Chameleon: Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency) Page 8

  Mysk, who’d expressed interest at the start, was all in once they’d revealed themselves. He hadn’t recoiled at the sight of Tigre’s striped face, Wingman’s wings, Inferno’s red skin and horns, or Cam’s transformation to blue-scaled Xeno.

  She peered up at him. “Can I see you again? I mean, will you show yourself to me?”

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said tightly.

  “Please.” She touched his arm, and a zing of heat shot through his entire body. “Now that I understand your appearance is a persona, I’d like to get to know the real you.”

  “This is the real me,” he said. “I can modify my appearance the way humans change their clothing, but it doesn’t alter who I am on the inside.”

  “Maybe I could get to know him a little better then.” Her quivering smile tugged at his heart region.

  Maybe if she knew the inside, she could tolerate the outside. And herian, he wanted to know all of her, inside and out. “Maybe I could help you with your booth? I promise I won’t flood anything.”

  Her smile strengthened and broadened. “I would like that.” Her stomach emitted a loud growl, and she grimaced. “Sorry. It’s past lunchtime, but I couldn’t leave my booth.”

  “You left it to come after me.”

  “I had to see you. I couldn’t let you leave.”

  The pain of rejection receded. He could no longer resist touching her. He reached out to tug at a dark curl then froze at the sight of the blue patches. He shoved his fist into his pocket. “Why don’t I get us some lunch? I saw food booths up front.”

  “Let me give you some money.”

  “I have money.”

  “You found work?”

  “An investor.”

  “An investor? In what?”

  “Excuse me! Can I get by?” a woman’s querulous voice spoke from behind.

  Clearly, she hadn’t understood he stood in the way for a reason! But he stepped aside, and she entered.

  “Welcome to Lavender Bliss Farm! Feel free to browse and try the testers,” Kevanne said in a cheerful voice, but the flash of frustration drawing her brows together caused his spirits to soar. She disliked the interruption as much as he did.

  And that made it bearable. “I’ll get lunch,” he said. “Coffee to drink? Black?”

  “You know it.” She grinned.

  She loved her coffee. She loved lavender. He liked learning the personal details about her. He hoped to find out more. With lightness in his step, he ambled off to get their lunch.

  * * * *

  Night had fallen by the time the spring fling closed, the last of the fair goers cleared out of the gym, and Cam walked her to her car. Kevanne hugged her coat tighter to guard against the drop in temperature, but pleasure warmed her from the inside out. Her feet were tired, but a new hope and excitement thrummed. “You’ll be able to follow me home? You can find it in the dark?” She peered up at him. The streetlamp cast a glow over his face.

  “I won’t have trouble finding it. I’ll retrieve my scooter, and I won’t be long.”

  “Are you going to be warm enough?” She winced in remembrance of how she’d ejected him from her house when he’d been naked.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Only a few cars remained in the parking lot; they were among the last vendors to leave. She didn’t see any scooters, motorcycles, or two-wheeled vehicles. Maybe what he considered a scooter and what she called a scooter were totally different. “Where are you parked? Can I drive you?”

  “It’s not far.”

  “Well, all right. I’ll, uh, see you at the house,” she said awkwardly as the urge to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him buzzed within her. Chemistry had snapped and sizzled all day, but she owed him a big apology.

  He’d stayed by her side the entire shift, but they’d only been able to talk in snippets because of the steady stream of customers. Great for business—but darn it! And tomorrow was another day, fortunately a shorter one since it was Sunday. So, she’d asked him to her house for dinner. Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to throw a stew into the slow cooker.

  With her hazard lights on, she crept along the highway and kept checking her mirrors for a glimpse of him, but she didn’t see any single-beam headlight behind her. She turned down the gravel road and then onto her long driveway. I shouldn’t have left him. What if his scooter didn’t start?

  Her house came into view, and there he was on her front porch! Her jaw dropped. She parked in the single detached garage and strode up the walk. “How did you get here before me?”

  “The scooter is fast.” He shrugged. “And I raced. I was eager to get here.”

  “I didn’t see you pass on the highway.”

  “I didn’t ride on the highway.”

  “Where’s your scooter?”

  “I left it in the woods.”

  “It must be some high-tech space vehicle or something.”

  “Yes. Or something.”

  “You could have hidden it in my garage. Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” She unlocked the door, and he followed her in. A savory aroma drifted from the kitchen.

  “It smells wonderful.” His stomach growled.

  “Thank you. It’s beef stew. I’ll pop some rolls in the oven to warm, and then we’ll eat.”

  “How’s the faucet working?”

  “Perfect. Thank you.”

  Set on a timer, a single lamp glowed in the living room, almost making the shabby room cozy and welcoming, the soft, dim illumination hiding the worn state of her secondhand furniture. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it before—in stark daylight for goodness’ sake! This is not a date.

  “Uh—have a seat,” she said. “I’ll, uh, get a fire going.”

  She’d set the wood in the fireplace before she’d left. After igniting the fire starter brick beneath the wood, she went into the kitchen. Stew bubbled in the Crock-Pot. She set the ancient oven to preheat and then dashed into her bathroom to freshen up. Returning to the kitchen, she opened a good bottle of cabernet sauvignon she’d saved for a special occasion and then stuck the rolls in the oven. It hadn’t heated to the right temperature yet, but she didn’t want to have to keep running into the kitchen to check. She set the timer and then returned to the other room.

  Cam stood in front of the fireplace watching flames lick at the logs.

  “Do you like wine?” she said.

  “I’ve never had wine,” he said. “Is it common to have a fire inside a dwelling?”

  His unfamiliarity with normal, everyday things made perfect sense now. “It’s not uncommon,” she explained. “A long time ago, people heated their homes that way and cooked over an open flame. Now houses use central air, and people cook with electric or gas ranges. I like the ambiance, but a fire lowers my heating costs. I have twenty-five acres of timber. Wood is free if I cut it myself, but I have to pay for electricity, and this house isn’t well insulated—and, I’m sorry if this is too much information.” She handed him a glass and gulped from hers before she rambled any more. “Don’t ask me what time it is because I might tell you how to build a watch.”

  “I would be very interested to learn how to build a watch,” he said.

  Probably he would be, she realized. Everything on Earth was new to him. “You don’t use fire in your houses on your planet?” Duh. Of course they didn’t. He’d flown here on a spaceship.

  She settled on one side of the sofa, and he occupied the other end, with a cushion in between.

  “We harness mostly solar radiation for our energy needs,” he said.

  She curled her legs underneath her and turned toward him. “Tell me about ’Topia.”

  “’Topia?” The glass, halfway to his mouth, froze in midair.

  “That’s where you’re from, isn’t it? That’s what you told me in the diner.”

  “You have a good memory.”

  Too good, according to Dayton. You never forget a fucking thing. How many times do I have to say I’m s
orry?

  Shut up, Dayton! You don’t belong here! She pushed away the bad memory and sealed it behind a curtain of iron will. But before she slammed the door, she delivered the response she should have given. One, Dayton. That’s all. One sincere apology would have been enough.

  Cam’s expression closed, and his fingertips had blued.

  “Is it okay, the wine?”

  “It’s quite good.” He flashed a grin. “Much better than my first drink of coffee.” He turned to study the fire. “The men I’m traveling with are from ’Topia. That’s where I was most recently, but I, myself, am from Xeno,” he said.

  “How many are with you?”

  “Five.”

  Like working a jigsaw puzzle, she pieced together the bits he’d shared during their meeting at the diner along with conversations from his time as her handyman. “You needed repairs so you landed on Earth,” she deduced. “That’s why you need money.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Where were you headed? Why did you leave ’Topia?” Were they on vacation? Moving? Traveling for intergalactic business?

  He set his glass on the coffee table. “I would tell you if I could, but it’s not something I can share. It’s better if you don’t know.”

  She remembered he’d said his last job had involved intelligence gathering. Was he an intergalactic spy? Did he work for an alien Central Intelligence Agency? “Earth isn’t being invaded, is it?” she joked.

  He didn’t laugh.

  “Oh my god, we’re being invaded?” She leaped up, nearly spilling her wine.

  “No! Herian, no!” He swore in his own language and got to his feet. “That’s not what I meant. I think Earth is safe.”

  “You think?”

  The oven buzzer went off, signaling the rolls were heated. She couldn’t worry about rolls when the fate of the world hung in the balance.

  Cam set her drink on the coffee table and grabbed her hand. “A trouble spot is brewing in another arm of the galaxy, but Earth is far, far away from the danger. I don’t want to insult you by calling your planet insignificant, but few people realize you’re here.” His thumb caressed her fingers. “If I feared you were in jeopardy, I would tell you. I promise. I would never lie to you.” His eyes radiated sincerity.

  She believed him. She wet her lips, and heat flashed in his gaze. Her stomach fluttered. “Would-would you show me yourself again?”

  His throat moved as he swallowed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to scare you.”

  “You won’t. I want to see the real you. I promise I’ll act better this time.”

  “I don’t want you to act. If I’m showing my real self, I want you to be free to be who you are.” He squeezed her hands and then stepped back.

  His mocha skin changed color almost instantaneously. For a second, he turned a shade between mocha and cyan, and then he became Easter-egg blue all over. His size enlarged, his shoulders widened and rolled forward, his spine arched to accommodate a tail.

  Still Cam. She recognized his eyes, the hesitancy of his smile, despite the fangs—which weren’t all that long, she realized. He still looked, not human, but humanoid. And handsome. Still handsome.

  After the way she’d behaved the first time, he wouldn’t believe her if she were to tell him he was attractive. She would have to show him. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his.

  He jerked, but his arms came around her, and he kissed her back. In an intimate caress, his tongue met hers, hesitant first, then bolder as passion flashed.

  Logs in the fireplace snapped and popped, the kitchen timer beeped, but she focused on him—his enticing musk, his exotic taste, the way his kiss coaxed and claimed at the same time.

  Every nerve ending lit up with surprise and delight as she explored his mouth. His lips were soft, his tongue gentle but commanding. Tentatively, she touched his teeth. They were a little sharper than a human’s, but nothing she needed to worry about. She clung to him, hugging his neck, kissing him harder. He acted like a drug in her system—the more she got, the more she craved. His mouth moved over her lips, stoking the flames.

  “You smell so good,” he murmured.

  She smiled against his mouth. “It could be dinner you smell.” The aroma of stew and baking bread pervaded the house. The timer beeped away.

  “No. You smell like lavender and female.”

  Her body tingled from head to toe with desire and possibilities. Her womb clenched, and her breasts felt heavy and achy. It had been so long since a man had looked at her with desire and approval.

  He captured her wrist and pressed his lips to her palm. She closed her fingers around the kiss. She could almost swear she could see clear to infinity in his eyes. How much had this man experienced for him to look that way?

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “The oven timer. The rolls are ready. Maybe we should eat?”

  They moved into the kitchen. She turned off the oven and the timer. Grabbing a couple of potholders, she withdrew the tray of rolls and set it on the stove top. Fortunately, they weren’t overbaked.

  “Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

  She turned around to find Cam had transformed back to the blond man.

  “Why did you change back?”

  “I thought you would prefer it? I can become the guy from the billboard, if you prefer.”

  “No! I don’t want either one of those.” She strode over to him and placed her palms on his chest. “I prefer you to be who you are. I like Cam, the Xeno. He’s the one I kissed.” More than ever, she regretted her first reaction.

  “I can’t reveal myself in your town. You don’t have any aliens in Argent.”

  The way she’d freaked had been mild compared to how others would react. Millie would accept him, and so would old Gus from the bait shop, but she could think of a few who would react badly—kind of like she had. “You can be yourself when you’re alone with me, can’t you?”

  Within a couple of heartbeats, he turned blue. His grin was fanged.

  Their kiss steamed up the kitchen windows. When they separated, she felt a jolt, as if the topsy-turvy world had jerked to a stop. She didn’t foresee a future, but the sexual magnetism they shared was exciting, addictive, and she wanted to follow it through for as long as it lasted. It had been ages since she’d experienced such chemistry. It made her feel alive and energized.

  “I’ll, uh, dish up the stew, if you’ll set the table,” she said.

  He glanced at the dinette. “Isn’t it already set up?”

  She chuckled. “Setting the table means putting out the silverware, plates, glasses. We’ll need little plates for the rolls—they’re in the cupboard over there—knives to butter the bread, and spoons for the stew. You’ll find silverware in the drawer under the cupboard.”

  She ladled the stew into bowls and tossed the bread into a basket. Cam got them some water while she topped off their wine glasses.

  Then they sat to eat. Being with him felt homey and warm. Comfortable, even though desire hummed through her veins. The best of both worlds—literally.

  He tried a spoonful of her stew, and his eyes lit up. “Delicious.”

  “What is food like on your planet?” she asked.

  “Our food is laboratory-created to provide optimal nutrition. It contains the correct ratio of protein, carbohydrate, fat, and vitamins for our species.” He twisted his mouth. “The one component omitted is flavor. It’s not unpalatable, but meals are something to be ingested, not savored. Until I visited other worlds, I hadn’t realized everyone didn’t eat as we do. Earth food is by far the best.”

  “If I’d known you’d be with me tonight, I would have made dessert.”

  “What’s dessert?”

  “The best part of a meal,” she said. “Would you like a roll?” She passed the basket. “You can butter it and/or dip it into the gravy,” she explained. “What about ’Topia?” She recalled the other planet he’d mentio
ned. “Do they eat lab-processed food like Xeno?”

  “’Topia was a Xeno world, so yes.” He dipped his bread into the stew and ate it. His face contorted with near-sexual bliss. His world was very advanced. For Earth to lay claim to something superior, even if only food, filled her with pride. She loved to cook, although she didn’t do much anymore. Cooking for one seemed like too much trouble.

  “What do you mean by a Xeno world?” she asked. “Did your people colonize ’Topia?”

  He hesitated. “In a manner of speaking. Everything living on ’Topia was created by the Xeno Consortium. The Xenos are a creator species. They terraform planets and then seed them with intelligent life.”

  Her jaw dropped. “For real? Did they create life on Earth?”

  “No, but your planet was a donor world. The consortium used your DNA in its genetic projects. Xenos can’t create the basic building blocks of life itself—not yet anyway—but they can and do manipulate those blocks. When they discover interesting life-forms, they extract DNA samples and splice and combine genes.”

  She noticed Cam always referred to the Xenos as “they” rather than “we.” Conscious or unconscious distancing? “It sounds a bit like playing god,” she commented, although humans had begun to tinker with genetics, too. Nothing to that extent though.

  “They’re not playing,” he said in a rather grim tone.

  She took a sip of wine. “What’s to keep them from coming back to Earth for more DNA?” She objected to aliens swooping in and taking what they wanted without asking.

  “For one, your planet has achieved stasis in its development. New life-forms haven’t arisen in eons. In fact, the number of species on your world has declined.”

  Coffee and hamburgers had been new to him, but he seemed well-informed about Earth’s genesis. “You know a lot about Earth.”

  “I made it my business.” He drained his wine glass.

  “Why?” She lifted the bottle to pour him another, but it was empty. “More wine? I can open a merlot.”