Page 3 of Alien Knight Blind Date Disaster

Jessica hissed back under her breath as she stepped in front of Isabella and grabbed the door, slipping into the restaurant ahead of her, “This isn’t my first time backing you up. We’ve gone over this a hundred times. What’s gotten into you?”

Isabella paused outside. To onlookers she appeared to check her outfit and hair one last time. She needn’t have bothered. Even with the disguise, she couldn’t hide the flawless complexion and curvy figure that was a signature of every Serrano woman in her family. Under the auburn wig she had a wealth of ultra-thick, black hair carefully pinned out of the way. Red stiletto heels complemented her form-fitting, stretchy red dress with delicate crisscrossing straps all the way down her back and a plunging scoop neckline. Her breasts were large and firm, and she pulled off the look with ease. The perfect dress for a blind date or a prearranged meeting with a black market buyer. The dress was a deliberate distraction. The more her buyer was looking at her body, the less he would be looking for a product she didn’t have.

Yet. Didn’t haveyet.

Her first glimpse of tonight’s “date/buyer” stopped her in her tracks. Surprised was an understatement. He was the biggest Caldorian she’d ever seen.A Caldorian. Shit. What was a Caldorian doing in the black market?

He was huge. Masculine. Primal. Dangerous. She shivered, this time in reaction to the alpha vibes he was putting out. Her nipples hardened beneath the red dress. He was a tall drink of Caldorian YUM.Damn. No one had a right to be that hot.

Not that they weren’t all totally gorgeous, but this guy, code name John Doe, was next level on the heat gauge. No woman on Earth could possibly be immune to what he had to offer. She licked suddenly dry lips as she flushed with heat.No woman except me. I will not be caught in his trap. I’m not here because he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and he makes me want to throw my panties at him. No. I. Am. Not. This is NOT a real blind date, and I will keep my priorities straight!

Just then Jessica whispered urgently, “I can see you from the bar, my friend, and I recognize that look. I saw him on my way over, and he’s next-level hot. Don’t you dare fall for this guy. I mean it, Isabella; he’s everything you put on the list last year after dating Allen. Times ten! Check out his shoes—they’re totally designer and über expensive. Remember the list! Remember why we’re here! He is a bad guy, remember? He’ll be worse than Allen. An alien narcissist with a lot of bad guys for backup and a lot of money. No touching. End of story!”

Isabella gave a subtle nod to let Jessica know she’d heard and understood. And how could she forget about the list? She’d been the one to make it, after all. She’d even titled it “How to Spot a Douchebag.” Her ex, Allen Dumont, had been her inspiration. Tall, lean, and good-looking, he’d pulled her right in. She’d fallen hard. Too late she’d realized that behind the good looks and fancy clothes, nice cars and endless gifts, he’d really only been into one thing: Allen Dumont. His second love was Allen Dumont’s career, then Allen Dumont’s toys. He hadn’t been in love with her; he’d wanted another trophy for the Allen Dumont showcase.

As the hostess escorted Isabella to John Doe’s table in the back of the bar, she mentally girded herself.Be flirtatious. Be subtle. Draw him in. Ask about his work; he’ll think you’re interested. It doesn’t matter if you like him or not. Jessica’s right. Stay focused on the job. Make it look enough like a real date that no one around us gets suspicious. Make the exchange.

Chapter Two

Falden refused to acknowledge any hint of admiration for Isabella Serrano’s bravery as she was escorted to his table. She was fully in disguise, complete with red hair and glasses. Her cheeks flushed as he watched her walk, his eyes feasting on the beckoning sway of her hips.

He already knew she wasn’t aware of her client’s appearance, which was why she’d arranged to meet at this particular table, at this particular time. He—or the person she thought she was meeting, anyway—was supposed to be carrying a single orchid as part of the identification process. Before her look could turn from surprise to suspicion, he lifted the flower from the table, identifying himself as the man she was supposed to meet.

“John?” she asked, only her sultry eyes registering surprise.

Standing, he accepted the hand she extended in the human greeting ritual. He nearly groaned as an unexpected desire slammed into him. This woman, this human called to him. Only his mission kept him from acting on the sudden, deep need to claim her. To make her his. Only duty and two thousand years of strict secrecy kept him from revealing how much she affected him. He could not give in to his baser instincts. He wanted her. Needed to bury himself inside her. He stared, tried not to blink, tried to ensure none of his inner thoughts showed on his face. None of his yearning. And yet, he didn’t want to lie to this beautiful woman about his name, so he said instead, “You may call me John for now.”

Isabella looked up. And up. Even for a Caldorian he was huge. Her heart slammed against her chest. He was a Caldorian, wasn’t he? Late twenties, possibly a little older, with short dark hair and icy blue eyes. The man standing—no, towering—above her was every woman’s fantasy come true. He was muscular, with huge shoulders and a trim waist. She’d bet money he had six-pack abs to die for. Her eyes roamed upward until she met his intense blue gaze. For a split second she forgot why she was there. Forgot about the black market and her missing client. Forgot to breathe. She couldn’t look away. Finally, after an uncomfortably long silence, she remembered her voice. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ella Jones.”

He nodded politely as the female lied to him and supplied her false name, because that’s the game they were playing. He held out the chair next to him so she could sit. Keeping his gaze off the killer curves beneath the tight red dress was another matter. She was beautiful, he’d known that from the few photographs his team had hurriedly put together, but he hadn’t expected this kind of primal reaction.

Her scent surrounded him like a heady ambrosia, making it difficult to focus, to think. His body refused to heed his demand for a relaxed, uninterested pose. Every muscle tensed with interest in the female placing herself in his care. She was under his protection from now until the moment they would part ways later that evening. The thought should have bothered him. Annoyed him. He did not need this kind of responsibility or distraction, not with the Vilitos so blatantly hunting what was left of his people. Or the A’Nua Na-KI and their servants, the Dark Ones. Or the Intergalactic Council and their allowing the Darkoor to retain their seat on the council. He could never forget about them. But logic was outvoted by the rising need filling his cock to near bursting and the burning in his veins, threatening his iron control. He widened his stance, hoping to relieve the sudden ache. This woman was dangerous.

He needed Isabella Serrano in his bed. Needed to mark her. Plant his seed deep inside her. The urge was powerful. All-consuming. Addictive. He wanted to plunge his shaft into her body and feel the scratch of her fingernails on his back. Needed to hear her scream in pleasure and beg him for more.

Hewanted.Falden never wanted anything, not for himself. Hadn’t allowed himself to want anything. Not in two thousand years.

Perhaps he’d denied himself pleasures of the flesh for too long. Perhaps the powers rising within him since Sasha had rekindled the crystal energy of his sword was to blame. Or maybe this female just happened to be exactly to his liking. Dark hair, dark eyes and lush curves he could sink into.

Whatever the cause, his violent sexual reaction made no sense. None at all. And so he would ignore it, do his job. A Lumerian Knight did not falter over something so weak as attraction to a beautiful female. If so, the surviving Knights would have been eliminated long, long ago.

“Ummm, are you going to sit down?” Isabella stared up at him, and Falden realized he’d been standing—hovering—for too long.

“Of course.” He settled in next to her before making eye contact with the two Lumerians providing security in a booth several feet away from his table. They were fully armed beneath their human clothes, ancient swords cloaked. Hunted as they were, they could never take the risk of everyone going unarmed or unprepared.

For the first time in thousands of years Falden was unarmed. Exposed. He’d only agreed to the ridiculous human clothing in order to protect his people from the human woman sitting across from him. For his people, he would do anything. Make any sacrifice. As he looked at Isabella, he realized how difficult this mission might become. He had to remember she was the enemy and ignore the fire in his veins. Ignore her soft, tempting body. Ignore his instincts.

Dragging his gaze from Isabella, he glanced across the room once more to assure himself that they were still protected by his Knights. Cassiel and Vander nodded, almost imperceptibly, Vander tapping his index finger on the table before him to remind Falden to use the list. The how-to guide. Falden had no idea how to lure the enticing creature next to him into trusting him with the truth. He needed to know exactly what she knew about his people. Where her information was coming from. Threat assessment was his first priority, the reason he was here. Satisfying his growing personal need to know every minute detail about the woman was unwise, and he refused to allow anything to distract him from his mission. No matter how hard it was.

Try telling that to my cock.

“So, John, thank you for the flower,” she said a little breathlessly. Leaning forward, she tilted her head to the side. She smiled up at him, but it was her sexy voice that made him burn. He imagined her screaming as he brought her to orgasm.

Falden leaned in toward her slightly, never breaking eye contact, close enough to kiss. “I shall have to remember that you like flowers,” he said, his deep, rumbly baritone relaxed and confident. He was careful not to show any emotion on his face, bank the fire in his eyes as he held her gaze. He couldn’t afford to let down his own guard, but he noted with satisfaction her heightened color, flushed cheeks, and quickened breathing. She was definitely not immune to him.

Isabella nodded uncomfortably as the waiter approached their table, smoothing a hand down her hair. She refused to regret wearing the red wig and thick glasses. The huge alien sitting across from her was putting out some serious alpha waves, making her want to respond to him with everything feminine inside her. She throbbed. Ached to let him get closer. Too bad she was on an assignment. Too bad this wasn’t a real date. But something was wrong. He was supposed to say he knew the color would match her dress. It didn’t, actually, but that was what he was supposed to say. Then he would give her the flower, which held a microchip at the center, and in exchange she would give him the key to the locker where she was supposed to have placed the item he was buying. Only he didn’t say that, and she didn’t have the item. This was turning into a real cluster.

Blue eyes met brown. Held.

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