Moonstruck (17 page)

“You
were
a scourge. A plague. A curse!”

“You’re just upset because you never caught me.”

“I’ve got you now.” She observed him over her glass of wine. “Haven’t I?”

“You have indeed, sweetheart.”

At the tender name, she glanced away.

“Do you not like that I call you that?”

Her smile was soft, and somehow sad. “I do like it. Therein lies the problem.”

She liked it. She liked him. Progress was being made rapidly. He reached across the table, taking a long lock of silken hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Problem? I don’t see any problem. I also like to call you fire goddess. Is that better?”

Her expression had turned almost bashful. “Goddess, bah.”

“Now it’s time to think up a pet name for me. Something besides scourge, plague or curse, although I’ve been known to answer to all three.”

She laughed at that, actually laughed. A throaty, genuine laugh. Charmed, delighted and more than half in love with her, he grinned back. “So how about…darling?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t fit you.”

“My lovely, then?”

“Please. You’re anything but.” She laughed again, almost a girlish giggle. Was it the wine, or was he breaking through to the woman known to the galaxy as the legendary Admiral Bandar?

“Swee-bear,” he suggested.

“No.”

“Beast.”

“Hmm, at times.”

“Tootie, then.”

Her eyes shone. “Absolutely not.”

He was holding her hand now, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m out of ideas. You’ll have to help me out.”

“Is it necessary that I call you by a pet name?”

“Very.”

Her gaze turned decidedly mischievous. “I have it.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“My wicked boy. That’s what I call you in my head.”

In surprise, he sat back in his chair. “Really…”

“Yes. Although you’re not, of course, a boy.” She was definitely acting bashful now as her explanation tumbled out. “It’s…that you have this twinkle of mischief in your eyes—when you smile, especially—and it makes me think that.” Her voice turned soft. “My rugged, wicked boy…”

That’s when he saw it, a flash of something more—more than sex-related passion, more than carnal heat. She’d developed feelings for him, too. In the next instant, all hints of that revelation had vanished, but he saw it. Aye, he did. It gave him the resolve he needed to finish the relentless drive to her heart.

L
IKE SHE DID EVERY DAY
,
Hadley ate her off-duty meal in the officer’s club as opposed to the larger ship’s open-dining hall. There was peace here away from the noise of the space-hands and Rakkelle’s swagger. She had more time than ever to eat these days, off duty or on. The admiral seemed to need her less and less, especially in the evenings. At one time, Hadley was on the go, running errands for Admiral Bandar, late into the night. Now the woman almost never called Hadley anymore.

The admiral might not think so, but the looks she gave the warleader explained her sudden independence. The time she used to fill with business was now being filled with Warleader Rorkken. While Hadley had never caught them acting untoward, there were fleeting looks when they thought no one was watching. Full-time romantic, born-and-bred-on-Planet-Talo Hadley Keyren was
always
watching.

She went through the buffet line and carried her tray to a quiet table with a view of the stars so she could eat and read or sometimes stare outside and dream. Her mood ring’s green hue accurately reflected her mood: average, active, not under great stress.

She slipped a bite of dessert in her mouth—she always loved dessert first—and opened a data-vis containing a translation of Earth magazines Tango had brought along from Earth. She found them fascinating. Not only because of her interest in Tango, but because the articles were so outrageous and wonderful! The citizens of Talo would have loved such literature—and blushed reading the content. Was nothing sacred on the shrine world of Earth?
Cosmopolitan
magazine was her favorite publication.
How to Tell if He’s Great in Bed Before You Waste Your Time,
blared the current issue. It sounded like something Rakkelle would write. Eagerly, she scrolled to the article in question.

“I’ll take that, young lady.” Rothberg lifted the tray from her table.

She grabbed hold of it. “That’s mine.”

“Mine now.” They entered a little game of tug-of-war. “Stop fighting me.”

“Well. It’s my food,” she argued, pulling on the tray. “Do you fight for each other’s dinners on Earth like a pack of hounds?”

“Ruff, ruff!” He laughed and wrenched the tray away from her. The plate of dessert slid precariously to the edge. His face had clean lines and a square chin. He was focused when training but when off duty, he was Tango’s sidekick. Speaking of which, where was Tango? Her heart pitter-pattered at a faster rate. She’d lost her awkwardness around him, but it had been days since the kiss and he hadn’t made any other attempts to get her alone. She was beginning to think he’d lost interest, and she couldn’t blame him a bit.

Rothberg walked away with her dinner. He set the tray down in the middle of a group of Coalition ensigns who immediately dug in.

“Why did you do that?” Hadley protested. “I’m hungry.”

“You’ll dine with me.”

Tango entered the room dressed in what she recognized as Earth clothes: a tailored suit with no decorations of any kind, and a slim piece of silken fabric that he’d tied and left hanging around his neck. How quaint. “You look nice,” she said shyly.

“And you look gorgeous, as always.”

She felt giddy and a little breathless having this exotic man flatter her with his attention. No one usually paid attention to shy Hadley Keyren. Unless they wanted something, like Admiral Bandar’s ear, or for Hadley to put in a good word for them with their leader.

Tango joined her at the table. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“
We
are going on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yes. It’s the basic form of Earth courtship.”

Her blush deepened. “Courtship…”

“Yes, I’m wooing you. I figure it’s the only way I’m going to get you to pay any attention to me.”

But I do pay attention to you,
she wanted to argue. All the time. She daydreamed about him day and night. She’d named their children and their grandchildren. “Oh” was all she could say. She winced.
Lame.

“Waiter.” He snapped his fingers. Rothberg reappeared dressed in a white apron. He unfurled a white tablecloth from the days of old, before self-cleaning nano surfaces made such cloths obsolete, and snapped it open, letting it billow and settle over the table. Hadley laughed, clapping her hands together in delight. Next, Rothberg plunked down a candle.

The ensigns and quite a few of the other officers nearby gaped at the scene. Hadley whispered, “We’re not supposed to have open fire in the—”

Tango pressed a finger to her lips. She tingled at his touch. “Shush,” he said. “Our secret.”

“But…”

He sighed. “If we’re told to, we’ll blow it out.”

Rothberg lit the candle. The light flickered festively. “Menu, ma’am?” He handed her an old-fashioned paper card. She unfolded it. The lettering was blocky and unreadable. “English,” she said, disappointed.

“She’ll have the cheeseburger-and-fry meal,” Tango told Rothberg. “And we’ll share a bottle of your best champagne.”

“Certainly.” Rothberg bowed deeply and walked off.

“It’s the only meal on the menu he can make,” Tango explained.

Hadley laughed. “Earth food. I look forward to sampling it.”

Acting as if he looked forward to sampling
her,
Tango reached across the table, despite the curious stares directed at them, and twined her fingers in his, casually, as if they’d been together for many years. “Tonight is yours, baby. It’s all about you. Your wish is my command.”

His fingers slid between hers.

Her mood ring, she noticed, wasn’t green anymore. It wasn’t black, either, but amber.
A little nervous, emotions mixed, unsettled.
So far so good.

He lifted the data-vis while keeping a grip on her one hand. She yelped, trying to snatch the viewer back. “How to tell if he’s great in bed before you waste your time…” He smiled over the screen at her. “Ah, Hadley.” His thumb moved to the soft underside of her hand, circling, circling, stroking. “You never need to worry with me, baby doll. No one’s better than Tango.”

His finger commanded all her focus. He made no secret of the fact he’d like to rub that finger on other, more intimate locations on her body. She’d all but stopped breathing. Rothberg returned and joyfully presented a green glass bottle and two tall, narrow glasses. “Champagne, sir.” He placed the bottle between them and turned to go.

“Uh, waiter.”

Rothberg halted. “Yeah?”

Tango waved at the bottle.

“You open it. I’m in the middle of frying the—” He exhaled. “Fine, but if anything gets too crispy, don’t blame me—”

“Ahem.”

Rothberg cut off his complaint and resumed his role.

Hadley laughed at all the body language and glances going back and forth between the two men. She decided she quite liked Earthlings. They were soldiers in their Earth forces, yes, but there was still a freshness about them.

Pop!
Hadley jumped. A sweet, alcoholic-smelling foam came boiling out of the bottle. Rothberg filled both glasses and jogged away. Tango filled her glass the rest of the way, then his own, lifting it. “A toast.”

They touched glasses. Some things were universal. “To…?”

“To a girl as sweet as an apple. May you fall as hard as I have fallen for you.”

Hadley sighed; she couldn’t help it. They sat there holding hands on the table, immune to the stares of the officers who came and went. It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. She could have sat there forever.

“Dinner is served.” Rothberg brought two plates of food out and stood by proudly as she stared in awe. She picked up a stick that seemed to be a vegetable. It had a savory, almost nutty smell.

“It’s a French fry.” Tango took one and dragged it through a puddle of thick red sauce. Then he held it to her mouth. “Try.”

She nibbled it. “Oh my, that’s good.”

She grabbed the rest from his fingers and ate it. She took some more fries, devouring them as delicately as she could manage.

“One thing about fries, you gotta be careful,” he warned. “Eat too many and they’ll go right to your hips.”

Suddenly self-conscious, she looked down. “You think I am fat?”

“No, baby, I think you’re perfect.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I just want to help you stay that way.”

“Oh.” Would his feelings change if she didn’t always look as she did now? Being with Tango, she’d want to always make sure she looked her best. She’d want to if she had him! What about when she was with child someday, though? Would he think her less beautiful because she was filled with their baby?

The ring was darkening, turning browner.
Don’t look at it.

Outside, the corridor had become noisy. Shift change, but not hers. She was off duty for one more cycle. She had all the time in the world to go back to Tango’s room. He was being so sweet, going through the trouble of this “date,” and it took some of her nerves away.

Suddenly, he stood. “Where are you going?”

“Alas, it’s time for work.”

“You have this shift?”

“Afraid so, baby.” He flattened his hands on the table and leaned forward, bending all the way down until his lips brushed her ear. “Wait for me, Hadley. Don’t go away again.” His lips brushed her ear. “I need you, baby. I want to be with you. Later. Will you come to my quarters when I’m off duty? Say you will, baby. Give me something to look forward to.”

She nodded. He straightened, leaving her dizzy.

“Think about me until then?”

“Yes.”

He winked at her and sauntered off.

The moment he was gone, she blew out a stream of air and fell back in her seat. If he’d set out to woo her, it had worked.

T
HE FEEL OF
B
RIT
shooting upright in bed dragged Finn from a deep sleep. Years of pirating had him instantly awake and without a trace of grogginess as he took in his surroundings. He’d left his PCD on the night table but Brit’s was in her ear. She pressed her hand to it now, her breasts bouncing as she hopped out of bed and walked away. The glorious view of her bare, swaying ass got him hard all over again. “I understand the distress call is verified, Star-Major?” Brit said, ending thoughts of some good-morning lovemaking.

Finn shoved his PCD in his ear to listen. He could not speak lest his voice be overheard on her unit. “The signal is emanating from a settlement called Goddess Reach,” Yarew said. “Population—fifty-six men, women and children.”

“On my way.”

“Admiral, I have not been able to reach Warleader Rorkken. He’s not answering PCD calls.”

Brit cast Finn a look. “I’ll make sure to fetch him on my way to the bridge.” She ended the call. Her hand gave a shake, which she immediately tried to cover up by making a fist. “Damn it,” she snapped at him before he had a chance to speak. “We’ve received a distress call from the Goddess Reach settlement. Damn it all. What is it with you people? There are children in jeopardy this time. Children!” He knew she was thinking of the skullers and how impartially they dispensed their brand of horror; everyone was treated the same way, from infants to the elderly.

Her hooded glare didn’t quite hide her anguish as she stalked away to the shower. Either he was getting better at seeing her pain, or she was getting less careful about showing it.

He followed her. She aimed her back at him to find some soap as the water sprayed down. His hand landed on her shoulder, forcing her around. She recoiled from the sight of his scars and tattoos, spinning her gaze away to avoid looking at his bare torso. “So, I disgust you now, do I? You quite liked this body last night.”