Caid: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides #3 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Cara Bristol

  I didn’t understand her meaning. Was she calling me crazy? Sometimes I felt like it. Sometimes she drove me crazy. “I only want you, Jessie.”

  “Yeah, well, about that. That’s why I’m calling. The system found a new woman for you. A 100 percent match. This has only happened one other time in all the years I’ve been with the IDA—”

  “No!” I leaped to my feet, knocking over my chair. If she’d knifed me in the chest, the pain couldn’t have been greater. This was why she’d called? To fix me up again? I couldn’t take any more. This had to stop now.

  “Absolutely not. No more dates. No more females. Enough.” The restaurant had fallen silent as patrons gawked, but I didn’t care. Fury raged through me. I had done everything asked of me. I had met with all the females, I’d attended the classes, I’d gone to the mixer, I’d given Jessie a name—and she’d gotten mad at me! Why wouldn’t this stubborn female listen to me? Why couldn’t she recognize what was before her own eyes? I felt tricked, almost betrayed. I never should have shown up here.

  “You should meet her. I think…I hope you’ll like her. Are you at the restaurant?”

  “I’m leaving right now. I’m finished,” I said. “I refuse to meet any more females.”

  “Too late. She’s already here.”

  The door swung open, and Jessie entered. Phone pressed to her ear, she scanned the dining room floor, and then her shy gaze locked on mine.

  She wobbled toward me, balancing on ridiculous Terran stilts. The unsteady gait did not detract from her enticing curves, outlined by a clingy, green tunic. She’d painted her face, outlining her eyes, coloring her lashes, cheeks, and lips.

  “Hi,” she said in a breathy voice. She dropped her phone into her bag and clutched the strap. She wet her lips. “I’m Jessie. The Intergalactic Dating Agency sent me. I’m your date.”

  “I don’t understand.” I yearned to believe her, to accept her words, but I’d been disappointed too many times.

  “The IDA matched us.”

  “Don’t the rules prohibit it?”

  “Technically—yes.”

  “Technically?”

  “The agency isn’t aware, but I filled out a client profile. You and I came up a 100 percent match in the system.”

  My head jerked as her words hit like a slap. “That’s why you’re here? Because the system matched us?” She put more stock into what the IDA computer said than her own emotions, than my feelings? She’d accept me if the computer said she should?

  “No! No, Caid, no.” Flaming hair flounced around her face as she shook her head. “Please don’t believe that. I’m not saying this right. I’m nervous. I’ve never done this before.”

  “Done what before?”

  “Come right out and told a man I liked him and wanted to be with him.”

  A glow ignited in my chest and expanded, growing brighter and warmer, spreading through my entire body.

  “I’m sorry I was so stubborn and stupid—”

  “Beautiful and lovable—” I corrected her. Stupid? Definitely not. Stubborn? Well…

  “I don’t know why you like me.” She combed her fingers through her curls. “My hair is frizzy, I’m dumpy, homely—”

  I grabbed her and covered her mouth with mine, silencing her self-directed tirade. The way she viewed herself was not the way I saw her, the way she was. I let my heart speak to her, demonstrating with my actions how much I hungered for her, adored her. I swung her into my arms and twirled her around. The diners in the restaurant clapped and whistled.

  When I set her on her feet, her face had flushed a deep pink, but her grin stretched from ear to ear, and, for the first time, I realized the blush originated from happiness, not displeasure. She glanced at the gawking people and hunched her shoulders. “Um…maybe we should sit?”

  Slipping her bag off her shoulder, she reached to set it on the chair, but dropped it. As I bent to retrieve it, the Best of the Worst: 1001 Pickup Lines to Nail a Chick slipped from my tunic pocket. I lunged for it, but it hit the floor with a splat. I grabbed for it, but she scooped it up.

  “What’s this?”

  My horns contracted with embarrassment, and my face heated with humiliation. I’d strived to impress her, to appear confident and strong so she would never doubt I could and would protect her, care for her, love her. Now, she would know how unsure of myself I’d been—I’d had to seek guidance to woo my own mate.

  “It’s my…study guide,” I admitted. “I tried to learn how to talk to you so you would…like me.”

  “Where did you get this?”

  “At Timeless Treasures, an antique store.” I picked up her bag and placed it on the chair. I’d never felt so uncomfortable in all my life. What would she think of me?

  She flipped through the pages of my tome, reading aloud: “I was feeling a little off today, but when you came along, you turned me on… Is it hot in here or is it just you… I have no words; your beauty leaves me speechless…” The corners of her lips twitched, and her eyes danced. “This is why you said such crazy stuff to me? You thought Pickup Lines to Nail a Chick was a study guide?” She laughed.

  My horns practically shriveled on my head.

  “Oh, Caid. I love you.” She flung herself at me and hugged me hard. “You…studmuffin, you.” She giggled.

  Confusion rippled through me, but Jessie was holding me and telling me she loved me. I wrapped my arms around her.

  “Those nicknames—‘babe,’ ‘doll,’ ‘sweet cheeks’—you were trying to impress me!” she said, her eyes wide.

  “I never called anybody but you those names.” I sought her gaze. “You’re not disappointed in me?”

  “I’m touched you tried so hard. I should have realized something was going on.”

  We were still standing in the middle of the restaurant. The other diners had resumed eating and conversing but continued to glance our way. “Are you hungry? Do you wish to eat? Or maybe you would like to go someplace where we could be alone? Maybe back to my hut?”

  Her lips curved with a teasing smile, and she tilted her head. “Are you inviting me to see your etchings?” She toyed with a button on my shirt.

  “I don’t have any etchings,” I answered. Where did one acquire etchings? If she wanted them, I would get them for her.

  “Oh, Caid.” She giggled and shook her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where’s your vehicle?” I asked her outside the restaurant.

  “I parked a block away—the closest spot I could find.” She wobbled on her footwear as we went to retrieve the car. Pleased to have any excuse to touch her, I took her arm to steady her, but I had to ask, “Your footwear makes it difficult to walk. Why do you wear it?”

  “Because it makes me taller.”

  “But you are you, no matter what height you are.”

  “Heels are my secret confidence booster. I wear them when I face a situation where I don’t feel comfortable.”

  “You don’t feel comfortable with me?”

  “I do now.” She marched unsteadily, not looking at me. “But it was scary to enter the restaurant. I kept thinking, what if I’m wrong? What if you were playing with me? Or what if you had been serious, but I’d driven you away? So, I lured you here by not telling you I would be the one meeting you. I was chicken.”

  “If you called, I would come,” I said. Whatever, whenever she needed anything, I would provide it for her. She was my mate. My life partner. I was bonded to her.

  “I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you.”

  We reached her car, and I stopped her before she opened the door. Streetlights and passing vehicles lit up the night, but enough darkness remained for doubts to hide. She had no reason to fear my reaction ever; my devotion remained absolute. However, I empathized with her worries. Uncertainty had lurked in the back of my mind—what if I couldn’t convince her we were meant to be together? Even yet, I hadn’t voiced what needed to be said.

  Enough equivocation. The
moment had come to settle our future. The Fates did not err. She and I were meant to be together.

  I’d intended to ask the all-important question when we could be alone, not standing on the street where vehicles streamed by in a beam of light, where pedestrians rushed past, where sirens, music, and horns pierced the night.

  But, the right time was right now.

  I grasped her shoulders and sought her gaze. “From the moment I met you, I knew there could be no other female for me. You filled my heart with joy, and my body with pleasure. I recognized you were my one-and-only female. You coming to meet me today has given me hope you see the same future that I do. I do not wish to ‘date’ you, Jessie. I desire to spend every day of my life with you, go to sleep at night with you by my side, and have kits with you.”

  The study guide couldn’t help me as it dealt only with Earth customs. The Dakonian way wasn’t addressed. “On my planet, a male and female are bonded for life when he asks her to be his mate and she accepts.” I dropped to one knee. “Jessie Hancock of Earth…will you be my mate?”

  Chapter Nine

  Jessie

  Honking cars whizzed past. Hunching their shoulders, pedestrians chatted into phones as they strode down the sidewalk. A drunk, reeking of alcohol and mumbling to himself, hung onto to the building as he staggered down the street. This had to be the most unlikely, ridiculous venue for a proposal, yet it was so totally like Caid. Unpredictable, crazy, romantic, courageous. He lived his emotions. If he felt it, he expressed it. He didn’t hide or pretend or avoid or play it safe. He was willing to risk everything for love. He’d left his home planet to travel across the galaxy to an alien world, and although I’d rejected him time after time, he’d never given up trying to woo me.

  I had to be the dumbest woman on Earth not to have seen the truth. His intentions were crystal clear and always had been.

  He stared up at me, his expression adoring and hopeful, and my heart melted into a puddle of love right there. “Yes!” I nodded. “Yes, I will.”

  “Obah!” He leaped to his feet. “Obah! She said yes!” he shouted to the passersby, his exuberance revealing not only his joy, but his uncertainty over my answer. Why wouldn’t a woman be thrilled to have him? It floored me. How could this wickedly handsome, sexy guy who drew women like flies have been uncertain about me?

  Maybe because I pushed him away all those times? Kept throwing other women at him? Shot down all his overtures? Ignored him. Refused his calls…

  It was a miracle he was speaking to me, but a proposal? If he hadn’t been so persistent, this moment would never have happened.

  Caid laid a searing lip-lock on me, whirling me around until I squealed and begged him to put me down. He grinned, and I grinned, and I couldn’t wait to get him alone.

  He palmed my face, kissed me again then released me. “Let’s go, sugar!” He smacked my butt.

  “You’ll have to tell me how to get to your condo again. I don’t remember where it is,” I said as I unlocked the car, and we got in. I’d been too drunk to notice anything after the mixer, and too upset to pay attention when I’d fled the next morning. Caid and I had experienced misunderstandings and misinterpretations, but all our missteps had been relegated to the past. This would be a brand new, rosy future.

  I eased into traffic, and Caid directed me, telling me when and where to turn, while I mentally pinched myself. Was this happening? Dreams did come true.

  “Why did the IDA match us now and not before?” he asked.

  “Because I hadn’t filled out a profile or taken the assessment test until yesterday.”

  “I thought employees weren’t allowed.”

  “They’re not.” I looked at him. “I used a fake name for the profile.” I had called myself Honey Azúcar in honor of Caid’s many nicknames. Azúcar meant sugar in Spanish. Since Caid had rejected all previous matches and been placed in an expedited status, I’d been granted the authority to use my best judgment in finding him a date.

  I’d decided to join the agency under the Honey Azúcar alias, and then assign her to him, but we’d turned out to be 100 percent compatible. The computer would have defaulted to her anyway. If I’d followed my inclination and done the assessment test when I’d first thought of it, we would have been paired, and we could have avoided months of heartache.

  Trust your gut; listen to your heart. My motto from now on.

  If the director checked the status reports, she’d only see Caid had been matched with a new client not in the system when he first joined. Perfect solution. I patted myself on the back for my “out of the box” thinking.

  “Turn right at the light,” he said. “Then take a left at the stop sign.”

  I followed his instructions, and we ended up at a gated, luxury townhome complex I vaguely remembered. He gave me his PIN, and I keyed it into the kiosk, the wrought iron gates swung open, and we entered the beautifully landscaped and artfully illuminated development. A citrusy scent wafted into the interior of my car, and I realized many of the trees along the winding drive were oranges. Others I recognized as jacaranda, not in bloom yet, but come spring they would blossom out with purple flowers.

  I wound around a sprawling clubhouse, passing a tennis court, picnic areas with barbecues, and a large spotlighted pool, vacant because it was winter. Jogging trails paralleled the road.

  The townhomes were stuccoed Spanish-style fourplexes with arched windows and doors, wrought iron architectural details, and red tiled roofs. Large balconies extended from the upper units, shading enclosed patio yards of the lower ones.

  I parked outside his unit, and Caid led the way upstairs. He unlocked his door and beckoned me to enter. His condo was the way I’d remembered it: luxurious, masculine, but stark. A dark wood coffered ceiling warmed his living room, which looked even more expansive than it was because it contained only an alien-sized leather sofa, ottoman, and the ginormous wall-mounted TV. Not a single area rug covered the gleaming, burnished wide-plank hardwood floors. His kitchen, visible from the living area, would make a chef salivate at its full array of commercial-grade stainless appliances, an abundance of richly detailed cabinets, and long stretches of smooth, white marble counters absent of a single decorative item. Everything about his unit spoke of the exceptional quality only a Dakonian’s money could buy, yet its barrenness hinted his townhouse hadn’t yet become his home.

  “How long have you lived here?” I said.

  “Six months.”

  “Oh.”

  “You can change anything you like,” he said. “I bought this place for you.”

  “For me?” I squeaked.

  “I knew as soon as we met, we were mates, and we would need a place to live.”

  His direct, forward, simple thinking floored me. “What if I hadn’t come around?”

  “Then, I would have been very lonely in a very big hut,” he said. His eyes heated with intensity. “But I would not have given up.”

  In retrospect, my refusal to get personal seemed ridiculous. I’d wasted six months and caused us unnecessary, prolonged angst. I hugged myself. “You have a nice kitchen,” I said lamely. “Do you cook?”

  “I use the flash cooker and the barbecues at the clubhouse.” He stepped close and wound a strand of my hair around his index finger. The corner of his mouth quirked. “I open beverages. Would you care for one?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He drew a tingling line from my temple to my chin. “You are so beautiful,” he growled.

  My own mother didn’t consider me attractive (“You’re lovely on the inside, dear”), so an automatic denial of the compliment leaped to the tip of my tongue, but Caid’s eyes darkened with an appreciation even I could see. He believed I was pretty. Crazy man. Crazy, wonderful man. How did I get so lucky?

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He ducked his head, and our lips met in a toe-curling tender kiss. Arousal fluttered instantly, but there was no urgency, only pleasure as our lips brushed. His felt l
ike rose petals, smooth and warm.

  I cupped his jaw, enjoying the slight bristle against my palm, and then slid my hand into his thick hair and drew the strands through my fingers. Up, up again, and I stroked a warm, leathery horn. Against my fingers it swelled and pulsed. Caid groaned and deepened the kiss, coaxing my lips to part and slipping his tongue inside my mouth.

  His exotic, spicy scent and taste filled my senses. I pressed against him, and languid desire turned impatient. I’d never expected to get a man like him. Shy, lonely Jessie had met her dream man. I didn’t regret skirting the rules so we could be together. I regretted I hadn’t done it sooner.

  “Let’s go into the other room,” he suggested.

  “All right.” My mouth dried with nervous excitement. Glad I got the implant. My doctor had recommended a subcutaneous timed-released contraceptive, STD preventative combo. Given the previous status of my love life, I’d doubted I’d need it, but now I was glad I’d followed her advice. Because here I was. This would be an awkward time to say, oopsie, let’s take a quick ride to the drugstore.

  He clasped my hand, tugging gently, and I let him lead me toward the hall.

  My heels tapped on the hardwood. “Wait a sec.” I slipped off my shoes and shrank several inches. Next to Caid, I felt tiny—a new experience for me.

  In the bedroom, he clicked on a lamp, illuminating the room with a gentle glow. In my past few sexual encounters, I’d preferred the protective cover of darkness to conceal my many imperfections, but this was Caid. I didn’t know why he hankered for me, what he saw in me, but I loved him enough to trust him. I let my shoes clunk to the floor. On his dresser, I spied the heels I’d left behind the last time.

  We kissed slowly, deeply, sweetly, and residual fears and old hurts and disappointments melted away under the onslaught of desire. Between kisses, we stripped—or rather, he undressed us both. His shirt then a kiss. My dress. A kiss. Boots. Kiss. My bra. Kiss. His pants. Oh boy. Full naked glory. My commando alien. A final searing kiss. My undies.

  Caid guided me to the bed, and we sank onto the mattress, bodies touching, hands roving. He stroked my hair, drawing his fingers through the cottony frizz before smoothing his way down my spine to cup my butt. “Obah,” he growled.