Psy: Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency) Page 3

  She gave a snort of dismayed laughter.

  “Something wrong?” Rosalie glanced over. Her eyes were cyan today. A little bright but close enough to a normal shade of blue. Badly nearsighted, her mother swapped out different-colored contact lenses. On any given day, her eyes could be emerald, turquoise, violet, or even amber.

  Cassie shook her head.

  They sat down at the kitchen table to eat. The two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow had little space to spare, so her mother had converted their dining room into an office.

  Cassie removed her notebook from around her neck and flipped to a blank page. How was work? she asked and took a bite of mashed potatoes.

  “I passed my three-month probationary period, so I got a 10 percent raise today,” her mother said matter-of-factly.

  That’s good!

  Rosalie shrugged. “Better than nothing.” She worked as an office manager and receptionist for a mom-and-pop plumbing supply company. Because of the dual role, it paid more than most of her previous jobs. Her mother tended to jump around a lot and preferred small businesses over big companies. “I refuse to be a cog in a corporate wheel,” she’d sniff.

  Secretly Cassie believed if being a single cog in a large corporation paid more than being the whole wheel at a small company, it might be worth being a cog. However, the plumbing supply place paid decently and, with Cassie also contributing to the household coffers, their tight financial situation had eased. For all that she’d discouraged Cassie working, her mother hadn’t turned down the extra money.

  “Anything exciting happen at the antique shop today?” Rosalie asked. “Besides getting a free cookie jar?”

  The moment of truth. She swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. I met somebody.

  “Who?”

  A man.

  “A man? Who?”

  His name is Psy. He asked me out. We have a date.

  Rosalie blinked as she read. Then she squealed. “You have a date? A date!” Her face split with a wide grin, and she leaped up and squeezed Cassie in an exuberant hug. “Honey, I’m so happy for you.”

  No mother should get so excited over her adult daughter going on a date. This proves I need to get a life, Cassie thought.

  “Is he local? Who is he? What does he do? How old is he?” Her mother flung out questions.

  Fortunately, she hadn’t asked, “Is he human?” because Cassie planned to keep that vital statistic to herself—well, herself and Verna, who was more accepting of such things. Her mom would freak if she discovered Psy had come from outer space. She took a bite of chicken, buying time because she didn’t have answers to most of the questions.

  “Come on, spill it. Tell me!” Her mother nudged her.

  I met him when he came into the shop. He’s new to Argent, too.

  “How old is he?” she repeated.

  She’d guess early thirties, but who could tell? He was an alien. A few years older than me.

  “What does he look like?”

  Dark hair, brown eyes. Handsome. Tallish. Nice muscles. Smooth voice.

  “Sounds like he ticks all the boxes.”

  What stood out were his mesmerizing eyes, his sexy voice, and the mind link facilitating effortless conversation. And, of course, he’d shown her another planet. For someone who had seen very little of her country on her own planet, to catch a glimpse of another world was incredible.

  “When can I meet him?”

  While she chewed, she wrote. He’s picking me up after work on Thursday. A blob of ink from the felt pen spread on the paper as she considered how to phrase her request. Please—

  “Act cool and don’t embarrass you?” Her mother patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be calm by then.”

  Her lips twitched. Rosalie was taking it surprisingly well. Can I borrow the car tomorrow or Wednesday? Maybe drop you at work and pick you up at the end of the day?

  “Why?”

  I want to buy something to wear for my date. She didn’t own anything but jeans, yoga pants, and T-shirts. She’d already gotten permission from Verna to take off a little early. Actually, Verna had insisted.

  “Maybe we could go shopping together and have dinner out afterward?” Her mother’s brows rose hopefully.

  Yes, that would be fun. She grinned.

  Chapter Five

  Cassie looked more beautiful than Psy remembered, and he’d thought about her plenty. Her hair, released from its braid, tumbled like a glossy, brunette curtain almost to her waist. Her eyes appeared greener, her lashes thicker and more lustrous. A black-and-white top left one smooth shoulder bare and clung to her breasts. White slacks, ending below the knee, molded her thighs and left trim ankles bare. Cute little toes, the nails painted mauve, peeked out of flat strappy sandals.

  He dragged his gaze away to focus on her mother. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Steward.” He smiled and shook the woman’s hand as Chameleon’s mate had instructed him to do when he met the parents. The ’Topians had been on Earth for about six months, but they were still learning local customs.

  “It’s miss, but call me Rosalie. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s wonderful to meet you,” she gushed. Emerald eyes creased with a welcoming smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”

  “I only have one—Psy.”

  “I guess there aren’t so many Psys that you could get them confused. What is it you do for a living?” she asked.

  “I’m a consultant with Mysk Industries.”

  She pursed her lips. “Impressive!”

  The well-known tech magnate Edwin Mysk had made a name for himself with his futuristic vision and inventions. Not known was that he was a Verital who’d fled ’Topia the same time as the castaways, but due to the anomalies of jump space, had landed on Earth fifty years ago. When the castaways arrived, Mysk had put them on the payroll, advising them to say they were consultants if asked about their occupations.

  Rosalie nodded approvingly. “I’ll bet the job pays well.”

  Cassie sliced the air with her hand.

  Her mother appeared unfazed. “If you weren’t going to ask him, then I needed to.” She smiled at Psy. “Where are my manners—could I get you a drink? Would you like to sit down?” She gestured to the sofa.

  Cassie scribbled furiously and shoved the notebook in her mother’s face.

  Rosalie glanced at it and sighed. “My daughter says you have to leave. She thinks I talk too much. I’m so glad I got to meet you. You must come for dinner some night.”

  Cassie’s eyes flashed and, before he could reply, she grabbed his arm and hustled him out the door. On the walk, she wrote in her notebook. Sorry about that.

  “It wasn’t bad,” he reassured her.

  She was just warming up.

  “What did you tell her in your note?”

  That she was embarrassing me, and we needed to leave. She pivoted her head, eyeing the street. Where did you park?

  “My hover scooter is around the block.”

  Hover scooter? Like, from your planet? Her animated expression mesmerized him. He could hardly look away.

  “Yes.” They would be unable to communicate while on the scooter, and he wanted to keep talking to her. He touched her elbow. “Um…you won’t be able to write. If it’s okay, I’d like to establish a mind-link.”

  She nodded, turning her face toward him with undisguised eagerness.

  Strands of silky hair clung to his fingers as he clasped her head. His powerful psychic energy didn’t require physical contact for access—he could achieve it from across the room, but it did facilitate the entry and offer forewarning to the individual.

  In actuality, he had the ability to slip in and out of a person’s mind without him ever being aware his psyche had been breached. However, no ethical individual would violate the Verital Code of Honor by doing that.

  Holding her gaze, he linked their minds. All right?

  Well, hello there. She smiled.

  He reached for her hand, and, when she c
urled her fingers around his, a shaft of heat shot straight to his groin. Veritals were cerebral, the bonding between genmates more mental than physical, but herian if her touch didn’t activate baser urges. An atavistic sexual awareness tingled through him from head to toe.

  He became tongue-tied all of sudden—not that he needed his mouth to communicate. He shot her a mental picture of the location of the hover scooter.

  I see bushes.

  The light refractor renders it invisible. He focused and conjured a mental picture of the vehicle.

  This is what you call a scooter? I was picturing a moped. This is a cross between a motorcycle and a rocket.

  Exactly. Our tech is very advanced. If Earth’s government got hold of a scooter or ship, it could lead to disaster. No doubt they would try to replicate it and use it. If the Xeno Consortium caught sight of it, they would know survivors of the bombardment had made it to Earth. That would be very, very bad for everyone.

  My people are refugees. We came to Earth because our planet was destroyed. The beings who bombarded it would like to see us dead, too. They have no idea we’re here, and it’s critical we keep it that way, so we don’t announce we’re ’Topian, and we don’t flash technology that could identify us. If not for the critical need for secrecy, Mysk and his people would have produced inventions the likes of which Earth couldn’t even imagine.

  I won’t tell anyone.

  I know you won’t. That was why he’d felt safe in sharing the information.

  He took them to a vacant lot, overgrown with weeds and saplings. The homer he’d palmed led him right to the craft. With a press of a button, he deactivated the invisibility screen. The air shimmered as the craft appeared.

  A slender nose extended from the central power core, while winglike baffles flanked the stern for stability. A long seat sat atop the power unit with a protective shield in between. Spanning a wide U, the handlebars allowed the rider to steer the scooter when in manual mode or serve as a grab bar if on autopilot.

  Psy swung a leg over the seat and mounted the vehicle. Climb aboard. The machine won’t let you fall—but if you want to hold onto something, hang onto me. He winked.

  She climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms tight around his waist, her breasts pillowy soft against his back. Heat rushed to his cock, and he erected a mental barrier so he wouldn’t embarrass them both by revealing his arousal.

  With a push of a button, he rendered them invisible and then inputted the coordinates for the lavender farm. He fired up the vehicle, and they lifted off.

  Cassie squealed and squeezed his waist tighter.

  It felt good to have her arms around him. The moment he’d left Timeless Treasures, he’d longed to see her again. Although her nearness stirred all manner of lustful sensations, it had a calming, peaceful effect, too.

  Something lost had been found.

  The hover scooter flew down the quiet residential avenue and turned onto Main Street, zipping around automobiles. A couple strolled arm in arm into Millie’s Diner. Outside Timeless Treasures, Verna swept the sidewalk.

  They really can’t see us! Cassie waved at her oblivious boss.

  Nope.

  From Main Street, they sailed onto Highway 95, the major north-south passage cutting from Idaho into Canada. Over the highway, a grinning cowboy peered down from a huge billboard proclaiming Argent a great place to visit.

  For him, the advertising slogan had turned out to be true. He’d met Cassie.

  Could she be his genmate? The ease with which he’d linked to her mind suggested it might be so, but the human psyche was more accessible than that of most other species. He fingered his throat. Nothing. Swollen mating glands served as the first indication a ’Topian had encountered a genmate, but Veritals often reacted differently. Sometimes no swelling occurred. He clung to the hope and told himself to be patient.

  What’s a genmate?

  The question startled him. He’d let down his guard, and she’d picked up on his musing. It is someone with whom we share genetic programming, predisposing us to mate with that person.

  So much for romance.

  What isn’t romantic about it?

  There’s no hearts, flowers, candlelight. No jitters of excitement. No grand gestures.

  You make me jitter with excitement.

  I do?

  He covered her hand clasped around his middle. More than you know.

  The scooter turned down an arterial, following it to a graveled road. A wooden sign welcomed them to Lavender Bliss Farm in purple lettering moments before a small gift shop came into view. Business hours had ended, and the sign on the door said CLOSED.

  The lavender has almost stopped blooming for the season, but you’ll still see some flowers as well as other varieties Kevanne planted. There are trails we can hike on, and I figured you might be hungry, so I arranged for a meal.

  Sounds wonderful.

  The hover scooter veered around trees and over fallen timber. Cassie hugged him tighter and laughed. As he smiled at her enjoyment, he wondered why if she could make noises—laugh, squeal, squeak, grunt—she couldn’t speak. The situation presented an interesting enigma. However, he accepted her, mysteries and all. Telepathy was more intimate than speaking anyway.

  It could be too intimate, too tempting. Joining minds was like entering a person’s home. Being invited in didn’t give one the right to rifle through cabinets and drawers. He took care not to venture beyond the first level of her consciousness.

  The vehicle settled behind a sprawling bush loaded with purple berries.

  The mother lode! she exclaimed.

  Load of what?

  She giggled. He loved her light, tinkling laugh. Huckleberries! They’re very popular in North Idaho. My mom and I picked several buckets last weekend. The bushes we found weren’t this full.

  She slid off the scooter and smoothed her hands down her white capris. I made a good call on the clothing choice. I almost wore a dress.

  She would look good in anything. You look beautiful.

  Thank you.

  He clasped her hand, and they set out along the pine needle-covered path. The fragrance of lavender drifted on the breeze, but when he inhaled, Cassie’s scent stirred his senses. His heart swelled with emotion. He’d never felt so contented in his life.

  Thus far, two of the six castaways had bonded with human genmates. Several ’Topians from Mysk’s group also had found genetic partners on Earth. Each union gave them all hope, but the bombardment had taught them life offered no guarantees.

  Glancing around, she took a deep breath and exhaled. Her chest moved, drawing his attention to her slim curves. It’s so pretty here. North Idaho is beautiful. I should get out and see more of the area. I haven’t even been to Lake Argent yet!

  We can do that together, he suggested. All of Earth is new to me.

  Her mouth curved into a happy smile.

  His heart and groin reacted with a surge of pleasure. He was conscious of her hand clasped in his, the slenderness of her fingers, her soft skin. Perhaps he responded physically because she was human and not a Verital.

  They strolled in companionable silence, and then she said, I had one boyfriend. It’s tough to communicate with me, and men are turned off. People like me, but I don’t fit in their world because I’m different.

  I’m different, too. They shared the experience of not belonging. Two united in otherness. On his planet, there’d been a barrier of suspicion between Veritals and other ’Topians.

  Verna and my mother are the only two people who accept me as I am, who don’t treat me like I’m “less than.”

  They both love you very much. You’re fortunate in that regard. Verna, like Cassie, was a strong emitter. Before he’d blocked her, he’d picked up on her sincere affection, respect, and caring for Cassie. Her genuineness had made him like her very much. Although Rosalie kept her thoughts closed and tight, she revealed her love for her daughter through her attempts to protect her. How could you fault
a mother for that?

  The wooded trail emptied onto a lavender field. Many flowers had been harvested, others had died, but the late bloomers released their fragrance to the wind. At the far end of the field stood the gazebo. He pointed. That’s where we’re going.

  A gray ground squirrel darted across the path and disappeared into the brush. Spotting a still-vibrant bush, Psy snapped off a small branch of flowers and presented the sprig to Cassie.

  Thank you. I wanted to pick some but didn’t know if it would be proper. She sniffed the sprig and then tucked it behind her ear.

  He hesitated. Can I ask you a question?

  Sure.

  Did something happen that rendered you unable to speak? An accident? An injury?

  She shook her head. I was born this way. When I didn’t learn to speak like other babies, my mother took me to the doctor. Multiple doctors. They all agreed my vocal cords hadn’t developed.

  You’ve never spoken at all?

  No. She smiled wistfully, and he felt her longing acutely.

  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.

  She touched his shoulder. I like that we can be open, that you did ask. People make the rudest comments. They act like I can’t hear. I much prefer honesty, direct questions.

  They wove through the fragrant field and emerged at the gazebo. Five steps led into the open-sided cedar hexagon. In the center of the structure, a small round table had been set for two with a pristine white cloth, china, silver flatware, and a vase of roses and lavender. Light-purple pillows cushioned the seats of the white wrought iron garden chairs.

  A bottle of pinot grigio chilled in a standing ice bucket. A cooler filled with food had been placed off to the side.

  You planned all this for me?

  Kevanne helped me set it up. I figured you wouldn’t have time to eat after getting off work.