“My ribs are fine. Kiss me again.”
She could tell he wasn’t going to. He looked guilty and regretful, even though his eyes were still intense and his face looked as flushed as hers felt.
And then his phone rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket. It was a blocked number calling, and after staring at it for a second, he hit Decline.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and looked at her.
“This can’t happen,” he said.
The frustration that filled her felt like anger. “Why?”
“There are a lot of reasons. You know that.”
“No. I don’t. Tell me what they are.”
He looked away for a moment. His jaw muscles were tight, and more than she’d ever wanted anything, she wanted to know what another human being was thinking.
He met her eyes again, his expression resolute. “The most important reason is that I don’t want it to.”
Airin had been collecting new experiences ever since she got to Hawaii. Now she had another to add to the list.
Rejection.
It actually hurt. Physically. Like she’d been slapped in the face and punched in the gut.
One minute he was calling her beautiful and brave and kissing her like it was the most important thing he’d ever do. The next he was standing there saying it would never happen again, because he didn’t want it to.
She wanted to say something to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. But how could she? He’d probably been with hundreds of women. He knew how to protect himself from emotional pain.
She didn’t know how to do that. She really was as naive as Hunter had said she was.
Dean’s voice came from downstairs. “Food’s here!”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Food’s here,” she said.
Then she turned, opened the door, and walked out.
Hunter had been starving half an hour ago, but now the thought of eating made him nauseated.
He closed the door Airin had just walked through, turned his back to it, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Then he pulled out his phone and called Dira back.
“It’s two in the morning your time,” he said tersely. “Why are you calling?”
“I’m in London right now. It’s seven in the morning here. And I called because I haven’t received your daily report yet. Is Airin all right?”
He leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes. “Airin’s fine. What did you think had happened to her?”
He heard Dira sigh. “I don’t know. I worry. I swear to goodness, if I had to do it all over again, I don’t know if I would have a child at all.”
For a moment he let himself imagine a world without Airin in it. A world where he’d never met her, never crashed on the Pali Highway, never missed the biosphere mission.
He’d be there with his crew right now. His life would be on track.
And he wouldn’t have the image of those chocolate-brown eyes haunting his every goddamn waking moment.
“She wants to be an astronaut.”
There was a moment of silence.
“What are you talking about?” Dira finally asked.
“Airin wants to be an astronaut.”
“She hasn’t mentioned such a thing since she was a little girl. She knows it’s impossible.”
“It’s not impossible. And I think you should help her.”
Another silence, this one longer.
“It’s out of the question,” she said, her voice flat. “As long as I’m alive, I’ll do everything in my power to keep Airin from going into space.”
He got to his feet and walked over to his window, shifting the phone from his right hand to his left. “That seems a little extreme. Why not help her do what she wants to do?”
Dira’s voice was clipped. “When I met Airin’s father, he was already a pilot. There was nothing I could do about it. It was part of who he was.” She paused. “I lost my husband to your godforsaken profession, but I’m damned if I’ll lose my daughter the same way.”
He leaned against the window frame, looking out at the night. After the rain earlier the sky had cleared, and he could see the Milky Way over the eastern wall of the valley.
The Hawaiians called it Hokunohoaupuni. Reigning star.
“She doesn’t want to be a pilot. She wants to be an astronaut. An explorer.”
“She wants to be in the company of lunatics willing to sit on eight million pounds of explosive rocket fuel for the privilege of subjecting their bodies to the stresses of high-g, micro-g, and solar radiation.”
“Lunatics like me.”
“Exactly. You of all people should understand this, Hunter. Would you want someone you loved to go into space?”
He shied away from that question.
“But it’s what she wants. You’re her parent. Shouldn’t you be doing everything you can to help her achieve her goals?”
Dira huffed out an irritated breath. “Airin’s body has already been subjected to enough for one lifetime. She’s staying on Earth.”
He thought about how Airin talked about her medical history and the way it had changed her.
“What she’s gone through has made her stronger. Physically, mentally, emotionally. You know it has. Her heart is probably stronger than mine.”
Silence.
Then she said, “Do you know one of the reasons NASA has resisted the idea of sending couples on long-haul trips?”
“Because the headline FIRST DIVORCE IN SPACE would be bad publicity?”
Dira didn’t laugh. “Because they don’t like the idea of informing families of a double loss. I’m going to spare myself the possibility of a double loss, Hunter. I couldn’t control Airin developing Wolff-Parkinson-White or the course of treatments that followed. But I can control this. I have a lot of pull in the world of private space programs, and I’d be willing to use every bit of it to keep my daughter on this planet.”
“NASA might—”
“NASA won’t. Even if they were willing to overlook her medical history, I have contracts with them and a certain amount of influence. It’s not happening.”
Mars wasn’t visible in the sky right now. But it was out there, the Red Planet, calling to him with the same pull it called Airin.
“I think you’re making a mistake. I saw the speech you gave to the United Nations two years ago. You said the hope of all mankind lies in reaching for the stars. Don’t you want your own daughter to be part of that? Isn’t space travel your dream for humanity?”
“No.”
Maybe he hadn’t heard her right.
“But—”
“It was my husband’s dream. After he died, I did everything I could to make it happen. I’m still doing that. I will always do that. But my own dream was to find more sustainable ways to manage our energy use here on Earth. It just so happens that my work has also had an impact on the space program.”
“Your husband’s dream,” he repeated.
Damn. What was it like to spend your life making someone else’s dream come true?
“Yes. Frank lived and breathed piloting and space travel and the possibility of a manned mission to Mars.” She paused. “My daughter is named for her grandmother, but there’s another reason behind the choice. Frank loved my mother’s name because it sounds like Ares.”
“The Greek version of Mars.”
“Exactly.”
“Frank wanted his daughter to be a god of war?”
For the first time since he’d met her, he heard Dira laugh. More like a dry chuckle, really, but it was something.
“Not exactly. But he believed her generation would be the first with a real chance of setting foot on the Red Planet.”
“He was right.”
“He was right about the timing. But let me say this again. As long as I have anything to say about it, my daughter will never go into space.” She paused. “You’re a flyboy, Hunter. You know how
dangerous your job is, and you’ve already factored in those risks. But Airin isn’t like you. Do you honestly want her to risk her life? To die in one of the horrible ways that spaceflight can kill a person?”
She is like me.
She wasn’t a pilot, but she had the heart and mind of an explorer. He knew it, just as surely as he knew her mother would never accept that fact.
But one thing Dira had said was true.
“No. I don’t want her to die.”
“We’re on the same page, then. And she’s in good spirits? Her ribs are healing? She’s not in pain?”
He remembered the look on her face just before she’d left his room, and he winced.
“No.”
“Good. Until next time, then.”
She disconnected the call.
His appetite was starting to come back. Chinese food, his favorite kind of takeout, was waiting for him downstairs. But he stayed where he was a few minutes longer, staring out at the Milky Way and remembering what it felt like to kiss the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
Chapter Sixteen
Airin managed to avoid Hunter the next morning, and she threw herself into work with Val for the rest of the day. She worked for so long in the lab that her ribs ached when she got home.
A bath would help. A hot bubble bath she could soak in for . . .
There was a cockroach in the bathroom. Not in the tub this time—on the wall near the window. It was motionless except for its obscenely long, slowly waving antennae.
No bath, was her first thought. I don’t need a bath.
But after a moment she went to the hall closet where they kept their cleaning supplies. There was a duster there with a long plastic handle, and she took it back into the bathroom with her.
Standing as far from the cockroach as she could, she used the handle of the duster to slowly raise the window screen. Then she turned it around so the duster end—some kind of synthetic material, bright yellow and fluffy—was extended.
She took a deep breath. Then, moving as quickly and decisively as she could, she swept the cockroach out the open window.
It worked. The thing was gone. She lunged forward to close the screen after it and stood panting, her heart pounding, the duster still clutched in her hand.
Not exactly a dragon, maybe, but a victory nonetheless. It felt like she’d really earned her bath this time.
The bath felt wonderful, and so did she. She’d done a good day’s work, she’d triumphed over a cockroach, and best of all, there’d been long stretches of the day when she hadn’t thought about Hunter at all.
After the bath she stood at her bedroom window, braiding her wet hair. It was sunset, and her view was drenched in gold. The light made everything in it, trees and grass and houses and cars, seem as rich and crystalline as the inside of a geode.
She finished her braid and leaned against the windowsill. The light would fade soon, and she wanted to stay here until it did, drinking in every last golden droplet.
And then, like a hero out of an old epic, Hunter came into view. He was shirtless, jogging in a pair of blue running shorts, and as he came up the driveway, she could see the sheen of sweat on his tanned skin.
Great.
He did some stretches in the front yard, cooling down from the run, and then some push-ups. He performed them effortlessly, as straight and sturdy as a plank of wood, only his arms moving him up and down. His muscles were like bands of iron beneath warm, glowing skin.
His body was like poetry. Dirty, sexy poetry.
When he finished his last push-up, he rolled onto his back, looking up at the sky. After a moment his head turned toward the house, and she sprang back from the window, terrified he’d catch her watching him.
That image of Hunter, shirtless in the golden light, was still with her at dinner an hour later. Dean had made mahi-mahi and vegetables, and the four of them were eating at the countertop between the living room and kitchen.
She and Val were on the living room side, across from the two men. Val and Dean were leaning in, talking and laughing, while she and Hunter were quieter, concentrating on their food.
She didn’t look at Hunter, but she was aware of him the way you were aware of a fireplace on a cold day. About midway through the meal, she glanced up and found him looking at her, his hazel eyes inscrutable.
Heat flamed in her cheeks, and she looked down at her plate. She didn’t look up again until the meal was over.
She volunteered to wash the dishes, and Hunter cleared the table, bringing the plates and silverware to her as she filled the sink with soapy water.
“How are your ribs?” he asked. “You look a little tired. Did you work too hard today?”
She shook her head, wishing she could talk to him like she had yesterday or like that night on Waikiki Beach. Something precious had been lost, and she didn’t know how to recover it.
And the only thing she’d done wrong was to kiss him back when he’d kissed her.
Maybe if Hunter stayed in the kitchen long enough she could figure out how to talk to him again. But the memory of last night’s humiliation was still raw, and she didn’t want to feel that way again.
God, she was bad at this stuff. By the time most women were twenty-four, they’d figured out how to deal with the awkward emotions of attraction and rejection and everything in between. But she was new to this, and everything felt shaky and uncertain, like walking on a frozen lake with BEWARE OF THIN ICE signs everywhere and pockets of danger she couldn’t see.
Hunter handed her the baking dish the fish had cooked in, and when she took it her hand brushed his. The contact sent a ripple of tension through her whole body, her stomach muscles tightening and her fingers gripping the ceramic dish. Her cheeks were hot, and all she could think of was his mouth on hers last night.
She couldn’t meet his eyes.
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to head upstairs. Good night, Airin.”
She didn’t trust herself to answer, so she just nodded, feeling rather than seeing Hunter leave the kitchen.
Later that night she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling fan. She was propped up at a thirty-degree angle by her pillows, which the doctor had told her would help ease the discomfort of her injury.
But there was one thing they hadn’t advised her on. How to masturbate successfully after you’d cracked a couple of ribs.
She might have been able to do it if she’d ever masturbated successfully before. If she knew what she was doing, she could have found a workaround as she had for other tasks. But for her, the act of self-pleasure was still a frustrating, way-too-lengthy experimental procedure that never led where she wanted it to.
So all she could do was lie in bed staring up at the ceiling, wanting something she couldn’t have. Longing for a release she couldn’t even imagine because she’d never experienced it.
She tried to relax. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She thought about nonsexual things—bad TV shows, the food she’d eaten in the hospital, the cockroach she’d seen earlier and the two she’d seen that first night.
But even that didn’t cool the fever in her body. Instead of killing the ardor that ripped through her, it went the other way around. Lust colored even the most unpleasant memories, so she found herself wondering how cockroaches mated.
Cockroach copulation. God, what is wrong with me?
But the cockroaches, like bad TV and hospital food, didn’t grip her imagination for long.
The need that made her panties damp and her lower belly ache was more powerful than her mind’s ability to quell it. All she could do was want and need and lie there staring at the ceiling fan. Meanwhile, she practically vibrated with an urgency that felt more powerful than the four fundamental interactions of nature.
Gravity. Electromagnetism. Strong and weak nuclear forces.
Even physics was turning sexual in her mind.
Friction. Weight. Rhythm. Heat.
A mi
sty rain had begun to fall outside, and the soft sensuality of the Hawaiian breeze wasn’t helping. It made her feel restless, mind and heart and body and soul.
This was why prehistoric fish had grown legs and crawled out of the ocean. This was why people risked death sailing the ocean and climbing mountains and hurtling themselves into space.
Because they were restless.
This molten lust felt part and parcel of that somehow. She longed for the unknown, for the incursion of masculinity into her body.
Except it wasn’t as nonspecific as that. It was Hunter she wanted, Hunter she needed.
He’d felt the same way last night. She’d seen it in his eyes. But tonight, she hadn’t been able to read him at all. Whatever he’d been feeling and thinking had been hidden.
It wasn’t fair that she blushed and he didn’t. It wasn’t fair that he’d had relationships before and she hadn’t.
What would happen if she went across the hall right now? If she took her hairbrush and knocked on his door and asked him for help with her one hundred strokes?
Nothing would happen. Not unless he wanted it to.
He made all the decisions. He was the one who’d kissed her, and he was the one who’d put on the brakes.
She’d had enough of waiting on other people’s decisions to last a lifetime. Other people had always determined what would happen to her—her mother, her doctors. She didn’t want to feel that way anymore. She didn’t want to wait breathlessly for Hunter to look at her like he had last night, hoping against hope that he’d slip the leash of his self-control.
She had self-control, too. She had the power to focus on her mission: working with Val and figuring out a path to becoming an astronaut.
Hunter had helped her realize her old dream hadn’t died, and she was grateful to him for that. But she needed to keep her distance from him for a while. Holding out hope for another kiss, for evidence he was still attracted to her, could only bring heartbreak.
She needed to keep her heart safe. It had been through enough.
The patter of raindrops outside her window stopped. The sweetness of plumeria drifted in her window on a softer, drier breeze.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
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