9781631053283HeartsLastChanceMichaels (2 page)

A bead of sweat rolled down his face.

“Sweet Jesus,” he breathed.
“Oh God,
Trish.”

She tossed her head from side to side in ecstasy, her body
rocking with the sensation. Screaming his name, she fell back, tears coursing
down her cheeks as she gasped for air.

“Nobody’s ever made me come like that before.” She panted.
“I don’t know what you did, or what that was, but I can’t wait to do it again.”

Brock’s touch was tender as he smoothed her tangled hair
from her forehead. “We’ve got all night.”

Tricia remembered Becky. “What about my friends?” She looked
at the clock on the nightstand. “If that clock is right, Becky should be here
any minute.” Trish tried to twist away from him, but he held her captive in his
arms.

“It’s all right. She can sleep in the other room. Your other
friends are occupied as well.” He slid his tongue inside her mouth.

Melting back into his embrace, Tricia surrendered to his
deep kisses.

* * * *

Sunlight trickling through a break in the curtains woke
Tricia the next morning. Brock’s body curled around hers, his arm protective
across her waist. She shifted, feeling his warm breath caress her ear. His hand
splayed on her belly, then moved upward to cup her full breast.

“
Ummmm
…I like this.”

Tricia laughed. He squeezed her breast,
then
swept his hand down her side to her hip. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no.” She stretched her legs and a fresh wave of desire
ran through her as his fingers cupped her mound. “God, I thought twice was
enough, but five times? What have you done to me?”

“Sweet Tricia.”
 
He shifted onto his back, causing a
slight jolt of panic as his fingers withdrew. “Come here.”

Relieved, Tricia rolled over, laying her head on his chest.
His strong arms cradled her as she marveled at the emotions. Usually, if she
picked up a man in a bar, the sex was fast, satisfying, and over in two hours.
Never had she experienced a lover who spent the entire night, or displayed the
intense passion Brock expressed. There had been a mutual give-and-take, missing
from other one-night stands. What was so different? Tricia knew they would
return to their lives, most likely never seeing each other again. That was the
way it was supposed to work, but he had stayed. Then there was the slight
nagging familiarity about him.

Puzzled by his post-coital signals, she pondered the difference.
If he wanted to cuddle, all right, she’d snuggle in and enjoy it. But sooner or
later, it would be showers, check out, then the inevitable ‘I’ll call you’,
which meant goodbye.

His gentle kiss on her forehead cut into her thoughts.

“You’re wondering what’s going to happen next.”

“I lost track,” she lied. “Is it my turn to seduce you?”

“Don’t tell me that.” His tone caught her by surprise. “If
that’s what you were really thinking, your hand would be around my dick.”

Startled, she felt a rush of heat to her face.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m confused.”

“I’m going to tell you something. You may find it hard to
understand.” His voice softened and Tricia relaxed again.

“No, it’s not what you think.”

She raised her head. “And just what the hell do you mean by
that? How can you pretend to know what’s in my mind? Are you psychic or
something?”

“Somewhat.” He drew her back down into his arms. “Do you get
the feeling you’ve known me? Or that I vaguely remind you of someone?”

Oh God, she’d slept with him before, only didn’t remember.
Shit!

“Not exactly.”
Tricia shook her
head and frowned. Who was he?

“We’ve never formally met.” His fingers stroked her hair.
“But I’ve known you for a long time.”

A stalker?
A
devoted customer?
“But the restaurant’s only been open for two years.”

“Yes, I’m proud of your success.”

“Did we go to college or high school together?” Thoroughly
confused, Trish searched her memory.

“No. Tricia, try to understand what I’m saying. I met you
when you were four years old.”

“Four years—we were living in the country and our nearest
neighbor was a mile away. I don’t remember any playmates until I started
school. Were our
mothers
friends or something?”

“I didn’t meet you in that manner.”

“I’m waiting.”

Brock took a deep breath. “You say you had no playmate. But
you had an imaginary friend.”

A shock chilled her blood. “H-how did you know?” Indignation
took over. “Lots of children do that, so what?” But the memory assaulted her.
She’d spilled her secrets, her most private thoughts over the years, to an imagined
best friend. It had become a habit by the time she’d reached the third grade,
and had often talked to her favorite doll or stuffed animal, until her hormones
kicked in at puberty, and she’d discovered boys. But even at night, sharing a
dorm room at college, or even an apartment, she’d found herself silently
talking to herself, expressing thoughts she couldn’t tell anyone else, or even
write in a diary.

Brock tipped her face upward. “You’re remembering.”

She felt the color drain from her face. “Who are you?”

Brock cleared his throat. “At four, you called me ‘Louis’.
At eight, it was ‘Shawn’. At twelve, you decided you needed female
companionship, so I became ‘Kathy’. As time went on, various other names of men
you liked.”

“How-how can you know this?” Tricia struggled to sit up and
stay in control of her swirling emotions. “God, you make me sound like a mental
case.” She wrapped the blankets around her and turned her back.

His weight shifted on the bed. “I’m not exactly from Earth.”

That did it. She jumped to her feet and pointed to the door.
“Out,” she ordered, refusing to admit the sight of his naked body still aroused
her. “Out, before I call security.”

Brock slid from the bed and approached her. “I’ve only been
allowed this form three times now.” His tone was pleading. “This is my final
chance to be with you. Please, Tricia, hear me out.”

“What do you mean?” Tricia stepped back as he drew closer.

“When it was decided I could try to be with you, the elders
of my planet gave me three chances. Since the third being I chose didn’t live
long enough, they gave me a fourth and final chance.” Brock closed the distance
between them, taking her hands in his. “Remember Richard? You thought you were
in love with him, so I took his form for a week. But you were bored by
Wednesday and broke up with him. That time I learned you didn’t want your Ideal
Mate.”

“That’s right. He was too accommodating, too easy going for
me.”

Brock pulled her back to sit on the edge of the bed. “And
then I took the form of a dashing man you were infatuated with—”

“David. He turned out to be hard to get along with.”

“Yes, and I regret the hurt I caused you.” Brock eased the
blanket from her neck and touched her cheek, sliding his fingers around to
caress under an ear. “I was trying to follow your thought patterns. I was
getting frustrated, knowing if I blew it, I would never get to be with you.”

“But the third time?”

His laugh sounded bitter. “This shows my desperation. I took
the form of a cat, so I could at least curl up in your lap and be close to
you.”

Trish put her hand to her lips. “Smokey.
Oh,
Smokey.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered the two days
she’d shared with a loveable bluish-gray tabby cat.

“Yes. Unfortunately, I picked a stray which had never been
to the, ah, what do you call them, pet doctor?”

“Veterinarian.
Smokey died from
feline leukemia, two days after finding him in my yard.” Tricia leaned forward
to cup his face in her hands. “Am I dreaming? You’re an alien, who can take
different forms? Like
Odo
on Deep Space Nine?”

He shook his head. “Your Star Trek knowledge amuses me. Some
facts the writers got right; others were way off. No, if you need to compare
me, then I’m like the Traveler from Next Generation. I can take many forms, but
only with permission from the elders.” Brock rested his forehead against hers.
“We have only a week, Tricia. If you decide you don’t want me, or accept me,
then we’re both doomed.”

“We’re both—not just you?” She pulled away and searched his
eyes. Her hands went to the dark curls on his chest.

“I’m doomed to live the rest of my life making love to you
only in your dreams.”

Tricia snatched her hand back. “You’re my mystery lover? The
one I’ve been dreaming about?” Realization washed over her. No wonder Brock’s
masterful handling of her body had been so familiar. She’d been masturbating
all week to what he couldn’t do himself.
“Holy shit.”

“And while I’ve enjoyed watching you, I’ve discovered it’s
more pleasing to do it myself.” Brock reached for her hand to tug her back into
his arms.

“We have a week?” She traced his lips with the tip of a
manicured nail. “Oh God, I need to think about this. What do we need to do?”

His hand separated the blankets from her body. “Spend time
with me, get to know me. You Earthlings keep saying ‘be yourself’, so here I
am, not pretending to be Richard, or David. This is a brand new body; no one
else has used it. It’s clean, untouched by anyone but you. If, by next Friday,
we cannot stand each other, I’ll return to my world and worship you from afar.
I love you, Tricia, but if you cannot return my love, then so be it.”

“So you’re saying we’re soul mates?” Tricia’s body was on
fire from the gentle hands which roamed her nakedness.

“Something
like
that.” His lips
claimed hers and she forgot all of her objections.

* * * *

Brock hung up the phone after ordering room service while
Tricia showered. Dressed only in his khaki slacks, he’d ventured out into the
main part of the suite and discovered Becky’s lover sneaking out, carrying his
loafers. Humans were funny creatures. One thing he’d learned over the years of
observation was the females often justified their actions and denied their true
feelings. The males, sensing the eager-to-please females, often exploited this
tendency for their own pleasure, causing pain, which invited a vicious cycle.
Why couldn’t they just be honest with each other? He’d tried dishonesty with
Tricia, only to prolong the pain of separation. Brock hoped he hadn’t scared
her off.
 
She had seemed open to his
revelations, so he had chosen to give her some alone time, even though he
dearly wanted to shower with her. Patience was the key. What was that phrase
Trish used to say? ‘If you love something, set it free…’ He’d bared his heart
and soul to her. Hopefully she’d see the wisdom in his offer.

He frowned when his communicator beeped. He wasn’t due to
check in with
RiKar
until the next day. Brock glanced
at Becky’s closed door, then the clock. Room service was due any moment. The
communicator chirped again. Brock sighed and turned on the television. He took
the small rectangular device from the pocket of his slacks and aimed it at the
screen. The picture changed from the morning talk show to his mentor’s waxy
image.

“
BaRok
.
Everything proceeding as planned?”

“Yes. She was receptive.”

“Good. Have you told her?”

“Yes. Why are you contacting me? Our agreement was the third
day.”

“Your mother discovered your absence and is not pleased.
Apparently, your brother has bonded with his
Chosen
and you were supposed to be watching him.”

Brock groaned. His younger sibling had a fascination with a
young princess on another planet whose rules of conduct differed from any
others.

“
LoGar
can take care of himself.
He’s observed
Xaxa
for the past nineteen years. If
the elders approved, and
DaSie
has accepted him, I
don’t see the problem.
Especially if he gets along with her
other mate.”

“Ah-ha, so you know he will not be the primary mate. And
this is the issue. What if your brother procreates with his
Chosen
?
How will we know the bloodline will continue?”

Brock sighed. “
RiKar
, the
bloodline will continue through
myself
as well as
NiKoh
.
Or my sisters
SaLie
and
KiRah
.
You know
KiRah
has looked at no other species and is waiting until she is of age to mate with
DaTil
.” A knock sounded at the door. “Excuse me a moment.
My nourishment has arrived.”

He muted the television and strode to the door, ushering in
the server pushing a small cart. Brock tipped the man and closed the door after
he’d exited, then returned to the television.

“Tell my mother I am well and I will speak to her in a few
days. Remind her
LoGar
is of age, as am I, and has
chosen his path. As for the bloodline, only
LoGar
will know if any progeny is of his line. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my beloved
needs to eat. I will contact you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to your report. Blessings,
BaRok
.”

“Blessings,
RiKar
.” He pressed the
button on the device and the television returned to the talk show. Brock shoved
the communicator back in his pocket then knocked on Becky’s door.

“Becky? I have ordered food if you’re hungry.” He strode to
Tricia’s door and knocked before entering.

Tricia sat on the bed, towel-drying her shoulder-length
brown hair. She stood when Brock closed the door behind him.