yours."
The sudden heat in his intense, searching gaze made her toes curl. From inside her bedroom, the computer that handled incoming messages from her family chimed. "I bet that's Ian." She jumped off the couch. "I'll let him know you're here."
She lunged for her bedroom and closed the door. She slid around, pressing her back to the wall, and took several deep breaths. Every cell in her body blazed. Especially where it counted the most. Ché was damned lucky she hadn't ripped off his clothes so he could put out that fire.
Desire clutched at her, stealing her breath. The sex would be sweaty and wild, and when it was over, they'd argue, passionately and naked, about his grossly old-fashioned points of view, and why the hell his people overprotected their women over ten centuries after the danger of evil warlords sweeping down from the stars to rape, pillage, and enslave had faded into the archives of history. She wouldn't win that argument, not yet, and neither would he— not that he ever would— and they'd wind up making love all over again.
Aching from temptation, she almost groaned. Her hands curled into fists to counter the sensation as she tried to shake off his effect on her. It was bad enough he'd been on her mind for months now; he was a waste-of-time obsession any way she looked at it.
Again, the comm box beeped shrilly. "Okay, okay," she muttered. Scowling, she crossed the room on stiff legs. She slapped her hand on the answer panel, opening a channel for interstellar communication. If Ian had been able to persuade an empire to come together, he'd sure as hell better be able to convince her why this was her lucky day.
Chapter Seven
A stream of data made its way toward Sienna, a harsh desert world harboring a palace as ancient as it was beautiful: the ancestral home of the B'kahs. Made possible by the ancient technology of a civilization whose origins were lost to history, the data coalesced into a hand-span-high, three-dimensional holographic image of the crown prince's sister.
The miniature appeared on the table in front of the comm, blue-white radiance slithering around its outmost edges. "Yo, Ian!"
A towering man hefted his hulk of a body off a chair in the anteroom of the crown prince's bedchamber. He lumbered across the room to fetch his charge and let him know that the image-call he'd put through several standard hours ago had finally connected.
Officially, he was King Romlijhian B'kah's bodyguard— a position he'd held since he was little more than a lad, over two standard decades now. But just as often of late, he found himself assigned to missions involving Ian Hamilton, Rom's heir. It was difficult to decide which man he enjoyed working for more, the king or the prince.
His adventures with each had nearly gotten him killed several times over, but always there were side benefits: new worlds to see and people to meet. He didn't talk much, but he liked people, though not the ones he had to kill, the ones who tried to hurt the men he loyally served, the men he'd die defending. Still, he tried to concentrate on what he enjoyed about his job. On the last adventure, he'd been there when the crown prince found his bride-to-be, Tee'ah. And he'd got to see more of the galaxy's frontier, the worlds on the outer rim of settled space, than he'd ever wanted. The grimy border towns, the sorry bars, the colorful inhabitants… what a time that had been. Dangerous, too, yes, but what was life without a bit of spark? He liked spark in his life— and in his women, too, when he could get them.
He cracked a smile. Earthwomen— now, they had spark. His only regret was that he couldn't have stayed longer on the planet to see how deep that spark went. They might have liked him, those female Earth-dwellers, he thought hopefully. Ilana, Ian's sister, told him that his shoulders were as wide as one of their football player's with full padding, and that was a good thing; and that being six-foot-eight and over
The sudden heat in his intense, searching gaze made her toes curl. From inside her bedroom, the computer that handled incoming messages from her family chimed. "I bet that's Ian." She jumped off the couch. "I'll let him know you're here."
She lunged for her bedroom and closed the door. She slid around, pressing her back to the wall, and took several deep breaths. Every cell in her body blazed. Especially where it counted the most. Ché was damned lucky she hadn't ripped off his clothes so he could put out that fire.
Desire clutched at her, stealing her breath. The sex would be sweaty and wild, and when it was over, they'd argue, passionately and naked, about his grossly old-fashioned points of view, and why the hell his people overprotected their women over ten centuries after the danger of evil warlords sweeping down from the stars to rape, pillage, and enslave had faded into the archives of history. She wouldn't win that argument, not yet, and neither would he— not that he ever would— and they'd wind up making love all over again.
Aching from temptation, she almost groaned. Her hands curled into fists to counter the sensation as she tried to shake off his effect on her. It was bad enough he'd been on her mind for months now; he was a waste-of-time obsession any way she looked at it.
Again, the comm box beeped shrilly. "Okay, okay," she muttered. Scowling, she crossed the room on stiff legs. She slapped her hand on the answer panel, opening a channel for interstellar communication. If Ian had been able to persuade an empire to come together, he'd sure as hell better be able to convince her why this was her lucky day.
Chapter Seven
A stream of data made its way toward Sienna, a harsh desert world harboring a palace as ancient as it was beautiful: the ancestral home of the B'kahs. Made possible by the ancient technology of a civilization whose origins were lost to history, the data coalesced into a hand-span-high, three-dimensional holographic image of the crown prince's sister.
The miniature appeared on the table in front of the comm, blue-white radiance slithering around its outmost edges. "Yo, Ian!"
A towering man hefted his hulk of a body off a chair in the anteroom of the crown prince's bedchamber. He lumbered across the room to fetch his charge and let him know that the image-call he'd put through several standard hours ago had finally connected.
Officially, he was King Romlijhian B'kah's bodyguard— a position he'd held since he was little more than a lad, over two standard decades now. But just as often of late, he found himself assigned to missions involving Ian Hamilton, Rom's heir. It was difficult to decide which man he enjoyed working for more, the king or the prince.
His adventures with each had nearly gotten him killed several times over, but always there were side benefits: new worlds to see and people to meet. He didn't talk much, but he liked people, though not the ones he had to kill, the ones who tried to hurt the men he loyally served, the men he'd die defending. Still, he tried to concentrate on what he enjoyed about his job. On the last adventure, he'd been there when the crown prince found his bride-to-be, Tee'ah. And he'd got to see more of the galaxy's frontier, the worlds on the outer rim of settled space, than he'd ever wanted. The grimy border towns, the sorry bars, the colorful inhabitants… what a time that had been. Dangerous, too, yes, but what was life without a bit of spark? He liked spark in his life— and in his women, too, when he could get them.
He cracked a smile. Earthwomen— now, they had spark. His only regret was that he couldn't have stayed longer on the planet to see how deep that spark went. They might have liked him, those female Earth-dwellers, he thought hopefully. Ilana, Ian's sister, told him that his shoulders were as wide as one of their football player's with full padding, and that was a good thing; and that being six-foot-eight and over
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