Page 31 of Alien Mine

He clasped her hand in his larger one, enjoying the gentle warmth of her skin. “Dibs on the remote.”

She laughed and hauled him upright. “Fate has been a bad influence on you.”

“Fate,” Dyuvad said, “is a true man’s man, drinker of the pale ale and wielder of the mighty spatula.”

“If that’s all it takes to make a man, humanity is doomed.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “I will show you what makes a man.”

She snickered behind one hand. “No offense, Dyuvad, but I’ve already seen that.”

“I wasn’t talking about my manhood, beauty.”

With that, he scooped her up and slung her over one shoulder, and turned for the doorway.

She thumped a balled up fist lightly against his lower back. “Put me down right this instant, you golly whoppin’ cretin.”

He wrapped one arm around her firm thighs, holding her in place, and opened the door. A grin threatened to twist his mouth out of its mock stern lines, but since Rachel couldn’t see his face, what harm could a smile do? “A man only puts his woman down when he’s good and ready to.”

“Oh, I’m gonna have a long talk with that brother of mine,” she hissed. “He’s turning your manners on their head.”

“Manners have nothing to do with it. You challenged the manliness of men everywhere, and I am duty bound to defend it.” He smacked a hand against her bottom, eliciting a high-pitched squeak, and grinned. “Now hold still, woman. We have a movie to watch.”

He carried her inside and dropped her on the couch, and spent the evening’s remnants practicing the patience he’d vowed to woo her with.

Chapter Eight

Early the next morning, Rachel finished her chores in record time, then headed into the shower to get ready for the meeting she’d scheduled later that day with her lawyer. Every time she caught sight of Dyuvad, languid heat stole through her, warming her inside and out. Last night had been fun, even the manhandling. Truth be told, she would’ve liked a little more of it besides his arm draped around her shoulders and that one fireman’s carry.

Maybe he would’ve worked up the nerve to sneak a kiss if sometime during Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones saving the world from an alien attack, she hadn’t fallen asleep on him. She’d woken that morning alone in her own bed wearing a clean t-shirt, a pair of panties, and not a stitch more.

Rachel turned her grimace into the water streaming down around her. What kind of woman fell asleep on a man like Dyuvad? A plum crazy one, that was what. Dyuvad had taken the time to put her to bed proper like after she’d gone and besmirched his manners, and he hadn’t taken advantage of her, either.

Why, he hadn’t even crawled into bed with her the way she’d half expected him to do since him and Fate had knocked a hole in the wall between their bedrooms.

Nope. He hadn’t hardly touched her since the night he’d pinned her to a blanket beneath a million stars and kissed hersenseless, right where God and everybody could see.

She squirted shampoo into her palm and scrubbed it briskly into her hair. Maybe she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t tried again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had plenty of opportunities, was it? Even with both of them busy from daylight to dusk, they passed each other every half hour or so on the way from one chore to the next. And the girls weren’t up all day, were they? There was plenty of time after they went to bed for alone time, if a man wanted to make a move.

Not that she’d made it easy for him.

Rachel tilted her head back and rinsed out the shampoo, grimacing over thoughts of her own ineptness. Where men were concerned, she’d never much bothered to show interest. Juan had been it for her since she’d figured out what a man and a woman’s parts were for. Sure, she’d dressed up for him now and again. A woman liked to feel pretty, didn’t she? Pretty and admired and desired.

And maybe that was part of the problem here. She was so used to being alone on the farm with just the girls and Fate and Yasmin for company, she’d forgotten how to act around other people. Would it kill her to put on mascara and lip gloss every morning and do something with her hair besides yank a brush through it? And in the evenings after supper was made and cleaned up, it wouldn’t hurt a’tall to take her shower then instead of waiting for bedtime.

She twisted the water off with a disgusted snort. Get her around an attractive man and look what happened. Her brain turned to mush. Dyuvad had seen her at her worst long before their first kiss. Dressing to the nines wouldn’t do a darn thing to change his opinion of her.

But that morning, Rachel dressed with a care usually reserved for weddings and funerals. She slathered on her best lotion, a Christmas gift from Yasmin imbued with a light, sensual fragrance. While her hair dried loose around her bare shoulders, she painted her toes pale pink to match the Peter Pan collared shirt she’d picked out to wear with a dove gray fitted skirt. It washer best outfit, a real figure flatterer, and about the only thing in her closet suitable for a business meeting.

That the shirt showed off the honey color of her skin wasn’t a consideration. Men didn’t notice things like toned arms and painted toenails.

Not that she wanted anybody in particular to notice.

She crossed her fingers against the small fib and finished getting ready around Kelly poking her head in asking about advice on lunch’s menu and Tiny tottering in with a dead tadpole she’d found in a mud puddle.

Rachel smiled as she flushed the poor critter down the toilet, then washed her youngest daughter’s hands. She’d only been half right last night. A woman’s work was never done, but when love entered the picture, work was a joy a woman should hold on to as long as possible.

She shooed a somewhat cleaner Tiny ahead of her down the hallway toward the low male voices rumbling from her kitchen, and found Fate at the table leaning back in a chair and Dyuvad propped against a counter, his long legs crossed in front of him.

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