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

of year, Zanita could only

wonder, but she was touched that Tyber had remembered they were one of her

favorite flowers.

The table was so elegant, she almost felt silly sitting there in her knock-about

jeans and sweater.

She was just about to take a sip of Crystal when an uncomfortable thought hit

her.

What was Tyber up to?

This was very extravagant for a congratulatory dinner. She sneaked a peak at him

over the rim of her glass. The man looked totally innocent, which meant he was

definitely up to something.

Tyber also drank his champagne, wondering if he had timed this right. It wasn't

that he hadn't given it a great deal of thought. Left to her own devices, Zanita

would never make the commitment he was seeking from her. Their collaboration on

the LaLeche story was over; it was time to start a new one.

He wanted her to stay here.

Frankly, he was surprised that she hadn't broached the subject of moving back to

her apartment yet.

Tyber did not delude himself; she just hadn't gotten around to it. He knew his

Zanita. As soon as it occurred to her, as soon as her circumstances smacked of

his being her significant other, she would definitely be Gone With The Wind.

But Tyber had no intention of letting her go. He was not something to be given

up, like red meat. Or an aberration. He was hers, and he knew that deep down

inside, she knew it. If he could only get her to admit it…

"Zanita." He reached across the table to take her hand in his. "I was wondering

if you would like to—"

"There's a bloke on the telephone for ye, Captain," Blooey called him from the

doorway. "He says he's the engineer from Space Age Systems what ye spoke to the

other day."

Tyber raised his eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders at Zanita's questioning look.

"Excuse me."

While he went to answer the phone, Zanita took the chicken's way out by telling

Blooey she was finished, complimenting him for the lovely meal. She quickly

escaped to the bedroom, where she decided to take a nice long hot bath.

What had he been about to ask her?

Whatever it was, it had "relationship" written over it. She broke out into a

cold sweat even with the hot bath water surrounding her. She squeezed her eyes

shut, not wanting to deal with this, but knowing she was going to have to.

Okay, so he wasn't Steve or Rick or even remotely like any other man she had

met, but after her experiences with the opposite sex, just the thought of a

relationship with his kind gave her the dry heaves. Men didn't mean to be… men,

they just were. They couldn't help it.

They were bad for your health.

Men should come with a warning label: Caution. Prolonged use is dangerous to

your peace of mind.

Leave. She was going to have to leave. Soon. Tomorrow, at lunch time, she'd go

air out her apartment, get it ready for her imminent return.

The decision was made.

She would tell Tyber when he came upstairs.

When she came out of the bathroom, he was lying on his side, fully clothed on

top of the bed quilts. Elbow bent, the side of his face nestled in the palm of

his hand, he regarded her from under hooded lids.

Zanita tightened the sash on her robe, marching resolutely to the bed. She

didn't like that look on his face.

Somewhere, she was sure she had read it was always best to throw your opponent

off by speaking first, on a totally different subject than the one you really

wanted to speak about. Loosen him up. Get his hackles nice and smooth. Then,

whamo! He's agreeing with whatever you say before he realizes it.

"What did the engineer want? Was it something to do with LaLeche?"

"No." His free arm came up around her shoulders, dragging her down beside him on

the bed. "He wanted to know if I'd be interested in doing some consulting work

on a project they're doing for a movie which revolves around VR."

"Oh. Did you take the job?"

"Uh-uh." His index finger traced along the opening of her robe. The slow action

unnerved her.

"Why not?"

"It would mean being out in California for extended stretches. I didn't want to

leave you for so long." His eyes met hers. "You might get lonely rattling around

this big house by yourself."

Why did she always get the feeling that he knew what she was up to? Courage. She

sucked in a deep breath. "Tyber, we need to talk about this—"

"Hey, look," he interrupted her, "one of the tropical fish is staring straight

at you with a strange glint in its eye."

"Where?" She peered over her shoulder at the tank. He swooped across her.

"Zanita, really, how could a fish affect a strange glint?" His eyes danced with

mirth. And something else. Something suspiciously close to the quarter deck.

"If they're your fish, they could. Get off!"

"Know how fish kiss? Like this." His open mouth covered her own. He raised his

head, strands of his hair brushing across the peaks of her breasts.

"They look like this, don't they?"

Pressing his lips together, he sucked in his cheeks, causing his lips to bow out

like a fish's mouth. Leaving his mouth tightly closed, he moved his pursed lips

up and down while crossing his eyes. It was the funniest thing she had ever

seen.

Peals of laughter caused her to clutch her stomach.

Tyber untied the sash on her robe, bending over to nibble her midriff with his

undulating fish lips. Zanita couldn't stop laughing. It tickled and every time

he raised his head to stare at her with those crossed eyes and moving lips, she

was gone.

It wasn't until much later, after they had made love—Zanita was still

laughing—that she realized he had used the same technique on her that she was

going to use on him. He had expertly shifted her focus.

The apartment looked so small.

So empty.

So cold.

Zanita stood in the doorway observing her digs with the eyes of a stranger. What

had seemed so adequate before now seemed barren. Bleak. It was bleak.

She walked into the musty living-cum-bedroom. One room and a kitchenette. That's

what it was. Not a home. A place for singles, students, and transients.

It was depressing.

The fold-away couch lay open, as she usually left it, being too lazy to