Jorlan could not fault her reasoning. “I like you very much when you kiss me.” Truth. “I like you when you make me sandwiches. I like you when you smile and laugh.”
She began to soften, only to give a savage shake of her head.
Disappointment clawed at him. “Why do you fight so hard against what you feel, katya?” Another lesson he’d received as a young lad—women were fragile creatures, and they could not handle the rougher truths about a warrior’s life. He’d never questioned the validity of such a mindset, until now.
The woman had proven her strength every minute they’d spent together. She wouldn’t be a pretty decoration in some man’s bed; she would be a partner at his side.
A concept Jorlan had never entertained before but…
I am intrigued.
Now she glanced away. To hide the emotion now glinting in her eyes? Because she feared whether or not he could handle the truth?
Chest tightening, Jorlan settled two fingers beneath her chin and turned her head so that she faced him once again.
In the amber of her eyes, he saw sadness, and it tore him up inside, guilt spreading through him like wildfire. She had saved him, yet he had brought her nothing but grief.
“Let’s forget this ever happened and go eat breakfast, okay?” she said, rubbing her temples. “After work, I’ll do some research so we won’t end up visiting another fraud.”
Forget? The image of her passion-glazed features had been seared into his mind. Long would the sweet taste of her linger in his mouth. If the little witch could easily push him from her thoughts…
I must find a way to brand myself there.
* * *
UNTIL I’M ALONE, I will not think about our kiss. I won’t!
Katie made her way through the café, chanting under her breath. The enticing aroma of fresh gourmet coffee enveloped her. Lights were dimmed for effect, the perfect contrast for the toffee-brown walls. A good-size crowd filled the tables and chairs, multiple conversations blending together.
She’d discovered this place the same day she’d closed on Jorlan’s Victorian, and she’d come here every morning since. The food was good, the drinks divine and the employees entertaining.
Frances, the middle-aged owner with frizzy gray curls and a wealth of freckles liked to bash the male species with anyone willing (or unwilling) to listen. She’d been married three times, and now swore she’d die single. Katie adored her.
“Hey, doll,” Frances called from behind the counter. “Have a seat, and I’ll be right with you.”
Katie slid into the only available booth, the shiny purple vinyl squeaking. Jorlan folded his long legs in the spot beside her, ensuring their sides touched. His spatula/weapon had to be digging into his skin, but he seemed too entranced with the goings-on around him to notice any discomfort.
A family of four sat to their right, arguing about consuming chocolate this early in the morning. Katie agreed with the kids; there was never a bad time for chocolate.
To the left, an older gentleman ate an omelet while reading a newspaper. Next to him was a pretty businesswoman Katie had seen every visit; a redhead in her early twenties, short, no more than five-one or -two, with dimples in her cheeks, curves for days, and breasts the size of watermelons that strained the buttons of her snow-white blouse. Katie’s sun-ripe tomatoes paled in comparison, and she resisted the urge to slump her shoulders.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Red glanced in Katie’s direction…before noticing Jorlan and staring, wide-eyed and openmouthed.
Would the alien want the redhead?
Something dark and hot surged through Katie. And it wasn’t jealousy or even pre-jealousy, just in case. Nope. Jorlan was her responsibility, that was all, and she had to look out for his best interests. He had a ton of work to do and couldn’t afford to be distracted by a beautiful redhead.
Still, Katie unconsciously fisted her hands as she fought the urge to launch over the table, a catapult of kicking legs and swinging arms.
Deep breath in; deep breath out.
“Do you know her?” Jorlan asked, motioning to the redhead.
“No. Why do you ask?” Hoping for an introduction?
Jorlan scratched a hand over the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. “You look as though you are on the verge of committing cold-blooded murder.”
Katie sputtered for a moment. “Who? What? Murder? Me?” She faked a laugh, but it was too brittle to be believable.
Intrigued, Jorlan looked from the girl to Katie, once, twice. “She reminds me of the females in Imperia,” he said, continuing to stroke his chin, all evil villainesque. “Delicate. Fragile, even, as if she will shatter at any second.”
“Nothing like Katie the she-beast, huh?” she muttered.
Jorlan frowned. “You think I prefer tempering my strength, never able to lose myself in the female for fear I will cause lasting harm? You think I am happy walking away only marginally satisfied?”
Her heart thudded against her ribs, and her mind whirled. Had he lied, hoping to further Katie’s seduction, or had he told the truth?
“You want your usual, doll?” The gruff female voice shattered the moment.
Katie forced her gaze to leave Jorlan and focus on Frances, who stood beside the table with a notebook in hand. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have my usual.”
Another waitress came over and set two glasses of water on the table, then raced away, never saying a word.
“What about the big guy?” Frances asked. “He wants an egg white omelet and apple slices, too?”
“The big guy can speak for himself,” Jorlan said, his tone snippy.
“Well, la-di-da to you.” Frances rolled her eyes and gave Katie a “what’s his problem” look. “So? What’ll it be? I’m just dying to hear what you want.”
Frowning, he raised the menu and studied the words. A minute passed, then another.
Francis tapped her shoe. She had a big heart for anyone in need, and little patience for everyone else. “Sometime today, big guy. I got other tables.”
With a kingly air, he dropped the menu onto the table. “I will have what Katie is having.”
“No, he won’t,” Katie said with a shake of her head. He’d said warriors like him ate meat, so, she’d get him meat. Let’s see, let’s see. Besides mayo and mustard, what would an extra-large alien enjoy having for breakfast? “He’ll have the meat lovers skillet with a double portion of bacon, a bagel with strawberry cream cheese, biscuits and sausage gravy, cheesy grits and three blueberry tarts.”
Frances looked up from her notepad, her expression incredulous. “Anything else?”
“Yes. A pecan waffle.”
After making the notation in the notepad, Frances said, “You know you’re gonna have to roll him out of here, right?” A devilish light appeared in her dark eyes, and she smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling.
Uh-oh. Katie sensed an incoming joke. Frances always had a new one.
“The night of their wedding, a young couple started making out in their honeymoon suite,” Frances began. “As they undressed, the husband, a big, burly man—” she leveled a pointed glance to Jorlan “—tossed his pants to his bride, and said, ‘Here, put these on.’ Though confused by his request, the wife did it. The waist of the pants could have looped around her twice, that’s how big they were. So she told her hubby that she couldn’t wear his pants, they were big. He told her that she was right, and to never forget it, that he was the man and he wore the pants in their family.”