Perfect Specimen (8 page)

Her captor stared in unmistakable fascination. “Tell me.”

“Because he can’t build a family with a crazy woman. With a wounded or abused one? Sure. It’s not ideal, but there’s treatment. Counseling. And he gets to be the knight in shining armor. But batshit crazy? With a history of it in my family?” She smiled despite the sorrow forming in her heart. “He’ll make sure I find a great facility, then he’ll head for the hills. And then”—she eyed the overlord coolly—“I’ll have passed every test. Right?”

Ga’rag hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes, Sara. If you can accomplish that, the experiment will be over.” Stepping closer he added slyly, “And to give you some extra incentive of the positive variety . . .”

Sara gasped, not daring to hope.

“How would you like to spend some time with our daughters?”

Chapter 6

When Clay picked Sara up for their dinner date, he couldn’t believe the change in her. Her pretty face was glowing, her attitude chipper, her posture relaxed, as though the crazy events of the day had never taken place.

The moment he appeared in her doorway, she was in his arms, kissing him eagerly and almost crushing the bouquet of roses he’d brought.

“I thought you’d never get here,” she told him. “And you brought flowers? They’re so beautiful.”

He held her at arm’s length, admiring the sexy blue dress that bared her shoulders, accentuated her cleavage, and echoed the color of her shining eyes. “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

“I was. But I got over it.” She arched a playful eyebrow. “Let me put these roses in water. Then we’ll pick up dinner and go directly to your place. I want to get naked with you, Clay Ryerson. I’ve been dreaming about it all day.”

“My place? But not here?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me guess,” he said, only half teasing her. “You’re afraid your alien overlord will show up?”

Sara shocked him by giggling. “If I had an alien overlord, he could show up at your place just as easily as mine. Right?”

“Good point.”

“This place doesn’t feel very romantic to me, mostly because I just got finished scrubbing the carpet on my hands and knees. So it’s more like a sweatshop than a love nest.” She wrinkled her nose. “I only used baking soda and water, but it still stinks a little. Can’t you smell it?”

Baking soda and water
. . .

Randy had called Clay a dozen times that afternoon to read him annoying snippets from the diary, and cleaning supplies had definitely been mentioned. Supposedly, Ga’rag had alerted Sara to the fact that Earthlings were poisoning themselves with chemicals, especially ammonia fumes, so he had forbidden Sara from using most commercial products.

And so of course, Randy had now sworn them off too.

Because he’s as nutty as Sara
. . .

Except she didn’t look crazy. Didn’t even really
sound
crazy, except for the subtext. Otherwise, she seemed radiant and sexy and bursting with optimism.

And the optimism was contagious, so he pulled her close again and admitted, “I want to take you to a restaurant. We’ve been sleeping together for eighteen nights. Don’t you think it’s time for our first date?”

* * * *

“You should see your face,” Clay murmured once they were belted into the seats of his BMW. “I thought you’d be dreading this. You were so upset about the diary. And Randy. And everything else.”

She bit her lip. “I’ve definitely had my ups and downs today. But still, it’s been one of my favorites. Guess why?”

Before he could respond, she launched into a gleeful report. “I saw my children this afternoon. It’s been
months
, Clay. And it was just what I needed. I’ve never felt so happy. Never.”

It was as though she had punched him in the stomach, mostly because he knew she was lying again. His law firm’s top investigator had done some digging, and had assured Clay that Sara Kent—a healthy, accomplished entrepreneur who had excelled in college and now ran a successful website design service from her home—had never been married. Not to a man named Edward, and not to anyone else.

And she most definitely had never had children.

But as she chattered on in rapturous detail about their soft skin, innocent eyes, gurgling laughs and hilarious expressions, he knew she wasn’t intentionally lying. Not even the most talented actress could pull this off.

Which left the other alternative. The one he had been dreading.

The one Mark had been so doggedly pushing.

Sara was the victim of a delusional disorder.

“Listen, honey.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but how about we skip the restaurant and go over to my parents’ house again? Mark’s there and he’s been nagging me to bring you back for dessert. I told him it was up to you, but now. Well—”

She surprised him by nodding. “I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to him again. About a personal problem. So okay. Let’s pick up sushi and go there instead.”

“Seriously?”

She laughed. “It sounds like fun. Maybe we can even have wild monkey sex in your old bedroom. You grew up in that house, right?”

Clay groaned, admitting to himself that in all those years of adolescent lusting, he had never imagined he’d one day bring home a girl like Sara. So uniquely pretty. So innocent and sweet. So uninhibited in bed.

And so completely, irrefutably certifiable.

* * * *

Strolling into the den, where Mark was sitting in the rocking chair, reading, Clay dropped two bags of take-out food on the coffee table. “Here, serve it up. We’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Wait a minute. Where’s Sara?” Mark stood and looked around. “I’m surprised she agreed to come back here. The scene of the crime, so to speak.”

“She says she actually
wants
to talk to you. That’s got to be a first,” Clay added with a chuckle.

“It’s a good sign. So where is she? I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“She’s waiting for me. Down the hall.”

Mark glared. “
That’s
the plan? Have sex with your delusional and/or married ex-girlfriend?”

“Turns out she’s not married after all. And my plan is a lot more sophisticated than that,” Clay said defensively. “So just set this up in the kitchen. And don’t eat all the tempura roll. That’s her favorite.”

He turned and walked into the entryway and then down the hall to his old bedroom, which now served as a combination guest-sewing room. Despite his statement to Mark, he didn’t actually have a plan, other than to spend some time alone with Sara before the next therapy session began. It would give him a chance to confront her—gently—about her unmarried state. But he’d apologize first, because he had a feeling she’d be more annoyed with him for hiring a detective than
he
was with her over the lies.

When he tried the door, he found that it was locked, so he called out to her, and she opened it quickly. One look at her outfit—or lack thereof—subverted his plan completely. She had stripped down to panties and high heels, and he had never seen her look so good.

After eighteen nights, he still couldn’t believe his luck. For an instant, he even entertained the traitorous thought that indeed, if a geneticist from across the universe was looking for perfect female DNA, he would choose Sara in a heartbeat.

“Get in here,” she said, teasing him with a sassy smile. “We don’t want either of your brothers to see me like this, do we?”

Clay grinned and closed the door behind him. “That’s one hell of an outfit.”

“And you’re overdressed. Here, let me help.” She unfastened the buttons on his shirt then sank to one knee to unbuckle his belt. “I’m going to make this the best night of your life. I know just what you like, Clay Ryerson.”

He reached down and pulled her back up to face him. Then he told her in a husky voice, “I know what you like too, remember? So for once, let’s make it all about you.”

* * * *

She had envisioned this as her parting gift to him, but apparently he was as intent on pleasing her as she was on satisfying him.

So why resist? This is the last time in your life you’ll ever have sex. With
any
one. Meanwhile, Clay will find other girls. And eventually, he’ll find the love of his life and go crazy with her—in this room, his apartment, elevators, you name it.

Intrigued, she stood still as he trailed his lips over her neck and breasts. Then he straightened and kissed her mouth as she molded her body against him. As his hands stroked and pawed, he praised her soft, smooth skin, and she silently thanked Ga’rag for having supplied her with a salve that instantly covered, and almost as quickly healed, the welts he had inflicted on her back just hours earlier.

Clay’s kisses deepened. Then he scooped her up and brought her to the full-sized bed, where he deposited her, stripped off his clothing, then went back to work, pleasuring her with his mouth and his hands until she was throbbing with excitement.

Then he satisfied her so expertly, she thought she might actually pass out. The wave of sensations crested, then slowly, sweetly subsided, leaving her limp in Clay’s arms, her breathing shallow, her heart struggling to regain a normal rhythm.

“You okay?” he whispered against her damp cheek.

“That was amazing.
You
were amazing. You and I—”

“Yeah, I noticed. We’re perfect for each other, right?”

Suspecting a trap, but still too dazed to care, she ruffled his hair with her fingertips. “I’ll always remember this.”

“You won’t have to. There’s a lot more in store for us. Maybe even better than this. All we have to do . . .” He cleared his throat. “We just need to be honest with each other. Nothing else matters. Trust me on that because it’s true.”

She sighed. Of all the things she was willing to be for him, honest couldn’t be one of them. But she could humor him, so she smiled again. “Ask me anything.”

“Really?”

She watched in fascination as his expression changed—from surprised, to hopeful, to curious and then to suspicious, finally turning curious again. And why not? He had probably read dozens of unbelievable things in her journal, or at least had heard about them secondhand from Randy.

She thought she was prepared for any topic, but when he said, “Tell me about Daniel Arroyo,” she sighed, completely humbled. Poor Clay—maybe he really did love her after all. Why else would he show this tinge of tentative jealousy, especially when other, more stunning revelations had been made in the diary?

She traced her fingertip along his lower lip. “Are you asking me if I really met him? Or if I slept with him?”

“Both.”

She sighed again. “I entered a contest for tickets to one of his performances. And I won. Part of the prize was a backstage pass, so I met him. He asked me to have drinks with him, which turned out to be code for sex. But I wasn’t prepared for that. For a
lot
of reasons. So I said I wanted to leave, but he charmed me into having the drink after all, and the next thing I knew, it was morning and I was naked. And apparently Daniel didn’t feel guilty about what he’d done, because he was very complimentary and said he wanted to see me again.”

“Bastard. If he wasn’t dead—”

“But he is.”

“Yeah. One day later, right?”

She nodded. “Karma, pure and simple.”

“Not Ga’rag?”

She winced and sat up, gathering the sheet across her bare breasts. “You’re worse than Randy. Can’t a girl have an imagination in the Ryerson kingdom?”

Clay sat up too, looping his arm around her shoulders. “I love your imagination. But like I said earlier, we can’t move forward unless we’re honest with each other. So . . .” He took an audible breath. “I’ll go first.”

Sara smiled at the very thought of Clay lying to her. He was so sincere. So ethical. And far too strong to ever resort to subterfuge or deception.

Or so she had always thought. But there was something about his expression that made her certainty ebb, just a bit.

“Have you lied to me, Clay?”

“I’ve kept something from you. And yeah, I guess I told a lie in front of you once. But I was actually lying to Mark.” He grimaced. “When I told him my version of how we met in that sports bar, I left something out. Something important. I didn’t want him to know how I really felt at that moment. It’s too personal. Too . . . well, remarkable. He hasn’t been in love yet, so he wouldn’t understand.”

Sara licked her lips, entranced by his romantic tone. “You told him it gave you goose bumps. Meeting me that way, I mean.”

“It changed my life,” Clay corrected her. “I couldn’t believe my luck, but at the same time, it felt right. I don’t usually pick girls up in bars. Or ditch my friends during playoff games. But even though you obviously thought you were meeting some other guy, I knew in my gut you were waiting for me. Like it was the start of something special. Something I couldn’t afford to miss.”

“Clay—”

“Let me finish.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “After that, when you said you just wanted a fling—just sex, no strings attached—I decided
that
was fine too. And for the first couple of weeks, it really was. Then one morning, when I woke up and you were gone—as usual—I realized I’d been right the first time. I didn’t just want to have sex with you. I wanted to be the guy in your life, every part of it, not just at night.”

For a moment, Sara couldn’t breathe. She had never dreamed he felt this way. Nor had she dared dream
any
man would—or could—feel this way. Not about her, at least.

She remembered those predawn escapes from his bed, when she would sneak into the living room to get dressed and run home. At first, she had been afraid he’d hear her, and would want to do what normal lovers did after so passionate an encounter—talk, cuddle, whatever. But after the first few days, her fears had been more real, and more terrifying. What if Ga’rag were watching from the bathroom, or listening from the hall, and picked up on the subtle but definite signs that Sara was head-over-heels infatuated with this hot hunk of a stranger?