“I’m sure the crew is too busy restocking supplies,” Myrina said. “We leave tomorrow morning.”
Trust Sonora Austen to go gaga. The woman never turned down an opportunity to study a new culture. Unfortunately, her announcement only made Sonny more curious.
“How… You’re going out on a field assignment? Are you okay with that?”
Myrina shrugged as casually as she could. The downside of discussing her upcoming assignment was that everyone knew about her alleged agreement with deMorriss. What could she say? That her stomach still felt tight and slightly nauseous at the thought of stepping onto the Speedlite tomorrow.
Beside her, Kikki looked somewhat dismayed, then grinned. “The Warlord was a bit too intense for my taste,” she said. “But what are the possibilities of meeting some other hunky, available Dakokatan on this flight?” If there was a way, Kikki would put a positive spin on the problem.
Myrina gritted her teeth. “None,” she said at the same time Sonny added, “Zero.”
Kikki frowned at the two women.
“You’re not going, Kikki,” Myrina explained. “I’m flying solo. Or at least I’m the only TLC employee on this voyage,” she amended.
Her assistant looked horrified by the news. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Myrina?”
“I’ll manage,” Myrina said and just stopped herself from crossing her fingers in the superstitious hope her words were true.
With an uncertain nod, Kikki turned to Sonora. “So what’s with this zero, Doc? Are you saying I wouldn’t have found true love on this trip anyway?”
“Exactly. The Dakokatans are one of the few humanoid races who are genetically programmed to find their mate.”
“Oh, please,” Myrina said, frowning at this ludicrous explanation. “Genetically coded love? Give me a break.”
“Scoff all you want, but it’s true. The genetic marker works like a light switch that turns on when compatible Dakokatan mates enter each other’s personal space.”
“You mean they fall in love with a stranger?” Kikki asked.
“Actually, from what I can tell the Dakokatan language doesn’t have a specific word for love. Rakanasmara is the term used to denote the genetic partnership for mating. It’s activated in late puberty, so I suppose it’s possible for two neighbors to discover they’re mates.” Sonny shrugged. “It’s equally possible that a Dakokatan never finds his or her mate.”
“How do you know all this?” Myrina asked, now curious in spite of herself. “The Dakokatans only just joined the Confederacy and I understand they maintained an isolationist policy up until very recently.”
Sonora smiled and glanced around the room. A few feet away five lab technicians still in TLC uniforms were engaged in a heated argument. A couple sat behind Kikki, but they were too engrossed in each other to pay attention to the three women.
Satisfied, Sonny leaned forward. “When the Confederacy started negotiating an alliance with the Dakokatans, deVere assigned me to research their culture for TLC’s database. Why? Are you interested?”
“Sure,” Kikki said with a mischievous smile. “In a certain tall, green alien. Right, boss?”
“Not!” Myrina said. Especially after the weird reaction she’d had to him earlier in the afternoon. She sincerely hoped she didn’t have any more adverse symptoms around the rest of the crew. Just the thought of walking onto the Speedlite tomorrow morning gave her the creeps without any added complications. “But I am interested in what you can give me on Dakokatan customs. It may come in handy.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell us, Myrina?” Sonny asked. Although a smile played across her mouth, her eyes spoke of her heartfelt concern for her friend’s situation.
Stubbornly, Myrina shook her head. There was nothing to tell and nothing anyone could do to save her from this field assignment.
“Okay, I’ll send you a data-chip on Dakokatan culture before I turn in for the night.”
“Thanks.” Getting down to business, Myrina quickly explained the portable equipment and programs she’d need Kikki to prepare by morning and then left to search for her next victim.
She had no trouble spotting Parker Brown’s wiry frame. He was trying to disengage himself from a couple of Callottas. From the looks of things the two males wanted him to continue drinking the vile resin liquor that left Callottas and non-Callottas alike in a drunken stupor for days. Casually intercepting a grateful Parker, she steered them to a small table near the center of the room. Before she could sit down, he drew her into his arms for a warm hug.
“Nine days is too long,” he whispered in her ear, referring to their respective projects, which had kept them apart.
“I missed you too.” Myrina happily accepted the warmth and love that were given so freely.
She and Parker had met during their first year at university when they’d been assigned as lab partners in a chemistry class. She’d been little more than a defiant puppy, on her own for the first time and struggling to make a place for herself. Then Parker had suddenly announced one Thursday afternoon he was taking her to his parents’ home for the weekend.
Of course she’d refused. She hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong impression or lose her chem partner. Instead of taking no for an answer, he’d backed her into a corner. Literally. For all of half a minute—okay, five minutes, maybe ten—they’d explored a certain option. Then backed off, having reached a mutual understanding that, in the long run, the friendship between them was the better choice. He’d still taken her home for the weekend.
The entire experience had been overwhelming, exciting and scary for an orphan who’d never had anyone want her, especially since the rest of the Brown family unofficially adopted her on sight. As strong a person as she was, Myrina considered Parker and his family her saviors because they had provided the unconditional refuge she’d needed from the world.
“Let’s go to my place,” Parker suggested.
“Can’t. I just ordered my supplies from Kikki and dropped over to say hello and goodbye. I’ve been given a new assignment.”
With a resigned sigh, Parker released her and plunked himself down on the chair kitty-corner to the one she pulled out for herself. “So much for our dinner date tomorrow night. What’s the assignment?”
Myrina shrugged, giving him a half smile that acknowledged her own regret. “It’s a long story and a long trip from TLC, courtesy of deVere, I think, although Fenton was the one who gave me the bad news.”
Parker sat up straight and whistled softly. “You’re being sent off-world? How is that possible?”
“Apparently it’s very easy. Fenton had no trouble telling me I was going on a field assignment.”
“The bastard. I’ll speak to deVere.”
“No,” she said, grabbing his arm even though Parker hadn’t moved.
He shook her off and scowled. “Don’t tell me you’re okay with this, Myrina. I won’t believe you.”
“I know.” Unlike Kikki and Sonora, Parker was her one friend who knew the whole story behind her anxiety attacks and her work arrangement.
“Do you?” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I remember when they brought you home.”
“Parker.” Damn, he was going to get sentimental on her.
“I spent a goddamn month in that hospital,” he said as if they both didn’t know the story by heart. “Sitting beside your bed talking to you. I didn’t know if you could hear me or not, but I kept talking.”
“And one day I did hear you and I woke up,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. As a scientist she didn’t know if that was really true, but sentimentality aside, it was as good an explanation as any why she’d been the only one of the three critically ill team members to survive.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to get sentimental. I’ve had three shots of Callotta resin.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Must have killed off a few brain cells. So, I talk to deVere, see what’s going on?”
“I k
now what’s going on,” she said. Once Fenton had informed her of the red alert status code, she’d known. She was going out into the field, no matter how irrational her fear at the time. That didn’t mean she liked it any better. She’d done her best so far to ignore the outer space angle of the assignment.
“I can’t let you jeopardize your chances at a Directorship,” she said. “Besides, I told you, I think the orders came from deVere, so talking to him won’t do any good.”
Parker didn’t look too happy, but nodded to show he’d back off. “Must be big. What happened?”
Myrina wasn’t surprised by his question. Parker might not take direct action, but that wouldn’t stop him from investigating. And, remembering a certain Dakokatan Warlord, she knew exactly whom she wanted Parker to check out. “A little green man has been playing with environments he knows nothing about and I have to go in and save his ass.”
Instead of laughing or, heck, even grinning at her comment, Parker’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a deep blush stained his face.
“Ah, Myrina…”
Slowly, Myrina let a string of curses flow silently through her brain. She didn’t need to look to know who’d just passed by behind them.
With a shock she realized she’d been rubbing her forearm. The tingle was back or had it been there all along only she hadn’t noticed it until now? Even her scalp prickled the way it had in deMorriss’ office. Since she’d felt perfectly normal when she’d entered the bar, she wondered if her bizarre theory wasn’t so off the wall after all. The Dakokatan’s presence really did seem to affect her physiologically.
“Shit.” She allowed the one word that aptly described what she’d just gotten herself into to escape her lips.
“You’re calling a six-foot-three Dakokatan a ‘little green man’?” Parker’s voice sounded slightly incredulous.
“Don’t. Just tell me how close he was.” Not that she really had to ask. Her skin seemed equipped with an early warning system where the Dakokatan was concerned.
“Close enough to hear your last comment.”
Setting her elbows on the table, Myrina rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Fenton would be livid if he found out she’d offended the Ambassador after his little talk with her this afternoon. She sighed. And here she’d honestly thought the day couldn’t get any worse.
“I’ll have to go and apologize tonight.” She murmured the words more to herself but, when she sat up and opened her eyes, one look at Parker told her he’d heard. She shrugged. “I can’t go onto his ship tomorrow having him believe I meant what I said.”
“After what just happened you want to interact with a pissed-off green alien? Can’t you just get reassigned to the Mining Consortium instead?”
She gave him a weak grin. “After our meeting this afternoon, he’d probably like to fly me there himself.”
* * * * *
Three and a half minutes after leaving the Fifth Wheel, Myrina stood outside the Warlord’s door. Given his status as an Ambassador and his preferential docking privileges, she wasn’t surprised to find him occupying one of the nicer suites in TLC’s guest wing. Of course, since she hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to knock on his door, all she’d admired so far were the carpeting and the elaborate silk flower arrangement standing on a replica antique table at the end of the hall.
This was undoubtedly a very bad idea. deMorriss had already issued a warning and even Parker had suggested she take cover after his first look at a Dakokatan. So, what exactly was she doing outside the man’s door when the mere thought of an off-world assignment creeped her out?
No, if she was going to humble herself, she needed to be truthful about her reasons. And the answer wasn’t too hard to find. Regardless of the Warlord’s current opinion of her and her own fears about going off-world for this assignment, she could not sit by and let the Outposters die.
Silently, the door slid open on its own and a voice beckoned. “Weren’t you planning to come in, Dr. deCarte?”
Not exactly an invitation, but since he’d opened his door she took it as one. This time she was aware of the Warlord’s presence as soon as she stepped over the threshold. In the dimly lit room it took a moment longer to spot him standing with his back to her, fixing a drink for himself at a small table. She knew it was him, even though the man had hair the color of dark copper hanging down to his waist. At intervals around his scalp were thin braids of hair interwoven with silver and black beads.
The flames of a dozen candles set around the room flickered, indicating the door had closed behind her. The candles themselves were beautiful, fat columns of a rich sienna color, their scent containing a hint of vanilla and some unfamiliar essence that filled the room. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The fragrance teased her senses with half-formed visions of what she imagined was the Dakokatan homeworld. How was that possible? She knew less than nothing about the Warlord’s planet.
“The candle makers add imported vanilla beans to sweeten the bitter scent of the sand from the Tekur desert region.”
Her heart thumped a sharp staccato when she opened her eyes and he turned towards her, a half smile playing across his face. Immediately her skin tingled as though an electric current jumped between them. Damn, how did he do that?
“Tekur as in tekurilite?” she asked, surprised to learn the candles were made with sand containing a rare mineral, not wax. “When ground into fine dust isn’t tekurilite considered…”
“An aphrodisiac?” He nodded, that seductive smile still skirting the edges of his mouth. “Yes. Having second thoughts?” he asked.
Somehow she had the impression he was no longer referring to the distinctive scent of the candles, but rather issuing a challenge. She didn’t back away. In fact she needed every ounce of willpower she had to fight the urge to cross the room and touch him. He wore leggings. That was all. No boots and most definitely no shirt.
He made the decision for her, covering the distance between them in a few short steps. Given their difference in height she suddenly found herself eye level with his chest. Make that his hairless chest, leaving her with a clear view of hard, sculpted muscles.
She gulped a breath of air. Warlord indeed. Two faint, ragged lines bisected his left pectoral. She didn’t know much about Dakokatan anatomy, but the scars were too close to where a human heart would be for comfort. Her fingers fluttered with the need to reach out and offer comfort. A ridiculous sentiment given the age of the wounds.
“Here.” He held up his glass. “You look like you could use a drink.”
Has he noticed my hands? Does he suspect what I want to do? She nearly shook her head. She didn’t need alcohol to cloud her already scrambled emotions.
“It’s spring water,” he said as if he’d read her thoughts. “Take a sip.”
Still, she hesitated. She had the distinct impression he wanted to serve her himself rather than surrender the glass. Needing to steady her hands, however, she compromised. When he didn’t let go, she wrapped them around both the glass and his hand. There were no sizzles of heat or shooting stars or dizzy spells. Only the smooth skin of a firm hand tipping the glass to her lips. She drank, welcoming the cool liquid in her suddenly parched mouth.
What’s happening to me? Between us? With him?
She suppressed the questions and pushed the glass away. She wished she could shove her wild thoughts away as easily. Before she could let go, however, he drew the cup to his own lips and drank. Just a sip, yet she knew he wanted to share the water with her. She was still holding on when he lifted his free hand and smoothed away the sheen of moisture from her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. It was smooth like the rest of his skin.
Instantly she jerked out of his grasp and dropped her hands. Get a grip! Time to remember why she was here. And it wasn’t to be intimate with a stranger. Especially one she’d insulted.
“I came to apologize,” she said. “My remark at the Fifth Wheel was made in one of my stupider momen
ts.”
The Warlord took another sip of water and then set the glass down on a small table beside them. “The man with you told you I’d heard?”
Her face grew hot, a reaction she wasn’t proud of. Stiffly, she nodded her head.
“Then you are here to try to, how do you say, dig yourself out of a hole?” Gone was the careful modulation he’d exerted over his voice in deMorriss’ office, replaced by blatant curiosity.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t once tried to disguise his voice since she’d arrived, any more than he’d disguised his appearance. So why did he take such deliberate care to hide himself this afternoon?
“You’re right, of course,” she said, determined to see her apology and request through to the end. Her simple reasons for coming here had suddenly turned complex. “If you hadn’t heard I wouldn’t be here, but I can assure you I wouldn’t have liked myself any better.”
“Tell me about the man you were with.”
His request startled her, especially when he gave no other reaction to her admission. “Parker Brown?” How was he relevant to her mistake? “He’s the First Assistant to the Chief Medical Officer here at TLC.”
“And you’ve been away from each other for a long time?”
“What?”
“You and this Parker gave every indication of knowing each other quite well.”
Just like that her face grew hot again. Well crap. Why she should be embarrassed now when she and Parker had been observed together hundreds of times mystified her.
“Yes,” she said. “Parker and I are very close.” Period, end of story, butt out.
“What about deMorriss?”
“Fenton?” No one got close to Fenton deMorriss and after today she knew why.
“Do you like working for him?”
“I like working for TLC.”
“Hence your reason for coming here tonight to apologize. Am I right?”
This time he applied the shock treatment without the electrical current. Did he really believe she was that shallow? That desperate? That calculating?
Love Partner Page 3
