No Such Thing (23 page)

The sun shown warm on her shoulders through the glide’s protective bubble and she could hear birds singing in the orchard below her. There seemed to
be an extra sparkle on the world. Ryelle was both disgusted and amused by her sudden, light mood. Good God, she was as bad as the teenagers she taught,
mooning over the boy of her dreams.

It was a short trip from the skyglide deck to her rooms and she wasted no time packing for her newest mission. As she layered her travel bags with clothes
and necessities, she activated the verbal system and worked on travel plans, rearranging her schedule, and posting notices of her departure for students,
friends, and colleagues.

In the middle of composing a quick message to the Admiral, letting him know she wouldn’t be coming to dinner that evening, her door chimed a visitor.
Finishing with a flurry of goodbye-love-you-see-you-when-I-get-back, she manually touched the door release and smiled at the man standing there as she
swept by. "Hey, Les, thought that was you. Come on in."

Lester Smith stepped into her quarters, a fine-boned man with a quick smile and clever hands. "I saw you on the glide and wondered what would bring
you back here in the middle of the day. I got jealous, thinking maybe you had a quickie planned with someone else." His tone was light, but she heard
the underlying truth to his words and stifled a wince.

"Quickies are so overrated," she answered with a flippant toss of her head and continued into her bedroom to resume packing.

"Heading out?" he asked, following her.

"Yes, I’ve got a job in the Benzai Quadrant. Sal thinks I’m crazy. She’s sure they won’t have any decent restaurants. I may
have to pack my own food."

"So why are you going?"

"It’s a puzzle," she said without looking at him, keeping her voice and body language calm. "Attacks on supply ships with no
apparent motive."

"That’s odd."

"That’s what Sal said. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone."

"Ryelle," he murmured, wrapping a gentle hand around her wrist to catch her attention. When she looked at the solemn line of his handsome face,
she felt another internal wince. "Do you need company?"

Considering who was at the other end of her travels, she thought that would be a terrible idea. Lester was a great teacher, an excellent colleague, a good
friend, and a considerate lover, but he was not ever going to be more than that. And not just because her heart already belonged to someone else.
Unfortunately, he wanted to be more than a friend and occasional lover.

She sighed and twisted her wrist until she could clasp his hand in hers. "Les, that’s not a good idea. Actually, I’ve been meaning to
talk to you—"

"Uh-oh," he muttered with a wry crook of his lips. "The big talk."

"You should have been expecting it," she said with a bit more bite than she’d intended. "I’ve made it very clear that I
don’t want a serious relationship."

"And I’ve made it clear that I don’t understand why not. You’re beautiful, desirable, and single. Men line up at your door, but you
turn them all away. Well, almost all," he added with a cheeky grin. "And guys like us you don’t keep. I just don’t get it, Ryelle.
Is it fear?"

She blinked at him then smirked. "Oh, yes, I confess. I have a terrible fear of men."

"Of commitment, Lady Sarcasm. Of being intimate with anyone on an emotional level. Your mother’s death—"

"Lester Tiberius Smith, do
not
psychoanalyze me. I had enough of that on the way back from Mirabella," she added sourly, pulling her
hand free and retrieving another travel bag from storage. "Suffice to say, the chances of you and I having a serious, lasting romantic relationship
are slim to none. I love you as a friend and I don’t want you to get hurt, so I’m telling you that our physical relationship is over as of
right now. Clear enough?"

She heard him sigh and cursed herself for allowing a physical relationship in the first place. He was a sweet man who deserved better than a woman who
couldn’t rise above lukewarm on the emotional front.

"I figured as much. But you can’t blame me for trying."

She glanced over to see him watching her with a rueful smile. She returned it with a shake of her head. "I’ll be lucky if you don’t hate
me."

"Never." He stepped close and bent to brush a chaste kiss against her lips. "Safe trip, Ryelle. I’ll see you when you get
back."

"Thanks, Les." She watched his quiet departure with a pang of guilt and furtive relief. He was a good friend and she hoped she hadn’t
hurt him too badly, but it had needed to end a while ago. She was guiltily glad it was done.

The whirlwind of her preparations went swiftly and before dinner she was on the first of a series of transports that would see her to Mobulus 3. It would
take several days to reach the station.

By then she hoped to have figured out how to face Declan McCrae.

Chapter 13

Declan scrolled through the day’s log, resisting the urge to pull up the Institute’s response for the hundredth time. He knew it by heart, but
some dark part of him would insist that he’d read it wrong and he’d pull it up again just to check. Or maybe just to stare at her name, a
possibility that made him stubbornly resist the urge to reread the response.

They’d agreed to telenetic assistance with a vengeance. Why the hell would they send their most powerful telenetic out here for this kind of low
level trouble? He wished that HQ had ignored his suggestion to call in a telenetic. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut about telenetics and suggested
military instead. Except he knew the military would have referred them to the Institute anyway. He’d just been sure that they would send a lower
ranking telenetic or he would have figured out another way.

Ryelle Soliere.
He stiffened at the shiver that ran down his spine. A shiver of dread, he told himself, not eager anticipation. He wasn’t that much of a masochist.
She’d destroyed him once and changed the course of his life. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen again.

He remembered her chilly rejection and grimaced. He hadn’t been able to believe it, had been desperate to speak to her face to face. But she’d
ignored his calls and didn’t return his messages. After her unbelievable resolution to the war, he’d tried one last time. When she didn’t
respond, he’d resigned from the
Odyssey
and the Fleet, and fled. Pain followed like a sickly shadow.

But he’d gotten over it, gotten over her. He’d picked himself up, moved on, and made a decent life for himself. His work for Mobulus was easily
as satisfying as working on the
Odyssey’s
glorious engines and he wouldn’t give it up for anything. She would not destroy his life
this time around. He would not allow it.

He twitched when the com tingled under his fingers and pressed his lips together in grim annoyance as he answered it. "Yes?"

"MC, we’ve got the telenetic’s transport incoming. You want I should go meet her at docking?"

"No," he answered without thinking then gritted his teeth at the lost opportunity to avoid her. Expelling a harsh breath through his nose, he
said, "I’ve got it. Let ‘em know where to park, Pete."

"Already done."

He sat for a moment, rapping his thumb in a hard rhythm against the edge of his desk, before he jerked to his feet and headed for the door. Traversing the
narrow corridors to docking, he was aware of the tension in his muscles and knot in his stomach. It didn’t help his mood to realize he was stupidly
nervous. Clenching his jaw with an inner growl of irritation, he stood at the entrance to the station from docking and watched the transport slip into its
designated slot.

He saw a slim shape duck through the hatch and move through the airlock, before the person stepped into the short corridor. She stopped abruptly as if the
sight of him had startled her, far enough away that he wasn’t sure of her expression. But close enough to see clearly that it was Ryelle. And he saw
with a stab of dread that she was even more beautiful than he remembered. More
potent.
He could already feel the tingling in his nerve endings,
the seductive kiss of her power that he remembered far better in his dreams than he should.

Her dark hair was much shorter, curling around her face in careless disarray. Her features had lost the softer lines of youth, becoming refined and
delicately beautiful, like fine crystal. Her brow was smooth, without either a telenetic band or that damned malignant net he remembered with such
revulsion. Her clothes were casual, a loose white blouse a little too open at the throat for his peace of mind and clinging brown slacks that showed far
too much leg.

Declan dragged his eyes away from her sleek thighs, remembering with regret the flowing dresses she used to wear. At least those damned things had hidden
the curves he shouldn’t be staring at. The one thing that hadn’t changed was her eyes, those midnight eyes that sucked a man in and
didn’t let go. Dangerous eyes. Declan felt the hard beat of his heart, the mist of sweat forming on his forehead, and cursed his lack of control.

So she was beautiful. He’d known beautiful women before. He stiffened in instinctive rejection of the invisible touch that was so uniquely her, so
intimately inviting. He refused to let her affect him like this, refused to let her get her claws back into him. It would only end in disaster.

Ryelle stopped short just outside the airlock at the sight of Declan at the top of a small rise of stairs. She hadn’t expected to be greeted by him
personally. She supposed she should have—she was a respected telenetic, after all. But the sight of him drove the air from her chest and sent her
heart into an all out sprint.

God help her, he was drop dead
gorgeous.
He wore a crisp dark gray uniform, but she could still see that he’d outgrown the lankiness of
youth, his body filling out with hard muscle into a dangerous combination of sleekness and strength. His face had filled out as well, taking the awkward
angles of his young features and smoothing them into strong, confident planes. The waves of his brown hair had been severely tamed by a short haircut,
leaving only one rebellious curl over his forehead. And even from this distance, she could see the stunning, heart-stopping blue of his eyes.

As she coached herself to breathe and not faint like a moron, Ryelle also took note of the man’s body language. She couldn’t read the nuances
of his expression, but from the hard immobility of face and form, she’d have to guess that he was not at all happy to see her. No romantic reunion
then, where she got to declare her undying love and throw herself into his arms.
Bummer
.

Realizing that she was riveted and staring like a mooncalf, she moved toward him, intensely aware of his eyes on her and the whisper of clothing over her
skin. A heat that she remembered very well bloomed deep within her body, shocking her with the strength of its ache. She’d enjoyed sex with men after
Declan, but no one else had ever made her feel so desperate for their touch. She’d been disappointed to find that sex for her was pleasant and held
some pleasure, but nowhere near the cataclysmic event she’d anticipated with Declan.

Yet here her body was, on the fast road to a meltdown for a man who was glaring at her as though she’d just insulted his mother. Disconcerting,
embarrassing, and pathetic. It seemed her need for this man had only gotten stronger over the years. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and tried on a
reserved smile. "Hello, Declan."

If anything, his expression darkened. "Telenetic Soliere. Welcome to Mobulus 3. The company appreciates the Institute’s swift response. A
telenetic of your…stature was unexpected, though."

Ryelle let out a deflated sigh. He hadn’t requested a telenetic just to see her. He’d also lost the sweet, warm honey lilt to his voice that
she remembered so fondly. Her day was going downhill fast. "I couldn’t resist the challenge," she responded in a bland tone.
"It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well." She tried not to drool on that last statement but wasn’t sure she’d
succeeded.

He ignored her pleasantries, not even flicking an eyelash in response. "Your bags will be transferred to your rooms. If you’re not too tired
from the trip, I’ll debrief you in my office."

She was fairly sure he hadn’t meant it to sound like a proposition, but that’s how her libido took it. Swallowing hard and trying to settle the
fast trip of her heart, she said mildly, "Not tired at all. Lead on."

He turned as she began to climb the stairs then startled her by spinning back around with a strangled curse. "What are you playing at?" he
snarled, face dark with angry color.

"Wh-what?"

"Keep your goddamned talent to yourself, Soliere, or I’ll report you."

"Oh, sark it," she breathed, hopping back a stair and reeling her talent in while her face tingled with a blush. "I’m sorry,
Declan. I forgot how sensitive you are. I don’t contain it like I used to. I don’t think I can, actually. Lost the knack, plus I’ve grown
stronger since I don’t try so hard to bottle it. And now I’m babbling like an idiot." She paused, taking a deep breath and studying him
warily. "Are you all right?"

He was staring at her with a strange expression on his face. "You got stronger?"

"Well, yes. But I haven’t demolished anything in a while. I’m pretty sure your station’s safe. I really am sorry, Declan.
I’ll keep it in check."
I hope.
She had met other sensitives and though they’d said that her touch was disconcertingly strong,
none had exhibited anything other than a bit of discomfort. Certainly not the overwhelming pleasure that Declan had claimed to feel. The memory made heat
spread in waves from her center to her fingertips, a circumstance that wasn’t going to help with her telenetic control.

"See that you do," he growled and strode away down the narrow corridor.

With a little grimace for his surly attitude, she followed, keeping a cautious distance between them. She focused on folding her talent away from him, but
she was rusty at this form of control. Like an appendage whose movement was second nature, her talent normally undulated around her in sedate waves. It
took a strangely large amount of concentration to hold it back. How the hell had she contained it so tightly when she was young? Of course, that pain
inducer had been strong motivation.