More Than a Man (2 page)

The attendant who had instigated the entire
disaster helped the brunette to her feet. "I'm so sorry,
ma'am."

Climbing another octave, the brunette's voice
scraped over Noelle's ears. "Sorry? My wedding is ruined! Ruined!
How am I supposed to explain this delay? Didn't you people plan for
the holidays?"

With that, she broke into heaving sobs. To
Noelle, they looked entirely more dramatic than warranted. In her
opinion, anyone not expecting a delay in a holiday groom was either
unforgivably ignorant or dumb as a post. Or lying. And she'd bet a
week's pay the brunette was lying. Clenching her teeth, she forced
herself to be silent while the attendant performed his soothing
song and dance. This kind of drama was what she hated most about
the whole Manporium process. She should have done this in March. No
one got married in March.

By the time the brunette stepped up to the
kiosk, she was miraculously composed, having received a
complimentary upgrade. Noelle considered throwing a fit to get ten
percent knocked off the cost. Fortunately, her good sense overrode
her cynicism

Cost was…steep, but she’d been willing to
sacrifice in order to pay it. The money had been the easy part if
she ignored the setback to her retirement date. The remainder of
the process was much more difficult. She'd had to retake all the
psychological and personality tests, a three day process she'd been
hard pressed to conceal from her family and friends. And she’d had
to compose a new list. Her third.

She had mixed feelings about the list. On the
one hand, parts were sad, reminding her of the mistakes she'd made
in her lists for Micah and John. No mention on this list of risk
taking or adrenaline rushes, traits she’d wanted in her husbands
but which had ultimately lead to tragedy. Instead of potentially
dangerous interests, she'd put swing dancing and cricket down as
desired hobbies. What was she thinking? Swing dancing? She'd been
swing dancing precisely once. On the other hand, some parts made
her grin. A knowledge of 20th century Earth music, for example. And
then, there were the parts that made her grin turn wicked. The
yummy parts.

The bride behind her pushed her none too
gently, bringing Noelle out of her reverie. Evidently, while she'd
been daydreaming about the length of her new husband’s tongue, the
brunette had finished her order. Still smiling, Noelle stepped up
to the kiosk. She set her Brilliantfone in the slot and synched it
up. Her personal information loaded up, and the kiosk greeted her
by name. A moment later, her requirements were uploaded and her
bill generated. She swallowed at the huge chunk it took out of her
savings, but firmed her resolve. Yes, her mother would have chipped
in toward the cost, but then she'd be here with her. Some things
were worth the money.

Delivery date January 6. She saved the
receipt in her ‘fone files. No wonder the other bride had lost her
head. A three week delay was pretty steep. Still, it was the old
traditional Three Kings Day. Perfect.

* * *

“No, Mom.”

“I don’t see why you are being so difficult,”
her mother pressed. “If you’d just listen to me your next husband
wouldn’t end up like the last two.”

Noelle grimaced. She so needed that little
reminder. Her mother didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound, wouldn’t
even see it as doing so, but the pain was nonetheless sharp. “I’m
not you, Mom. What works for you isn’t what works for me.”

“Nonsense. You and your father are closer
than bread and jam. You need to tone your list down and get some
nice man who will stay home and watch holovids with you.”

Noelle blinked at the telelink console. The
very fact that her mother shunted aside everything her father did
with that one statement said so much about how different they were.
She had to force herself to respond calmly. “I love Dad, but he’s
Dad. I want different things from a husband.”

Vivian dismissed her argument with a wave of
her hand. “You don’t know what you want, dear. You think you want
some crazy man, but you know you need someone nice and safe like
your father. Besides, you definitely want to get your order in
before the regulations go into effect, or you’ll be ages getting
the paperwork through. It’s really too bad you and Kendall didn’t
win that one.”

Noelle controlled a wince at that barb.
Direct hit
.

“Or…Noelle, have you thought about just
meeting a man? Your friend Engel—”

You have no idea what I need
. She
pressed her lips together to keep the words from escaping. “Mom.
Engel’s just a friend. Look, I appreciate that you want to help,
but I think this is my decision.”

Vivian tossed her head. "You are so stubborn.
If you’d just let me write the list for you –"

The entry chime cut across her mother’s
offer. Thank Deity. “I have to go. Someone’s at the door.”

“Well, who in the world would be visiting
you?”

Ignoring the insult, Noelle smiled. “I'd
better find out. Goodbye, Mom.”

"Before you go—you will be at dinner tonight,
right?"

Damn it. She'd forgotten. She’d meant to come
up with some excuse to get out of it. That’s what she got for
staying up late watching the tentacle porn Kendall had given her to
”expand her horizons”. And really, no thinking of tentacle monsters
when talking to Mom. Too creepy. Shaking herself, Noelle resigned
herself to dinner. "Yes, Mom, I'll be there. And if I don't hang up
now, I'll have to bring whoever is at the door. Now, goodbye."

Stabbing the button to disconnect the
transmission, she maneuvered around the dismantled remains of her
Christmas tree and headed for the front door. Even if it was just
the delivery drone, she was ready to kiss him for getting her out
of that call.

She loved her mother, but Vivian’s narrow
view was incredibly hard to take. As far as Vivian was concerned,
if something worked for her, it must be the right thing for
everyone. Thankfully, Noelle’s father balanced her mother. It was
one of the reasons Noelle believed so strongly in Manporium. She’d
seen firsthand in her parents how the combination of buyer’s wants
and Manporium’s assessments of the buyer’s needs meshed together to
create a perfect mate. There couldn’t be a more perfect match than
her mother and father. Where Vivian plowed forward, assuming
everyone would follow her lead, Rich maneuvered behind the scenes,
organizing things so Vivian
thought
she was getting her way
on everything when the reality was Rich tempered her rougher
style.

Her first two husbands had been wonderful
men. Good matches taken from her too soon. Taken because she hadn't
thought hard enough about the implications of her wants. In that,
her mother was right.

Shaking off her glum thoughts, Noelle cued up
the security screen at the front door and frowned at the man
standing outside.

He carried a large canvas bag slung over one
shoulder and stood with his hand braced on the wall beside her
door. She couldn't see his hand because the security screen had
limited scope. Even so, she knew his stance by the way his broad,
muscular chest pitched toward her, by the way his waist was more
narrow than it should have been, proportionate, but distorted by
distance. The pale winter sunlight darkened his skin to a rich,
glossy brown against the white of his shirt. A trick of the light
made his smooth-shaven scalp seem to glow softly.

Noelle’s frown deepened. He was not a
delivery drone. Not the postdroid. Not any of her neighbors.
Not...

Her heart stuttered to a stop before kick
starting into overdrive.

Oh, Deity.

She jerked away from the door and dashed to
her small office. The entry chime rang a second time as she
snatched her 'fone from its dock and keyed up her Manporium
receipt. She stared at the date, confused and stunned. Early. He
was
early
. And her hair was a mess of glitter and tinsel
from the tree trimmings she'd been pulling down and packing away.
She batted frantically at her hair, trying to dislodge the silvery
bits. It was bad enough she hadn't changed out of pajamas. The cozy
head-to-toe one-piece didn't hide any of her flaws. Tinsel in her
hair would not help matters. Fighting a wave of dizzying panic, she
somehow made her way back to the door just as it chimed a third
time.

Her hands shook as she deprogrammed the lock.
The door panel whooshed into the wall. And then she was face to
face with him.

Chapter Two

Except face to face was really face to chest.
Her face, his lovely chest. Because she liked tall men, and she'd
specified he should be tall.
And oh. His chest
. Noelle
swallowed. She could clearly see the ridges beneath his shirt,
spaced evenly apart. Piercings. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She
raised her eyes to meet his, which were green and serious and, oh,
Deity,
intense
as he watched her examine him.

Stupidly, grateful she managed to make her
tongue work at all, she said, "I didn't know you were coming."

"I asked them not to notify you." His mouth
tilted at one corner. He straightened and glanced past her into the
house. "If you're not ready, I can go back and wait."

He could go back. She could shove all her
haphazardly-strewn Christmas decorations into a closet and dial up
cleaning service to scour the corners of the house and change the
linens on her bed to something less feminine and frilly. Something
that would match him. She could fix her hair and change into the
leg-baring sheath she'd bought to wear January 6. But that would
involve letting him out of her sight. Chest tight, Noelle shook her
head once and stumbled back, making room for him.

She slapped the security panel and the door
closed behind him. Spicy, fragrant heat enveloped her immediately,
cinnamon and ginger and brown sugar. Something sharp beneath that,
tickling her nose. Her stomach rumbled low, a murmur of approval
and hunger. He heard it. One of his dark eyebrows arched and his
half-smile teased into a full grin.

"Sounds like you're...hungry." He dropped his
bag in the foyer. In the soft imitation natural light she preferred
for her indoor fixtures, his complexion wasn't as dark as it had
appeared when he stood outside. Instead, his skin was a rich ginger
tan, sun-baked despite the weak sun this time of year.

Noelle kept walking backward, not quite sure
what she should do or say. She'd done this twice before, but she
had received advance warning. She'd had time to prepare. She'd
known their names, for Deity's sake. Giving herself a mental shake,
she planted her feet and met his eyes. "I don't know your
name."

"No, I suppose you don't." He didn't offer
it. Instead, he reached for her, wrapped a strong hand around her
upper arm, and drew her back into the spicy circle of his body
heat. He touched her chin, tipped her head, and brushed a kiss
across her lips.

The shock of that light touch ran through
her. It was too fast, leaving her wanting more.

"What is it?" she murmured, fascinated by his
thick, inky eyelashes.

"Aya." He kissed the curve of her bottom lip.
Another little sizzle flashed along her skin.

Aya
. She opened her mouth to greet
him, a polite nice-to-meet-you, but before she could speak, he
licked his way into her mouth. Cinnamon burst upon her tongue. Her
eyes widened and she clutched his shirt. Hard muscle rippled under
her fists. He released her arm and cupped the back of her head,
tilting and angling her to better receive his tongue. Desire coiled
tight and hot in her abdomen. She jerked at his shirt frantically,
freed it from his pants, and thrust her hands beneath to find his
skin.
Hot
. He was hot to touch. She flattened her palms
against his ribs and worked upward while he sucked her tongue into
his mouth and wrapped her hair around his hands.

He spun her, pressing her back to the wall.
Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own volition, dragging
her up his body until the hard ridge of his erection hitched up
against her sex. Too many clothes. She whimpered into his mouth.
Aya released her hair and cupped her ass, positioning her higher to
ride his cock. She wrenched the hem of his shirt as far as she
could and tore her lips from his.

Her breath caught in her throat. His abs were
a work of art, his hips so cut and chiseled she wanted to lick
them. A line of marks bisected his abdomen, running from his chest
down the midline of his body into the waistband of his pants.
Birthmarks? She wanted to lick those, too.

Unwilling to be distracted, Noelle pushed his
shirt higher until she could see the small steel hoops pierced
through his nipples. Her sex clenched.
Oh, yeah
. Aya made a
strangled noise above her head and angled his hips, pinning her to
the wall with his thighs. He released her and whipped his shirt
over his head, allowing her a peek at the soft, sparse dark hair
under his arms.

"Deity," she breathed, flattening her hands
over his ribs, testing each raised ridge. "You're beautiful."

His fingertips grazed her jaw, his thumb
tracing the lower curve of her mouth. "I am what you wanted me to
be."

Was he? Noelle glanced up at his face through
her lashes. His lips parted and his shoulders bunched as he lowered
his head. But she wasn't prepared to lose herself in another of his
soul-searing kisses. Dodging him, she found his left nipple with
her tongue. Fruity sweetness underscored the metallic flavor of the
ring.

"You taste like candy," she murmured,
painting tight wet circles on his skin. Gum drops and gingerbread.
The flavors set off her happiness and well-being receptors,
loosening her muscles, softening her sex. Her thighs began to
quiver and she slid down the wall a couple inches as she lost her
grip on him.