She figured he needed it as much as she did.
While he got the brandy, she examined a group of stillvids on a credenza. A smiling couple held two small children, the boy she recognized as a younger, mischievous version of the man getting brandy. “You look the same,” she said. “Only…more.”
He snorted and uncorked a bottle of amber liquid. The second image showed a mature Dale with four other men, three of them as big and muscular as he, one startling familiar. Her gaze shot to Dale.
“Buddies,” he answered her unspoken question. “Kai Andros, Brock Mann, Carter Aymes”—he poured two shots—“and March you already know.” He brought the drink over to her.
“You knew March before you opened the shop?”
“We go back a ways.”
She eyed the stillvid, realization dawning. “You’re all cyborgs?”
He nodded. “Except for the guy in the middle. Carter. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”
Carter stood as tall as the other men but couldn’t match their physique, their musculature.
She set down the stillvid to accept the small glass. They clinked. Dale downed his in a single gulp, while she took a tiny taste. Fire seared her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. “Oh hell!” She coughed.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “I should have warned you. Cerinian brandy doesn’t affect cyborgs.”
“Potent stuff,” she said, and shifted her gaze to the third stillvid. Dale and two men and two women knelt over a dusty pile of rocks, purple sky behind them. “Friends?”
“My archeology team.”
“The ones who were killed.” After which he’d been captured and tortured.
“Yeah.”
“Again, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
She braced herself and sipped her brandy, managing not to choke this time. She studied his Spartan accommodations furnished in a minimalist manner. “Your place says a lot about you.”
“That I’m boring and utilitarian?”
“That you’re a fair man. You don’t take advantage of your position. You’re living pretty much like the employees who work for you.”
“I do have my own private ChemShower,” he joked, but a trace of red darkened his cheekbones.
“And you did take a client’s spaceship for a joy flight.” She finished off the brandy.
“Just to impress a girl. See? I’m a terrible human being.”
She set her glass alongside his on the credenza and slid both hands up his chest. “It worked. The girl is impressed. Thank you for that.” She rose on tiptoe. He met her halfway in a searing kiss.
Jolts of desire skipped from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Heat settled low in her belly. He dragged his lips to her ear. His breath, warm and gentle, evoked a strong shudder.
His jaw rasped, tantalizingly prickly. She rubbed her face against its abrasiveness then sought his mouth again. After a deep kiss, she pulled away. “Why don’t you show me the rest of your quarters?”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to look too closely. It’s kind of messy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll focus on you.” She would. The last sexual encounter had come as a surprise. She hadn’t expected to become intimate that night and had rushed away afterward. There would be no rushing of any kind this time.
He closed his palm around hers in a warm, secure grip. Everything about this man appeared larger than life—his hands, his height, the breadth of his shoulders, his muscles, and his—yeah, that part, too. She dropped her gaze to the bulge in his trousers. Yep, just the way she remembered.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
Her turn to blush, but she boldly replied, “Looks promising.”
He pulled her close for another kiss. “I always keep my promises.”
Lights blazed as they entered the tiny bedroom dominated by the large bed. “Computer, dim illumination by 80 percent,” he said, and kicked the heap of clothing into a pile in the corner.
Illumina’s lips twitched. “Are you dousing the lights so I can’t see the mess?”
“Oh, you’re funny,”
While he got the brandy, she examined a group of stillvids on a credenza. A smiling couple held two small children, the boy she recognized as a younger, mischievous version of the man getting brandy. “You look the same,” she said. “Only…more.”
He snorted and uncorked a bottle of amber liquid. The second image showed a mature Dale with four other men, three of them as big and muscular as he, one startling familiar. Her gaze shot to Dale.
“Buddies,” he answered her unspoken question. “Kai Andros, Brock Mann, Carter Aymes”—he poured two shots—“and March you already know.” He brought the drink over to her.
“You knew March before you opened the shop?”
“We go back a ways.”
She eyed the stillvid, realization dawning. “You’re all cyborgs?”
He nodded. “Except for the guy in the middle. Carter. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”
Carter stood as tall as the other men but couldn’t match their physique, their musculature.
She set down the stillvid to accept the small glass. They clinked. Dale downed his in a single gulp, while she took a tiny taste. Fire seared her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. “Oh hell!” She coughed.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “I should have warned you. Cerinian brandy doesn’t affect cyborgs.”
“Potent stuff,” she said, and shifted her gaze to the third stillvid. Dale and two men and two women knelt over a dusty pile of rocks, purple sky behind them. “Friends?”
“My archeology team.”
“The ones who were killed.” After which he’d been captured and tortured.
“Yeah.”
“Again, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
She braced herself and sipped her brandy, managing not to choke this time. She studied his Spartan accommodations furnished in a minimalist manner. “Your place says a lot about you.”
“That I’m boring and utilitarian?”
“That you’re a fair man. You don’t take advantage of your position. You’re living pretty much like the employees who work for you.”
“I do have my own private ChemShower,” he joked, but a trace of red darkened his cheekbones.
“And you did take a client’s spaceship for a joy flight.” She finished off the brandy.
“Just to impress a girl. See? I’m a terrible human being.”
She set her glass alongside his on the credenza and slid both hands up his chest. “It worked. The girl is impressed. Thank you for that.” She rose on tiptoe. He met her halfway in a searing kiss.
Jolts of desire skipped from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Heat settled low in her belly. He dragged his lips to her ear. His breath, warm and gentle, evoked a strong shudder.
His jaw rasped, tantalizingly prickly. She rubbed her face against its abrasiveness then sought his mouth again. After a deep kiss, she pulled away. “Why don’t you show me the rest of your quarters?”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to look too closely. It’s kind of messy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll focus on you.” She would. The last sexual encounter had come as a surprise. She hadn’t expected to become intimate that night and had rushed away afterward. There would be no rushing of any kind this time.
He closed his palm around hers in a warm, secure grip. Everything about this man appeared larger than life—his hands, his height, the breadth of his shoulders, his muscles, and his—yeah, that part, too. She dropped her gaze to the bulge in his trousers. Yep, just the way she remembered.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
Her turn to blush, but she boldly replied, “Looks promising.”
He pulled her close for another kiss. “I always keep my promises.”
Lights blazed as they entered the tiny bedroom dominated by the large bed. “Computer, dim illumination by 80 percent,” he said, and kicked the heap of clothing into a pile in the corner.
Illumina’s lips twitched. “Are you dousing the lights so I can’t see the mess?”
“Oh, you’re funny,”
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