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 glanced 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.
André slid by her side, scraping the skin off both his knees. “Are you ok?” he asked, his breath hitching in his chest.
Katrina just stared at the wreckage. She didn’t respond to André’s voice or touch.
André didn’t need to look. He already knew what he did, but killing Anna was the only way to save Katrina. “Kat!” he shouted and raw panic took hold.
Katrina shifted her eyes to his. “You...” She pointed at the wreckage a few feet away.
André nodded, his eyes filling with tears but he blinked them back.
Katrina’s eyes followed suit, but she was unable to blink back the tears.
André nodded and took her in his arms. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” he said and the shakes began. “I didn’t mean to...but I had to stop her.”
Katrina wrapped her arms around André, still staring at what used to be a hovercraft. Sirens wailed in the distance. “We need to get out of here.”
“Why?” André asked, pulling away.
“Because you didn’t kill Anna.”
André spun toward the wreckage.
>
Anna sat in the driver’s seat with the pieces of the hovercraft scattered around her, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open; the only evidence of an explosion was the singed edges of her hair. She blinked, alternating between staring at the two of them and assessing the damaged pieces of her father’s hovercraft lying all around her.
André slowly stood up, helping Katrina to her feet, without taking his eyes off the bizarre scene. “I told you not to fuck with me, Anna,” he said and escorted Katrina away from the wreckage. Just before they rounded the corner, André looked back. Anna was still sitting in the driver’s seat, which was the only recognizable piece of the craft. “I was so sure I killed her,” he whispered.
Katrina kept her mouth shut but her thoughts reached André anyway. He would have killed Anna if she hadn’t projected a protective cocoon around her the moment before the craft blew up. She had been stunned when the debris cleared and Anna was sitting unharmed in the middle of the wreckage.
André stopped walking and looked at his wife. “You did that?” He pointed over his shoulder.
“You would have killed her.” She glanced over her shoulder in his direction. “I know you were just trying to protect me.” She stopped and turned toward him. “I also know you wouldn’t be able to live with that, especially since she’s just reacting to the vibe you’re sending off.”
André nodded and resumed walking.
“I’m still pissed at you,” Katrina said. “You nearly frying Anna to a crisp to protect me doesn’t wipe out the fact that you screwed around on me.” She kept stride with him back to the house.
“I’m sorry.”
“Three strikes and you’re out.” She glared at him. “No matter how much I love you, you do this again and I’m out of here, and I’m taking Sam with me. I don’t give a damn that women are throwing themselves at you. If you so much as allow anyone but me to touch you...” She shook her head and sped up.
André slowed his pace, feeling both her fury and his shame course through him. He followed like a scolded puppy, carrying his sneakers in one hand and his towel in the other.
Katrina turned, swinging as her anger got the best of her. Her fist connected just above André’s left cheekbone, sending him back a couple of steps. She turned and stormed back on the path to their house, shaking her head and swearing under her breath.
André watched her go, his cheek and eye burning where her fist connected. He reached up and touched the tender flesh, wincing at the flash of pain before following her into the empty house. He slowly climbed the stairs, entering their room in time to see her disappear into the bathroom.
Regret burned his stomach and he swallowed, staring at the bathroom door and debating. Impulse won out and he crossed the hall, stepping into the bathroom, peeling his bathing suit off. When he opened the shower door, Katrina glared at him over her shoulder.
“All I want is you, Kat. All I’ve ever wanted is you.”
“Then why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I can’t have you right now and it’s driving me crazy.” He stepped closer. “I’m not getting any relief and I lie awake long after you’re asleep and I’m damn frustrated.” He reached out and touched her face. “So today, instead of saying no, I let it happen until Dad interrupted.” He stepped closer, into the spray of the shower, pulling Katrina to him.
André leaned over and kissed her hard, burying his free hand in her hair, creating more steam than just from the shower. When he pulled away, he reached for the temperature controls, turning it into the cold territory, cooling off the heat coursing through his veins.
Katrina turned the dial back to hot and pushed him against the back wall.
“You can’t,” André whispered just before her lips pressed against his. Yes, I can. Her voice echoed in his mind. André pulled away for a moment. “The doctor gave the go-ahead?”
“It’s been five weeks.” Katrina looked into his eyes, her hands already stroking him.
André leaned his head back against the shower stall. “Katrina,” he groaned and closed his eyes as she trailed kisses up his chest and neck. “Is it really okay?” he asked, trying to control himself.
“Yes,” she said. “And your mother won’t be back for another hour or so.” Before she finished the sentence, André had her in his arms, carrying her dripping body into the bedroom.
Spent and nuzzling her neck, he whispered, “I love you, Katrina Robbins. You own my heart and always have.” Closing his eyes, he was faintly aware that the side of his face leaning on her shoulder hurt where she had punched him earlier. Her fingers lightly traced his back, lulling him to sleep.
“André,” she whispered, bringing him back to consciousness.
“Mmm?” He leaned up on his elbows.
“I think Mom’s home,” she said, pushing gently away from him. She rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom to clean up.
André lay on his stomach for a few minutes, listening to the shower, content to just relax in bed until he heard his son fussing downstairs. He sighed and climbed out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts. He caught a glance in the mirror and hand combed his hair back into place before wandering downstairs toward the sound of Sammy crying.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, entering the kitchen. Sammy was in the portable crib, just starting to get that worked-up cry of discontent when André reached in and plucked him from the mattress.
“What are you doing home?” Linda asked.
“Dad fired me,” André answered and turned toward her.
Concern flashed on her face and she stepped toward him. “What happened to your eye?” she asked, touching the black-and-blue skin just below his left eye. She blinked and a crease of puzzlement appeared between her eyes. Her hand dropped to her side and she met his gaze. “Did you say your father fired you?”
“Yes and I deserved it,” he said, referring to both being fired and the black-and-blue mark on his face, but he didn’t go into any more detail about either. Instead, he shrugged and glanced at his son.
“What did you do, André?” Linda asked, annoyance creeping into her voice and transitioning her features into the disappointed look she usually reserved for when he brought home a less than stellar test grade from school.
André expected the transition into the world of X-rated thoughts at any second and when it didn’t come, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and stepped back. There was no hunger in her eyes or lewd thoughts in her mind and he offered a smile of gratitude, thankful for the small interlude.
“Well?” she asked as if the last five weeks never happened and she was back to herself.
“Let’s just say I screwed up and leave it at that.” He looked down at his son and smiled. “Hey there, Sammy,” he said, tracing his son’s nose with his fingertip. “Did you have a fun day with Nana?”
Sam cooed and smiled at his father, his arms and legs in perpetual motion.
“You are so good with him,” Linda said.
“Thanks, Mom.” It was the first real observation of his parental skills his mother had shared since Sam’s birth.
Katrina came bounding down the stairs, refreshed from her shower. “Thank you so much, Mom. I desperately needed a break today.” She reached for Sam.
“Not yet.” André glanced at her hands. “You get him all day, every day,” he added, wandering into the living room, thrilled to have some quiet time with his son. He sat in the rocking chair and began telling Sam about his day at the beach.
Katrina leaned against the doorjamb, taking in André and Sam. She looked back at Linda, who was watching the same scene over her shoulder.
“Something is different,” Linda said.
Katrina half turned toward her. “What do you mean?”
“André,” Linda said. “Something is different with him now.” She looked at Katrina. “Besides the black-and-blue eye,” she added, eliminating the obvious.
Katrina turned back to André, still feeling the overwhelming need to
be in his arms, but it was different. It wasn’t that “tear off his clothes and jump him despite the crowd” urge that overtook her since Sam was born and she had almost tackled him on the raft earlier, but now it was as if the sex vibe was gone. Her eyes widened. We slept together for the first time since Sammy was born.
André glanced in her direction. Don’t you dare say a word. He smiled at Katrina, making her blush, but it didn’t prompt a near orgasmic reaction like it would have this morning and a new theory surfaced in her mind. One she had to test out.
Linda shrugged and wandered away.
“I need to pick up some diapers. Feel like taking a walk with me and Sammy?”
“Sure.” André nodded. He stood, handing Sammy to Katrina and grabbing the stroller. He set it up outside, helping Katrina strap in their son. “You think because we had sex, I’m not sending the signal to every female in the vicinity anymore?”
“Actually, that is what I’m thinking.” She glanced sideways at him with a grin.
“I don’t know, I kind of like the attention. It’s good for my ego.”
Katrina’s smile disappeared. “It’s what got you in trouble, remember?”
André hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, keeping stride with Katrina as she pushed the stroller down the street. “Yeah,” he said as they passed the area where Anna’s craft had been destroyed. They both tried to ignore the small pieces still glimmering on the edge of the grass.
“What are you doing in space?” Katrina asked, returning to the dropped conversation from earlier.
“Stopping a meteor from hitting Earth,” André replied. His cavalier attitude made Katrina stop short.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because if it hits, we’re all in trouble,” he said. “But I can make it miss.”
“Like Anna’s hovercraft?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s too big to explode.”
Katrina resumed walking, thinking about what André was saying. “So what are you going to do?” She looked over at him.
“If I can see it, I can push it off course.”
Katrina steered the stroller across the street to the entrance of the lake, with André in tow. She could see her friends gathered on the beach and paused. “Is it dangerous?”
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