High Energy, Joy, Dara [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

breathing. Then her catchy, mewling sounds, begging him for…

something, anything…

Followed by her whimpering sob. His throaty growl. Their sighs.

They collapsed together back on the bed, Tyber still holding her close to him,

his open mouth clinging to the damp skin of her neck. Leisurely, he swept the

vulnerable spot with a slow lick of his hot tongue. Zanita still shivered

beneath his touch.

"So, you see"—he nuzzled her just below her ear—"what I mean by High Energy."

"Mmm." She curled up around him. "Not a relationship; an experiment." Her face

was smiling as she drifted off into a sated slumber.

The corner of Tyber's mouth twitched in a roguish grin as he gazed down at her

sleeping in his arms. The battle was won. His satiated purr, the victor against

her dreaming lips. "A rose by any other name, my Zanita."

He lowered the Jolly Roger.

Chapter Fourteen

« ^ »

"People of Earth, do not be frightened—we are your friends."

Uh-huh. Whenever an alien said that in a nineteen-fifties sci-fi movie, all the

armed forces on the planet were immediately mobilized in a rapid montage of

black-and-white stock-footage clips. Yep. There go the Brits, the Russians, the

Chinese, what looked suspiciously like a German U-boat, and for some

inexplicable reason, the U.S. Navy—just in case the aliens were sub-mariners.

Then came the spinning newspaper headlines: Aliens among us!; U.N. Meets to

Discuss Alien Menace!; Who Goes There?; and the ever-popular call to salvation,

There's Still Time, Brother!

Zanita lay back down on the couch in the den, shoveling popcorn into her mouth.

Half her attention was on the TV screen in front of her; the other half was

mulling over recent events.

Almost a week had passed since LaLeche's visit—or extortion attempt—and they

still were not any closer to exposing him. Tyber didn't seem particularly

concerned with their lack of progress, but it was starting to worry her. How

long should she give it?

It wasn't that she was in any hurry to leave Tyber's home— just the opposite if

the truth be told.

And therein lay the problem.

She loved living here: Blooey's fussing over them, the scent of his wonderful

cooking filling the house; Hambone's cozy company; Tyber's sweet albeit

commanding nature; the house itself—an enchanting haven so utterly a home.

She had adored the fall season in this house—the change of leaves, Blooey's late

harvest and squash everywhere, after-work hot drinks on the porch or sun room

with Tyber wrapped warmly around her, fireplaces lit in the evening to ward off

the brisk chill, the cat curled up on the rug.

It was easy to look forward to the winter at My Father's Mansion.

Zanita imagined Tyber's private, walled world blanketed in white—evenings by the

fire, wrapped in her Victorian shawl, reading, cold nights cuddling together

under the soft quilts in his shell bed, cozy as clams….

It wasn't good.

In fact, it was going to be incredibly hard to leave here. And the longer she

stayed, the harder it was going to get. There was only one thing she could do;

she was going to have to set a deadline and stick by it. Story accomplished or

not, when the deadline came, she was going to have to leave.

The thought was depressing.

So how long did she wait? At least until after Thanksgiving. Before Auntie had

left, she had given Zanita her customary Thanksgiving dinner invitation to her

home in Wellesley. Of course, Hank and her grandmother would be there; it was a

family tradition, and there was no way she could get out of it. Auntie had

extended the invitation to Tyber and Blooey as well. Which meant they would all

be going as a unit. Zanita thought it would just be too awkward if she moved out

around that time.

Before Christmas?

Hmm. Blooey had seemed depressed that he wasn't going to be making Thanksgiving

dinner, so Tyber had cheered him up by promising him he could make a big

Christmas feast. He had already mentioned to her inviting her grandparents and

Mills, since Mills didn't have any close family and she usually spent the

holidays with Zanita's family. Tyber had even graciously included Auntie.

How could she mess up everyone's holiday?

This was getting increasingly tangled. She sighed. Here was prime reinforcement

of her new tenet: Nothing was ever simple when a man was involved.

"Colonel, the aliens are demanding a meeting with the King of Rock and Roll."

Zanita gaped at the set, a popcorn kernel balanced on her lips.

Tyber stood in the doorway, chuckling. "What are you watching?" He leaned

against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aliens Uber Alles."

Another man would have scoffed at her choice of entertainment. But then, other

men weren't Doc Evans. "And you didn't call me?" He seemed miffed that he had

missed the beginning of the movie.

"I thought you were helping Blooey give Hambone a bath."

Tyber didn't respond verbally, just held up both forearms, which now sported two

long scratches.

"That's terrible! Shame on Hambone."

"He gets me every time, the scalawag." He sauntered into the room, sprawling

down on the carpet in front of the couch. Zanita held out the bowl of popcorn.

They watched the movie in companionable silence, occasionally making their usual

comments. Tyber rested back against the couch, the top of his head brushing

against her thigh. Every now and then his hand came up over his shoulder in a

blind search for the popcorn bowl. A couple of times he playfully missed,

tweaking her leg instead.

From her vantage point draped across the sofa, Zanita had an excellent view of

his long, muscular, jean-clad legs. Personal experience told her his thighs

really were as powerful as they appeared encased in those hugging pants. He

looked as sexy to her now as he had the first moment she had seen him.

The effect he had on her would never change.

Tyber was that rare type of man whose masculinity was always apparent, no matter

what he was doing. He was the only man she had ever known who could turn her on

simply by being there. Zanita was constantly crazy for the feel of him.

She exhaled, briefly debating whether or not to lean over, lift his thick fall

of hair, and nibble-kiss the back of his neck. Reluctantly, she decided against

it; such an action would undoubtedly lead to them missing the rest of the movie.

The other-worldly music suddenly increased in volume, letting the