Dropping her can of Mace and pepper spray onto the mattress—which, in actuality, were a can of hairspray and a water bottle—she placed her palms over her ears, muffling his voice. She began snoring like an old man with a foghorn stuck in his throat. All the while she pictured bathroom tile and drying grout—anything to keep her mind from thinking about naked bodies and potent pleasures.
You never give me what I want, her body complained, and I want Jorlan.
Shut up, her mind demanded. You’ve gotten us in enough trouble!
Tile. Grout. Tile. Grout. With Jorlan’s voice blocked and her mind picturing drying tile grout, slowly, so slowly, her overly sensitized nerves calmed. The tingles of anticipation faded. When she felt enough time had lapsed, she let her snores taper off and removed her hands from her ears.
Blessed silence greeted her.
Then, as if he was acutely attuned to her every action, every feeling, every thought, Jorlan said, “Just say the words, katya. Say the words and I will give us both release.”
“I’ll say the words, all right.” Her nails dug deeply into the sides of her legs, leaving half moon crescents. “I’ll say shut up or get out. Please! We have to get up early, and it’s two in the morning already. After I take you to the psychic, I have to go to work. I need to rest.”
Five. Ten. Fifteen minutes passed. He didn’t speak again. She didn’t even hear him breathe.
In the mounting silence, Katie’s eyelids began to grow heavy. She gripped her hairspray once again, ready to leap off the bed and whack him over the head with it if he so much as whistled through his nose. After a while, her grip relaxed, and she rolled to her side. The last thought to drift through her mind before she ultimately succumbed to darkness was That man needs a muzzle, and I need a bare-assed spanking for letting him in here.
MORNING DAWNED bright and early. “Way too early,” Katie muttered. Then she groaned. Her eyes burned, and her head throbbed. She needed a protein shake or she would soon sink into a take-me-to-the-hospital-for-a-caffeine-IV coma.
Normally she jogged five miles a morning. Today, however, she was going to make an exception. At the moment, she couldn’t have jogged to the bathroom if her bladder depended on it.
The sheets and blankets were tangled around her like a butterfly’s cocoon. She grumbled under her breath as she battled her way free. Something thudded to the floor, but it wasn’t a protein shake, so she didn’t bend down to retrieve it. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled into the bathroom.
She washed her face then brushed her teeth and hair. The features that looked at her from the mirror were glazed with…something. Tired. Very tired. Hoping hot, steamy water would help, she climbed into the shower. When she emerged, she tugged on her robe, feeling less groggy, but still craving a sweet fruity shake. Once her veins ran with enough B-12 to energize the retirees at Shady Meadows, she would be alert enough to deal with Jorlan.
Jorlan!
Katie’s eyes widened with dismay. How could she have forgotten about the sexy, six-foot-six-inch alien sleeping in her room? Heart pounding, white terry-cloth robe flying, she darted out of the bathroom; her gaze scanned the floor, but she saw only a can of hairspray.
Jorlan was gone.
The only reminder of his presence was the rumpled pillow and blanket tangled together in a heap at the foot of her bed. She grabbed some clothes from the closet and hastily pulled them on as she raced out of the room. She’d barely managed to zip her jeans when she stepped into the living room. No sign of her alien.
What if the mother ship had beamed him up? Worse, what if he was still here, in her house, going through her things? Katie’s stomach knotted as she envisioned laundry strewn across the floor and broken knickknacks scattered about. Through the dining room she went, as if hot coals simmered under her feet.
Then she saw him.
He stood in the kitchen, humming a song she didn’t recognize. His back was to her as he rifled through the contents of her fridge. A sigh of relief pushed past her lips when she noticed he was wearing the clothes she’d given him last night. Except now the shirt looked lumpy, and the pants were hanging low on his waist, teasing her, tantalizing her, because a slight brush of air might slip them to the floor….
It was dangerous to become so enflamed at the mere sight of him. Yet she didn’t know how to temper her reaction.
Katie cleared her throat.
In one fluid motion, Jorlan whipped around and unsheathed a knife strapped to his ankle, ready to strike. The action so startled her, she could only blink up at him, unable to run, much less breathe. He stood there with the deadly aura of a man who knew exactly how to fight, how to kill and maim, each of his actions as terrifying as the weapon itself. When he realized who she was, he relaxed his stance and returned the blade to its makeshift holder. Even though the knife was now hidden, her heartbeat didn’t slow. No one should be able to move that fast or that lethally.
“Good dawning, katya.” He gave her a half grin that erased the hard lines of her mouth. “Sleep well?”
“No. I didn’t.” She chewed on her bottom lip, still staring at the sheathed blade. “What are you doing with that knife?”
“I was in need of a weapon.”
“Why?”
With a negligent shrug, he turned back to the refrigerator. “’Tis of no concern to you.”
“It is when you’re wearing my weapon.”
“If you must know, it is for my protection. If—” he faced her again, this time shooting her a narrowed glance as if everything depended on her “—if I travel to Imperia this day, I must be prepared ere my enemies come upon me.”
He’d said before that he was going home after she took him to the psychic, but she hadn’t really considered how far away that was until this moment. For a reason she didn’t understand, the thought of his leaving Earth suddenly saddened her. She wanted him gone, of course, just not light-years away.
What was his rush to return, anyway? Did he have a family—translation: a wife and children—that were awaiting his presence? Katie almost uttered a string of the foulest words she knew. Here she was, lusting for Jorlan, sad that he was leaving, and he could very well be married.
She wasn’t going to ask him, though. They didn’t have any type of relationship, and as he liked to point out, it wasn’t any of her business.
“Are you married?” Damn it! The question emerged before she could stop it. The man had tried to seduce her, after all.
“Married is life-joined, aye?”
“Aye. I mean yes.”
“Then nay.” He suddenly looked offended. “I would not have touched you otherwise.”
“Oh.” I’m not relieved, she thought, curls of an emotion she didn’t want to name floating through her bloodstream. I’m simply happy the man has some morals. “So you’re really going all the way home?”
“Only if we find a true mystic and only if—” He stopped and looked away.
“What? Only if I bed you?”
“Nay. Only if you fall in love with me,” he answered flatly.
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“’Tis part of the curse. You freed me. Now you must freely and truly offer me your love or I will be returned to stone. Forever, this time.”
“You’re kidding me, right? Trying to get me into bed again?” She laughed, the sound weak and unsure.
“Do you truly think I would tease you about my freedom?” The absolute conviction in his voice rang loud and clear.
“No,” she said softly.