This is Jerden, Sara reminded herself as she pulled the ingredients for hunela out of the stasis unit. Jerden. Not Nate, and certainly not that asshole she’d once made the mistake of going to the movies with. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in a spacious kitchen, acres in size, with plenty of room to retreat if necessary. Taking a deep breath, she willed her hands to be steady as she selected the chicken breasts, vegetables, and cheese. A sidelong glance revealed Jerden perusing her spice rack, looking like the answer to every woman’s dream. Tall, tanned, and muscular, with black hair that hung to his waist, he was still wearing that same loincloth. Strangely enough, she would’ve preferred that he’d left it at home. True, it covered all the more erotic parts of him, but it also disrupted the natural flow of his skin and the perfect symmetry of his body—similar to a beautiful horse wearing a saddle.
Not that clothes didn’t do that to everyone—and there were plenty of people who should never be seen undressed, no matter what species they happened to be. Jerden, however, fell into a different category of beings—one that made any covering or adornment completely unnecessary.
Of course, she would never tell him so. Any comments to that effect would surely be misconstrued as provocative, suggestive, and that was a thought she didn’t want him to have. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps not ever.
Sara found it difficult to believe that a man like Jerden would want to marry a woman who might never want him sexually. It seemed to go against everything she’d ever heard about Zetithians. Granted, Zetithian women showed little interest in sex, which might explain why the men were seduction personified, but at least they had the potential to be enticed.
It occurred to her then that she was probably more like the women of Zetith than those of her own world. Human females had desires and they acted on them. Sara felt no desire and wouldn’t have known how to attract a man if her life depended on it.
Wear something low cut and show lots of cleavage. Someone had told her that once. Sure. That was a great enticement, but for it to work, a woman had to have something to reveal. Sara’s figure wasn’t the slightest bit voluptuous, being more like that of a lanky teenage boy than a female in her thirties.
Why am I even thinking about this? He’s already here. He even asked me to marry him. The thought made her shudder—or was it a quiver? He didn’t need to be seduced or attracted to her, did he? All she really had to do was avoid pushing him away and quit acting like she was afraid of him.
She hadn’t been afraid at all when he held her in his arms. How very peculiar…
“I like to put lycaque root in hunela,” he said as he selected various jars of herbs. “Makes it more authentic. Do you have any?”
Sara was relieved to have this neutral topic to divert her thoughts. “No, but there are plenty of Twilanans living around here. It’d probably be easy to enough to find.”
“Maybe next time, then.”
Obviously this lack of culinary perfection wasn’t something he was going to lose sleep over—or berate her for not having. Considering the number of herbs and spices that were available throughout the galaxy, Sara considered her stock to be fairly decent, if not comprehensive. She’d have to add another room onto the house if she wanted them all—and take out a loan to pay for them. Not a high priority.
Then again, Jerden apparently had money to burn. She’d be a rich woman if she married him, and if she wanted to add a room, she could. It might have been better if she hadn’t known he had money—and would make her seem less mercenary, which was probably what everyone would think of her now.
Assuming that Jerden would prefer to do something manly and exciting, like chopping vegetables, she handed him a knife. “I’ll make the sauce.”
He winked at her. “Minus the lycaque root.”
“Yeah.” She got out milk, butter, eggs, and flour. Scooping some butter into a saucepan, she set it over low heat to melt.
“I’m glad you’ve got a real stove,” he said as he peeled the onions. “All I’ve got is one of those flash ovens, and it doesn’t do a damn thing for me. At the time I moved in, I didn’t really care. But now I do. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
He was making small talk and winking at her. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have bothered to do either one—had acted like the wildcat he was rumored to be. Now, he only looked like one, though less so than when he’d been naked all the time. The loincloth made him seem a bit more civilized. Even so, he could have taken it off and she wouldn’t have minded. After all, Reutal never wore clothing. Zatlen preferred boots, jeans, and a T-shirt. Drania wore coveralls and no shirt. It was purely a matter of personal comfort…
He nodded toward the iron skillet sitting on the stove. “I like that kind of skillet, too. Food just tastes better when it’s cooked that way.”
“I’ve always thought so.” He’s talking about cooking utensils and I’m thinking about whether or not he should wear clothes. What’s wrong with this picture?
After pouring some olive oil into the skillet, she turned on the burner and switched on the deep fryer. She was about to suggest he lose the loincloth when she glanced at his bare chest. Sautéing vegetables without the benefit of clothing might not be the best plan—not to mention deep-frying the chicken. “I’ve got an apron around here somewhere—not sure it’ll fit you, but…”
His brow went up in surprise and then dropped to a frown. “Should I have worn a shirt?”
“No, that wasn’t what I meant. You can wear whatever you like—or nothing at all, if you prefer. I just don’t want you to get splattered with hot oil.” There. She’d said it. The ball was in his court now.
A slow smile spread across his lips. “Why, Sara, how sweet of you to be so concerned for my safety.”
His words might not have acknowledged everything she’d said, but his expression and inflection certainly did. Arching an eyebrow, he eyed her speculatively, waiting for her to speak.
She shrugged, feeling somewhat helpless. “Well, why wouldn’t I be concerned? You’re my… boyfriend. Sort of.”
“Yes, I am,” he said. “Sort of.” Setting the knife down, he took a step closer. “And since you don’t care whether I wear this thing or not…” He hooked a thumb in the open side near the waistband. “I’ll take it off.” His smile intensified, allowing his fangs to peek past his lips. “Later.”
Sara’s face suddenly felt hot and tingly and she swallowed hard—actually, it was more of a gulp. “W-whatever you like.”
Sara could’ve sworn he winked at her again. Returning to his task, he transferred the onions to the skillet along with a handful of chuelas and then began slicing the zucchini. “On the way over here, I was thinking about what Nate did last night.”
His voice had lost its seductive note so abruptly, Sara questioned whether it had ever been there at all. “And?” Dumping some flour into the melted butter, she whipped it vigorously.
“I don’t think I should leave you here alone anymore—especially at night—out of concern for your… safety.”
So, he was going to stay all night and take off the loincloth. Great. Now you’ve done it, Sara. Made him think you’re going to fall into his arms and make mad, passionate love with him. All night. Every night. Maybe even until death do us part. Oh, my God… Hell, he’d been sobbing in her arms just a few minutes before. Was he pretending all of it? Could she really trust anyone whose moods changed so quickly? God knows, hers did too. She inhaled sharply. “If you think that’s best.”
“I do.” His sidelong glance glowed with anticipation. “I think we should sleep together, too. I never told you how much I liked waking up next to you, Sara. I should’ve told you at the time, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” He turned his catlike eyes on her, holding her gaze effortlessly, completely. “When I woke up and found you in bed beside me, I picked up a scent that surprised me. I couldn’t leave you then. I wanted to stay with you and find out why your dreams were so… haunted. Then I started purring and your despair seemed to lift a little. After a bit, I got up and almost went home. But I couldn’t make myself leave, so I crawled back in with you.” He paused to sprinkle a pinch of yishush on the onions. Within seconds, the aroma of the pungent spice filled the air. “I liked being there with you, Sara. Did you like waking up next to me?”
Knowing it wouldn’t do a bit of good to deny it, she told him the truth. “I was a little afraid. I liked the warmth and the purring, but…”
“That’s okay,” he said quickly. “I understand.”
“No, you probably don’t,” she said ruefully. “I don’t even understand it myself.” Adding milk to the pan, she continued whisking the mixture, thinking that maybe if she stirred it hard enough, the answer might come to her.
It didn’t, of course. Thankfully, Jerden didn’t pursue the subject any further.
She set the pan back on the stove and cracked the eggs with more force than necessary. That didn’t help, either. Careful, Sara. You’ll break the yolks.
Jerden was probably thinking the same thing, but he kept quiet. Tossing the zucchini into the skillet, he then cut the chicken into paper-thin slices. Sara caught herself watching him and shifted her focus back to the bowl full of eggs. She stared at it, unable to remember how to separate the yolks from the whites.
Gravy ladle. Getting the ladle out of the drawer, she used it to fish out the yolks and add them to the sauce. More whisking. For once, she didn’t mind the monotony, as it gave her something to do with her hands. If she’d simply sat and let him do it all, she’d have gone mad.
Jerden made quick work of the chicken, crushed a few cloves of garlic, and added them to the vegetables before giving them a stir. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he seasoned the meat, adding a dash or two of the various spices he’d selected before dipping it in the egg whites. After dredging it in flour, he rolled it into perfect little scrolls. His actions were smooth and practiced, his lack of hesitation demonstrating that knew what he was doing.
“So, you learned to cook on the refugee ship?”
“Yeah, we had to take turns.” He dropped the chicken scrolls one by one into the fryer. “And trust me, if the meals you prepared weren’t any good, you heard about it.”
“Kind of like cooking for my gang,” she said with a chuckle. “They’re pretty vocal, as you may have noticed.”
“You like them a lot, don’t you?”
She nodded. “They’re my family.” Which was perfectly true. She cared as much about Reutal, Zatlen, and Drania as she did her real family, perhaps even more.
“Reutal certainly acts like a brother out to protect his sister. He gave Nate quite a tongue-lashing after he kissed you. I’m surprised he didn’t take a swing at him.”
Sara laughed. “He doesn’t like Nate any more than I do. Probably dying for the excuse.”
Noting that the sauce had finally thickened, she added salt and pepper and then set it aside. She slipped past Jerden and stooped to pull a baking dish out of the lower cabinet, doing her best not to stare at his powerful thighs. She set the dish on the cutting board and Jerden tipped the contents of the skillet into it.
He lifted the basket from the fryer, briefly inspecting the chicken scrolls before tossing them in with the vegetables. Sara poured on the sauce and Jerden smoothed it out with a spatula. “Got any surlea cheese to go on top?”
Sara snorted a laugh. “In your dreams, rich boy. Do you have any idea how expensive that stuff is?”
He shook his head. “Not really, but I do know it’s worth it, whatever it costs.”
“The best I can do for now is Asiago.” She handed him a bowl of the grated cheese. “I’ve never tasted surlea, though from what I understand, it’s pretty similar. I’m not even sure you can buy it in Nimbaza.”
“Guess I got kinda spoiled on Rhylos. They had everything.”
She switched off the fryer. “Terra Minor is coming up in the galaxy, but it’s still basically a frontier planet. There are lots of things you can’t get here.”
Asiago wasn’t exactly cheap, either. Jerden didn’t seem to care, adding a liberal amount to the top of the hunela. Her gasp of dismay only made him grin. “You know something, Sara?”
“What?” Aside from the fact that you’re going to eat me out of house and home.
“I think you and I need to discuss the advantages of being my wife.”
Jerden put the hunela in the oven while he waited for the idea to sink in. Being married to him would have perks Sara obviously hadn’t considered yet.
“Such as?”
“Among other things, as the wife of a Zetithian, your property taxes will be significantly reduced. As the wife of a rich Zetithian, you can afford to buy pretty much any kind of cheese you like. Granted, I’m not making money hand over fist anymore, but I’ve invested wisely and have a steady income from the interest. What I don’t spend is automatically reinvested.”
“So I’d be an idiot not to marry you?”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just want you to know that getting Nate off your back isn’t necessarily the only perk.”
“Everyone will think I’m marrying you for your money.”
“I doubt it. Of course, there are disadvantages, as well. You got a taste of it while we were in Nimbaza. People here think I’m some kind of crazy hermit, but I’ve been called lots of other nasty little names—man-whore, prostitute, gigolo. Does that bother you?”
Quickly averting her eyes, she picked up a dishcloth and wiped off the cutting board. “It’s a little late to be asking me that, don’t you think?”
“Not really. You haven’t committed to anything but dinner and a date so far. You can still back out if you want, but if you don’t, this is something we’ll both have to live with.”
“Yeah, well, you know what they say about reformed rakes making good husbands.” She frowned. “I mean, I guess you’re reformed. Sort of.” She paused, cocking her head to finally meet his gaze. “If you could, would you go back to that kind of life?”
“No. Not unless I was starving—and maybe not even then. Sure, we earned plenty of credits, but it certainly wasn’t worth risking Audrey’s life or anyone else’s.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s just say I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
She nodded and went back to her cleaning.
Jerden carried the dirty pots and pans over to the sink to wash, keeping an eye on Sara as he went. Her expression was thoughtful, but thankfully she didn’t look like she was about to jump out of her skin anymore. Her shoulder had brushed his thigh ever so slightly when she’d bent down to retrieve that baking dish. He doubted she even noticed the brief contact. If she had, she surely would’ve acknowledged it with a gasp or at least begged his pardon.
Having related his history to her, he’d expected her to tell him something more about herself. No, make that hoped, rather than expected. He was beginning to understand how anxious his friends had felt when he was so fucked up. They’d wanted him to improve instantly, not take months or years to heal. He hadn’t recovered overnight—it only seemed that way, the pain building up until he finally reached the breaking point. His breaking point. Where Sara’s was and how long it would take her to get there, he couldn’t begin to guess. What he could guess was that her pain was long-standing and deeply embedded in her personality. He certainly had his work cut out for him.
Still, he hadn’t been the star hunk of the Zetithian Palace for nothing. If anyone could do it, he could.
Knowing that the hunela would take at least another hour to bake, he helped her with the cleaning up as quickly and efficiently as he knew how, wanting to spend most of that time doing something more pleasant. The last thing he did was to shoo Cria out of the way and set the table, frowning as he remembered they were a chair short. He’d have to bring one over from his place—that is, if he ever went home again. His pets must’ve known that because they’d all followed him this time.
“While we’re waiting on dinner, why don’t we take a look at some of those Friesians you were telling me about?”
Her eyes lit up. Someday Jerden hoped to see that same expression when he suggested they do something entirely different. Someday.
“They’re the most gorgeous horses you’ll ever see in your life. Absolutely breathtaking. Hold on while I get my computer.” She darted down the hallway toward the living room.
Jerden bit back a smile as she snatched her computer off the coffee table and started back toward the kitchen, stopping short when she realized he’d followed her.
“Why don’t we sit out here?” he suggested. “It’s a lot more comfortable.”
Her frown was fleeting, but not so quick he didn’t see it before it was replaced with a blank look. “Oh… all right… I guess.”
Apparently only the kitchen was safe. He could hardly wait to see her reluctance to shower with him. If he was ever going to smell her desire, she had to relax. Guess I should bring a bottle of wine along with that chair. Then he remembered he didn’t even have a bottle of wine.
Sara’s cats were sitting on the far end of the sofa, one curled up on the headrest beneath the front window and the other sprawled on the seat cushion. Jerden took a seat in the middle. “Chill out, Sara. I don’t bite.” Which, strictly speaking, wasn’t true. “Not much, anyway.”
She didn’t seem reassured, glancing down the hall just as Cria came through the doorway. With a huge, jaw-popping yawn, the big cat stretched out across the threshold. The tabby registered Cria’s presence with a slow blink. The chubby little black cat didn’t even look up.
“And Cria won’t bite you, either.” He patted the seat beside him. “Just come on over here and show me those horses.”
She hesitated a moment and then crossed the room to perch on the edge of the couch. It wasn’t quite as cozy as he’d imagined, but it was a start. Not saying a word, she activated the receiver and projected the page.
“I can’t see it very well,” he said. “Can you scoot back a little?”
Sara heaved a sigh. Pivoting on her hip, she landed right beside him. “Better?”
“Much.” He studied the image before him. The horse looked a lot like Danuban, but was taller, with a heavier build and a long, curly mane and tail and feathery hair growing on the back of its lower legs. “This is the stallion?”
She nodded. “Yeah. There are a couple more, but this is the best one.” She switched to the video and the stallion began to move. “Awesome, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” Whereas Danuban moved with dancing steps, this horse had thicker legs and larger hooves. “Graceful, yet powerful.”
“They have a natural high-stepping action and are a little higher-headed than the Andalusians.”
Jerden could see that. There was an arch to the neck, which was longer in proportion to its body than an Andalusian’s. Even so, the stallion’s mane was so long it covered his shoulder completely—thick, black, and curly. “He’s got hair like mine.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.” Her nervousness seemed to diminish as her enthusiasm grew. “I mean, you and Danuban make an incredible pair, but this horse… well…” She stopped there, her gaze fixed on the stallion.
“You think I look that good on a horse? Really? I’d never have guessed.”
For a second, he thought she was going to smack him, but she apparently thought better of it, directing a reproving look at him instead. “Oh, come on, Jerden. You know you do. I mean, really. Weren’t you paying any attention to Drania when you came riding into the barn? She practically swooned.”
As Jerden recalled, he hadn’t been looking at Drania. “Maybe. But what about you, Sara? I didn’t notice you doing any swooning.”
“Things like that don’t make me swoon,” she said stiffly.
“But what—no, wait. I remember now. Nate makes you swoon.”
This time she really did smack him. “It wasn’t like that, and you know it!”
“Okay, I deserved that,” he conceded with a chuckle. “But tell me, if I’d come riding up on a Friesian, what would you have done?”
She was silent for a moment, chewing her lip pensively. “I probably would have fainted dead away.”
“Then I guess I’d better buy that horse.” He reached up and tapped the image, sending it back to the information page. In a few minutes, the transaction was complete.
She stared at him, openmouthed. “Do you have any idea how much money you just spent?”
“I certainly do. The same price as one of your swoons.” He gave her his best lip-curling grin. “And when that horse gets here, you’d damn well better swoon.”