Space Wrangler (13 page)

“Actually,” Alexia interrupted them, “you two should drink without me. I've got a horrible headache. It started on Destry, and I thought I had it under control, but it's getting worse by the minute.”

TJ frowned. “A headache?”

“I guess it's from the air on the surface. Rick warned me not to take my goggles off, but ugh. I think I need to sleep it off.”

“Should I call the doctor?”

“That's sweet, but a pillow sounds better. I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow. And then, well…” She gave him a playful smile. “We'll have that dessert. Right?”

His expression softened. “I'll walk you home.”

“I've got my panic button, remember? You two should have that drink and say wonderful things about me behind my back.” Crossing to him, she brushed her lips across his. “Rain check, okay? We have sooo much unfinished business.”

To Rick, she used a cooler tone. “Have fun in Sector Fourteen, Captain. And thank Sensie for me. She may not be an official sentient, but she makes up for it with heart.”

Rick watched as Alexia exited the penthouse, her airy black dress swirling around her legs, so promising yet ultimately so frustrating.

“Sorry,” he said to TJ. “I obviously interrupted something. But it couldn't be helped.”

“Right.” TJ arched an eyebrow. “So? Did you have sex with her during your escapade today?”

Stunned, Rick assured him, “No.”

“Did you kiss her?”

“Back the fuck off,” he warned. “I don't work for you, and I don't like being interrogated by jealous boyfriends. It's one of the reasons I prefer bio-girls, remember? No attachments in
either
direction.”

“Sorry.” TJ grimaced. “I was just about to nail her when you showed up, so it's understandable, right?”

“I'm outta here.”

“Wait! I know I'm being a dick. But it's because I love her. And let's face it, you're serious competition. But if you say you didn't fuck her—and she says so too—then I'm willing to be the bigger man. So let's have that drink.”

“If you love her, give her access to the Sea-Mont prototype
first
. Before the romance goes any further. It's what she needs,” he insisted, adding sincerely, “It would be a turning point in your relationship. A sign of trust.”

“Would it?” TJ poured them each a shot of whisky. “Or would it just encourage her to search forever?” He paused, and when Rick didn't respond, he nodded. “You're right, you know. I
do
love her. Which means I want to save her from herself.”

Rick exhaled in frustration. “In other words, you won't give her access to the prototype? Not even if you and she get together? As lovers, or even married?”

TJ shrugged. “We'll see. I want to do the right thing, but I'm not stupid enough to piss off the old man. You wouldn't understand that, would you? Your father was a straight shooter. Mine? He's a ball buster.” Almost talking to himself now, he added, “It's Lexie's move, that's for sure.”

Rick stared, completely confounded. “You really see it that way? As a power struggle between Alexia and your father?” When TJ didn't answer, he asked him warily, “Does he know she's here?”

“I notified him myself.” When Rick scowled, he added quickly, “It would've been worse if he heard it from someone else. So I sent a message that she arrived unannounced and that I thought it was a perfect opportunity to mend fences. The world is on her side, Rick, and my father knows it. This could be the chance we've been waiting for. A chance to heal the rift, mourn Trent and move on.”

“Did you get a response?”

“Yeah. It was two words:
Deport her
.”

“Geezus.”

TJ rubbed his eyes. “It's under control. I'm the CEO after all, and he doesn't actually give a crap about D-side as long as I keep the bio-metal coming. That's all the old bastard really cares about.”

Rick almost felt sympathetic, understanding what TJ was actually saying. David Seaton didn't give a damn about his only son.

“So? Are you still heading out in the morning?”

Rick nodded.

“Let's get a couple of girls up here, then. Give you a good sendoff.”

“I can get my own girl,” Rick muttered.

“Well then—” The Sea-Mont CEO stepped forward and offered his hand. “Good luck. If you need anything, just let us know. We've got your back.”

Rick felt a pang of guilt, noting TJ actually seemed sincere. More than that, Alexia insisted he was a good man. And Rick had thought so too, at least until the last day or so.

He's just caught between his dad and Alexia. Two forces of nature.

And none of Rick's business. He had done what he could do, and so had Sensie. The rest was up to TJ and Alexia. If the guy had a brain in his head—or even in his dick—he'd choose Lexie and tell his father to fuck off.

It would almost be worth witnessing firsthand, but as Rick entered the elevator, he was glad he'd be on the far side of the solar system before the fireworks really erupted.

A blonde bio-girl in a dark wig…

Seeing Alexia again had burst that particular bubble. For one thing, there wasn't a wig on Earth or Destry that could duplicate those copper streaks. Nor could anyone—even Lana—project the kind of playful innocence that emanated from Alexia like photons from a star.

Not that she was innocent in the conventional sense. But her heart was pure. And her quest for her brother? Nothing less than noble. Everything about her humbled him.

Except of course for the stuff that aroused him. And wasn't
that
the problem?

For the second time that night, he found himself in the Trading Post doorway, looking for a girl. Except this time, she wasn't there.

You're as bad as TJ. Completely obsessed.

The parallel intrigued him. Maybe they were more alike than he knew. How had Sensie described TJ's problem?

Once she sleeps with him, she will lose her power over him
.

Maybe that was true for Rick as well. And for that matter, maybe it was true for Alexia herself, because she was clearly hot for him. They could deny it—dance around it—allowing the attraction to simmer. To fester. To interfere with their real goals.

Or they could quench it.

The growl started in his chest as the idea took shape. He
was
obsessed. Just like TJ. Even Sensie had noticed it, and according to her—a freaking sentient!—there was only one, indisputable, sure-fire cure.

The question was, was he actually insane enough to go for it?

The first thing Alexia did when she returned to the penthouse was strip off the evil black dress that always made men crazy. And apparently it made
her
a little crazy too. Why else would she have tried to seduce a wounded loner on TJ's balcony?

Never again
, she assured the garment, tossing it into David Seaton's trash bin. Of course, she had two other copies of the damned dress and would have to remember to destroy those as soon as she got home. Everyone expected her to wear that outfit to fundraisers and awards ceremonies, and she had tried to be accommodating.

No
effing
more
.

Wrapping herself in a gray silk dressing gown from David's closet, she brewed herself a cup of tea, then picked up the remote and opened the floorboard to retrieve the two temperature-controlled samples of Destry's infamous exports. She had mocked them at first, but now had to admit, Trent would love having them underfoot.

After placing them on the coffee table where the bio-metal could glow to its heart's content, she went to David's meager bookshelves and found a copy of Trent's biography,
Prince of Geeks
. It chronicled his exploits from birth to age twenty-six, specifically, to the date when he won a Nobel Prize for unlocking the secret to recycling biotanium. Everyone had assumed at that time that he'd win another award within the coming decade when he figured out how to take raw blutanium and actually convert it to
new
stores of biotanium.

Instead, less than three years after his most famous discovery, he had disappeared.

Alexia had only skimmed the book once, joking that she already witnessed it all firsthand and didn't need to read about it. But she had treasured
Prince of Geeks
for two reasons: first, that the author, a personal friend, had resisted the call to add an epilogue after Trent's disappearance, but rather, had allowed the promise of more from him to ring in the air; and second, because the handsome photo on the book jacket was Alexia's all-time favorite shot of her brother.

There he was, staring up at the night sky, an inspired expression on his face as though communing directly with the stars, at one with the universe. It reminded her of a simple truth. Trent wasn't just a great brother. He belonged to the world. In fact, he belonged to two worlds, Earth and Destry. Unlike their father, whose focus had ultimately been limited—codes and numbers and algorithms—Trent had had no boundaries.

More than anything, it was the reason she believed he had survived. The universe loved him. It had plans for him. Yes, it had swallowed him whole, but for its own reasons. Not to kill him, but rather, to open new vistas for him to explore and extol.

The great cosmic love story
, she teased him now.
And guess what, Trent? I met one of your children today. Her name is Sensie and she's amazing. She gave me grief over being short like Dad, instead of tall like you and Mom. And she sounded like Mom too. So thanks for that.

The bio photo was black and white, but still made clear to the world that Trent had gotten his Ukrainian grandfather's skin tones and tall, lanky form. His hair was a compromise, not richly dark like the rest of the Montoyas, nor blond like a Brinskov. Light brown, sun streaked, wavy.

It suited him, as did the amber eyes he inherited from his father, along with his off-the-charts brain power.

A sharp knocking sound shocked her to her feet, and while she didn't actually fear the enforcers, it reminded her she was in a foreign land, uninvited and possibly threatening. She could almost picture David Seaton on the other side of the door, purple faced and out for blood. But that was crazy, wasn't it? He was terrified of the sinkhole, and wouldn't brave it just to evict Alexia.

Plus, as bad as things had gotten with the Seatons, she had never really feared for her physical safety. David's justification for his treatment of her—and of Trent—was that he was just being practical and that
she
was the one with the vendetta.

Jumping up, she grabbed the jars of precious metal and returned them to their hiding place, then jammed the loose floorboard over them. She didn't have time to change clothes, and the robe was voluminously modest, so she belted it tighter, fluffed her hair and waited.

Luckily, the pounding continued, telling her the visitor didn't have a key. That eliminated David, didn't it? And for that matter, it probably eliminated TJ.

She didn't dare hope it was Rick—the only person outside the sinkhole she honestly wanted to see. Rick would shout her name, just like he'd done at TJ's place.

The thought of that almost-rescue made her tingle as she approached the door and peered through the peephole.

Wow…

If only she hadn't discarded the Christmas dress so easily. Apparently, the buckskin-clad cowboy had liked it just fine.

Don't be silly. He probably has another non-sexual message from Sensie, so just open the damned door!

After exhaling to ensure she didn't sound as breathless as she'd seemed on the balcony, she pulled on the doorknob, then smiled in embarrassed delight. “Hey.”

He looked taller than ever, and his eyes were definitely greener due to the rampant sparkling. She was so sure he was aroused, but she had made that mistake before, so she bit her tongue and stepped aside so he could enter.

She expected him to make a crack about the cold stainless-steel and leather surroundings, but his gaze was fixed firmly on her. “Hope I didn't wake you.”

“I didn't expect to see you again.”

“Right.” He stepped closer, his body heat assailing her through the thick, seductive buckskin. “This is crazy, I know. But I keep thinking about you.”

“I keep thinking about you too.”

“Good.” He reached for her, not to pull her against himself, but just to rest his hands on her silk-covered hips. “Here's the thing. No matter what happens tonight, I'm leaving for Sector Fourteen in the morning.”

“That's good, because—” she flashed a playful smile, “—no matter what happens tonight, I'm still going to sleep with TJ.”

“Okay, then.” He drew her closer and lowered his mouth to her neck. “Here we go.”

Chapter Nine

Thrilled, Alexia arched her head back, allowing him to enjoy her for a long, luxurious moment. His hands invaded her robe, stroking her skin, exploring her breasts. Inspired, she worked the buttons on his shirt, loving the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers. Desperate to get at each other, they still laughed out loud at the sheer insanity of it. They were completely wrong for each other. A loner with a scarred past, a sister on a hopeless quest. Yet, if they could truly be smart about this, and keep it to one perfect encounter?

Then they were actually
right
for each other.

Backing her into the bedroom, he asked feverishly, “You're patched, right?”

She brushed aside her long, tangled hair, allowing him to see the pink dot at the nape of her neck. When he went into overdrive, she asked breathlessly, “Is this what you military guys call a frontal assault?”

“Actually, we call it ‘going in hot'.”

“Oh God, do
that.
”

And then he did, invading her with such masterful zeal she gasped aloud, then moaned his name, again and again, as he fervently enjoyed her, his movements methodical, bringing her to a hot, wet, bone-rattling climax.

“Rick…” Her voice trembled with the lingering spasms of pleasure. “Oh my God, Rick.”

“You're unbelievable,” he responded in a thick voice. “Fucking unbelievable.”

Still stunned, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. “I knew it would be this way. I just didn't think it would happen in real life.”

“You and me both.” He gave her a shaky grin. “We're just getting started, right?”

“Oh, thank God. Because—” she moistened her lips, then admitted, “—I've got a list.”

Aside from her week with Lorenzo Nolo, Alexia had never had good sex. George Rendem-Sayers had been a pig. Her college boyfriend, while sweet, had fumbled in more ways than one. And poor Barbary Hoy had been too terrified to touch her.

As for the hand job with TJ? He had seemed to enjoy it, but it was a non-event from
her
perspective. And to be fair, even Lorenzo had been a little too mechanical. A mathematician checking the boxes as though showing his work.

But Rick was different. With Rick, everything flowed—spontaneous, unpredictable and wildly romantic.

True to his training as a military strategist, he employed a dizzying array of tactics, while clearly favoring the element of surprise. He kept her off balance in the best possible sense, coaxing pleasure from every place he touched. Then there was his arsenal—chock full of alternatives, and he employed them all expertly, but seemed to know what worked best on this particular adversary—powerful, repeated, mind-blowing penetration with his not-so-secret weapon.

And she kept coming back for more, because she honestly didn't know when—or even if—she'd ever have sex like this again in her life.

But finally, even she needed rest, so she sandwiched his handsome face between her hands and suggested in a soft, ragged tone, “Should we take a break?”

“Thank God. I thought you were trying to kill me.”

She tried to laugh, but trembled instead. “I'm just so glad—so amazed—you didn't leave without doing this first.”

“Yeah.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Me too.”

“What changed your mind?”

He hesitated, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled the coverlet over their naked bodies. “Like I said, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every time I tried to have fun with a bio-girl, I kept picturing your face. Your smile. Your body. Sensie suggested I find a dark-haired substitute. Or ask one of the girls to wear a long, dark wig—”

“A wig?” Alexia laughed in delight. “She's so hilarious.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “But I knew it wouldn't work. It's not just the way you look that gets to me. It's the other stuff. The trip to Destry. The way you laugh. The way you move.”

“The way we soaped each other up in the shower?”

He nodded. “So I thought I'd try Sensie's
other
advice. The stuff she said about TJ. That once he slept with you, maybe you'd lose your hold over him. And I figured maybe that would work for me too. That we'd get past this quicker if we just went for it.”

“Good thinking.” She gave a rueful laugh, refusing to be offended. “So much happened so fast between us. Saving me from the enforcers, battling the thugs, lathering each other up—
literally.
You made me need it. Not romantically. Just—well…”

“For the sheer joy of it?”

“Hmm?”

“That's what you said when you were flirting with me on the ship. That you had sex with lots of guys to get what you want. But you needed something different from me. Just once.”

“For the sheer joy of it?” she murmured. “Who says I'm not a genius? That's brilliant.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Did you eat dinner?”

“I stuffed myself at TJ's. But David's flash cooker is stocked if you're hungry. And there's champagne too.”

His jaw tightened. “I still can't believe we're doing it in David Seaton's bed. You're sure there aren't any cameras?”

He had asked about security more than once during their lovemaking, and she had insisted she had checked the place thoroughly. Still, she understood his concern, so she sat up and grabbed her robe. “See for yourself, but like I said, it's the first thing I did when I got here. No cameras, sensors, whatever. The man loves his privacy, that's for sure.”

While Rick made a sweep of the penthouse, she prepared his dinner and used a suction stick to uncork the champagne. Then she set things up in an alcove and waited for Rick to join her. When he did, he was wearing his jeans again, looking every inch the triumphant wrangler with his broad bare chest and corded arms.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Hardly. I'm just getting started.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I meant, about the security.”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned down to kiss her. “You're amazing.”

“Am I?”

He nodded, then dug into his meal in silence. After finishing quickly, he picked up the champagne and offered a toast. “To one perfect night.”

“To one perfect night,” she echoed, touching her glass with his. “I wish it would never end.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She could see something was bothering him, and wanted to find the words to reassure him. He felt guilty for running off, but wasn't that her fault as much as his? She couldn't afford a relationship either—not just because she had plans to seduce TJ, but because she needed to focus on Trent.

Even if Rick were free, she wouldn't want to be his girlfriend. Which was lucky, because this guy—so great in so many ways—was a train wreck. Someday he'd make some girl the perfect husband, but right now, he needed to drift through space, steering clear of entanglements and misery. He had had more than his share of both already.

Taking the champagne bottle and flutes with him, Rick moved to the large leather sofa in front of a chrome-and-glass coffee table. The place had a clean, no-nonsense look to it. Hardly right for a seduction, but he had a feeling it wouldn't matter. He and Alexia were so into each other, they wouldn't notice a freight train barreling through the premises.

But when she said, “Give me a minute,” and disappeared into the bedroom, he wondered if he had misjudged things. Too intimate? Not intimate enough? Some bizarre combination or lack of both?

Then she reappeared in the skimpy dress from the Christmas special, complete with spiked heels, and he knew things were even better than he'd guessed.

“Man, you read my mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ever since that video came out, it's the go-to outfit for impressing a male. Luckily I like it too.”

“How many guys have you worn it for?” he asked, only half-joking. “It doesn't look too ragged, so that's a good sign.”

“The designer made a bunch of duplicates when we saw the impact it had. But I'm pretty sure this is the original.” Joining him on the couch, she snuggled happily against his bare chest.

He nibbled her neck, then trailed his lips down her arm to her wrist. “You make me crazy, you know. I never noticed a girl's shoulders before, but that outfit last night did me in. And now this.”

“You've got some good features too.” Her fingers danced along his abs and then up to his jaw. “Even with that shaggy hair you seem so—well, so military. Ready to serve and protect, right? But with bonus features in the heat-seeking-missile department.” Dropping the teasing tone, she kissed him warmly. “I dreaded this trip. Coming through the sinkhole. Seeing TJ. Seeing all the things Trent pioneered just going on without him, like he didn't matter anymore.”

“He matters to everyone up here,” he said firmly. “Don't ever doubt that. This platform is a tribute to him. To your family. The Seatons can't take that away from you. Or from him.”

“I wish he could have seen you yesterday, striding onto the platform with your eyes blazing and your pistols drawn. And he'd love the whole wrangling shtick too. He saw this as a frontier, and because of men like you, that's exactly what it is.”

Rick smiled at the romantic image she had concocted for herself. If that was the way she would remember him in the weeks and months to come, it was fine by him. He in turn would remember her this way, bare shoulders, pouty lips, sexy dress and all.

“I don't really fit in around here, do I?” she asked wistfully, as though reading his mind.

“That's not true. You're Alexia Montoya. Destry is your birthright.”

“Sixty-seven degrees every freaking day? Shopping at a Trading Post? And David Seaton looming over everything like some feudal tyrant? I don't think so, cowboy.”

He laughed at her disgusted expression. “You liked the Titans, didn't you?”

“I loved them. And I loved meeting you. So I guess big, strong warriors are my thing. Who knew?”

She was teasing and he knew it, but somehow, being called a warrior excited him, and he eagerly shifted her until she was under him. Then he brushed a lock of black hair streaked with copper from her cheek and kissed her mouth with slow, appreciative thoroughness.

She responded easily. Casually. As though they had all the time in the world, even though—as he had reminded her more than once—he needed to head out before five a.m.

Instinct told him this style of kissing was dangerous. More intimate than sex, even. But they couldn't resist. Their tongues sparred, their lips explored earlobes, their gentle exhales mingled as though sharing the very same oxygen supply. And all the while, their legs intertwined and their hands caressed each other's bodies, not to excite, but to learn, and appreciate, and most of all, to build memories.

Soon they would make love again, and then fall asleep, entangled and content, for a few hours. That was the memory that would supersede the Christmas video forever for him. Alexia Montoya in his arms.

“I could kiss you like this forever,” she murmured, adding quickly, “Metaphorically, of course.”

“I feel that way too, you know.”

She flashed a weary smile. “Thanks, cowboy.”

Did she want to talk for a while? It seemed even more dangerous than kissing. And they already knew each other's stories, didn't they? He had read
Prince of Geeks
and
Kingdom of Geeks
, had skimmed hundreds of news reports, and had gotten more than enough information from Sensie.

And in turn, Alexia had apparently gotten an earful about Rick from TJ.

Hardly a reliable source. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. He hated being painted as a victim, or as running away from his responsibilities to lick his wounds in some godforsaken solar system. But more than anything, he hated the official version of his father's death.

He had trusted this woman with his most precious secret—Sensie's true origins. Did he dare trust her with the only other thing that mattered?