Delivery (Star Line Express Romance Book 3)

by Alessia Bowman

  He’s definitely Chorynean, and his white-blond hair and those cheekbones slashed across his face do something to me that I’d prefer hadn’t just been done.

  Now he’s waving at all of us and we’re waving back. If the Chorynean pilot is riding high, so are we. It’s impossible not to be. No one can appreciate a pilot the way another pilot or a flight controller can. No one. And we’ve all just witnessed something that we may never see again.

  A moment later, the tall, slim pilot, his helmet under his arm, bounds into the control room and sweeps his yellow-eyed gaze across all of us, finally settling on me, the only female on duty this shift.

  “You must be the control voice,” he says to me. If I thought his voice was sexy over the comm, it’s triply sexy now.

  “You must be the transport pilot,” I say, laughing, because it’s impossible not to.

  Then he strides across the room, deposits his helmet on my desk, takes me in his arms, and gives me the most passionate kiss that anyone has ever given me. Maybe the most passionate kiss that anyone has ever given anyone.

  I can’t help myself. I match his passion with my own. That’s how caught up in the moment I am. And how attracted to this Chorynean daredevil I am.

  He loosens his grip, steps back a half step, stares and me, and says, “I haven’t had a day this fantastic in ages and fucking ages.”

  “Neither have we,” says Ozker, who’s got his hands on his hips and is short of breath, basking in the post-thrill high. He’s about to get his pilot’s license, and I can tell that he’d like nothing better than to drag the Chorynean back to the transport raft and get a few lessons from him.

  “I need another one of these,” the pilot says to me, puts his arms back around me and kisses me again, this time slower, sexier, and even more passionate. If I were the swooning type, I’d swoon right about now.

  My coworkers are now cheering, but I don’t seem to care. The thrill-a-minute pilot breaks our embrace.

  “Niya Redmor,” I say. I hold out my hand to shake his, which seems crazy since we’ve just had two unforgettable kisses.

  “Joston Lynar,” he says, “and don’t you say one fucking word about my name.”

  “You’ve redeemed the name Joston for eternity!” says Ozker, and more cheers go up as Joston and I shake hands.

  “Is your name really Joston?” I say.

  “I thought I told you not to say one fucking word about my name,” says Joston. His white-blond hair is longish and is sticking to his head, probably from its being jammed inside that helmet. I resist the urge to straighten out the stray strands.

  “There’s only one way to keep you quiet. I can see that,” he says, winking at me. Then he puts his arms around my waist, leans me back over the desk, and kisses me again, this time with even more passion than I thought possible. Especially from someone I don’t know at all.

  My damned heart is racing like crazy, and since Joston and I are pressed into each other, I’m sure he can feel it. Not to mention what I can feel.

  I open my eyes—just realizing that I’d closed them, like a romantic female in some sappy vid—and I see that Joston’s eyes are closed too. He has long, fair lashes, and they remind me so much of Aeryen’s that I get a pang of emotion that won’t let go.

  His tongue has now joined the kissing maneuver and I get the feeling that this guy isn’t just the most skilled pilot I’ve ever seen, but he’s probably a skilled lover as well. Experienced.

  The kiss that won’t end.

  I’m going to enjoy every moment of this.

  “Get a room!” someone says.

  “All hail Joston Lynar!” someone else says. Probably Ozker.

  But even though these are my workmates and I’ll have to face them and their teasing after Joston stops kissing me, after Joston leaves Engra, I don’t let go. I want this moment to last as long as it can.

  Joston nips at my lower lip, then puts his mouth on my ear and says, “Dinner. Or we can just skip that part. You tell me.”

  Something wakes up inside me, the part that remembers who I am. That I’m not just Niya Redmor, flight controller and swept-off-her-feet female, but that I’m also Aeryen’s mother. That no one else can take care of him but me.

  That I can’t go to dinner and I certainly can’t skip that part. Even if I’d love to.

  Just then the next shift arrives, the control room fills with excited chatter, another ship approaches, the business of flight controlling resumes, Joston breaks our embrace, and Ozker starts quizzing our Chorynean sensation about his aviation techniques.

  The moment’s gone. Lost.

  But I won’t ever forget it.

  Chapter 3

  Joston

  This is the happiest, the most fulfilling, the most exhilarating day I’ve had since the day I flew Lasson Birtak into the forest fire and we rescued his sister, Fitch, and Chlo. If I could have a day like this every day . . . well, damn, I’d take that if it was on offer. No need to think about it.

  I’d take that fabulous kisser as well.

  While I listen to Ozker, I steal a few glances her way. She’s talking to the male who’s taking over her desk as the shifts change. Her sleek, shoulder-length black hair seems integral to her personality. Like she was born with it cut like that. It brushes against her shoulders, hiding her serious face, which shows hints of her long-ago Chengdry heritage.

  I believe she said her name was Niya Redmor.

  But it doesn’t matter what the hell her name is. What matters is her luscious mouth, the exciting curves of her form, that spark in her dark gray eyes. The fast beat of her heart. Her response to my ministrations.

  “That last loop,” Ozker says. “How did you manage that?”

  “I’ll take you out tomorrow,” I say. “After the raft’s unloaded.”

  “Damn,” he says. “I’ve got the kids tomorrow.”

  “Maybe later, then,” I say. “We’re here for a few days.”

  “In two days, then?” he says.

  “Absolutely,” I say as I see Niya leaving the control room. “Gotta go,” I say to Ozker. “Taking care of things.”

  “Day after tomorrow,” Ozker says, sealing the appointment.

  Niya is halfway down the stairs before I catch up to her.

  “You’re not just walking away, are you?” I say.

  “I have to get home,” she says.

  “I’d rather we go out,” I say. “I hear the restaurants on Engra are excellent.”

  “They may be,” she says, “but I have to get home.”

  “You’re mated,” I say, since this fine female who was so easy to kiss has suddenly turned cold on me.

  “Yes,” she says, but I can tell she’s lying. You don’t spend a lifetime on Choryn without being able to spot a liar twenty parsecs away.

  “What’s his name?” I say, and she hesitates just long enough that it’s now obvious to both of us that not only is she lying, but that she’s a terrible liar.

  I jump down a few stairs and stand facing her, holding on to the rails on either side of the stairway, blocking her exit.

  “You’re no more mated than I am,” I say after she still hasn’t been able to come up with the made-up name of her nonexistent mate.

  “Don’t you need your helmet?” she says, reminding me that I left it in the control room.

  “No,” I say. “I need you to have dinner with me. Would that be so difficult?”

  “Yes,” she says. “That would be exceedingly difficult.” Her eyes are a deep violet now, no longer the dark gray they were in the control room. Must be the light here in the hallway.

  “You could have fooled me,” I say. “Just a few minutes ago you were pledging your undying love to me.”

  This stops her cold.

  “There are at least a million unmated females here on Engra,” she says as she brushes past me, ducking under my arm. “I’m sure any one of them would be happy to have dinner with you.”

  I follow her out to he
r rollcar. Well, it’s not exactly a rollcar, but close enough.

  She opens the hatch and gets in and I get in beside her, nudging her over to the passenger seat.

  “I’ll pilot,” I say.

  “Get out,” she says.

  “Come on, Niya,” I say. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy those kisses as much as I did.”

  “I have no idea how much you enjoyed those kisses,” she says. She lifts one of her hands and is about to touch her face, then puts her hand back in her lap.

  “I haven’t kissed a female in months,” I say.

  She looks out the side window.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll leave. Maybe you do have a mate but I’ve dazzled you so much you’ve forgotten his name.”

  As I move over to leave, she says, “Is this how you always do it?”

  “Only today,” I say, because despite my prowess with females, I actually have never done it this way before. I usually start slow and build up.

  She grabs my arm.

  “Don’t go,” she says. “I’ll make you dinner.”

  I secure the hatch, glance at the controls, which aren’t all that different from a rollcar’s, and say, “Where to?”

  Her hand is still on my arm. She stops staring out the side window and turns to look right at me.

  That’s when she leans over and gives me another one of the most exciting kisses I’ve ever had, and I fight to keep my cool.

  Especially because just then Ozker walks by, bangs his fist on the roof of the rollcar, and winks at us. But I don’t think Niya even noticed, she’s so intent on this epic kiss, so I put my arms around her and surrender to the moment.

  Niya

  If we weren’t in the lot outside the control room, I’d be . . .

  Well, no, I wouldn’t be. Although I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing either. Which is giving myself over to this rush of feelings I hadn’t expected. Certainly not today. Just an ordinary day at work. And the day before the day I’ll finally get to talk to someone who understands. Because Chlo can’t see me until tomorrow.

  Then this wild pilot shows up and my day—and it feels like my life as well—is turned upside down. Like the transport raft was.

  Maybe that’s what Joston Lynar does—turns everything he touches upside down. Turns me from someone who would never even fantasize about doing something like this into someone who does this very thing. Kissing a male I hardly know. Asking him to my place for dinner. Not caring who sees me making out with this flyboy from the Marinax.

  “Niya,” he says into my ear as he pushes back my hair.

  “Joston,” I say.

  “I don’t want to let go of you,” he says.

  “We have to pick up my son,” I say, killing the very mood I helped to create.

  Joston breaks our contact, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to leave. Can’t blame him.

  “You have a son?”

  “I do,” I say. “Aeryen. He’s almost seven.”

  We’re not kissing anymore, but Joston is holding on to my hands.

  “Then you do have a mate.”

  “I don’t,” I say.

  “He died?” Joston looks perplexed.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Joston will be leaving with the Marinax. I don’t need to tell him the elaborate story I give everyone else—that my sister, who’s working on a top-secret project in Majnia, wasn’t allowed to bring her baby with her. A story that everyone on Engra understands immediately. And sympathizes with.

  “You wouldn’t last two seconds on Choryn,” he says as he starts up the s-car.

  “I imagine I wouldn’t,” I say. “Chlo told me they won’t let anyone from outside Choryn settle there.”

  “Hah,” he says as I point at which road to follow. The guy drives my s-car like it’s his—and like he has no respect for any speed limit. But he’s forced to stop at the barrier on the crossroads.

  “You know someone named Chlo?” he says while we wait for the barrier to be taken down. It, as well as the other barriers, has been up since the last attack on the palace. It makes driving around difficult, but they’re needed to protect everyone.

  At least that’s what they say. Officially. They’re actually here to prevent further attacks.

  But I have other, more pressing, concerns than the attacks on the palace.

  “Yes,” I say. “Chlo Nightbird.”

  “The Chlo Nightbird who’s Lasson Birtak’s mate? That Chlo Nightbird?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m seeing her tomorrow.”

  “She’s not allowed on Engra,” he says. “Everyone knows that.”

  “I’m going to see her on the Marinax,” I say as the barrier comes down and Joston accelerates again. I had no idea my s-car could go this fast.

  “When did your mate die?” Joston says as he takes the turn right before Aeryen’s school.

  “Years ago,” I say.

  “How many years ago?” he says.

  “Is this an interrogation?” I say.

  “This is a conversation,” Joston says as he pushes some of his white-blond hair back from his face. This male is devastatingly handsome and he knows it. And he knows that I know it.

  “A few,” I say.

  “You know, most mates would remember the exact day their mate died,” he says as we pull up in front of Aeryen’s school.

  “I prefer not to think about it,” I say.

  Aeryen’s at the building’s doorway, and he’s waving at me.

  “I’m Chorynean,” Joston says. “If you don’t want to tell me the truth, just say so. I’ll understand.” He opens his hatch and gets out. I do the same.

  I can’t tell him the truth and there’d be no point in doing it anyway.

  “You’re right,” I say as Aeryen runs up to the s-car and, ignoring me, goes immediately to Joston’s side.

  “You’re Joston Lynar!” Aeryen says, practically jumping out of his skin.

  “Damn right I am,” Joston says, grinning down at Aeryen, who I’ve never seen look so excited or impressed.

  “Everyone is talking about you!” Aeryen says. “How you landed the raft! And you’re right here!”

  “Get in,” Joston says to Aeryen. “We’re going to have dinner together.”

  “Wow!” says my son.

  I jump back into the s-car just in time for Joston to slam down the hatch on his side and speed away.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 4

  Joston

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  I’m zooming around Engra’s capital city with Niya Redmor, a friend of Chlo Nightbird’s—an absolutely irresistible friend of Chlo Nightbird’s—and Niya’s son, who’s obviously Chengdry. So it’s actually impossible that he’s Niya’s son, I think, since her Chengdry connection is distant, but his is immediate.

  “Here,” says Niya as I nearly miss stopping at the house she’s pointing at. It’s small, but cute. Wild-grown yard. We’ve passed several yards like this, so it must be the style here. Not like on Choryn, where a yard is a place to keep everything in neat, ordered rows. This is much prettier yet a bit jarring to the Chorynean eye.

  In between wondering about the true origin of Niya Redmor’s “son” and what really happened to her mate, if she ever had one, which I doubt, I wonder how the two of us are going to manage what is undoubtedly on her must-need list right at the top, where it is on mine.

  I’m hoping her bedroom is at the opposite side of the house from Aeryen’s. Far, far away from it. Far away.

  I don’t have to hope that she intends for me to stay here tonight, because I have no way of getting anywhere, since we took her rollcar, or s-car, I think the kid called it, out here. Unless she intends to just kick me out and let me fend for myself.

  Well, I’ve done worse. But this is too intriguing to give up on just because of a few lies and an overenthusiastic kid. An overenthusiastic Chengdry kid. He must have a helluva ti
me in school.

  “Aeryen, go wash up,” Niya says.

  “No!” he says.

  I love this kid more every second.

  “Want to play a game?” I say to him.

  “He has to wash up,” Niya says.

  “Afterward,” I say, and I grab Aeryen’s hand, he grabs mine, and we race out to the backyard, where he’s got a collection of balls and things to hit them with, so we start in right away. I throw and he hits for a while, then we trade off. He’s damned good at this. Got the dexterity of someone much older. Another big hint at his Chengdry connection.

  After Aeryen and I exhaust each other, we stumble back into the house, make a big show of washing up, and present ourselves for dinner.

  “Tell me about the landing again,” Aeryen says as we dig in.

  Niya is a not-bad cook and I am hungry, but I’m having an increasingly thorny time concentrating on any sensual pleasure that doesn’t involve my naked body, Niya Redmor’s naked body, and some mutual ecstasy. I mean, it’s been months.

  I tell Aeryen about the landing again. Maybe for the fiftieth time since we picked him up at school.

  “Will you take me for a ride?” he says as we finish up dinner.

  I should probably ask Niya if this is okay, but what the fuck. “Of course,” I say. “Tomorrow after school all right with you?”

  Niya glares are me like she’d rather kill me than strip off all her clothing, a rather boring flight controller uniform incidentally, and embellish the activities we were engaged in earlier. Before all the lies and the advent of the kid.

  “Yes!” Aeryen jumps up, something he does quite a bit of, hugs me, hugs Niya, and runs to his room, perhaps to comm his pals and tell them of the marvelous coup he’s pulled off.

  “You can’t take him,” Niya says after we hear his door shut. A very definitive shutting, too.

  “Come on,” I say. “It’s fine. When’ll he ever get the chance to do something like this again?”

  “I don’t trust you,” she says as she starts clearing off the table.

  “Really?” I say, picking up some dishes and following her into the kitchen, which looks as little like a kitchen on Choryn as it possibly could. “You don’t trust me?”