ROMANCE: MY ALIEN KING: Scifi Alien Invasion Abduction Contemporary Romance (Paranormal Fantasy BBW Alien Contact Anthologies & Collections Book 1) (22 page)

Merry Bennett’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the armrest, her eyes closing tight as the very world around her thudded uncontrollably. Then, mercifully, everything went smooth as the huge airliner planted its wheels firmly on the tarmac.

She had never minded flying, only landing. The speed at which the planes headed to the runway, the jarring impact as they touched down. It was all too frantic and violent for her. She preferred life at a slower pace. Back at college, in Ohio, she did not even drive a car, preferring the peace and relaxation she got from walking or cycling everywhere. Given that, her mind started replaying the sequence of events that led to her here to Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates and that homage to the world of speed, the Formula 1 Grand Prix.

“You must come and meet him!” her mother had giggled like a schoolgirl a week ago at Merry’s graduation, talking about her latest boyfriend of two months, Donald Lawson, “We’ll be at the last race of the season cheering on his son, Troy. It should be fabulous; he could win the championship! Think of the parties—the Grand Prix is a huge deal out there.”

“Mom, how am I supposed to find the money for airline tickets and hotels when I haven’t even got a job yet?” she had pointed out.

“I talked to Donny already. You’ve just picked up a BA in public relations, so the team will take you on temporarily as part of the hospitality staff and pay all your expenses. First class ticket, five-star hotel. You never know, you might like it and pick up a permanent position.”

It was so typical of her mom, organizing Merry’s professional life—without so much as a by your leave—when she’d never done a day’s work in her life. No, her mom’s good looks, upbringing, and the benefits of her expensive finishing school meant she had never had to be alone for too long. Merry was not going to be like that.

I’m going to make my own way,
she thought as she deplaned and made her way through the terminal.
I’m going to have my own career and depend on no one for anything. Who knows, world travel, luxury lifestyle—if I can stay away from all that car and racetrack nonsense this might be the job for me.

She knew her mother would be waiting in the Arrivals Lounge to pick her up, and that she would criticize the way she looked. She always had, particularly during Merry’s teenage years. Merry had always been slim and athletic, but short. She was more interested in books than boys and had hidden her lithe body under baggy pants and jumpers. Throughout high school she kept her hair short and manageable, wore glasses with no makeup, and ignored the teasing as best she could. Her mother complained, pleaded with her to fix herself up and put on some heels, but that just made her more determined.

It had been when she moved from Beverly Hills to attend Franklin University in Columbus that her life changed. The girls in her dorm had been so welcoming and supportive, totally different from the girls in high school. Particularly her roommate Angie. She was a vivacious and stunning second generation Thai girl from New York who had undergone breast enlargement surgery at eighteen. Angie was an outrageous flirt, a terrible tease, and so much fun to be around. She had shown Merry how stunning she could look if she used hair tricks and some makeup to highlight her natural beauty and, delightfully, how hot she could look in the right clothes plus how sexy she could be in some daring underwear. Angie had shown her how good it could feel to command so much attention from boys, and when Merry finally let her guard down with Eric, a senior, she had been there for her too.

Eric, sporty and drop dead gorgeous, had always smiled at her from afar, until one night in her first year they had ended up at the same party. He was charming and attentive all night, and while she had drunk a little, Merry made a controlled decision to let him be her first. He was caring and gentlemanly, right up to the point where they were alone together. With little foreplay, he had insisted on taking her from behind and lasted less than a minute before bounding out of the room, almost as soon as he was done, to go drink with his friends. He managed to avoid her for the rest of the year, then he was gone.

Merry had quietly dressed and stolen back to her room. When Angie found her, Merry told her the story. Angie hugged her, held her, and vowed to protect her. Which she did, viciously. No guy got near her again which, if she was honest, was not entirely what Merry had wanted, but Angie meant well and it was good to feel cared for.

Merry spied her mom waiting for her in the terminal and dove into the bathroom to freshen up. She ran a brush through her shoulder-length auburn hair, reapplied her lip gloss and stood back to examine her work. The heels she had on jacked her up to about five-foot-seven and elongated her slender legs. She had on jeans and a T-shirt in deference to Abu Dhabi’s strict dress code for women in public, but the denim low-riders hugged her hips and butt well, while the T-shirt was sufficiently tight around her slim waist and modest but pert breasts that it was just sexy enough to keep her mom off her back. Her full lips, elegant cheekbones and large, blue eyes were tastefully enhanced by the makeup she had put on and, when she flashed a practice smile, she knew she had got the ‘sweet yet hot’ look down. She felt ready to deal with her mother.

“Darling,” drawled her mom with arms outstretched as Merry approached. They hugged and Merry smiled to herself, breathing her mom in. Despite all her complaints, she loved her mom and it was good to be near her again.

“You look wonderful, darling,” began her mom, “but you should show a little more. God knows, I would if I still had a body like yours!” Although it was barely noon, her mother wore a black Oscar de la Renta cocktail dress. It covered her knees enough to be just about acceptable but, while it hid her upper arms and cleavage, it was cut across the top to leave her shoulders bare. A big no-no by United Arab Emirates law.
Mother’s way of rebelling, of course,
thought Merry. Though she did notice a dark shawl around her arms, in case she was told to cover up. But she still looked slim and classically beautiful.

“I have to make some concessions to the law, Mom,” replied Merry, “and so should you.” Her mom opened her mouth to protest. “But you look stunning of course,” Merry added. Her mother feigned bashfulness, then turned to a ruggedly handsome man dressed in a light linen suit with no tie. He was trim and muscular, about six foot, with only some well-defined wrinkles in his time-worn face and salt-and-pepper edging his hairline to betray his age.

“Darling, this is Donny. Sorry, Donald,” her mom almost squealed. Donald extended a hand with a warm smile. “Only I can call him Donny,” Merry’s mom continued. “Isn’t that so, Donny?”

“It’s true, I only allow the most beautiful women to use that term,” he said in a clipped, pristine English accent and took Merry’s hand in a firm, dry grip. “So you, Merry, should feel completely free to do so.” Merry knew he was trying to be charming while flattering both her and her mother, but it was still slightly creepy. She let him off because of the way the two love birds then began smiling at each other.

“Well, shall we get some lunch?” asked Mom. “You must be famished, Merry, and there’s the most darling place just—”

Donald cut her off, “Terribly sorry, my love, but we must get back to the track. We should be there for free practice. Besides, we have a fortune in caviar, seafood and champagne in hospitality.”

“Oh, you’re right, of course. You don’t mind, do you, darling?”

Merry knew it would do no good to argue. Besides, she was not particularly hungry and she wanted to make a good impression with the team’s owners. They had, after all, paid for her to fly out here. She shook her head with a smile and Donald ushered them out to a white Rolls Royce. The driver opened the door for them and, in a flash, they were on their way.

Yas Marina Circuit was actually directly across the Khor Al-Raha river from the airport, but it was still a thirty-minute drive from Arrivals to the race paddock. Donald used that time to pour him and Merry’s mother gin and tonics. Merry refused, but it was clear to her that, besides making googly eyes at each other, Donald and her mom spent the majority of their time drinking, even in a country where alcohol consumption can get you in a lot of trouble. Merry’s mom used the time to expound on Donald’s son, Troy.

Donald had owned a successful shipping company, enabling him to retire early and extremely wealthy. But although Donald had made use of his money and connections to secure his son the best teams and cars throughout his career, Troy was in fact an extremely talented driver. And now, at the last race of the season, he was only one point behind his teammate, Michael Raymond, at the head of the championship. The title would be decided here. If Troy finished ahead of Michael, the championship was his, but if Michael beat him, or if neither of them scored, Michael would be World Champion. There was to be practice this afternoon, qualifying to decide the starting grid tomorrow, and the race on Sunday. It was all jolly exciting, her mother assured her, and Merry could not help but notice how her mother’s Californian lilt had begun to make way for a more English, aristocratic sound. Among everything, her mom’s gushing about Troy’s dedication, fitness, stamina and the occasional hint about his good looks did pique Merry’s interest, despite herself.

It was hot. And emerging from the tunnel that led from the paddock and under the track to pit lane was as though Merry and the golf cart she rode were crossing into another, freakish hell dimension. Mechanics in brightly colored overalls rushed everywhere, million-dollar race cars endlessly fired up and killed their engines in a monstrous cacophony that seemed to attack her from all sides, while the very air was thick with a poisonously sweet cocktail of high-octane gasoline, tarmac and rubber.

They stopped by their team’s garage and Merry dove into the cool darkness, desperate to escape the heat, commotion and noise. Unfortunately she found herself standing directly behind a set of high, airplane-like wings attached to a Formula 1 race car. The car sat there, axle stands holding it off the ground, strange blue blankets wrapped around where she guessed the wheels should go, when suddenly, with no one in it, it burst into life with a high-pitched roar that shot straight through her body, shaking here to the core. Her knees actually felt weak and she began to fall before a pair of strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Max! Kill it!” The voice was barely audible above the engine’s din but, as quickly as it had started, it shut off. The strong hands helped her to a chair and sat her in it. Merry felt woozy. She opened her eyes, and as her gaze travelled around the room she noticed two things: the many men in black and red shirts that surrounded the car all had on ear defenders, and the face belonging to the hands that had caught her was probably the most beautiful one she had ever seen.

His stubbled jaw was chiselled to a perfect point, his lips full and soft-looking, his cheekbones high and sitting just under fierce, gray-blue eyes. His light-brown hair was long on top with a floppy fringe but shaved above his ears all around his head’s entire circumference, giving him a kind of post-apocalyptic punk look that went well with the three studs in his left ear and the two in his right. Merry saw, also, an eagle tattooed on his shaved head behind his left ear and a large rose behind his right. He could not be more than a year or two older than her.

His face was only inches from hers. He kept his eyes on her, a faint smile playing around his lips.
I have no idea who you are,
Merry found herself thinking,
but if you kissed me right now, I can’t see myself complaining
.

“Anyone know why this silly cow was standing right by the mufflers when we started the car?” Merry realised he was addressing the whole garage. Except her, it seemed. His accent was English but, while still clipped, it was rougher and far less posh than Donald’s. No one answered. “Who the fuck is she anyway? Do we just let anyone into our garage now?” he demanded. That was enough, Merry decided, and pulled herself away from him

“I’m not a silly cow,” she snapped “I’m part of the PR team! Please take your filthy hands off me!” Her anger was fueled by her embarrassment at being so attracted to him, and that she was still attracted to him, despite him being a complete dick. He backed off, hands up in mock surrender. He was shirtless, of course, his overalls wrapped around his waist, displaying a sinewy, muscled torso and strong arms, covered in intricate tattoos. He was by no means huge, only as tall as Merry was in her heels, but perfectly proportioned and amazingly fit.

“Darling,” Merry’s mother called as she ambled into the garage with Donald in tow, “there you are, thought we’d lost you. I see you’ve met Troy. I’m sure you two are going to be the best of friends.” Donald nodded along enthusiastically.

They stared at each other for an instant. “So, you’re my potential new sister, eh?” said Troy finally in a teasing tone.

“Stepsister,” she corrected him, but could not quite figure out why she felt so keen to point it out. He opened his mouth to say more, but a strong Valley accent interrupted him.

“Troy, baby, look what I got for you,” called a stunning, big-haired blonde. She waltzed in, tanned skin, full butt, long legs, and impressive bust all clearly on display in a white one-piece swimsuit that opened all the way down to her pierced navel and completely disappeared between her toned buttocks. It took her a second, but Merry finally recognized her as Shannon Turner, the most beautiful and popular girl in her class at Beverly Hills High School, who just happened to have been a queen bitch to her for four years. She figured she must have missed the memo about Shannon going into porn.