No Such Thing (29 page)

For the rest of the day, he did things that kept him out of main operations and his office, like a visual inspection and a hands-on diagnostic of the
wormhole generators and visiting the supply ship crew to get a first hand account of the attack. He used Pete to relay information to his staff and to
Ryelle, a situation that seemed to puzzle Pete at first then amuse him to no end. The man took great pleasure in informing his boss that the telenetic had
called him something crass and had asked Pete to inform Declan that the situation with the attackers was status quo.

For dinner, Declan visited his mother. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence and he did need to speak with her about the incident in his office, but he
also felt a cringing revulsion for using the opportunity to avoid Ryelle.
Coward.
But he knew now that he wasn’t strong enough to resist
her.

His mother wasted no time bringing up the object of his obsession and torment while she ushered him into her rooms. "Come on in, hon. Dinner’s
almost ready. Is that girl coming?"

He frowned at her. "Ryelle? Why would she be coming to dinner?"

"Because you looked at her like she was on the dessert menu," she said with a sardonic glance. "I didn’t think you’d walk
down that road again, Declan."

"I don’t mean to. It’d help if you stayed the hell away from her," he responded with acid in his tone.

She pulled steaming plates from the warmer and set them down on her small table with a
humph
. "Was she serious about being in love with
you?"

"Hell, no."

She gave him a considering glance as they sat down, her eyes seeing into him as if he was glass. "She sure seemed serious."

"Yeah, well, she seemed serious last time, too."

"You were both kids. She looks like she knows her mind now."

"What is this? Playing devil’s advocate, or did you get sucked into her game?"

She shrugged, focusing on her meal with a closed look that he recognized with a flare of alarm. "Maybe you should just talk to her about what
happened. Get her side of the story. I’m curious to know what her excuse is for breaking my son’s heart."

"She
is
sucking you in."

With a hard glance, she pointed at his plate. "Eat. And don’t insult me. I’ve seen through better cons than this. She just doesn’t
strike me as a player. If she’s not telling the truth, what’d she come here for?"

"Hell if I know. Sex?"

"Son, I’d be the first to tell you that you’re a fine looking man, but she’s come a hell of a long way just for a piece of
ass."

He snorted and dug into his meal, which was better than what he had in his food storage, for some reason. Everyone had the same quality provisions, so he
couldn’t understand how she made it taste so much better. Maybe she spiced it or something. It took him a few moments to realize that she’d
stopped eating and was studying him with an intent expression and a worrisome crease between her brows.

He swallowed hastily. "What?"

"I’ve hated her for a long time, Declan. She took the fun out of you, your laughter and most of your smiles. I thought you’d get over it,
that it was just a hard crush. You were so young—it was hard for me to imagine it was real love. But you didn’t seem to get better. You got
harder instead. You push yourself too hard, you don’t enjoy yourself enough, and you haven’t made me a grandma yet. You never have a woman
around long enough for me to even learn her name."

"Mom—" he interrupted in discomfort, but she wasn’t ready to quit yet.

"I know she’s the reason and I’ve hated her for it. But the woman I met didn’t look like the girl I pictured. I’m your mother
and I want you to be happy. You haven’t been happy for a long time, Declan. If there’s a chance this woman can make you happy…" She
made a little gesture and picked up her fork again.

"And if it turns out like last time?" he asked, putting down his fork. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

"It’ll turn out how it turns out. At least you’ll have tried. Finish your dinner."

He sighed and rose to his feet. "Lost my appetite." Leaning down to kiss her temple, he said, "Night, Mom," and headed for the
door.

"You don’t smile enough, Declan," she called after him.

He grimaced. When his mother got an idea in her head, she was a pit bull on a mission. It was very likely that he’d hear this same litany every time
he saw her for quite a while. He made his way up to main operations, meaning to check in and make sure all was well before turning in for the night.

Ryelle was there, shocking him with how good she looked to him. She had on the same dark green blouse and black slacks as she’d been wearing that
morning, still elegant despite her casual position in a seat with her legs propped on a workstation and ankles crossed. She was in an animated discussion
with one of the night staff, a young man who looked much too thrilled to be receiving her attention. At the same time, she was lobbing the ball back and
forth between the other staff with her talent.

She looked comfortable and—
right
in that space. In his space. He frowned, more disturbed by the sense of satisfaction and lack of panic
about how well she fit than by her presence.

"Sir?" the night manager approached with a welcoming smile that faltered at the sight of her boss’s dark look.

Declan rearranged his face and greeted the woman. "Tillie, how goes the shutdown?"

Her smile returned, eyes flicking to the telenetic below. "Well, sir. We had a very productive day and the wrap up was seamless. No issues."

"Good to hear. Thank you."

She beamed at him and headed back to her station. The atmosphere was calm, settled. There was no residual tension or anxiety about the attack as far as he
could tell, the room’s activity as normal as it ever got. His satisfaction deepened. He was willing to bet part of the serene atmosphere was due to
Ryelle’s presence.

On impulse, he said, "Telenetic Soliere, may I have a word with you?" His tone was low and calm and no one in the room reacted except the
youngster she’d been talking to, who shot him a guilty look and focused on his viewers with manic intensity.

Ryelle flicked him an unreadable glance and stood, moving with unhurried grace to a grav step, which lifted her to his deck. She stepped onto the deck
several paces away from him and folded her arms across her chest, dark eyes snapping with temper while her features wore a mask of indifference.

For some reason, the fire in her eyes made him want to smile. "I see they let you play ball," he said in a neutral tone.

"I can’t figure out the rules, but they’re not holding it against me."

"It’s complicated."

"So you said. Was there something you wanted to discuss, MCE McCrae?"

His eyebrows lifted and he took another look at the dark temper in her eyes. "I think we’d better talk about what’s on your mind."

"I don’t think so. I’m not currently talking to you."

"Any reason why?"

"Several," she snapped, taking a few stiff-legged steps forward and lowering her voice. "First, I don’t appreciate being thrown out
of your office like a puppy piddling on the floor."

He stared at her in confusion. "What?"

"Telling me to do my work somewhere else in that unpleasant manner you’ve cultivated. It’s tiresome, McCrae."

He thought back and realized in retrospect that he hadn’t been particularly polite or considerate. She was the station’s telenetic, working for
their protection after all, even if her power had been distracting as hell. He shouldn’t have snarled at her like a bear with a sore paw.
"I’m sorry, Ryelle. I wasn’t feeling myself."

She blinked, as if she hadn’t expected his apology. Then her eyes narrowed. "Were you still not feeling yourself when you turned off your
communicator? Because it was my understanding that we needed a reliable way to communicate with one another."

"For station business. You weren’t using it for business, though, were you?" he asked with a smile tugging at his lips. He was enjoying
this exchange a little too much. "The station’s com works just as well."

"Oh, really? Is that why you were sending messages through Pete instead of contacting me directly? I never took you for a coward, Declan."

"Self-preservation, Ryelle. Direct contact with you was getting me in trouble."

"So you admit you’ve been avoiding me all day?"

"I have."

That seemed to take some of the heat from her temper and her frown became more puzzled than angry. "But you’re not right now."

"Guess not."

"Why not?"

"Not sure."

She opened her mouth, closed it, stared at him for a moment, then opened her mouth again. And closed it again. Unfolding her arms, she propped her hands on
hips and gazed out over operations with a disgruntled expression. "Okay, I don’t know what to do with that," she muttered.

He chuckled and moved closer to lean a hip against the rail next to her. The tingle of her power brushed over his skin, a sensuous reminder that she was
still working. "Have you been keeping watch on the GenTec?"

She didn’t look at him, but her expression eased a little. "They’ve mobilized, but it’ll take them a while to get through the
field. There are some bigger ships that can’t zip through the ‘roids as easily as the screamers. At the moment, they’re all moving
together and will be knocking on your door sometime tomorrow afternoon unless some smaller ones come on faster. I’ll keep watching."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For saving our supply and watching out for my station."

She set her hands on the rail, looking down with a pensive curve to her luscious mouth. "It’s my job."

"You’re going above and beyond and I just wanted you to know I appreciate it."

She flicked him a troubled glance. "Glad I could help," she mumbled.

He swallowed another chuckle. "You don’t take compliments well."

She sighed. "I’m trying to hold onto my mad, but you’re not making it easy."

"Good. You should never go to bed mad."

She went still. Then she slowly turned her head to look at him. There was a different fire in her eyes now, one that roused the banked burn in his body to
a roaring, hungry blaze.

"You can even take me to bed with you," he murmured, watching the flare of desire in her eyes with ravenous humor. "That holo com unit
goes pretty much everywhere."

She turned to face him, a hand on her hip as she glared with amused outrage. "That was
terrible."

He grinned. "I figure I was due for at least one." He took a hasty step back when she pointed a threatening finger at him. "Since
you’ve been teasing the hell out of me since you got here."

She huffed then rolled her eyes and faced the room again, lips twitching. "Well, I won’t be sleeping anyway. May as well keep you up,
too."

"That’s the spirit. Have you eaten?"

"I’m not sure it was food, but I chewed and swallowed something that was labeled as such. It didn’t come back up, so I decided to call it
dinner."

He gave a sympathetic wince and waved her to the exit. "Come on. I’ll make you a shake. It actually tastes like dessert."

"Really?" She looked almost as interested in this suggestion as his comment about taking him to bed. "What flavor?"

"Chocolate, of course. Is there any other flavor?"

She stared at him with dewy eyes as they left main operations. "I really do love you," she breathed.

He laughed softly, for once not panicked by her declaration. He led her down to his rooms and she paused outside his door, gazing down the corridor the
short distance to her own quarters. Then she looked at him with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows and said, "Huh."

He suppressed a smirk and stood aside to let her enter his domain. "Admiring my restraint?" he asked.

"Memorizing the route," she responded with a sly look at him over her shoulder.

He chuckled again, following her in and heading for his kitchen. "There is an art and mystery to the creation of a milkshake," he informed her
while he pulled ingredients from cold storage. "Especially when you’ve got limited supplies to work with."

"I am prepared to be awed and inspired," she told him solemnly, leaning against the counter with a captivating twinkle in her eyes.

He pulled the shake maker out with a flourish and admitted to himself with wry humor that he was showing off for her. "This is the Milkshake Master.
An invention of mine. The intricacies of its function are top secret."

"You can erase my memory later," she said with a muffled snicker.

"In that case, let me introduce you to the key ingredient."

He held out a small package and she leaned forward to study it. The light of greed and lust lit her eyes.

"Ohhh, that’s real chocolate," she moaned, reaching for it.

He smacked her hand away, trying to ignore what her moan did to his groin. "Yup, no imitation chocolate syrup or powdered milk protein substitute for
this creation. The Milkshake Master melts the chocolate, takes the milk, cream, and sugar and turns it into ice cream, then adds just the right amount of
nutrients, malt, and buttermilk to create the universe’s smoothest, most delicious milkshake, that’s also as filling and nutritious as a full
meal."

"No need to sell it to me. I was hooked when you pulled out the chocolate. When can I take that remarkable little machine home with me?"

"I’ll make you another one. Here goes the magic." He put the ingredients in the appropriate slots and activated it. The shake maker
hummed happily for a moment then filled a glass with frozen delight.

He handed her the glass with a spoon and watched with a smile of anticipation and not a little lust as she slipped a scoop between her lips.

"Oh my
God,"
she whimpered, eyes glazing over. "This is…is…" She took another bite, eyes closing with such
sensual delight that he had to edge away and take a deep breath, gripping the counter hard to keep from reaching for her.

"That good, huh," he muttered.

"Don’t bother me. I’m very, very busy."