Cyn clicked the healer off and looked at him critically. “Okay, handsome, I think you’ll do at that. Right, I have a date to get ready for. Are you going to start the move?”
He sat up, taking the mirror she handed to him and looking at his reflection. No evidence of his injuries showed in the smooth skin and his eyes looked identical, as though he’d been born with both. A swift grin splitting his face, he handed the mirror back, dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and slid off the table.
“I’ll put things in motion. Then I have to persuade a certain lady I’m not a total douchebag.”
What the hell was she doing?
It was the same question she’d asked herself hundreds of times this evening as she slid into a seat at the back of the club, trusting to the darkness and the crowd to conceal her from the man about to strut his stuff on stage. She was lucky to even get in. The queues outside had snaked out into the main concourse, women wailing and moaning over the fact this was Johnny Ram’s last performance. Ever.
Biting her lip, Milly wriggled in her seat to get comfortable and nodded her thanks as the waiter delivered her drink. She didn’t even look at it, grabbing the long, cool glass to take a drink as the music started. The alcohol slid down her throat as smoothly as silk. Real good quality stuff when she’d ordered the house standard. Remember to check what they charged…
Her thoughts trailed off as the curtains were whipped aside and Johnny appeared on stage. Her heart thudded, aching as it turned over in her chest. Mine, my man, all her instincts clamored at once as he stalked across the stage. Back in his “cyborg” costume, his skin was coated in a sheen of oil, the bronze-gold color highlighting his sculptured muscles. Muscles she’d explored, traced with her fingers and her lips, mapped with her tongue. Heat exploded through her body as she remembered their nights together. What he looked like braced over her, his eyes dark with passion as he drove into her, claiming her completely.
Her fingers closed tight around the slender glass. Why was she torturing herself like this? It had just been a game to him. Pose as a sexbot, easy way to get sex from a woman who’d turned him down for dinner. He was a liar, pure and simple.
A liar who’d saved her life twice. Who’d stood by her when he could have pretended to be just a bot and hidden in the hold during the hijack. A liar who’d asked her to marry him.
A liar she’d killed her ex-husband for. A chill rolled through her again. When she’d seen Jason aiming at him everything had stopped. He could so easily have been killed. If Jason had owned a scrap of sense he’d have fired as soon as he’d gotten that pistol in his hands. Thankfully, he hadn’t. True to form, he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to gloat and taunt Johnny before he killed him.
Her hand shook as she dropped the glass to the table. It clunked heavily, the ice rattling against the sides, more felt than heard. She’d killed her ex-husband. In self defense, the fleet man—Commander Lindsey—had assured her. With the evidence she had and the fact Lindsey already had the Warspear under his control, she wouldn’t even be charged. They’d been investigating Jason for months, just hadn’t managed to get here in time to stop him hijacking her ship.
Johnny reached the front of the stage, the laser pointer of his pistol stabbing through the darkness as it wandered over the crowd. Around her, the packed room went wild as they waited for the pointer to settle on someone. It was all part of the act, whoever it stopped on, he would approach when he came off the stage.
It wouldn’t be her. Milly knew that for sure. There was no way he could see her back here, and even if he could, she’d dressed up, so he probably wouldn’t even recognize her. Why she’d bothered escaped her, but here she was, all but poured into a black sheath dress from one of the expensive shops on the main promenade. It had some designer’s name on it, but she had no idea which. She’d only bought it because it had matching heels and a clutch.
The pointer wandered toward her table. A bead of water detached itself from the side of her glass, running over her fingers as her gaze traced the strong line of his jaw. It would be rough with the first hint of stubble. Memory supplied the sharp-spicy scent of his cologne and the warm one underneath, the scent of pure male and Johnny that was unique to him.
A small moan escaped her lips as love and need washed through her. The emotion grew and swelled as she finally admitted it to herself. She was in love with him. Totally head over heels in love and had been since he’d rescued her the first time. Thinking he was a bot, not wanting to think she was that desperate, she’d buried the feeling deep and added a layer of armor-plating when she realized that he’d lied to her.
The women around her gasped and Milly clicked out of her daze. The red dot of the pointer danced over her black fabric of her dress, right over her heart. It was her. He’d found her.
She looked up, knowing what she would see. There, on stage, he was watching her. The rest of the room ceased to exist, the music fading as their gazes met and held. Awareness arced between them, heat building and multiplying as she accepted the inevitable. She wouldn’t be slipping away as she planned. No running from her feelings or him. No running at all.
He walked down the steps and straight through the crowd toward her. Her breath caught, held up in her throat at the intent in his expression. Utterly male, he moved with a lethal grace totally at odds with the mechanical nature of his act. Then she realized it wasn’t part of the act. The act was done. This was between them.
He stopped at the table and stood over her. His big, muscled body was so close she could reach out and run her lips across the tattoo playing peekaboo over his waistband. She looked up, having to crick her neck to meet his eyes. His face was set, feral need and lust tightening his expression. Something else, something deeper swirled in his eyes. Something that scared and thrilled her at the same time as he reached out a hand.
“Milly, I was an ass. I shouldn’t have lied and I’m sorry.” His deep voice reached her easily, despite the noise of the crowd and the music. “I can’t live without you, sweetheart, I don’t want to. If you’ll let me, I’ll prove how sorry I am… I love you.”
Warmth exploded through her chest, radiating out from her heart like a solar burst. Tears in her eyes, she reached out and put her hand in his.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice stolen by the thickness in her throat. Questions crowded in—why was this his last show? Where was he going? Who else knew what he was?—but she ignored them. It didn’t matter, there would be time for questions later.
Relief flooded his eyes and a wicked grin spread across his face. She had a half-second warning when his hand tightened around hers. The next instant, she found herself hauled up and thrown across his shoulder.
“Johnny!” she squeaked, clutching at his back as a strong arm closed over her thighs. “Put me down, right now!”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re mine now, and I’m never letting go.”
His chuckle rumbled through his chest and shoulder where she lay over them. He swatted her on the ass, a sharp sting that made her gasp, as he carried her back to the stage, clumping up the steps as the crowd catcalled and hollered about them. With a cheeky salute and a kiss, he finished his career as a stripper by carrying her offstage.
Epilogue
“So Cyn gave you a hard time for lying to me?”
Milly’s fingers trailed across his chest in a seductive dance, drawing circles on the heavy muscle and tracing the outline of his nipple. Johnny rumbled approval deep in his chest and opened an eye to look at her.
“Yes and no, she was too busy laughing at me being a sexbot at first. When we came back, though, yeah…I got an earful.”
Both nak*d, they were sprawled across the bed in the main cabin of the Little Flame, the midrange cruiser Milly had bought when her divorce settlement finally came through. With her ex no longer around and no one to challenge the ruling anymore, she’d become a very wealthy woman, even if the Fleet’s Witchfinder, Lindsey, had advised her to stay in the outer rings, out of reach of Templeton’s powerful family.
He shifted, her silken skin sliding against his, and ignored the temptation to roll her over, part her thighs and sink into her welcoming heat. He’d already kept her up all night and they were about to come into orbit around Traxos Three, a planet looking for more colonists. A planet that might become their home.
“I’m sorry I lied to you. But I’d do it all again to get you to love me.”
He reached for her hand and drew it to his lips, kissing the gold band on her ring finger. A matching one glinted on his own hand, placed there only hours before they’d headed to Traxos on their honeymoon trip. Rather than picking a new apartment to live in, they were going for a whole new planet.
She smiled. Soft and warm, with her hair in a tousled cloud around her face, she reminded him of a sleepy kitten, sated and content.
“You didn’t need to get me to do anything. You had me when you told me cyborgs aren’t bossy…” She walked her fingers across his chest. “But you lied. Cyborgs appear to be incredibly bossy.”
He grimaced and opened his mouth to apologize, but she laid a finger over his lips and shook her head. Mischief and heat danced in her eyes, the expression so sexy it stole his breath away.
“How about you show me again just how bossy you can be?