“I hope so.” He spoke it in the barest of breaths.
He seemed to remember himself, then, and stepped back. She caught the clench of his jaw and the scowl on his brow before he turned away. “I have some work to attend to.” His voice sounded like gravel. “The bot should arrive shortly with your things.”
The delivery botdidarrive shortly afterward with a package. Ash disappeared into the washroom to shower and change. She glimpsed him through the glass, at his work console as she passed into the washroom. He lounged in his seat, legs spread and chin propped on a fist as he read messages. He did not look at her, although he certainly saw her. The male was potent, even when he wasn’t trying to be.
Inside the washroom, she was determined to get a grip on herself. The cleaning cylinder was no longer a scary unknown. She’d tried most of the settings. A couple had proven uncomfortable. One was downright torture, but she knew whichwas which, and most were pleasant. A few were so luxurious they would put the fanciest Manhattan spas to shame.
There was one that enveloped the body in a fine mist that smelled faintly of vanilla and some soft flowerlike scent. She liked that one a lot. It cleaned the body and left skin and hair feeling gloriously moisturized. The clothing was a one-piece suit, again. It seemed to be standard for Baylans, but it was a lovely gold color, and it hugged her curves and cinched at the waist with a blue sash. The soft fabric fell off one shoulder, which she liked. Ash considered her shoulders one of her better physical attributes.
She emerged from the washroom feeling like a new woman. Despite the limp, she was better on her feet. Zade stood by the door in a fresh, black uniform that fit his physique like a hot glove. He turned and his gaze moved over her slowly. His hands flexed. Those long, capable fingers folded into a fist, then opened again. His gaze slowly raised, meeting hers with a heat that made her breath catch. His eyes darkened. “Are you ready?”
Triumph surged through Ash. He noticed her as a woman—nota patient. “Yes,” she said, a bit huskily. “You look nice, Zade.”
He paused in the act of opening the door. “Thank you. So do you.” The words were so formal, and so opposite from the dark heat flashing in his eyes, that Ash bit her lip in confusion. She wished she could get a read on this guy.
He placed a hand to her back and something about her body seemed to sigh at his touch. Although she had accepted her attraction to him, she still wondered why she felt these things. It still concerned her. The only thing keeping her at ease about the whole thing was the knowledge that her time on the Raplan-B would be brief. There was no risk of attachment. No risk of falling in love. Not that he wanted her, anyway. Aside from those few glimpses of heat in his eyes, and perhaps a few lingeringtouches, Zade showed no inclination to move their relationship beyond exactly what it was.
Still, his hand felt warm at the small of her back as they exited the space they both shared. His arm moved to her ribs as a steadying force and Ash gritted her teeth against the chills his touch brought her. It was so easy to be touched by him. So easy to slip her own arm around his waist and lean in.
Once off the medical deck, Ash’s attention moved from Zade’s proximity to the vast richness of the ship. It was a colorful place of wide, open spaces, warm lighting and soaring ceilings. The air smelled fresh, like the outdoors—a little like it had in Colorado, and nothing like it did in New York. Baylans moved through the corridors. They were a tall, regal people, mind-boggling in their beauty.
“Why are there so many more males than females here?” Ash asked Zade in a hushed voice. They were passing through what looked like a park, with lush purple grass and arching trees with shimmering trunks. The path they walked cut through the lovely space. It was flat and wide, with a smooth, slightly springy surface that was easy for her to walk on. The sky above—or rather, the ceiling—held the warm pinks and oranges of a setting sun, but the light was full and illuminating. Birdlike creatures glided on air currents far above, letting out long, low calls to one another.
“Because there are eight males born for every one female,” he replied. “We do not know why.”
“That’s a problem.”
“It is why we celebrate every female who is identified as a Baylan mate.” He glanced down at her with an intense expression. “There are several such humans living on the Raplan-B. What do you think of them?”
Her answer seemed important to him. “If they’re happy, I’m happy,” she said. “It’s none of my business, really.” Maybe that was the New Yorker coming out in her, but it was the truth.
“I wondered if you thought less of them.”
She turned confused eyes to his. “Why would I think that?”
He shrugged. “You have not asked to meet them.”
“They’re like, royalty, or something,” she said, stating the obvious. “I’ve seen them on TV, in these crazy dresses, attending international summits and stuff. Why would they want to seeme?”
“Royalty works differently in Baylan culture than on your planet,” he said. “Our Yana-queen does not lock herself away in her chambers. She is accessible and enjoys spending much of her time in public. Perhaps one day you will meet her.”
Ash felt her brows rise. “Rachel Harkett is way too busy to bother with me.” Everyone on Earth knew the names of the women who lived on Baylan ships. They had mythical status on Earth. Just a few months ago, another woman found herself with a Baylan whom everyone thought was a total ass. Harc Gral-Nak, Saar-king of the Veska-3, had ahorrendousreputation on Earth. He had been the poster child for the why-we-shouldn’t-trust-these-aliens sect of the population until he met Olivia Fisher—a reporter, of all things—and turned into a big, gorgeous teddy bear. Well, he was still a little scary. It wouldn’t kill the guy to smile more.
“This is a place I wanted to show you.” Zade stopped at a place that looked like a café, or a lounge. It was surrounded by tall trees with shimmering, iridescent bark and leaves the colors of cotton candy. Large, soft cushions sat around small, low tables made of slabs of some translucent crystal. They were illuminated from within, shifting colors through the rainbow.
Ash closed her gaping mouth. “Where are we?”
“In a small food dispensary in theAtriama, a large, public open space designed for socialization and relaxation.”
She glanced up at him. “You sound like you’re reading from a guidebook.”
“I used to spend time here.” He led her to an open table. “Before I was high physician.”
It was a relief to sink into the soft, spongy cushion and rest her leg. “We really can eat here?”
He nodded as a short, round bot rolled up to the table next to them with a tablet built in to its front. “How is your leg?”
She waved a hand. “Fine. I’m hungry, though. Aren’t you?”
