Lucan placed a hand on her belly. “How long does it take a baby dragonshaper to be born?”
“I don’t know.” She placed her hand over his. “But if they grow as fast as I heal, we’re going to be parents quite soon.”
“Are they empathic, too?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She squeezed his hand. “This is new territory for me, too.”
“It’s going to be new for everyone on Earth. Those of my people in Arthur’s bloodline will turn into dragonshapers.”
“Will that be so terrible?”
He laughed. “I’m looking forward to adding to the Pendragon legacy.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “How do you feel about staying here and having a large family?”
“So do you have marriages on Earth?”
Lucan rolled away from Cael, and immediately she missed his heat.
He sank onto one knee. “Cael, my love, will you do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me?”
Cael scooted out of bed and kneeled, too. “I will.” Heat rose to her cheeks. “Are we married now?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Not yet. We’ll have a huge ceremony and a feast. You’ll wear a beautiful white dress. My mother and sister will never forgive me if we don’t have a celebration.”
“They won’t mind that I’m a dragonshaper?”
“Are you kidding? They have my blood. They’re going to be dragonshapers, too.”
“With so many dragonshapers on Earth, even if the Tribes do invade, we should be strong enough to protect our children.”
Merlin flew in through a window and hooted. How the owl had gotten in, Cael didn’t know. Or care.
She was too busy kissing her future husband.
LOOK FOR THE NEXT
SEXY ROMANCE
IN THE
PENDRAGON LEGACY
SERIES!
•
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Rion
Available in mass market December 2009
1
London, the near future
You call that relaxing?” A deep male voice reverberated through the exercise room, and Marisa Roarke opened her eyes. “Meditation is so overrated.”
Rion Jaqard stalked with predatory zeal across the Trafalgar Hotel’s workout room, flung a towel onto a chair, and whipped off his shirt before sliding onto the weight bench.
The few times Marisa had run into Rion at her brother Lucan’s apartment, she’d noticed Rion was built. But she hadn’t realized he was so solid. Talk about walking testosterone. She’d bet even his sweat had muscles.
Trying to ignore the size of Rion’s very broad, very muscular chest, she frowned. “These days I find relaxing pretty much like trying to fly with only one wing.”
Conversation over. She shut her eyes again, trusting he’d take the hint, and attempted to banish the image of his ripped chest and totally toned, totally etched abs.
Damn it. It wasn’t like her to be so aware of a man’s physique—even if he was half naked, and a very yummy half at that.
Rion was from the planet Honor, and if all Honorians were built like Rion, Earth’s women would be rioting for interplanetary travel visas. Of course, no such documents existed. Not since the United Nations had shut down travel from Earth to the rest of the galaxy.
Still—she sneaked another glance. All that maleness was dazzling. From the manly wisps of black chest hair to his rugged profile to his sharp and confident movements, he was drawing her attention like a London tourist attraction.
Stop. Just look somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Marisa had thought herself past the age of ogling men. Her atypical reaction had to be caused by a fifteen-hour shift, exhaustion, and her not-so-successful attempt to erase the emotional aftereffects of dealing with her oversexed clients.
She closed her eyes. Out. Out. Out. Rounding up the stray emotions, she corralled them into a tiny corner of her mind, then squashed down hard.
But she couldn’t block out the man across the room. The weights clinked as Rion raised and lowered them, and Marisa peeked again through her lowered lashes. The guy was gorgeous.
“Hard day?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.” The one-on-one telepathy she’d signed up for wouldn’t have been this taxing, but after Marisa had begun her new job, she’d discovered her ability to communicate with an entire group, which meant she was exposed to all of their emotions at once.
Don’t think about work.
Unclenching her teeth, she forced her lips to part, breathed deeply through her nose, and told the muscles in her aching neck to loosen. Or at least to stop throbbing so she could go up to her hotel room and sleep.
“Maybe lifting would relax you. If you need help, I could spot you.”
“No, thanks.”
Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Surely by now even his oversized biceps had to be burning, his lungs aching for oxygen. But he didn’t sound out of breath.
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Meditation works better in silence,” she said calmly, pleased that her voice didn’t give away how aware she was of the way his buttocks tightened and relaxed in a fascinating rhythm that made her mouth go dry.
“Seems to me your meditation isn’t working.”
He was right. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. A light gleam of sweat glistened on his skin, emphasizing his muscles as he set the weights down, then perused her with a raking gaze. “Your pulse rate’s over one thirty.”
Hell. Any women within ten meters of him would have an elevated pulse. “Are you deliberately trying to annoy me, or do you come by it naturally?”
She expected him to take off, but he grabbed his towel, slung it over his shoulders, and wiped the sweat from his brow. And gave her a look brazen enough to heat every flat in London—for the entire winter. “There are better ways to relax.”
“Like?” Marisa couldn’t prevent a tiny smile raising the corners of her lips.
He took that for an opening. Of course, he would. She doubted anyone had ever told him no. Approaching with pantherlike movements, he sat on the mat behind her and placed his palms on her shoulders.
She should have pulled away. Should have told him to keep his hands to himself.
But she couldn’t. Not when he felt so damn good.
Gently, ever so slowly, he kneaded her neck and caressed her shoulders with a sensual thoroughness that melted away the tension. Circling in on the tight spots with soothing caresses, he feathered his fingertips over her sore muscles.
Her pulse leapt. She swallowed hard.
Rion eased the heels of his palms into her tight shoulders with lingering, luscious strokes. After several wondrous minutes, he leaned forward and his breath fanned her ear. “You carry tension in the neck.”
“I do?” She sighed and leaned into his hands, grateful for the relief.
He kneaded gently, gradually going deeper, until her muscles melted, until she felt as warm and pliable as taffy. His fingers were so clever, but as he released one kind of tension, a sensuous anticipation began to build.
She was relaxed. Yet filled with expectation. She jerked upright.
“Am I too hard for you?” he asked, almost sounding innocent.
She made a choking sound. He was sitting behind her, but she could see his chiseled face reflected in the mirrors and caught a gleam in his eyes. “My hands. Am I pushing too hard?”
“You feel great. And you damn well know it.” She lifted an eyebrow and shot him an I-know-what-you’reup-to look.
But she really had no idea what his intentions were. He may have been a first-class flirt with other women, but he’d always treated her like a pesky sister. What was going on here?
Even if he was only being friendly, she shouldn’t be encouraging him. For one thing, Rion was her brother’s friend. And for another, perhaps more importantly, she wasn’t into one-nighters.
Was his voice a bit too husky, or was she so starved for male attention that she didn’t know when a man was simply being kind? She cast him a suspicious glance. “From what I hear, you’ve had lots of practice.”
Rion rubbed a knot next to her spine, applying tension until the tightness ebbed, and for a moment she wished he could rub away the old psychological wounds. Ever since her divorce seven years earlier, Marisa hadn’t trusted any man who wasn’t related to her by blood.
She had to give Rion credit, though, when he didn’t deny his active social life. “You have an Earth saying, ‘Practice makes perfect.’ But I’m not certain if a massage can ever be perfect. After all, there are so many variations of where to touch… how to touch… when to touch…”
Surely no one could accidentally be that suggestive—not even a man from another planet. No doubt when she fell asleep, she’d dream about where and how and when he would touch her next.
Leaning forward, he whispered into her ear, “Did you know you have a very sexy neck?” His gray eyes met hers in the mirror, and she could have sworn they smoldered. When he brushed a wispy tendril from her nape, heat shimmied down her spine.
Okay. They’d gone at least two steps beyond awkward, she scooted from under his hands and stood. “Thanks. It’s been a long day. I need to hit the sack.”
“Good night, Marisa.” He stood, too, and grabbed his shirt. As she left the workout room, he called out to her. “Pleasant dreams.”
Pleasant was out of the question. Sizzling hot was more like it.
AND THE LEGEND
CONTINUES
IN THE STUNNING
THIRD ROMANCE OF THE
PENDRAGON LEGACY
SERIES!
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Jordan
Available in mass market March 2010
-1-
“Damn it, Jordan. You lied to me.” Vivianne Blackstone, CEO of the Vesta Corporation, tapped the incriminating report against her leg and restrained her urge to fling it at Jordan McArthur, her chief engineer. The world was in a total meltdown after learning an ancient enemy had infiltrated Earth’s governments and major industries, and Vivianne was determined to keep her Draco project safe.
Head throbbing, she stared at the spaceship’s complex wiring. The Draco had to fly as planned. It had to work out. So much was riding on this venture to find the lost and legendary Holy Grail. Vesta’s future. Earth’s future. Her future. Everything she’d ever wanted, everyone she’d ever loved, might be lost if this project didn’t succeed.
When Jordan didn’t respond, she nudged his foot with her shoe. “I’m talking to you.”
Lying on the deck with his head halfway through a hatch, Jordan shifted until she could just see his intense golden brown eyes.
“I heard. How did I lie to you?”
She dropped the papers, but she’d already lost his attention to the ship. He’d wriggled back inside the compartment, pulling another wire to hook into the circuits, no doubt following an electrical schematic that existed only inside his head.
He threaded a wire into a panel box of delicately networked circuits. “Hand me a screwdriver.”
Scowling at his back, she slapped the tool into his hand. “Tell me these findings are wrong,” Vivianne demanded.
“What findings?” His profile, rugged and somber, remained utterly still, except for a tiny tick in his jaw that told her he was unhappy she’d interrupted his work. He wouldn’t even have a job if not for her—and he would lose it, if he didn’t come up with a satisfactory explanation for why his entire résumé had been one big, fat lie.
“You’ve never attended Harvard. Never got your PhD at MIT. Never taught at Cambridge.”
“The Phillips head.” He held out his hand again, and this time his voice was laced with impatience. “It’s the screwdriver with an X on the tip.”
Like she didn’t know a Phillips head when she saw one? While her specialty was communications technology, she’d designed and built her first hydrogen rocket by age twelve. However, when it came to spaceship design, Jordan was the go-to guy.
Despite his doctored résumé, the man knew his aeronautical engineering. From hull design to anti-grav wiring, no detail on the Draco was too small for Jordan to reengineer and make more efficient.
One of Jordan’s engineers spoke over the ship’s intercom. “These voltage converter equations can’t be right.”
“They are,” Jordan answered evenly.
“They’re frying the circuits.” The man’s frustration was evident in his tone.
“Sean, you’ll find a way to keep them humming. You always do.”
“I’m stumped.”
“I’ll give you a hand as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“But I’m sure you’ll figure it out before then.”
Sean chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”
While this was a side of Jordan she hadn’t seen, his encouragement didn’t surprise her. But it wasn’t his leadership skills she questioned. Vivianne’s gut churned. “Jordan, we really need to talk.”
“So talk.”
Vivianne paused and considered precisely what to say. She’d already made one mistake by hiring Jordan before he’d been properly vetted. She couldn’t afford to make another—like accusing him outright of being a spy.
“As the first hyperspace ship to carry a full crew, the Draco has caught the imagination and attention of the masses. Everything we do is headline news, and when the press finds out that my chief engineer falsified his employment application—”
“Damn it, Vivianne, I know what I’m doing.”
“To the public, a liar is a liar. And if you lied to get a job, they’ll think you’ve lied about the Draco during our press conferences.”
“So we don’t tell anyone. Problem solved.” Vivianne pinched the bridge of her nose to ease her headache. “But if your lies come to light, you don’t just lose your job, you ruin my credibility. My company’s reputation. It could crash Vesta’s stock.”
Jordan threaded one of myriad wires into a nexus of circuitry. “As long as this ship doesn’t crash, your stock will be fine.”
She could handle the business end. Hell, if she put his picture on the news, the female half of the planet would fall in love at first sight and forgive him anything. The gorgeous face of Mr. Dark, Tough, and Brilliant might just sway the general population and perhaps her stockholders, as well.
What she couldn’t handle was a traitor.
“What other lies have you told me?” she asked. “Whatever would get me this job.”
“Real inspiring. Why didn’t you respond to the memo I sent last week?”
“If I spent all my time reading your memos, how would I get anything done?”
“You’ve installed miles of wiring that isn’t in the specs.”
“We’re ahead of schedule, so why are you concerned?”
“I suppose you’ll say the same about the cancellation of the prototype cosmic-energy converter?”
He merely arched a brow.
She frowned. Before she’d known about his lies, she’d shrugged off his changes to necessary modifications. But could it be more?
In a desperate attempt to suppress her frustration, Vivianne reminded herself how far she’d come. Peering at the Draco’s shiny metal, she had difficulty believing they’d built this ship in just over three months. Almost every system was a new design, and although the number of things that could go wrong was almost infinite, she had high hopes for success.
“If the story of your doctored credentials leaks, our client may get cold feet,” she explained.
“Chen won’t back out.” Jordan sounded completely certain.
She didn’t bother to keep the exasperation from her voice. “Billionaires willing to buy a spaceship in order to search the galaxy for the Holy Grail aren
’t a dime a dozen.”
Jordan grunted.
“If Chen does back out, I’ll have to refund his investment. And with the way you’ve been spending, not even I have that much credit.”
“Down to your last few billion, are you?” Jordan teased without glancing in her direction.
She clenched her fists in irritation. “That’s not the point. Maybe we can break the news, spin it in our favor.” She pictured an advantageous story. Something like, ‘Genius engineer discovered.’ “Then the article could go on to praise you and some little-known college. I’ll have my PR department put together a package.”
“Not a good idea.”
His golden eyes glittered dangerously, and his response made her uneasy. Something wasn’t right. He should be grateful that she was willing to fix the publicity nightmare he’d created. Instead he was acting like a man with something else to hide. But what?
“Do you always make contingencies for contingencies?” he asked.
She snorted. Orphaned at age ten, Vivianne had become a ward of the state. Control became her life-line. She planned her days from start to finish. She arranged her appointments, both business and personal, to the minute, and any disruption was cause to work twice as hard to get back on schedule. She’d used her obsession to earn herself a first-class education and to build a successful small business into a worldwide conglomerate.
The downside of running a huge company, however, was that she had to rely on others. Brilliant engineers like Jordan didn’t give a damn about her minute-to-minute expectations. Jordan got the job done—but he certainly didn’t do things her way.
“In your case, I haven’t planned enough.”
Jordan rubbed his ear and stood, reminding her just how tall and broad he was. But if he was attempting to use his size to intimidate her, he’d learn she didn’t back down. He was, after all, her employee.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “You have someone else who can build the Draco on budget and under deadline?” He didn’t wait for her reply. They both knew the answer was no. “Where did you go to school?”
Lucan Page 28