Caid: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides #3 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Cara Bristol

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What happened this time?”

  I explained about the mixer, and how she had demanded I choose a female. “I was stuck between two icebergs,” I said. “If I didn’t pick someone, Jessie would lose her job with the Intergalactic Dating Agency, and I wouldn’t get to see her.”

  “Earth females are attached to their jobs,” Aton agreed.

  “But if I did pick someone, then I’d be stuck with an unwanted female and wouldn’t get to see Jessie.”

  “Why couldn’t you pick Jessie?” asked a Dakonian nursing an ale two barstools down.

  “Have you met Darak?” Aton asked. “He’s my mate-in-law. His female and my female are sisters. He and Lexi also met through the Intergalactic Dating Agency.”

  Darak and I shook hands in the Terran way. “Nice to meet you,” I said. “According to Jessie, we can’t be mates because the agency has rules against something called fraternization with clients.”

  “That’s stupid.” Darak frowned. “If a female is your Fated mate, she’s your Fated mate. You can’t set arbitrary rules.”

  “Well, Earth does,” I said. “I thought I had found a solution. When I asked Jessie what would happen if I chose a female not in the agency system, she said I’d be placed on inactive status, and the agency would cease arranging dates for me. So, I figured if I picked someone from the outside, I’d no longer be on the active client list, and Jessie and I would be free to be together.

  “A drink server at the mixer had approached me. She wasn’t an agency female, and she gave me her napkin with her calling number on it. So, I told Jessie I wanted her.” I took a big gulp of my ale. “Jessie ran out of my hut so fast, she left her footwear. That was five days ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aton said.

  Darak shook his head. “That’s rough.”

  I pulled Best of the Worst: 1001 Pickup Lines to Nail a Chick out of my back pocket and slapped it on the counter. “My troubles aren’t covered in my study guide. I reread the whole tome, and there don’t seem to be any special words to fix my problem. But even if I found the right words—I’d still have to get Jessie to see me.”

  Aton looked at me. “Didn’t you say she ran away without her shoes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still have them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, isn’t that a perfect excuse to see her again—to return her footwear?”

  I twisted my mouth. “That’s a good suggestion. I should have done that first,” I said. “But now, I’d have to get past the security guards.”

  “Have you tried giving her a plant?” Darak asked. “When I courted Lexi, I brought her some yellow flowers called dandy lions. She loved them. She said nobody had ever gotten her flowers like that before. I was fortunate to find some growing in the cracks of the walkway outside the barracks where I lived, but some establishments sell plants. Since Jessie has refused to see you, perhaps if you ordered some online and had them delivered, it would soften her heart.”

  “I remember that now from the assimilation classes. The instructor said females appreciate receiving gifts.” I pulled out my calling device. “What do I search for?” I asked.

  “Here,” Darak said. “Let me.”

  He scooted to the barstool next to me, and I handed him my phone. He swiped through it then gave it back. Floral Magic promised flowers for all occasions, but I didn’t find any blooms resembling big cats. “I don’t see dandy lions listed,” I said.

  “Then pick some flowers that remind you of her,” Darak suggested.

  I found a standing spray of lilies in the same orange shade as her hair. Perfect. I added a deluxe package to my cart. Then some hydrangeas, blue like her eyes, caught my attention, so I ordered them, too. And lastly, some pink roses mimicked the color her skin turned when she got mad at me. Since that was most of the time, it seemed appropriate. I selected two dozen.

  “I’m getting her pink roses because they remind me of her,” I said. “But Floral Magic says red roses represent love.” I couldn’t risk making a mistake.

  “Get the red ones, too,” Darak advised, and Aton nodded in agreement.

  I intended there to be no doubt in her mind I loved her, so I selected two dozen long-stemmed roses and clicked Pay Now. With tax and delivery, including a surcharge for such a large order, the total came to $1,569.42. “That’s nice,” I said.

  “What is?” Aton asked.

  “I get to include a free gift card!” I looked at them. “What do you think I should say?”

  Darak knocked back a gulp of his ale. “What does the study guide advise?”

  I thumbed through it. “Here’s something—‘Is your father an alien? Because there’s nothing else like you on Earth.’”

  Aton paused in filling a mug with ale from the tap. “Her father is an alien?”

  “I hadn’t thought so, but it could be possible. For sure, there isn’t another female like her on this planet.” I keyed in the message and added my name so she’d know the blooms were from me. I paid for it and then clicked submit.

  Chapter Seven

  Jessie

  My fingers hovered over the computer keys. Do it already. Do it and be done with it.

  After six days without Caid, the ache throbbed as strong as ever. My heart felt shredded and raw. What I had remembered as a memorable, incredible, awesome, searing kiss had meant nothing to him. As I’d feared, all his flirting and flattery had been meaningless words. As soon as I let him know of my attraction—he’d lost interest. And to think I’d considered risking my job! I was dumber than all the other women who threw themselves at him—pathetic with a capital P. Well aware of what a player he was, I’d started to convince myself otherwise. Why? Because during the short time at his condo, he’d called me by name instead of those stupid nicknames? Because he’d looked sexy all sleepy and rumpled? Or because his kiss had curled my toes?

  None of it meant anything. He’d named his choice: Evie. Had he been fantasizing about her while kissing me? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Deep down—especially after the way he’d kissed me—I’d believed he would refuse to choose, insisting upon dating me, and this time I would have accepted.

  Instead, he’d slapped me with Evie’s name. So hurt I couldn’t speak, I’d grabbed my purse and run barefooted from his condo. Fortunately, he’d parked my car right outside his unit. I jumped in, peeled away in a blaze of rubber, and cried all the way home.

  Jackass! Jerk!

  Like nothing had happened, he’d breezed into my office the next day thinking he could sweet-talk me with a few sugars and babes. Fat chance, asshole! I’d called security and had him ejected. If I got into trouble for being “rude” to a client, then so be it.

  As soon as I marked him active-matched in the system, I’d never have to deal with him again. He’d be out of my hair. Final. Paid. Case Closed.

  So, do it. What are you waiting for?

  I had three short days remaining before the deadline. I’d half expected the director to call me for a report on the mixer. She followed this case, and probably accessed the system regularly to check his status. If I’d wanted to try to reclaim some of the points I’d lost, I should have inputted Evie’s name immediately to beat my deadline.

  But when I’d attempted to do it, I’d faltered.

  Final. Paid. Case Closed.

  Do it already.

  Funny, I didn’t remember his choice. I knew the names of all twelve invitees; none of them had been an Evie. But, Caid had had the cocktail napkin with her number. It had to be either a middle name or nickname. The system would have a record of aliases. It kept data on everything.

  Kicking off my shoes to get more comfortable, I accessed the records, pulled the list of mixer invitees, and ran a search for “Evie.”

  DATA NOT FOUND.

  What? That couldn’t be right.

  Maybe I’d keyed it in wrong; I reran the search. Same results. E-V-I-E had to be the correct spelling b
ecause I’d seen her name written, but I searched for different versions…Ivy, Evee, Evy…DATA NOT FOUND. I had the computer comb the list of all sixty-two of his prior dates.

  Zilch.

  How could that be?

  What was I going to do now? I had to have a name! I had three days left to get him matched. Of course, I could contact him and have him verify his choice, but the ice would melt on Dakon before that happened. No way would I speak to that jerk again.

  A knock sounded then my office door opened and a man poked his head inside. “Ms. Hancock?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a flower delivery.”

  “For me?” Some years my mother sent me flowers, but it wasn’t my birthday. I fumbled for my shoes under my desk.

  No one would send me flowers…except…Caid? Yeah, that sounded like something he would do. He assumed he could toss a few flattering words or throw a few carnations at me, and everything would be all right; we’d kiss and make up.

  I’d never kiss him again. Ever. The ice would melt on Dakon before that happened, too.

  My stupid heart fluttered anyway. Where were my damn shoes? They’d disappeared. I stretched out my foot.

  “If you’re Jessie Hancock, they’re for you. Where do you want ’em?” The delivery guy swept a skeptical gaze around my tiny office.

  “Right here.” I shoved some stuff on my desk to make room for a bouquet.

  “If you say so.” He peered over his shoulder. “She says in here. Bring ’em in guys.”

  I stretched out my leg, searching for my shoes. Where the heck were they?

  The guy pushed the door open to admit another man who lugged in a humongous spray of tiger lilies, orange blossoms, and Gerbera daisies. My jaw dropped. With the pot and stand, the arrangement stood at least five feet tall and more than three feet wide.

  “On your desk, huh?” Guy No. 1 smirked.

  “You’d better put it over here.” Barefooted, I jumped up and dragged one of the two guest chairs out of the way so they could place the flowers in the corner.

  “What about the others?” he asked.

  “Others?”

  Another man brought in an arrangement of blue hydrangeas nearly as large as the tiger lily one. I had to move the two guest chairs into my little waiting room. The two guys disappeared then returned, each with a dozen long-stemmed roses under each arm. Two sets were pink, the other two red. They set the four gigantic bouquets on my desk.

  It was so…so…over-the-top. Romantic. My throat thickened, and I feared I would cry. “Is-is that it?” I asked tentatively.

  Eyebrows arched. “That’s not enough?”

  “Uh, no. Of course, it is.” Way more than enough.

  “Sign here.” He handed me a tablet, and I scrawled my signature with my finger.

  Pressing his lips together, he shook his head. “It’s guys like this that ruin it for the rest of us.”

  The men departed, leaving my office filled with flowers and smelling like a rose garden—literally. I stared at the flowers, emotion welling up. I stroked a tiger lily petal in the first arrangement. The orange blossoms smelled sweet, and the Gerbera daisies were so sunny and bright. The fiery color was beautiful and eye-catching. One arrangement was dramatic enough, but six? The hydrangeas were such a lovely blue. And, the roses smelled so good. I took a whiff.

  A small white envelope stuck out of a red bunch. I opened it.

  Is your father an alien? Because there’s nothing else like you on Earth—Caid.

  His ridiculous words contrasted with the beauty of the flowers. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. No other alien I’d ever encountered spoke the way he did—nor did any human males. For one thing, the patter was out-of-date—it had gone out with groovy, gnarly, bitchin’ and rad—and the cornball lines had never worked when they were current! What was wrong with that man? He had to realize no woman could take him seriously when he talked like a cornball.

  I surveyed the abundant, extravagant floral display.

  Unless he didn’t know.

  How could an alien from another planet be expected to be current on Earth culture and dating etiquette? The Intergalactic Dating Agency tried to educate them, but the classes hardly scratched the surface of everything they needed to know. As a result, most aliens resorted to and got hooked on television and ’Net vids. TV acted like junk food for the brain. If Caid watched a lot of it, that could explain where he’d gotten his strange ideas.

  “There’s nothing else like you on Earth.” I tucked the little card into the plastic clip where I could see it. What if he intended to be sincere? What if I’d been misjudging him, misreading his actions?

  From the outset, he’d professed interest, had referred to me as his mate. After meeting sixty-two gorgeous, smart, personable, highly compatible women, he continued to claim he wanted me, freckle-faced, frizzy-haired Jessie. It made zero sense.

  “Love isn’t always logical.” Hadn’t the director said that? What if he did like me? I pressed a hand to my throat as my heart hammered.

  What if Caid wasn’t the clueless one? What if I was?

  He picked Evie. Right after kissing me, he’d thrown another woman’s name in my face.

  After I forced him to. I’d thrown women at him left and right and demanded he choose one. Could I fault him for finally capitulating?

  Or had he?

  I glanced at my screen. DATA NOT FOUND. The computer couldn’t locate a single Evie in its entire database. Had he fabricated a name to satisfy me? But he’d had the napkin with her number. I was so confused.

  I bent my head and inhaled the sweet scent of roses. No man had ever sent me so much as a single cheap carnation. Caid had sent a fortune in flowers—and what an assortment. Tiger lilies. Hydrangeas! Pink and red roses? The delivery was so characteristic of his personality. Extravagant, over-the-top, irresistibly charming.

  I sank into my chair. Hadn’t I always dreamed of my prince coming to sweep me off my feet? What if he’d been here all along? What if love had arrived as a grinning, smooth-talking alien Romeo? I’d refused Caid’s calls. Had security throw him out.

  I’d be a fool to choose a job over love. I could get another job anywhere. How often did one find true love?

  But, what if my original impression had been correct? What if Caid was an insincere Dakonian Casanova? What if I followed my heart, and it got broken? What if he did desire the mysterious Evie?

  What if I let my chance for love get away?

  Don’t let fear overrule your heart. Stop playing it so safe. Love is worth the risk.

  If I had to choose between love and a man, I should grab my guy with both hands. I believed in love. That’s why I’d applied for a position with the IDA—if I couldn’t have my HEA, I could at least help other women get theirs.

  Except for Evie. She could find her own man.

  I wished I could save my job, though. Making other people happy was the best position in the whole world. I hated to give it up if I didn’t have to. If I could find a way to mark Caid matched… Unfortunately, pulling up any old name and linking it to him wouldn’t work. The system would notify her, and she’d expect to meet him.

  I eyed the computer. I looked at the flowers. Nothing like you on Earth.

  My boss had told me to think out of the box.

  I closed out the IDA intranet and navigated to the galaxy-wide ’Net.

  Chapter Eight

  Caid

  Seated in the restaurant, I kept my back to the bar and my eye on the door. I hoped this wasn’t another date. In all my past encounters with females, I’d been given a name beforehand. This morning, I’d received an email from the Intergalactic Dating Agency requesting a meeting at this restaurant to discuss my experience. They hadn’t said it was a date, but I couldn’t help feeling wary. I couldn’t imagine who would want to speak to me if it wasn’t about a date. Jessie wasn’t talking to me. Unless…maybe her boss wished to evaluate her performance? Jessie had worried she might
lose her job. It reasoned her boss from the agency might interview me about the service she had provided. If I was meeting Jessie’s boss, I might discover a way around the anti-fraternization rule.

  If asked about my dating experiences, I would lie and report I was satisfied to avoid getting Jessie in trouble. She had done an excellent job in finding females. It wasn’t her fault I’d dismissed all the choices. I half regretted joining the Intergalactic Dating Agency, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met my female. Her refusal to acknowledge me didn’t alter the facts.

  My phone rang, and I answered it. “Hello?”

  “Hi. It’s…Jessie.”

  My pulse raced, and my horns swelled at the sound of her voice.

  “I’m calling to um, thank you for the beautiful flowers. Nobody’s ever done that before. They filled up my entire office.”

  Success! The flowers had gotten Jessie to contact me. Darak had been right; females did favor plants. “I’m glad you liked them. The colors reminded me of you.”

  “They did?”

  “Orange for your hair, blue for your eyes, and pink for your face when you object to something I’ve said.”

  There was a moment of silence before she sighed. “I guess I do that a lot. I’m sorry I got so mad, wouldn’t talk to you, and called security on you.”

  “I don’t know what angered you.”

  “You chose Evie.”

  “You told me to! You insisted I pick somebody.”

  “You did it right after we kissed.” She hesitated. “You don’t like her, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, good…because I can’t find her anywhere in the IDA system.”

  “She was the bartender at the mixer.”

  “You were supposed to choose one of the IDA women, not the bartender!” She sounded amused and exasperated. “Why did you name her?”

  “Because I didn’t want anybody but you. I thought if I picked an outsider, I could go on inactive status, then I wouldn’t be a client, and you could date me.”

  “So there was a method to your madness,” she said.