“You’d be grumpy too if you had to sleep in that itchy fabric.” She’d left the much-despised jumpsuit in the bathroom. Her Alvian-made clothing was much better. It didn’t stain easily, it made no sound and it didn’t smell, even after a hard workout. The fabric had been engineered specially by the Zxerah over many generations, to aid them in their work.
Jim’s lips widened into a grin and she fought hard against the butterflies flitting around in her stomach. The man hadn’t lost any of his appeal over the years that separated her teenage crush on the young operative studying martial arts with her father and the hardened, world-weary man he was today. She was attracted to him whether she liked it or not.
“If you’re ready, I’ve got breakfast waiting in the conference room. We have a lot to discuss.” He levered himself up from his leaning position against the door and motioned for her to precede him, but as she drew closer and put her hand on the doorknob, he reached out, closing one hand over her arm. “I’m sorry about last night, Gina.” His voice was pitched low, the intimate rumble vibrating through her. “I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand. I won’t apologize for what happened between us, but I will apologize for not being able to trust you. Things happened here in the past. Things that were my fault for being too trusting. I hope you can understand and forgive me.”
She looked up at him, trying not to let the appeal in his eyes get to her on an emotional level. It was a losing battle. He was already under her skin, but she had to fight against it. Her Zxerah training didn’t erase emotion but taught her the value of controlling it. No emotion, the Zxerah had learned, was a detriment to a warrior, but too much was equally—if not more—incapacitating. A balance was required. In all things.
But Jim had already shot her equilibrium to hell.
“I think I understand. So does this mean you trust me now?”
He stepped closer, his subtle scent surrounding her, his warmth tempting. His eyes smoldered down at her as one of his brawny arms snaked around her middle and drew her right up against him.
“I’m getting there. Gina…” Her name was a whispered caress as his head dipped.
This kiss he claimed was one of mastery, of possession, but it was also the sweetest foray of exploration and tenderness she’d ever experienced. He seduced her with his lips, his tongue, his heat. She succumbed readily. No matter the chastising talk she’d had with herself deep in the night. This was not to be fought against. This was a force of nature. He was a force of nature. Inevitable and unwavering.
Only one other man had brought out such a response in her. She felt a pang of uneasiness as Jim lifted his head, ending their kiss. In that moment, the image of Grady’s handsome Alvian face appeared in her mind. He’d kissed her just this way, with the same tenderness, respect and ardor. He’d touched something hidden down deep inside where she hadn’t known it even existed. Jim touched off those same feelings and he unintentionally reminded her of Grady and all they’d shared.
“What?” Jim breathed the question as he searched her gaze.
Gina turned away. She couldn’t face this now. She couldn’t deal with these confusing, conflicting thoughts. How could she let Jim kiss her but think about Grady? And how could she think about Grady and still be attracted to Jim?
“We should go,” she said into the silence. She knew Jim was looking at her with questions in his eyes, but they were questions she couldn’t answer. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
She had no answers for him. Or for herself.
The conference room was full of people when she entered with Jim a few minutes later. The three men from the night before with there, eating breakfast with others she hadn’t yet met. All were male, but some of the newcomers didn’t have that same soldier swagger as Jim and his top lieutenants. They looked more like accountants. Rugged accountants, sure, but still with that scrawny, geeky look that only developed when you spent the majority of your life in an office behind a desk.
Jim led her to the small buffet that had been laid out on a side table. He passed her a plate and she filled it, surprised by the bounty of eggs, bacon and good fresh bread.
“You do all right for yourselves down here, don’t you?” She directed her question to Jim, but it was one of the newcomers who answered.
“This facility is very self-sufficient. We were able to adapt several areas to house livestock including chickens, hogs and even some cattle. The hydroponics areas only needed seeding, which we did in the first few days of settling our families here.” The man held out his hand for her to shake, using the other to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I’m Wallace Dexter. I was the lead scientist in this facility before the crystal bombardment started. You can call me Wally.”
“Gina Hanson,” she replied politely, shuffling her plate into one hand so she could shake with the other.
“I know.” The scientist grinned at her. “I watched you win gold at the Antwerp games. You were terrific.” His enthusiasm reminded her of the old days when people—fans really—had often stopped her on the street or in restaurants to say hello and ask for autographs or pictures. She’d never taken their adulation for granted but had always made time to talk with each and every one.
“Thank you, Wally. Antwerp was really the high point of my career, but that was a long time ago.”
“Yeah,” Pierre agreed, gallantly taking her plate and escorting her to a seat at the table. “She’s even better now. You should have seen her take on the boss last night. Gave him a real run for his money.”
Wally took a seat next to her, still smiling, while Jim sat quietly on her other side. Pierre went to his seat across the wide table after sending a teasing wink in her direction.
“I believe it,” Wally said, still enthusiastic. “Jim’s good, but very few could ever match what I saw in Antwerp.”
“Young Dex is almost as good as she was back then,” Jim offered, making Wally beam. Only then did Gina notice the young man sitting on Wally’s other side. They looked a lot alike.
“This is my son, Wallace Junior,” Wally introduced the younger man.
Where Wally was built like an accountant—or the scientist he actually was—his son was something altogether different. Wide shoulders and sleek muscles filled out his frame, and he had the eyes of a wolf—cunning and dangerous. He was a warrior. A young warrior, but someone to be reckoned with, she was sure.
“They call him Dex, short for our last name,” Wally continued, oblivious to the sizing up going on in both directions. “Because you can’t have two Wallys now, can you?” He laughed and Gina responded politely, smiling at the older Dexter.
“My dad’s told me about your bouts. I even saw some old DVDs he has of the Antwerp games. You were damned good, Ms. Hanson.” The young man was polite but not gushing the way his father had. He was more serious than his scientist dad. More serious and watchful. Very little got by this young man, Gina thought, and she respected him for his vigilance. The world was so different now. Without the protected environment of the underground facility, she doubted Wally Senior could have lasted this long.
She thanked Dex for the compliment and turned her attention to eating breakfast. The men were all halfway through, and she didn’t want to hold them up. Whatever required this many people to discuss had to be pretty important. Her curiosity was piqued, but she would bide her time until they got around to the reason they had all gathered together. She let the conversation flow around her, participating when she was asked a question and offering comments here and there.