Page 34 of Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind
He paused at the base of the stairs. “Are you sure you are comfortable with this, Ryan?”
She grinned shyly, unknowingly testing the fit of his trousers. “Yes. I figure, any guy who can listen to me retch for thirty minutes and not leave skid marks the moment we hit the dock has earned a bit of trust on my part.” Her eyes turned mischievous. “Besides, Iama cop. If you try any funny business, I’ve got seven years of Krav Maga under my belt, an unregistered thirty-eight on my person, and I know exactly how to dispose of a body so it will never be found.”
He laughed, delighted. “Then I shall endeavor to be on my best behavior.”
His mate’s dwelling was small and cozy, completely at odds with the opulence and grandeur of Bait. A few inexpensive but pleasing images adorned the walls; the furnishings designed for function and comfort. The place reflected the woman herself—modest and comprised of substance and character instead of shallow ostentatiousness. Not to say that she wasn’t attractive. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
She had a natural radiance about her that he preferred, now clearly visible that it wasn’t hidden beneath the mask of cosmetics she had worn the night they had met.
“Would you like to get the grill started while I pull some patties out of the freezer?” she asked, pointing toward an appliance on her miniscule balcony.
He had never seen anything like it. Mostly rectangular in shape, it had a domed lid and an assortment of knobs. However, he was unwilling to admit his ignorance, particularly when he was being granted a second chance to prove himself worthy. As a member of an advanced civilization, he was certain he could figure it out.
A few minutes later, he discovered how wrong he had been.
“You’ve never worked a grill before, have you?” Ryan asked as she dabbed at his singed forehead with a cool, damp cloth.
“No.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“For the same reason you did not inform me of your aquaphobia, I imagine.”
“I don’t have aquaphobia,” she countered. “I just tend to get seasick and have a thing about the ocean.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah. When I was a kid, someone stuck a live crab in my lunchbox. I thought it was a gag and played along, right up until the thing reached out and bit—pinched—me on the lip. I’ve hated anything that swims or crawls around the shore ever since.”
He winced inwardly in response, acutely aware of his aquatic nature. “A pity,” he said carefully. “There is much beauty to be found in the sea.”
She applied some ointment to his skin, her touch gentle and soothing. “I suppose. I mean, I’ve seen pictures of some tropical islands that look amazing.”
Tiberius made a mental note to purchase a tropical island for his mate as soon as possible. “Then perhaps we can work on this aversion of yours, and when you have overcome it, an island getaway can be your reward.”
She laughed. “On a cop’s salary? I don’t think so. But it is a nice thought.”
He opened his mouth, prepared to tell her that, as his mate, she would want for nothing, but then he thought better of it. They would work up to that. Spice had suggested, and he agreed, that revealing too much too soon could be overwhelming.
Ryan showed him how to properly operate the incendiary device, and he got the hang of it quickly. He had to admit, there was a certain primitive satisfaction in commanding the flames.
They ate a delicious meal of seasoned beef patties and cylindrical crispy bits she referred to as “tater tots,” dragged through a viscous, tangy red sauce. It was being in the company of his mate, however, that he enjoyed most of all.
As the evening went on, she grew increasingly comfortable in his presence. He plied her with more questions about her family, her schooling, and her career, voracious to know everything about her.
“What about you?” she asked, sitting back and propping her cute little feet upon the wrought-iron balcony railing. “Once again, you’ve managed to get me talking about myself all night.”
“I find you quite fascinating.”
“Right,” she said on a laugh, as if she didn’t believe him.
“You are to me.” Another thing they would be working on—her skepticism, particularly where he was concerned. Shewouldknow that she was the center of his universe, and he would remind her of such every day.
A lovely shade of rose colored her cheeks. “Your turn. Tell me something about you.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Everything.”
