eyes upon her. And now that she knew what it was like in his arms…

  Zémire sighed heavily and flipped through more papers. “I can’t let that happen again. I can’t.” She trudged to the walk-in closet and turned on the light. In kind of a daze she scanned his attire, noting what hung there. Nothing struck her as out of the ordinary. Slowly and methodically she worked through the entire room then the rest of the house. When that turned up nothing, she headed out to the barn.

  Her stomach was growling when she returned from the barn, Cort still front runner in her thoughts. “I’ll just have to keep my distance from him, that’s all.” The second she spoke those words, Zémire knew it would be easier said than done.

  Cort struck her as a very determined man. And for the time being it seemed his sights had been set on her. Although, it could be that since we’re back in the States he’ll get an old girlfriend to settle any itch he may acquire. She snarled at the thought. Shaking her head, she left the stair she stood on and went to her room to grab her purse. I just need to go clear my head and get some shopping done. I’m hungry enough to eat whatever is in that fridge and I’m sure it’s way past any safe date.

  Keys in her pocket, she stepped out onto the covered porch and inhaled deeply. The thick, heavy afternoon air made her long for the fresh, crisp air of the Pyrénées. Then she smiled as wonderful childhood memories resurfaced. Jumping down the three steps leading to the porch, she sauntered to the garage and slipped in to take BB’s vehicle. Opening the automatic door, she stood there before it.

  In her peripheral vision she spotted something that made her grin. Not much later, purse in the garage, door closing behind her, Zémire sped off towards town, a trail of kicked up dirt following in her wake.

  Cort frowned when Zémire didn’t answer either his knocking or the doorbell. Where are you, Zémire? He realised deep down what he felt was possessiveness. That and fear. Fear of the unknown. What if the people who’d been after BB came back and got her? Anger erupted within him as he pictured Zémire—his Zémire—kidnapped, scared, hurt, or worse.

  “Get a grip,” he muttered, going around to the back of the house. After grabbing the spare key, he let himself in. “You’re thinking like a green recruit. Seein’ ghosts where there ain’t none to be had.”

  After searching the downstairs he paused at the foot of the staircase. “Zémire?” There was no answer and so he traipsed up them and checked each room. Nothing. He skimmed his teeth with his tongue and headed down to BB’s room. With a slight pause, he pushed it open. And froze.

  The room was a disaster. Clothing strewn all about. Piles of papers scattered around. His heart halted before it picked up back to normal. Immediately he reached for his hip where his gun would have been only to drop his hand. He made sure there was no one hiding in either the bathroom or the closet before he tried to make sense of the disarray.

  He knew he was a bit edgier than usual given it dealt with Zémire’s brother. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if BB wasn’t into something he shouldn’t be. And had got in too deep. Don’t think like that, BB is a friend. Still, no matter how distasteful, the thought remained.

  A quick glance at his watch had him moving to the door. His mom would have a fit if he was late for dinner. No matter how old he got, mom still reigned supreme. Even his father backed down to his five-foot wife. Having found no trace of anything that could indicate Zémire was injured or dragged out not of her own volition, he left. Surely she would have hit something else on the way out.

  Unless she was unable to do so. Yet another thought that deserved no place in his head.

  Biting back a curse, he locked the door and left the house, jogging over to his truck and sliding in behind the wheel. He started the diesel engine and headed down the drive and turned towards town and his parents’ house on the other side. Windows down, he allowed the hot, muggy air to pour over him, bringing with it the scents of a small town in the end of summertime.

  Cort waved to folks he knew as he drove. Near the other end of town he stopped at a light. To his left was a large park with empty fields nearby. The revving of motorcycles grabbed his attention and he glanced over. His foot nearly slipped off the brake.

  In a group of about six sat Zémire on a motorcycle. He recognised it as the one in BB’s garage. A Ninja. A blue Ninja. She straddled it, her stance making her jeans form even tighter to her legs. His gratefulness she wore pants faded the moment he noted she wore a sleeveless shirt, brown with black designs on it. Her hair fell around her, unconfined, and she had a smile on her face as she talked and laughed with the others there.

  When the light turned green, he ignored the fact he wasn’t in the turn lane and turned into the park. He threw his truck into neutral and set the brake before climbing out. The lively chatter that had been going on began to fall silent the closer he got. He didn’t recognise most of the people except for the fact he knew their older siblings and had said “hi” to them when he was home. This was the group Zémire had graduated with.

  “Zémire,” he said, stopping at the edge of the group.

  She gazed at him with her large bronze and russet eyes. In the depths he could see lingering tiredness and slight fear. But the smile on her face dazzled.

  “Hi, Cort.”

  He noticed how a male sat on either side of her. One leant in closer than necessary, if anyone wanted Cort’s opinion on that. The man’s name was Matt, if he recalled correctly. Matt Leto.

  “Can I steal you for a minute?” he asked, while nodding greetings to the others.

  “Why don’t we go on ahead, Zémire, you can catch up.”

  “Sounds good, Matt. I won’t be far behind.”

  Cort wanted to snarl. It was Matt. He’d been right about the name, and from the way Matt stared at Zémire, given the chance he’d be all over her. He crossed his arms and glared at the younger man when he leant even closer to Zémire and muttered something to her. Her laughter was like an electrical current had been applied to him, making everything stand up and tingle with anticipation. She lowered her gaze and nodded before responding in French to Matt.

  Is it my imagination or did she bat her eyes at him? Is she flirting with this wannabe male in front of me? And why the hell are they speaking French with one another?

  Matt winked at her, started his bike and left with the others. Cort stared at the back of Matt’s brown hair like he could burn a hole in the back of his head from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. When the five riders vanished from view, he looked back at the woman sitting there, her fingers trailing almost longingly over the bike’s shiny blue.

  His heart pounded harder when she lifted those thick lashes and allowed him to see her eyes. No makeup on her face but she didn’t need it. Her skin was almost blemish free, apart from a small scar along her jaw line. He remembered when and how she’d got it. She had fallen off the windmill at his place during a party for his youngest brother, Pete. Around her neck sat that same leaf necklace, the multiple toned leaves contrasting beautifully with her skin.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “I went to your house.” She stared in silence with her brows raised. “You weren’t there,” he stated the obvious.

  “And?”

  “I was worried,” he said.

  “I’m fine, Cort. There was no food in the house so I came into town and ran into Matt and the Helgman cousins.” She jerked her head in the direction they’d gone. “We’re going to grab a bite to eat and catch up.”

  He knew she needed to think of something other than the BB situation, it didn’t matter. “Mom wanted you to come for dinner,” he blurted out, wanting her to stay near him.

  “I’ll swing by and see her after I eat with them.” She gave him a slight smile. “Go on, I know how your mom is a stick
ler for eating right on time. You don’t want to be late.”

  “Zémire,” he began, only to close his mouth when she started her bike and revved the engine. He stepped closer and slid his hand along the side of her face, tipping it up. Before she could say anything, he eliminated the distance and lowered his mouth over hers. “Open for me, Zémire.”

  He wasn’t positive she could hear his low command over the engine. Apparently she could, for she did with a sigh. Lust racked him as her addictive taste flowed into him, drenching his tongue like thick honey. How the hell she managed to taste like watermelon as well as smell like one he had no clue. Especially when it mingled with freshly fallen snow.

  He stroked the sides and roof of her mouth. The urge to rip her off the bike and strip her overflowed him. Instead he ended the kiss and stared into her eyes—eyes stormy with emotion.

  “Don’t make me come lookin’ for you, sweetheart,” he warned over the rumble of the engine.

  He released her face and stepped back. That primal urge swamped him again when he watched her skim her bottom lip with her tongue as if seeking the last bit of him she could get. She pulled her glasses from her shirt and slid them on before driving away. Cort watched her ride away with ease, opening up the engine and disappearing from view with the telltale sound of a crotch rocket.

  Taking his hat off his head, he combed one hand through his hair and replaced it. When he headed back to his truck he noticed a few people under a pavillion watching him. People he recognised after closer scrutiny. He grunted. Well, hell. Sadie can’t keep her mouth shut. If I don’t hurry, Mom will hear about me kissing Zémire before I make it home for dinner. Tugging slightly on the brim of his hat, he climbed in his truck and drove away, uncertainty knotting in his stomach. He could handle a lot of things, but his mom mad at him wasn’t one of them. Or his father.

  Over dinner he breathed a sigh of relief when neither of his folks brought up anything about Zémire and him in the park. They didn’t mention her at all. He’d just cleared the dessert plates off the table when the low roar of a motorcycle filtered to his ears. Ignoring the desire to head to the door and see her, he continued cleaning off the table. Then he loaded the dishwasher.

  “Cort!” his father hollered.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Come see who’s here.”

  Not like he didn’t already know. Washing his hands, he dried them and strode to the doorway only to pause when his mom yelled, “Bring a slice of my cake and a fork for her.”

  He could hear Zémire’s protest only to be shushed by his mom. Grabbing what had been requested, he walked into the front room and immediately his gaze found Zémire. She stood by the sofa in discussion with both his parents.

  “Look who stopped by, Cort,” his mom said. “Zémire. I was just telling her I didn’t know she was back in town and had I known I would have insisted she come for dinner.”

  Zémire’s eyes found his and a siren’s smile curved up one side of her mouth. “Good to see you again, Cort.”

  “You knew she was in town?” his father asked.

  One eyebrow arched slightly at him as if she wondered how much she should divulge about the two of them. “I saw him today when I was at the park with Matt. We were on our way to dinner and Cort reminded me I should stop by and say hi to both of y’all,” Zémire responded easily.

  Ignoring the stares of both his parents, Cort handed her the slice of cake. In the depths of her gaze he could see that Zémire was enjoying this all too much. She knew full well his mom hadn’t expected her at dinner. Not given she’d not even been aware Zémire was back in town.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t mention it over dinner,” his mom said.

  He opened his mouth but the phone rang. His father answered it and spoke. “Thalia, it’s for you.” His mom smacked him on the arm and went to take the receiver from his dad.

  Zémire ate a bite of cake and stared at him. “She wanted me to come to dinner, huh?” she asked after she swallowed.

  He flushed. “I wanted you to come,” heat flared in her eyes, “to dinner as well.”

  She blatantly ran her gaze over his body and he felt himself respond. When she dipped a finger in the white frosting on the cake and sucked it off he bit back a groan. The little imp was well aware of what she did to him for she looked like the cat who got both the cream and the canary.

  “Well, it’s always good to see your parents.”

  “Just them?” He prowled closer.

  “No. I was just as happy to see Matt again as well. I didn’t get to spend enough time with him when I was here before.”

  He growled low. “He’s not right for you, Zémire.”

  Lightning sparked in her russet gaze. “Excuse me? No one, and I mean no one, has the right to tell me who I can and can’t spend time with.”

  “Spend time with him, fine, but don’t lie to me or yourself. He’s not the one for you so it’s not fair to lead him on.”

  “I’m not discussing the fact you think you have a say over any part of this in your parents’ house. What Matt and I do is our business, not yours.” Her voice had thickened with the southern drawl he knew she still had within her, hiding the accent she’d acquired from living across the pond for so many years.

  “I’m right across town from you, sweetheart, if you need an itch scratched.” He was so furious he saw red. “Don’t make me hurt him.”

  “Cortland Bernard Kysenzki!” his mother snapped, causing him to flinch at the use of his full name. “What in the hell were you doing kissing Zémire in the park? You come home and ‘forget’ to even tell me she is in town but Sadie calls me to tell me you not only were well aware she was but you had your tongue down her throat in the park. What do you call it? Cort? Zémire?”

  He glanced at Zémire whose eyes still shot flames at him—they narrowed and she shoved the plate at him, causing him to wobble it a bit to keep it, the fork, and the remaining cake from hitting the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kysenzki. What it was, was a mistake and it won’t be happening again. Thank you for the cake. Great to see you again.” She speared him with a final glare and damn near ran out of the front door. Moments later, the rev of her bike could be heard followed by the sound of gravel flying.

  Cort dug his fingers into the lacquer on the plate and stared off in the direction Zémire had fled. The hell it won’t happen again. He had decided that he and Zémire made a great couple and was not about to let her get away.

  “Perhaps you better explain what happened,” Bernard said in his deep voice, drawing his attention away from the door Zémire had gone through.

  He swallowed and took a deep breath wondering how in the hell in the span of a single heartbeat, he’d gone from a full grown man who was an accomplished US Marshall to one who felt like a boy caught fooling around in the barn with a girl.

  “Nothing to explain,” he said, facing them and resting the plate down on the edge of the coffee table.

  “Really?” his mom asked, arms crossed and a look of total disbelief on her face. “Nothing at all?”

  “With all due respect, Mom, what goes on between me and Zémire is our business.”

  Her blue eyes flared with indignation and he expected the full weight of her lashing tongue. Surprisingly, it was his father who spoke next.

  “Let me break it down for you, son. You may be grown and your own man but we love that child like she were our own. So you remember that when you’re doing…or thinking about doing whatever with her.”

  He stared at his father. An imposing man. His powerful arms were crossed as well. They were the same height and his father was still in good shape, thanks to spending his days working on the ranch. Some silver hair threaded in with the blond but it only added a magisterial air to his look.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Bernard added with a grunt.

  “We are.” And they were. His folks wouldn’t stand for him to disrespect her in
any way. He picked up the plate and headed for the kitchen to take care of Zémire’s partially eaten cake.

  “Cort?”

  He turned back to look at his mother. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Why is she back? Zémire was just here for BB’s birthday.” Thalia Kysenzki took a step towards him only to pause and reach for her husband’s arm, slender fingers curled about his forearm almost like she was seeking to pull from his dad’s strength. “Is everything okay?”

  After a hesitation, he said, “Let me put this up and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Night had fallen, encompassing the Texas landscape in velvety darkness by the time he’d filled in his parents. They’d both told him to do whatever necessary to help her get her brother home and to let them know if they could help.

  “Just keep it quiet, please. What she doesn’t need is a bunch of people plying her with condolences.”

  “Okay, you let her know we’re here if she needs anything,” his mom instructed.

  “I will. And, Mom,” she looked at him, “I’m sorry for not telling you about her earlier.”

  She smiled and moved to kiss his cheek. “I just don’t like busybodies like Sadie knowing things about my family I don’t. It’s okay. Now go on, I know you have places to be, I’ll finish up the dishes.”

  He didn’t argue because he longed to see Zémire. “Thank you.” Returning his mom’s kiss, he rose and hugged his father, then headed for the door and his truck. He made a brief stop, then continued on his way out to BB’s and Zémire.

  Chapter Five

  There was a single light on in the house when he pulled up the drive. The downstairs living room could be seen from the interior of his truck. But there was no sign of Zémire. He parked his Dodge and got out. One foot on the bottom step of the porch and he paused before looking around.

  From the barn he could see another light adding its glow to the night. With a sharp nod, he pivoted and trotted off to find her. He paused in the open doorway and stared. The bottom had mostly been gutted. There were some stalls in the back of the barn and some hay bales scattered around.