Heart of Stone (13 page)

But when she asked Branch to take her
to the Masterson offices before she left Adamant, her brother gave
her a look of affectionate exasperation.

"Rosie, don't be looking in that
direction. Masterson is out of your league."

She scowled at him. "It's a bit late
for that."

He groaned. "Don't tell me you've gone
and—ah, that's just quarking great! Thank you very much for that
mental image. Listen, Rosie, I don't mind working for him, but the
man's dangerous. He has enemies you can't even imagine. And you're
not to have any more to do with him, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Rose said through her
teeth. "And I'll make my own decision about him."

"Well, you may not have to," he said
with gloomy relish. "I've seen some of the fancy women he usually
squires about."

Rose set her jaw against the hurt that
this careless reminder generated. Stone's women flew in from exotic
locations, wore cashmere as a matter of course, and probably
regarded Frontiera as amusing but too rough for full-time
inhabitation.

She might be just a pastry chef, but
she had dreams, didn't she? Stone Masterson hadn't exactly seen her
at her best so far, but she could dress up and turn heads when she
wanted to. Wasn't that what coming to a new planet was all about,
daring to reach for new stars?

She cast one last look back at Adamant
as the cruiser lifted off, gaining speed. She would wait until
Masterson was back in New Haven.

# # #

Sure enough, he arrived back in town
only a few days later. New Haven was agog, as everyone between the
ages of three and one hundred and three had watched the news
broadcast of the sat-com installation, and now knew Masterson's
role in its planning and acquisition.

Rose nearly quailed at the thought of
being just one more in the long line of those rushing to
congratulate him. But then she frowned at herself in her mirror.
She had as much right to him as anyone else, and she had one
definite advantage: she was hopelessly, head-over-heels in love
with the man. And she was nearly certain he had feelings for her,
as well. Otherwise, surely he wouldn't have held her as he had
after the Jango attack, as if she was something precious he'd
almost lost.

She gave a last check to her
appearance. She wore her favorite winter ensemble, a cream wool
suit with fur trim on the collar that framed her face and throat.
Her hair spilled over her shoulders in a swath of auburn waves. She
touched it, remembering the way he liked to run his fingers through
it. Then she took a deep breath and set off to walk the short
distance from her apartment to the massive business block that held
his corporate offices.

A polite assistant ushered her into his
office, a place of sleek wood and leather that somehow surprised
her not at all. Stone himself rose from behind a huge desk. He was
elegant and handsome in a dark business suit, his hair pulled back
severely from his angular face. He also looked as remote as the
mountains outside, his golden eyes hooded, although it seemed to
her his gaze lingered in his perusal of her.

"Miss Thorne. What can I do for
you?"

Rose hesitated, taken aback by his
formality. She looked behind her to see if his assistant was still
present, but the door had closed, leaving them alone. He wasn't
worried about his staff overhearing them, so something else was
wrong.

She'd find out what it was. She was not
a quitter, and she hadn't come this far to run now. She walked the
rest of the way across the room to him. She stopped with one hand
lightly on the edge of his desk.

"I came to thank you," she said. "For
taking me to Branch. And for saving my life."

His face tightened. "You've nothing to
thank me for," he said. "Nothing."

Her heart in her throat, she
persevered. This next part was humiliating.

"And I came to apologize. I—I was wrong
to think you had involved Branch in some shady scheme and that's
why I couldn't reach him. I'm not sure I told you how sorry I am
that I misjudged you."

"For God's sake," he said in a tautly
controlled voice. "I'm the one who should apologize. I nearly got
you killed!"

She looked at him, knowing her heart
was in her eyes. "I forgive you."

He stared at her, and for one long,
breathless moment Rose thought he would reach for her. But instead
he turned in the other direction, striding over to stand in front
of the huge windows that looked out over the snowy landscape, his
back to her.

"Don't," he ground out. "Don't forgive
me for any of it. I don't deserve your trust. You didn't misjudge
me that far. I quite often am involved in dangerous schemes, and
people around me get hurt. Do you understand?"

"But the sat-com system is operational
now," she protested. "That's the whole purpose, isn't it? So
Frontiera will be a safer place."

His profile turned to her, he gazed out
at something only he could see. "The past can follow us anywhere,
Rose, and slide in through cracks you can't see until it's too
late."

"So because you
used
to be involved with
dangerous people, you're going to let that rule the rest of your
life?"

His shoulders tightened, his jaw flexed
like cerametal. When he spoke again, his voice was harsh, as if the
words were being dragged out of him. His accent was strong, but she
had no trouble understanding him.

"I told you I lost what was left of my
family. Do you want to know who died because of me? My own
mother."

Rose gasped, his pain arcing across the
space between them like a laser charge. She clutched the edge of
his desk. "What happened?"

He bowed his head, as if accepting a
heavy yoke. "I'd begun my illustrious career as head of my own
gang. Heard whispers that a big shipment of tech had been stolen
and it was sitting right under our noses. I took a few of my boys
in, rifled through it for the best stuff and made off with it. Got
clean away.

"Although the head of the other gang
suspected me, I'd sent the stuff out that night to be sold
elsewhere. But I couldn't resist bragging a bit, letting others
know I'd had one over on him. What a fine lad I was, full of my
cleverness.

"The next day, our little
apartment—quark, it was really more of a den, but it was all my
mother and I could make rent on—blew up, just as I was comin' up
the alley. They'd bombed it, set it off just then so I'd see and
I'd know why."

"Oh, no." Rose couldn't breathe. She
lifted one hand to her mouth, horrified at a young boy having to
see such a thing and then deal with the aftermath, grow up without
his mother and think he'd killed her. Her heart ached.

He turned, leaning against the window,
eyeing her with a gaze as remote as if he were watching from his
eyrie. "Oh, yes, Rose."

But he'd told her his mother died when
he was 'only a lad.' "How—how old were you?"

He shrugged, looking bored and
impatient. "Twelve, maybe. Never kept track. Why?"

Rose was dumbfounded. "What
do you mean,
why
?
Stone, you were only a child. Surely—"

"'Surely I don't blame myself,'" he
mocked savagely. "Of course I do. I acted, and her death was the
result of my actions. No amount of your tears can wash that away,
so for God's sake, don't cry over me."

When she stepped around the corner of
the desk toward him, he shook his head, straightening. He stood
with his shoulders braced, his feet apart. Adamant—no wonder he'd
named the new settlement that.

"What we had was never meant to last,
Rose. Our little … interlude was just that, and best forgotten. Go
back to your world. There's no place for you in mine."

She caught her breath as hurt struck
her like a huge fist. But as he stood there, watching her, the pain
flamed into fury.

"Interlude?" she repeated
scornfully. "It was
not
just an interlude, and you know it, Stone Masterson! I'm not
so naïve I can't distinguish between sex and something more. We
have the beginning of something strong and—and wonderful. Or it
could be if you weren't such a big coward."

He glared, looking as dangerous as he
had when he'd burst into the cubby to rescue her, and this time it
was directed at her. But she glared back, not caring that her eyes
were brimming with tears.

"I'll go," she said proudly.
"And leave you to your exalted solitude, since that's what you seem
to want, you—you lone gyre-hawk! But just remember this—I'll be
able to look myself in the mirror, because I had the courage to
start over, accept love in spite of my fears. But you—you'll have
to remember you were afraid to change, as cowardly as any of those
pirates you're trying to chase away. So just—just deal with
that
!"

"So now I'm a coward for
wanting to keep
you
safe?" he demanded.

"Oh, get over yourself." She sniffed
defiantly. "I'm more sorry than I can say that you had to deal with
your mother's death at such a young age. That's horrible. But I
could get run over by a transport crossing the street out here. So
could you. We're all going to die sometime. That doesn't mean we
can't enjoy the time we've got and make the most of every
minute."

She waited for one more long, aching
moment. Gazing at her pirate, so near and yet so far
away.

When he simply stared at her from
behind his wall of determination, she turned on her heel and
stormed out of his office. She nearly mowed down his assistant,
hovering outside the door, and she had to bypass some other
business-suited employees who had unaccountably gathered in his
spacious outer office.

In the hallway outside, she heard a
familiar deep voice call her name, but she dove into a women's lav
to hide. Nice as he was, she just couldn't face Masterson's huge
pilot right now. She must keep it together long enough to get back
to the apartment, and then she had some serious crying to
do.

# # #

Thankfully, Branch was gone to Adamant
for a few days.

That evening, Rose huddled on the sofa
with a cup of hot tea and flipped through the revolving holo-vid
directory on Branch's set. She wasn't in the mood for a story, even
her favorite adventure saga involving an intrepid female spaceship
captain. Her eyes were raw and swollen from weeping, and she felt
like an empty husk. Her usual buoyant optimism was gone, dried up
and blown away.

She just wanted movement and color to
distract her for a bit. She watched dully as a pretty woman in a
chic coral suit appeared, chatting with a group of women in a cozy
seating area.

"Welcome to the Daria Lovejoy Show,"
enthused a plummy voice. "Coming to you from Frontiera City, this
evening Dr. Lovejoy will be speaking with her audience on dealing
with unexpected crises in our lives. And don't forget, viewers, the
doctor will be taking your questions near the end of the program.
So hang onto those comlinks."

Rose watched wistfully as the studio
audience hung on the doctor's every word. She looked really nice,
and that warm voice just begged you to spill out all your troubles
and get help.

"When a crisis strikes our lives, once
the shock has worn off, we must take action," Dr. Lovejoy was
saying.

Rose sniffed as tears welled up. Yeah,
not much action she could take about her problem. For one crazy
instant, she remembered the savage satisfaction of shooting the
Jangoes who'd tried to rob Stone and kill her. No wonder men were
so fond of solving things with violence. Well, she didn't want to
shoot Stone, but she wouldn't mind grabbing him and subduing
him.

Maybe she should call in to get some
great advice. 'How to convince a pirate he's ready to settle down,'
that's what she wanted to know.

Dr. LoveJoy looked into the holo-vid
cam, her eyes full of compassion. "Even if we cannot solve the
problem directly—make things the way they were before—we can still
take action. Ask yourself, what else can I focus on? What can I
affect, if not this problem? There is always something,
friends."

"Always something," Rose mumbled
sarcastically. "But what? Just answer me that, Dr.
Happy-panties."

She turned off the holo-vid and sat,
holding her now cool tea. She felt so alone, even more than she had
after Branch left Earth II.

Her best friend at culinary school had
been Farah Rocha, a bubbly brunette with a penchant for anything
chocolate. Rose wished that she could talk to her now.

Then she sat up straight,
nearly spilling her tea. Oh, she was as silly as a deerbbit! With
the new sat-com system, she
could
talk to Farah, any time she wished.

In just a few moments, she had a
comlink open, and her friend was beaming at her, a tiny apartment
in the background.

"Rose," Farah squealed. "Oh, I've
missed you. Tried calling you so many times, but there always seem
to be storms, or something. How are you on your wild planet? Are
you safe? We heard a young woman was kidnapped, and all I could
think of was, it might be you. But then of course it wasn't, it was
the daughter of some diplomat, but still …"