Page 21 of Help Wanted: Wife

“What?”

“You and Larth did the horizontal tango.”

“You don’t know that,” she prevaricated. Her friend was guessing, fishing for details.

“I do, too. You’re glowing.”

“I am not,” she denied but felt herself blush. “You’re the one who’s glowing. You have that pregnancy radiance.”

“Perhaps, but you have the air of a woman who has been thoroughly probed by an alien.”

“Hope, really!” Marriage and pregnancy had drawn her shy, introverted friend out of her shell.

“That’s not a denial,” she said smugly.

“No.” She capitulated with a sigh. Why deny it? Her confusing relationship was one reason why she’d been so eager to see her friend. She needed another woman’s perspective.

Hope cocked her head. “Is there a problem?”

She rubbed her hands together, the words to explain her tumultuous feelings eluding her. How didone define the indefinable? “Noproblem. We get along great—at work and at home. We’re friends. We like each other. He respects my opinion, asks for my advice and input. He listens to me. We laugh together. We’re attracted to each other.” Their chemistry continued to shoot off the charts; the sexual encounter had unleashed a powerful lust.

The day after the first time had been interesting. On the surface—pleasant, friendly. Too pleasant, too friendly. Too many pleases and thank-yous. She’d been hyperaware of him all day. The slightest casual touch stirred her arousal. A bump against her shoulder. Fingers brushing when he handed her something. When she’d caught sight of the arousal tenting his pants, she’d realized he was affected, too.

After a long day, they’d gone to bed and turned to each other in a blaze of passion that carried them into the wee hours of the morning when they fell into an exhausted, sated sleep. A morning session had left them scrambling to open the stall on time.

“But…” Hope prompted.

“What if I start to want more?”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t. Larth is a great guy. He is a genuinely kind, good man. A hard worker. He’s an attractive fella.”

A metallic-blue android with a whirling light atop his head strolled into the room. “Luncheon is served.”

Hope stood up and beckoned the android. “Don Juan, come meet my friend, Prudence McKenna.”

The android had two scanners for eyes and a speaker for its mouth. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Hope Bennett’s friend Prudence McKenna.” He bowed, and the little light on his head spun faster. “I hope the luncheon meets with your approval.”

“I’m sure it will. It’s very nice to meet you, Don Juan.”

He pivoted and marched away.

“How did you come up with the name Don Juan?” she asked. Was the android amorous?

“It’s derived from his model number, Don 1.0. The Don stands for Caradonia. One sounds like Juan, so Don Juan.”

Like the parlor, the dininghallfaced a huge view window, and the furniture—a long, wide table with throne-like chairs—fell way short of filling the massive space. They took their seats at place settings arranged side by side. The android had even set the table. “You don’t have to lift a finger, do you?” Prudence guessed.

She did not begrudge her friend a life of leisure. Hope had prepaid for the privilege. Her friend’swidowed stepmother had used young Hope as an unpaid servant and meal ticket, prematurely ending her education and sending her to work.

“Nothing domestic.” Hope grinned. “Don Juan does it all. I cook and bake occasionally because I like it, but I keep pretty busy with other stuff. I attend a lot of political functions with Krogan and serve on several charitable boards.” She gave Pru a brief rundown of the charities and her role. “And, I’ve been getting the nursery ready for Joy.” She caressed her baby bump.

A pretty name, and so apropos for how Hope’s life had turned out. Joyous. Prudence was thrilled she could be with her best friend at this time in her life. “You know it’s a girl already?”

“I had a genetic test. All children are precious, but because of the tragedy, girls are desperately needed.” She reached for one of two pitchers. “Would you care for a mimosa? I’m having a virgin one—otherwise known as juice. You can have that if you prefer. Or tea or water.”

“I’ll have a mimosa. Is it really orange juice and champagne?” Did oranges and grapes grow here?

“Let’s just say it’s fruity and has bubbles.”

---