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  She glanced at the clock on her desk. It was almost five, almost time to quit for the day.

  Her heartbeat accelerated and butterflies of anticipation danced in her stomach. Soon she would see him again.

  Soon.

  Micah's head snapped up. She was near. He could feel her presence drawing ever closer.

  Rising, he covered the transmitter with a scrap of cloth he had found in the basement, quickly assumed the shape she expected, and hurried down the stairs to meet her.

  Moments later, she entered the house, bringing the warm scent of sunshine and flowers with her.

  She greeted him with a smile and a breathy hello, and the look of happiness in her eyes filled him with a rush of pleasure so acute that it was almost painful.

  Lainey gazed at Micah. She knew she was grinning like an idiot, but she was so happy to see him again, she couldn't seem to stop.

  Micah felt an odd catch in his heart as he followed her into the parlor. How beautiful she was! She wore a blouse of some gauzy white material that was the perfect foil for her tawny skin and ink-black hair. A dark red skirt swirled around her ankles as she walked, emphasizing the feminine sway of her hips.

  "What have you got there?" he asked, gesturing at the brown paper sack in her arms.

  "Oh, not much. Candles, matches, some bread and cheese. A bottle of wine. Some fruit, and a couple of candy bars." She looked up at him, her expression sheepish. "One of my books."

  Micah smiled. "Will you read it to me?"

  "If you like," Lainey agreed, although reading one's own words aloud, to someone else, was often traumatic, like standing naked on a street corner, letting everyone see you, flaws, freckles, and all.

  He followed her into the kitchen and stood in the doorway, his gaze caressing her as she moved about the room. She pulled two white china plates out of her bag, arranged layers of bread, sliced ham, and cheese on the plates, added sliced apples and oranges. Reaching into her bag again, she took out a bottle, two glasses, two cloth napkins, and a flowered tablecloth.

  "Shall we eat in front of the fire?" she asked.

  "If you wish."

  "Grab the plates, will you?"

  Nodding, he picked up the dishes, taking a moment to sniff the unfamiliar food before following her into the other room.

  Spreading the tablecloth on the floor in front of the hearth, Lainey sat down and filled their glasses with wine.

  Micah sat down across from her, setting the china on the floor between them.

  "What shall we drink to?" Lainey asked, handing one of the goblets to Micah.

  "Exploring," Micah replied, his voice sounding unusually husky.

  "Exploring?" Lainey repeated. "That's an odd toast, but if that's what you want…" She touched her glass to his. "Here's to exploring."

  He watched her take a drink, and then he took a sip. The wine was tart and sweet at the same time, different from the wine they'd had at the restaurant. But he wasn't thinking of wine as his gaze met hers. He was pondering the effect her nearness had on him, bemused by the heat that permeated his being whenever she was near.

  "What do you want to explore?" Lainey asked, and knew the answer before the words left her lips.

  "You," he replied, his tone hushed, and suddenly he knew without question what he wanted. "I want to explore every curve, every valley, every peak. I want to touch you, and taste you, until I know every inch of your body as I know my own."

  Lainey stared at him, the glass in her hand forgotten. It was suddenly hard to breathe and she wondered what had happened to the air in the room. No other man had ever looked at her like that, with eyes filled with such hunger, such yearning. No other man had ever said anything quite so romantic, or made her feel so desired. So desirable.

  "Micah, I…" She felt a blush creep up her neck into her cheeks. "I don't know what to say."

  "Say nothing. Only let me touch you again, for a moment."

  Heart pounding, Lainey put her wine glass aside. Mesmerized by the heat of his silvery gaze, she let Micah draw her into his arms, felt every nerve ending come suddenly, acutely, alive as his hand stroked her hair, her back.

  "You're so soft," he murmured. "You smell so good. Feel so good."

  Lainey made a small contented sound low in her throat as his hand caressed the curve of her cheek.

  "Kiss me," she whispered.

  He looked down at her, confused. "Kiss you?"

  Lainey nodded. "You know, a kiss. Like this."

  Her eyelids fluttered down as her hand slipped around his neck, drawing him closer.

  And then he felt her lips on his, and his whole being was suffused with heat and light. It burned into every cell, exploding through his groin, arousing him to hungers he had never fully understood until that moment.

  "Lainey!" He gasped her name, bewildered by the torrent of emotions flooding through him. Images danced inside his head—images he had seen years ago in an ancient scroll, images of couples engaged in a practice long forbidden and forgotten.

  "It's all right," Lainey murmured, threading her fingers through his hair.

  "No!" He drew back, his brow sheened with perspiration, his breathing ragged. "We mustn't."

  "Mustn't what? Kiss? There's no harm in a kiss."

  He stared at her mouth, knowing deep in his heart that one kiss would not be enough, that a hundred, nay a thousand, would be far too few.

  She smiled up at him, her beautiful brown eyes as luminous as the stars of Xanthia, her lips pink and inviting, and he surrendered to the invitation in her eyes, unable to resist the temptation to kiss her again.

  A kiss, he thought, what an amazing thing it was.

  He had never kissed a woman before. It shook him to the very core of his being, freeing his tightly reined emotions, until he wanted nothing more than to plunder her body as he plundered her mouth.

  The thought that his self-control, that the discipline he had worked so long and hard to master, could be so easily destroyed, was devastating, and he drew back, thinking that Lainey's power over him was far more dangerous than all the armies on the face of the earth.

  Lainey gazed up at him, confused by his abrupt withdrawal. "What's the matter?" she teased, resorting to humor to cover her sudden uncertainty. "Are you afraid I'll seduce you?"

  "No." His voice was thick. "I'm afraid of what I'll do to you."

  It wasn't a harmless flirtation anymore. He wanted her in the most primal, elemental sense of the word. And she wanted him. Wanted him as she had never wanted another man.

  "Micah…"

  His gaze slid away from hers. He wanted her with a soul-deep ache that was frightening in its intensity, and even more alarming because he had never before known he was capable of such need, such raw, primitive hunger. To feel it now, for an earth woman, was more than he could endure.

  "I think you should go."

  He was right, and she knew it, but at that moment Lainey didn't care about right or wrong. She wanted to stay, to bask in the warmth of his arms, to lose herself in the sweet seduction of his kisses.

  "Please, Lainey, go home and don't come back." Micah forced the words past his lips.

  He watched her stand up, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. He didn't have to probe her mind to know he had hurt her deeply, but it was for the best—for her, at least.

  He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out for her, compressed his lips to hold back the words that would beg her to stay.

  She looked down at him for several seconds, then turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, out of the house.

  He stared after her for a long time. In his mind's eye, he could see her running down the driveway, fumbling inside her handbag, jamming the key into the ignition of her little blue car. The motor sputtered to life, the car pulled into the street, and then she was gone, leaving him sitting there in the darkness, empty and alone, as he had always been alone.

  It was time to leave here, he thought dully.
He should have activated the distress signal long ago, but he had been reluctant to leave this planet.

  Late at night, he had often assumed a human shape and wandered up and down the dark streets, intrigued and fascinated by the subtle differences, the numerous similarities, between Xanthia and Earth.

  He should go home, but now that he had found Lainey, going home was the last thing he wanted. He hadn't meant to hurt her, didn't want to hurt her, and yet sending her away had been for her own good. He could not tell her the truth. He could not let himself succumb to the shameful primal urge that was tormenting him even now, sending the hot blood rushing through his body, making him long for a way of life that had been proscribed eons before he was born.

  Heavy-hearted, he walked up the stairs to the third-floor room.

  She was gone, and his soul was as cold and empty as his heart.

  Chapter Six

  "Lainey. Lainey?"

  With a shake of her head, Lainey pulled herself out of her reverie and looked across the table at her mother. "What?"

  "Do you want dessert now, or later?"

  "Later, Mom."

  Dolores St. John shook her head ruefully. "You hardly ate a thing, sweetie. Are you all right?"

  "Fine."

  "Leave her alone, Dee. It's bound to be man trouble. I haven't seen her look this depressed since she split up with Drew."

  "Dad!"

  Ralph St. John lifted one dark brown brow. "Am I wrong? Tell me I'm wrong."

  Lainey couldn't help smiling as she shook her head. She'd never been able to fool her dad, not for a minute. Not when she was a little girl, not now.

  Dolores stared at the two of them, then stood up and began clearing the table. "No, you go on and talk to your dad," she admonished when Lainey started to help. "In the state you're in, you'll probably wash the leftovers and put the dirty dishes in the fridge."

  With a grateful smile, Lainey followed her father into the front room and curled up in a corner of the blue print sofa.

  Ralph sat down in his easy chair, removed his shoes, and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Ah, that feels good," he remarked. "So, what is it, honey—what's troubling you?"

  "Just what you said."

  Ralph nodded sagely. "Man trouble. Do you want to tell me about it?"

  "There's really nothing to tell. I went out to the old Grayson place…"

  "The Grayson place! Lainey, are you out of your mind?"

  Right then, she decided to skip the part about spending the night at the mansion. "Dad, I just went out to take some pictures, you know, for inspiration. Anyway, when I had the film developed, I saw something in one of the upper windows and…"

  "And you just had to go have a look for yourself."

  "Right. Anyway, there was this man there and…" Lainey made a vague gesture with her hand. "I don't know how to explain it, but he made me feel…" She shrugged. "It was the funniest thing. Even though I didn't know anything about him, I felt safe, kind of peaceful."

  Ralph St. John frowned. "Safe? Peaceful? What is this guy, some kind of guru?"

  "No. He's a navigator."

  St. John grunted softly. "Your mom said he's a foreigner of some kind."

  Lainey nodded. "He's got a marvelous accent, although it's very slight."

  "And I suppose he's tall, dark, and handsome, too."

  "Tall, blond, and handsome."

  "So, when are we gonna meet him?"

  "That's the trouble, Dad. He doesn't want to see me anymore."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know. I went to see him last night and everything seemed fine. Later, we…" She couldn't stop the blush she felt heating her cheeks. "We were making out a little and suddenly he told me to go."

  Ralph St. John frowned. "Maybe he's gay."

  "Dad."

  Her father shrugged. "It was just a thought. Maybe he's afraid of getting AIDS. Maybe he just wasn't in the mood."

  "Dad," Lainey said with a grimace, "the men I've met are always in the mood."

  "So, maybe this guy's different. Maybe he's got some morals, if they exist anymore."

  "Dad, I wasn't trying to seduce him. We were just kissing. And he liked it, I know he did."

  She felt the tears well in her eyes and blinked them away, determined not to cry. She had already shed enough tears for a man she had only known for a couple of days.

  "I wish I could give you some advice," her father said, "but I guess all you can do is wait for him to call. Or call him."

  Lainey shook her head. "He doesn't have a phone. And I wouldn't call him if I did." Rising, she kissed her father on the cheek. "Thanks for listening, Dad."

  "Any time," he remarked, reaching for his paper. "How's the new book coming along?"

  "Slow," Lainey said, resuming her place on the sofa.

  "It'll pick up. It always does."

  Lainey smiled at her father, but he already had his nose buried in the sports page. Nothing had been settled, but, as always, just talking to her dad made her feel better.

  "I think I'm ready for dessert now," she remarked, and went into the kitchen to help her mother dry the dishes.

  She'd get over Micah, just as she'd gotten over Drew. It would hurt for a while, but she'd bury herself in her book until the worst of the hurt was gone. One thing about being a writer, she thought, she was always in control.

  And she could have as many happy endings as she wanted, at least on paper.

  Chapter Seven

  He missed her. Missed her more every day. It was a new emotion for him, one he definitely didn't like. Never in all his life had he let himself get emotionally involved with another being. He was a navigator, the best one in the fleet, and he'd never had time for anything else. He had sworn his allegiance to the fleet, had taken a blood oath that he would give his life to protect the welfare and interests of Xanthia.

  Crossing the floor to the window, he stared up at the night sky. How different life was at home. Males and females rarely intermingled for any length of time except to mate. Children were raised in a controlled environment by people who had been carefully selected for that assignment.

  Home. For the first time he realized that, while he missed flying, missed the thrill of exploring the unknown, he didn't actually miss Xanthia. Beautiful as it was, peaceful as it was, as much as he loved it, he had no desire to go back.

  And Lainey was the reason. She was as warm as the earth's sun, and as far away as the stars that lit the night sky. Much as he might wish to stay here, with her, it was not an option. His life's course had been set years ago. When he returned home, he would join with Adana, the female who had been chosen for him, ensuring the continuation of his line, ensuring that all he was, all he knew, would be passed to the next generation. There would be no fire between them as there had been between himself and Lainey. Breeding was not done for pleasure. Once his chosen mate had conceived, it was unlikely that he would ever see her again.

  He had never questioned the way his people lived until now. Until Lainey. He wondered, for one brief moment, what it would be like to stay here, in her world, to be her mate for life, to watch whatever children he might father grow up. It was an idea totally foreign to everything he knew and yet he yearned to embrace her way of life almost as much as he yearned to embrace Lainey herself.

  A frustrated sigh whispered past his lips. It was a waste of time even to consider such a thing. Even if he couldn't repair the transmitter, there was a good chance Pergith or one of the others would locate him sooner or later. They would search for him until they found him, or until they were certain he had died in the crash.

  Sending Lainey away had been the right thing, the expedient thing, to do.

  But, oh, how he missed her.

  Lainey stared out the window, gazing up at the stars, wondering what Micah was doing, wondering why he had sent her away. She wasn't an expert in sexual games by any means, but she knew when a man desired her, and Micah had wanted her. She was certain of that. His words
, his touch, had spoken of a want that went deeper than the needs of the flesh.

  She closed her eyes as a new thought occurred to her. All along, she'd had the feeling he was hiding from something. Maybe that something was a wife, children, a mountain of debts.

  She groaned softly. Painful as the thought was, it made more sense than anything else. A man alone. Needing company. And along comes Lainey, naive, gullible Lainey, all too willing to believe a few pretty words uttered by an attractive man…

  She slammed her fist on the window sill. It didn't make sense. If he was the kind of heel she was painting him to be, he wouldn't have stopped at a few kisses, he wouldn't have sent her away.

  It just didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

  Eyes still closed, she pressed her forehead against the window pane, wishing she could see him just one more time.

  Lainey.

  It was his voice, husky and edged with pain. She whirled around, expecting to see him standing behind her, but there was no one there.

  I need you.

  "Micah…" Overcome with an unaccountable sense of alarm, she grabbed her coat, handbag, and keys and ran out of the house.

  Breathless, she backed the car out of the garage and drove toward the mansion, totally oblivious to everything but the necessity of finding Micah.

  She saw the lights even before she turned down the road. Slowing the car a good distance away from the house, she pulled over and killed the engine. The Grayson place was ablaze with lights. No doubt the police had ordered the electric company to turn on the power.

  She saw a trio of black-and-white police cruisers, at least a dozen cars bearing an insignia she didn't recognize, and a couple of unmarked cars. Police officers and men in dark suits and overcoats prowled the enormous front yard. Flood lights, located on all four sides of the house, turned the night to day. Up on the hill behind the house, flashlight beams cut across the darkness, sweeping the shrubbery, the shadows under the trees.

  She saw dogs.

  And guns.