Page 23 of Bounty Hunter's Match

I caught her hand before she could retreat. “Professional research?”

“Always.” But her smile held promise. “Though perhaps we should discuss it somewhere without recording devices?”

The twins’ disappointed groans followed us out of the office.

Back in my quarters,I reviewed the security footage from Perfect Match. Standard procedure. Nothing more. The way Bishop handled the Renthian-Merrith coupling showed skill - reading micro-expressions across species wasn’t easy. Not many humans could do it.

Not many humans would face down Sarith Vask either. Her stance had been perfect, spine straight but not rigid. Ready for trouble but not expecting it. Professional.

I found myself rewinding that segment more than necessary. Studying her technique, I told myself. Nothing more.

The twins’ chatter in the background mentioned something about “compatibility indicators.” I disabled the audio. Didn’t need more of their theories about cross-species attraction patterns.

Even if I had caught myself watching Bishop’s movements with more than professional interest.

Even if I’d noticed how her scent changed subtly when I stood close.

Even if-

No. This was a temporary assignment. Nothing more.

I closed the feeds and started my nightly weapons check. Ignored how my fingers kept drifting to where she’d brushed against my arm while discussing security protocols.

Professional distance. That’s all this was.

Had to be.

CAMDEN

The next morning I arrived early at Perfect Match, hoping for a few quiet moments to review the Gala preparations. Instead, my heart stumbled at the sight of Barek bent over floor plans at my desk, his broad shoulders filling out that black tactical gear in ways that made focusing difficult. Morning light from the artificial sun caught the red markings trailing down his neck, drawing my eye along their path before I caught myself.

“Security review.” He didn’t look up, but I felt his attention shift to track my movement across the room. “The Mondian delegation requires additional reinforcement in sections three and seven.”

“Of course they do.” I dropped my bag, pretending I didn’t notice the new dating guide tucked into his belt. “Though perhaps if we stopped calling it ‘reinforcement’ and started calling it ‘cultural accommodation’...”

“They broke three chairs yesterday.”

“They expressed enthusiasm for the venue’s interactive features.”

He snorted, finally looking up. The intensity in those red eyes still hit me like a physical thing, even after weeks. “Is that what we’re calling property damage now?”

“We’re calling it ‘relationship building through shared experiences.’” I leaned against the desk, closer than strictly necessary. “Speaking of building relationships...”

MIRA’s crystals chimed before he could respond. “Staff meeting in two minutes. Current guest compatibility matrices calculating.”

Right. Work.

Even if Barek’s scent - something like leather and weapon oil - made maintaining that distance increasingly challenging.

“Morning!” Risa called from her corner. “We have excellent footage from yesterday’s venue inspection-”

“No.” Barek straightened, putting careful space between us.

“But the lighting was perfect! And when you caught Camden during the anti-grav malfunction-”

“Weather report!” I shouted before she continued. “MIRA?”

“Environmental controls stable across all sectors.” MIRA’s holographic display filled the center of the room. “Though I’m noting some interesting correlations between atmospheric pressure and certain behavioral patterns...”

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