The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition (22 page)

With that thought, he gathered his
discarded clothes and opened the hamper. It was empty. Shrugging
when he remembered she’d gone to do laundry earlier, he dropped the
clothes in and looked around for another likely hiding place,
wondering if he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion altogether. Maybe
it wasn’t a reminder for herself for anything? Maybe it was a hint
intended for him?

Frowning thoughtfully, he considered
that for several moments and finally discarded it. Considering the
look on her face when the idea had occurred to her, he doubted
she’d had time to come to terms with it at all, and he didn’t think
she would consider ‘sharing’ until she did.

On the hunt again, he
checked the medicine cabinet—just in case she
had
decided to drop a broad hint. He
wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find what he was looking for,
though.

He closed the mirrored door again and
leaned down to check the drawers of the cabinet and then the area
beneath the plumbing—cleansers, no pregnancy test kit. He scanned
the room but there were no shelves beyond those that held the
linens.

He checked those thoroughly and
frowned. Maybe he had misinterpreted the note, he thought,
annoyed?

After a moment’s thought, he returned
to the lavatory cabinet and crouched down to see if there was
anything tucked under the pipes or behind the assortment of
cleanser bottles. Finding nothing, he tried the drawers again,
pulling them all the way out that time and searching beneath the
things stored in them. He hit pay dirt in the back of the drawer
where she kept her cosmetics.

Smiling to himself, he closed the
drawer again and stepped into the shower. He’d left the water
running long enough while he searched that there wasn’t a lot of
hot water left. He rarely lingered anyway, but he almost regretted
the thoughtlessness. He was wound up now. A longer hot shower might
have relaxed him enough to help him sleep a little
better.

Shrugging the thought off, he climbed
out, dried off, and headed to bed.

He’d just climbed in beside her when
it suddenly dawned on him that Chelsey had done the laundry—and
he’d found clothes piled on top of his bag when he’d come in to
collect it. It had unnerved him at the time to discover he’d left
the bag open. He’d dismissed any possibility that she might have
found the bottle of pills he’d left so carelessly exposed for
discovery because the clothes looked undisturbed, but it occurred
to him forcefully that she might not have wanted him to know if she
had. She might not have left it as he found it because she didn’t
notice, but because she did, and she didn’t want him to know she
had!

“
Shit!” he mouthed under
his breath, tensing all over while he struggled to decide what she
would’ve thought if she
had
noticed.

He doubted she would know what that
particular drug was for—but she might jump to the conclusion that
he had a drug problem, and that sure as hell wasn’t any comfort!
And that didn’t rule out the possibility that she’d checked the
name and discovered what it was prescribed for.

It was almost more
dismaying, he discovered, to think she might have concluded that he
had a virility problem as it was to think she might have figured
out why he was taking something to boost his sperm count. Actually,
he was
positive
that possibility was a lot more disturbing. That sure as fuck
hadn’t occurred to him before! Then again, he had to consider her
perspective. It wasn’t nearly as likely, he decided, that she’d
leap to the conclusion that he was underhanded enough to stack the
odds in his favor as it was to conclude he had a ‘problem’. Her
mind didn’t work that way.

Well fuck! He didn’t like
that possibility worth a damn! It pissed him off so thoroughly, in
fact, that he had a hell of a time going to sleep at all. For the
better part of an hour he struggled with the urge to wake her up
and show her just how god damned virile he was. He might’ve given
in to it if it hadn’t also occurred to him that he wouldn’t be
proving a damned thing if she
had
found the medication and jumped to the conclusion
he thought she might have.

He was still pissed off when he
finally fell asleep trying to convince himself that he’d dreamed up
the entire scenario and she hadn’t discovered his stash at
all.

* * * *

Chelsey had left herself a mental note
just before she fell asleep that the next day was Saturday and she
could sleep late. Unfortunately, she’d also been worried about
forgetting to take the test again and the confrontation she’d
planned with Lawrence and as soon as she began to skate toward
awareness both those thoughts began circulating in her brain and
made it impossible to reclaim sleep. Groaning inwardly, she fought
it for a little while and finally gave up. It took her several more
minutes to extricate herself from Garryk, but although she’d given
up trying to keep from waking him when she’d discovered what a
light sleeper he was, she particularly didn’t want him roused
enough to wonder why she was taking so much time in the bathroom
and she was more careful than usual.

Sighing with relief when she’d finally
disentangled herself and he hadn’t so much as grunted, she got out
of bed, grabbed her wrist watch, and headed into the bathroom. She
was fully prepared this time, by damn!

As soon as she’d locked the door, she
dug the kit out of the drawer and sat down on the edge of the tub
to go over the instructions again. She hadn’t wanted to take any
chances of screwing up again and she’d read them fully, and
carefully, the night before, but she wanted a refresher before she
got started, just to be on the safe side.

She’d already plopped down on the
toilet with the test in her hand when it occurred to her that she
hadn’t turned on any faucets to keep from arousing Garryk’s
suspicions if he had roused enough to notice she’d gotten up.
Leaping up, she turned the faucet on. When she’d settled again, she
carefully positioned the test strip and let her fly. Removing it
from the flow after a moment, she examined the strip carefully,
decided she’d hit it, and set it carefully on the vanity, checking
the time.

She kept glancing at the watch and
then the test while she brushed her teeth, but it didn’t take her
nearly as long to perform that task as she’d thought it would.
Frowning, she turned the faucet off and sat down on the lid of the
toilet, staring at the watch, watching the second hand tick the
seconds off.

It was amazing how slowly time passed
when one was actually watching it, she thought irritably! Getting
up after a minute, she moved to the shower to turn the water on,
debating whether to actually get in or not. She hated to waste the
water, though.

She checked the watch again when the
water temperature stabilized and climbed in a little reluctantly,
leaving the curtain open so that she could glance at her watch.
She’d just lathered her hair up when she glanced at the watch again
and saw it was time.

Scrambling out of the shower, she
snatched the test up and stared at it. Her mind went perfectly
blank when she saw it was positive. She couldn’t seem to take it
in. She kept staring at the little window, expecting it to
change.

A shiver finally recalled her to the
fact that she was making a soapy puddle in the middle of the
bathroom floor. She looked down at the water around her feet
uncomprehendingly and then set the test down and climbed back in
the shower, running on automatic since her brain seemed to have
shut down.

Garryk’s eyes popped open the minute
he heard the bathroom door shut. He pushed himself up, propping on
one elbow to listen intently to the faint sounds emanating from the
bathroom. His heart leapt unaccountably and began to hammer in his
ears when he heard the faint scraping that told him she’d slowly
pulled the drawer out, further impeding his efforts to figure out
what was going on by the sounds.

The temptation to join her in the
bathroom when he heard the shower come on was nearly irresistible.
He toyed with the idea for a few moments, but the scenario that
popped into his mind didn’t encourage him to try it. Better to go
with the original plan, he decided—wait until she disposed of it
and try to get his hands on it.

The blank, white zombie look on her
face when she came out seemed to answer the question in his mind.
No big deal, he told himself uneasily. He hadn’t really expected
her to come bounding out joyously and announce the news.

It would’ve been fucking nice to see a
little more god damned enthusiasm, but he hadn’t expected
it!

It made him damned uneasy—and
impatient—the way she wandered aimlessly around the room, as if she
couldn’t figure out what she was doing. It occurred to him after a
few minutes that he would’ve had a damned hard time sleeping
through all the noise she was making opening drawers and slamming
them again if he’d been trying to instead of just trying to pretend
he was still asleep. He wondered if it was time to pretend to wake
up or if she would notice one way or the other and finally decided
it might be best not to ‘wake’ her from her trance.

He tensed to get up and race into the
bathroom when she wandered out. He hadn’t had time to manage more
than whipping the covers back, though, before she darted back into
the room and raced to the bathroom. He threw an arm across his face
when he heard her coming out a moment later, peering at her from
concealment. Fortunately, she didn’t even glance toward the bed.
She dashed out on tiptoes.

He hadn’t caught more than a glimpse
of what she was trying to conceal, but he didn’t need to. She’d
gathered the evidence and took off with it.

Listening until he heard a cabinet
door open and then shut, he relaxed fractionally, trying to decide
whether to get up or not. It was a short debate. He was wide awake
now and not likely to get any more sleep and beyond that he didn’t
want to give her the chance to rethink the situation and decide the
trash in the kitchen wasn’t a secure enough disposal
location.

He was pret-ty sure she’d taken the
test and gotten a positive given her behavior, but he wanted to see
the damned thing himself. Rolling out of the bed decisively, he
headed into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so he
could hear her if she left the apartment. He discovered she was
still in the kitchen when he left the bathroom and peered out the
door of the bedroom. Deciding he didn’t want to give her too much
time alone to think, he grabbed a pair of boxers and a pair of
jeans and pulled them on hurriedly, heading into the kitchen
without even bothering to fasten or zip the jeans.

She was standing at the sink, staring
out the window holding a cup of coffee. Steam was wafting in little
puffs off of the top of the cup. He studied the cup warily,
wondering if he would get it in the face—or worse, in the crotch—if
he slipped up behind her for a cuddle and finally decided to risk
it.

She dropped the cup in the sink,
shattering it when he slipped up behind her and curled his arms
around her. Jumpy! He whipped her away from the sink as the hot
liquid sprayed upward.

“
Shit, baby! Are you
alright? I didn’t mean to startle you!”

He couldn’t decipher the look in her
eyes—mostly vague—but she didn’t look pissed off.

“
What are you doing up so
early?” she gasped after a moment.

“
Couldn’t sleep,” he
murmured, dragging her close again and nuzzling his face against
her neck. “Why did you get up so early? It’s Saturday. You could’ve
stayed and snuggled.”

“
I felt a little
nauseated,” she said flatly. “I thought breakfast might make me
feel better.”

He frowned, but he didn’t want to
address the nausea issue. “Why don’t you lie down? I’m up—and I
could eat a horse. I didn’t get the chance to grab anything last
night. I’ll fix us both something.”

“
I’ll do it. What do you
want?”

He wasn’t leaving the damned kitchen
with that test so tantalizingly close! Folding his arms when she
moved away, he propped against the counter, watching her as she
moved to the refrigerator. “Eggs?”

Nodding, she took the carton out and
set it on the counter. “Ham or bacon?”

“
Whichever you feel like
cooking.”

She took out a ham steak. “The water
should still be hot. You want me to fix you cup of
coffee?”

“
Sure. If you don’t
mind.”

She picked up the pot and shook it,
frowning. “Actually, it’s low. I’ll have to heat more
water.”

He shrugged when she glanced at him,
watching her intently as she moved to the sink while he tried to
think of some diversion to get her out of the kitchen for a few
minutes. Unfortunately, nothing occurred to him immediately. He saw
his chance, though, when she opened the ham steak and pulled the
trashcan out to dispose of the wrapper. Surging forward before she
could push the trashcan back under the sink, he shouldered her
aside and grabbed the bag. “I’ll just take this out. I forgot to do
it yesterday.”

She gaped at him in dismay. “It isn’t
even full!”