“So it’s a camera, too?”
“You could say that. Actually, why don’t we call it a new advanced model of what’s known to you as a cellular phone, under experimentation, and obviously failing. I should have whipped him up an old model instead, since I am now aware that your men of business walk around with them attached to their ears, so he wouldn’t have drawn much notice using one.”
“Not drawn notice?” Brittany replied. “Him? You’re kidding, right?”
The distinct sound of chuckling came out of the box. “Aside from his looks. He needs to keep a low profile. We don’t want Jorran alerted to his presence and having a chance to disappear on us.”
“If he wants a low profile, we should probably stop by the mall on the way to City Hall and buy him some normal clothes. His rock star get-up might be fine for L.A., where people expect to see stars in fancy outfits, but we don’t get many celebrities passing through Seaview.”
None of those camera angles could have seen Dalden’s blank expression, yet Martha still knew to share with him. “She’s talking about their entertainment industry, Dalden, the gist of it being, she’s going to buy you some local clothing this morning.”
Brittany blinked. “I am? Okay, I suppose I am, but while you’re on the phone, how about telling me why he seems to be lacking any ready cash, or was he actually sent over to this country without any?”
“File that one under hard to explain, kiddo. There’s a good reason for his lack, but not one that we can divulge at this time.”
No other explanation came out of the box. Brittany wondered if Martha was waiting for her to fire off more questions, now that she could. But she didn’t really have any more at the moment, at least none that she thought might get answered instead of being dumped into the “hard to explain” file. Well, there was one…
“I notice you don’t have his accent. You don’t come from his country?”
“No, my origins are very far from his. But the voice I use is irrelevant when I can simulate any tone, accent, or language imaginable. What you hear is only for your convenience.”
Brittany was impressed. “A master linguist, then, or an impressionist?”
More chuckling. “You could say both, though just plain old master has a nice ring to it.”
Whether Dalden was feeling neglected or not, he became Brittany’s center of attention again when he asked, “Will you create a meal to sustain us for the day?”
Brittany grinned at him. “Why do I get the feeling that a bowl of cereal and milk won’t do it for you? Never mind, I’ll whip up some eggs and other breakfasty-type things while you take a shower.”
“You will need first to show me how the water is acquired for it.”
She raised a brow, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. A village without electricity was probably a village without proper sanitation.
Still, she’d rather not guess if she could get an answer, so she tried, “No showers where you come from?”
“We bathe in large pools.”
She pictured big ponds with only a few trees and plants, an oasis, camels again—bah. She really was going to have to figure out just where his never-heard-of-before country was located. This imagining of primitive tents in a desert didn’t say much for their ever being compatible. She and tents didn’t get along well at all.
She headed to the tiny bathroom and leaned into the shower to adjust the single water control handle to get the water running at a comfortable temperature. The shower had been remodeled just last year by the landlord, and now had one of those newfangled spigots that concealed the shower turn-on valve under it. If you didn’t know where it was, you’d never find it, so she could understand how Martha might not have been able to help him this time.
“My mother uses a different means, a solaray bath,” he added while she was still leaning halfway into the shower, waiting for the hot water to show up.
“You mean a solar bath? Now that’s a bit modern, and cost-effective, too. I plan to put up a few solar panels on the house I build, for the water heater at least. And I plan a really large bathroom, probably the same size as the bedroom attached to it. I’ve been dreaming of big ever since I first walked into this cubbyhole.”
“I am accustomed to the bath being in the room of sleeping,” he volunteered.
A pool in a bedroom? Now she was picturing a palace, or an incredibly large mansion.
She turned around to ask him once again just where the heck his country was, but found him towering over her, barely an inch separating them. Not surprising, since it was a really tiny bathroom. She couldn’t turn around in it without banging elbows herself. With him in it, too, there was absolutely no space to maneuver without them bumping into each other.
It was hard to concentrate with him that close, but she managed to get out, “You can at least tell me the continent that your country sits in, can’t you? So I can have something to relate to when you drop these little tidbits like pools instead of bathtubs and…”
That was as far as she got. Being lifted off her feet and deeply kissed worked pretty well to put an end to any kind of concentration. She was surrounded by his body, by his scent, by his taste. Her senses began rioting with her morals and were coming out ahead. And then she was set down and pushed toward the door.
“Be gone from my sight quickly,kerima, unless you wish to share the water and more with me now.”
That was about as plain as could be, that he’d reached his limit of sexual forbearance. Caution prevailed and got her out of there real quick.
