The Astronomer Page 2

  “I told you how I got caught in the woods in the rain. You still haven’t told me what you were doing rock climbing in bad weather.”

  He started the engine and turned the heater on full blast. “Ah, so you noticed the rock climbing? I thought you said you didn’t know what I was doing on that cliff.”

  “It’s a bit hard to miss the gear. And I’ve been in this forest before. I know it’s a popular spot for abseiling.” A thought hit her. “What about your equipment? You left it behind.”

  He smiled. “No worries. I’ll go back for it later.”

  “Thanks for helping me.” It wasn’t fair for a man to have eyes that blue and hair that black. Not that she should be noticing.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “So rock climbing isn’t adventurous enough for you? You have to do it when the sky’s falling down?”

  His laugh was deep, his voice sensual. “Not even I’m that daring. Damn weather forecasts. Can’t trust them. Wasn’t supposed to rain until tonight. I was a quarter of the way down that cliff when it started to piss down.”

  “Those clouds did move in pretty fast.”

  “So what are you going to do once I’ve dropped you at the bar?”

  She reflected for a moment. Her plan was to beg a call from the owner for a cab to drive her back to her guesthouse for her purse. Then she would go to a gas station, get some hydrogen, and go rescue her car. She realized that in her current disabled state her plan was impractical. The car rental company was in Isis, the city that was also known as Paris. If she called them and they managed to send someone out, even someone from a nearby settlement, it would cost a fortune in points, points she didn’t have. She could call Gene. No. There was no way she was speaking to him.

  She turned to the stranger. “Do you think you can just help me to get my car started? I was going to call a taxi from the bar, but...” She looked at her ankle.

  He studied her, his blue eyes questioning. “You’re not from here, that’s clear. So you have no one who can come to your rescue?”

  “No,” she said without meeting his gaze, “not right now.”

  “This is going to sound like a terrible cliché, but what is a girl like you doing in a village like this, alone?”

  “Holiday,” was all she said. She didn’t feel like explaining. The story was too long and complicated. It was easier to throw the question back at him. “You’re not French either. What brings you to Normandy?”

  “Holiday.” He flashed a set of perfect white teeth. “Alright. So, the plan of action is to go get hydrogen and fill up your car so that you can go home.”

  “Yep.” She shook her head eagerly.

  “Where’s home?”

  “Guesthouse.”

  “Fine. But I’m going nowhere like this,” he said, motioning at his muddy clothes, “and neither should you. Besides having a possible concussion, you may catch pneumonia.”

  She looked down and flushed. Her wet T-shirt was practically see-through. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you propose?”

  “I’m going back to my hotel for dry clothes and then we go get your car. You look like you can do with a sweater.”

  She didn’t have much of a choice. She would wait in his car, while he got changed and fetched her a jersey or something. Besides, she was shivering from head to toe and her fingers were numb from the cold. Her head started hurting too and her skin throbbed above her ear. And then there were other physical aches she didn’t care to examine.

  “Fine,” she said, laying her head back.

  She felt his hand on her arm. “God woman, you’re a block of ice. Are you sure you’re alright?”

  She turned her head toward him. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been better.”

  He removed his hand to put the car in gear. “Hold on, baby. We’ll get you dry and warm soon.”

  She hated to be called ‘baby’, especially by a man she didn’t know, but she didn’t have the strength to object. Her eyes closed involuntary as he reversed the vehicle and headed for the center of Domfront.

  He parked in front of the largest hotel on the main square. It was one of the only ancient buildings in the West World that had escaped the onslaught of modern stacked dorm constructions as the need for housing had started to outweigh the value of historic monuments during the last century. Half of the castle was a museum, while the other half had been converted into a luxury hotel to pay for its upkeep. The modern plaza with its colorful statues now looked bleak through the curtain of rain.

  “Ready for another sprint through this storm? It’ll be cold again, but I promise to hurry.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

  “I’ll wait in the car. If you don’t mind, I’ll borrow a sweater. You can bring it with you when you come back.”

  “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you in your state. Your teeth are chattering. Come upstairs. I said I’d get you dry and warm.”

  Fraya was about to protest again, but he was already getting out of the car and coming around to her side. Before she could open her mouth, he had the door open and lifted her into his arms. Protesting loudly as he carried her through the busy hotel lobby and into the lift only attracted curious stares from the staff and other guests.

  When the elevator doors closed behind them, she wiggled to free herself, but he held her tighter.

  “You can put me down.”

  He gave her a devilish smile. “I don’t want to.”

  She felt her cheeks grow hot. “Don’t joke with me.”

  “I’m not,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Can you get the floor please? My hands are occupied.”

  She thought it better to ignore his comment. “Which number?”

  “Top floor.” He grinned down at her. “You’re blushing. Are you shy?”

  “That’s a personal question.”

  “We’re in a kind of a personal position.”

  She swallowed. Why the hell did her blood pressure suddenly shoot through the roof? Thankfully the lift pinged and the doors opened. He carried her down the hallway to the only door on that level. Was it her imagination, or did he just brush his hand over her bottom?

  “It will be easier if you put me down, you know.”

  He frowned, but he did lower her to the ground to push his thumb onto the electronic identity pad on the wall. A welcome message ran over the screen, followed by the evening’s dinner options. Real beef? Eggs? The food in her guesthouse was synthetic. Had to be expensive to eat here. He opened the door to what seemed like a very large suite. “Here we are.”

  Fraya’s mouth felt dry. Alright. She only wanted to get something warm to put on and go back downstairs as fast as she could. Her body’s intensifying reactions worried her. It seemed to multiply when he touched her. Being alone with him in his hotel room wasn’t a clever idea. He didn’t look like a serial killer, but one never knew, these days. Although, that wasn’t what really worried her. Only a sweater, she reassured herself. When she started to hop forward on one leg he placed a hand on her arm.

  “Hold on, baby.” He lifted her like she was nothing more than a kitten, kicked the door shut and deposited her on a sofa facing a gigantic old-fashioned four-poster bed.

  “You should know I don’t like to be called ‘baby’, especially not by strangers.”

  His sardonic eyes laughed at her, she was sure.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

  Fraya glanced around the elegant room. It had to cost all the points she’d ever accumulated in her life, and more. “Nice suite.”

  “Penthouse, but not my style.” He disappeared through a door and returned with a towel, which he handed her.

  “No?” She wasn’t going to tell him that they—Gene and she—were staying in the cheapest stack dorm guesthouse in town, their room a concrete cubicle with grey walls and floors. “What is your style?”

  “Modern.”

  “Don’t you feel just a little bit of a thrill to stay in a castle
dating from the eleventh century? This is one of the only original buildings in Zone 11 that was preserved, you know.”

  He chuckled. “Typical woman, to see only the romantic side. The walls are damp and the wiring is a mess.”

  “Oh.” She stared at him and forgot what she wanted to say. Surely it was something clever and reprimanding. Instead, she looked at his face, his mass of dark hair falling to his shoulders, the tightness of his pants around his thighs and... Her eyes shot back to his face as she realized that she was shamelessly undressing the man with her eyes. A white-hot flame flowered in her belly.

  He grinned, as if he knew where her thoughts were dwelling. She looked away quickly and started toweling her hair.

  “I’m going to get rid of these wet things,” he pulled at his T-shirt, “and then I’ll run you a warm shower. I’m sure I can find you something to wear.”

  She jerked her head up in alarm. “I don’t need a shower. I can just borrow something dry.”

  “We’ll both get warm, clean and dry first. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  He went back into what she assumed to be the bathroom. Fraya looked at the door. She could hear him fiddling around, opening and closing what sounded like cupboard doors. She should leave. She was about to get up when he reappeared to open more doors and drawers in the room, going through the antique armoire in the corner and a suitcase lying open on a chest. With those Lycra pants sculpturing his ass she couldn’t help but notice that it was a rather nice ass. She tore her gaze away from him, pretending to be looking at the view through the window.

  “I found something that’ll do.”

  She nearly chocked when she turned her head back to him. A burning arrow pierced the base of her spine. He had pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing a set of muscles that would make any male model envious, dusted with dark chest hair that disappeared with his happy trail down to...

  Her eyes shot up, just in time to catch the amusement in his, as he watched her sizing up his body. At least he was a gentleman about it, not commenting except for holding up a Foreigner Twenty-Second Century Band Tour T-shirt and a grey sweater.

  “This alright?”

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn’t have these reactions. She was getting engaged to be mated. This was starting to freak her out. The sooner she could get away, the better.

  She got up, supporting herself on the armrest. “May I use your bathroom?”

  He rushed to her side, dropping the clothes on the bed. “Careful. Not so fast. Let me help you.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” she said, but her hand went to her temple that had started throbbing painfully with her sudden movement. A burst of strange need had her clenching her thighs. The untimely and foreign arousal didn’t help the pain. It seemed to amplify it. She groaned.

  “I can see that. But you’re injured.”

  He moved until he stood almost against her, their bodies a hair width apart. He was much taller, so that her eyes locked onto his powerful torso, and she could see his chest move with the fast intake of his breath. Fraya’s heart started pumping furiously, the beat echoed in her aching skull. She felt herself heating from the inside out, her cold forgotten, her trembling now not related to the weather at all. She held her breath in a futile effort to stop the erratic little gulps that had replaced her normal respiration.

  What the hell was wrong with her? This had never happened before. She had a long friendship with Gene before they got engaged. Falling head over heels in love was not her thing. Neither was getting weak-kneed for a man she didn’t know from Adam.

  He brushed her long hair away from her face and grabbed it in a ponytail at the base of her neck. “I need to check this cut, but I’ll have to clean you up first. Can’t see anything through the mud and twigs.”

  Only then did she look at the mirror on the wall. She flinched. What a lovely mess she was. Her hair was tangled, brown with soil and full of sticks and shafts of grass from the reeds. There was a little bit of blood on the side of her face. As for the rest of it, she couldn’t be sure what lay under the dirty streaks covering her cheeks and chin.

  “Come.” His voice was gentle. “I’ll clean you up in the shower.”

  She gaped at him. “You’ll what?” she finally managed through dry lips.

  Instead of answering, he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom. He left her at a loss for words on the toilet seat while he turned the tap in the shower on. A water shower? She had only ever had vapor showers.

  “Drink that.” He pointed at a glass of water and two painkillers on the side of the basin. “It will help.”

  Glancing at the pharmaceutical name on the white tablets, ensuring she recognized the brand, she did as she was told before sneaking a look at his broad back. Another flash erupted through her body with a burning sensation that lingered in her spine. Holy crap. Only when steam filtered into the cubicle, did he turn and kneel in front of her.

  “I’ll have to help you, unless you want me to dump you on the shower floor.”

  Help her? A mental picture of them in the shower invaded her mind and caused a fist of lust to punch her in the gut.

  “Yes, just dump me on the floor.”

  “Not a good idea. We’ll shower in our underwear. Alright?”

  He seemed to be very good at giving reassuring smiles as he gently lifted her arms and pulled her wet shirt over her head. Her skin burned under his fingertips.

  This was so not happening. Her arms went around her breasts. She watched as he dropped her dirty shirt on the floor before bending over her, his hands going to the waistband of her shorts.

  She wanted to protest, to pull away, to insult him even, but instead she found her body arching forward, obeying the silent command of his hands when he tugged on the clip button and pulled down the zip.

  “Lift your ass,” he said.

  Like a hypnotized snake dancing to the flute player’s tune, she lifted herself on her arms just enough for him to slip the pants over her hips, down her legs, and over her ankles. Thank goodness she was wearing her new push-up bra and matching French panties. NO. What on earth was she thinking? He picked up her injured foot to study it and, when he had felt his way around her ankle, his hand smoothed up her calf.

  “Such a pity to blotch such a perfect skin,” he mused. “You’re already turning blue.”

  He straightened abruptly and stripped the black cycling shorts from his narrow hips, pushing them over his muscular thighs, until it ended up on the same heap as her soiled garments.

  She was almost too terrified of her reaction to glance at his black briefs, but she couldn’t help the magnetic force that pulled her eyes in that direction.

  Fraya thought she saw his lips twitch, ever so fleetingly. Without another word he picked her up and carried her into the shower. He positioned her body against the wall and adjusted the spray of the water to fall over her shoulders. It was pure, delicious heaven. She watched with mesmerized fascination as he took a sponge and soaped her body. She flinched as his fingers moved over her ribs.

  He turned her sideways. “You’re blue everywhere,” he said, almost sounding angry.

  She gasped as his fingers trailed a path to the lower curve of her breast. The heat diffused in her body was now near painful. Watching her with guarded eyes, he moved the sponge over the sensitive mounds, teasing her through the fabric of her bra, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes. She had to make it stop. It took all her willpower to grab his arm and move it away.

  “I’m not injured there,” she snapped.

  He didn’t apologize for his wandering fingers. Instead, he clasped her chin in his hand and tilted her head. “I’m going to wash around the wound. This may sting.” He took the shower nozzle from its hook and moved it to her head, smoothing back her hair.

  She uttered a cry as the water burned the cut where her head had taken a knock.

  “Sorry,” h
e said, smiling apologetically, his hand moving down and flattening over her tummy, as if he could sense her discomfort and spasms. The warmth of his palm sent shockwaves over her skin. They exploded and rippled to a part of her body that begged for release. She needed to get out of here. Her body shook, her knees battling to carry her weight. Even as she braced her back against the wall, moving away from him, her hips tilted forward. Her mind was going to dissolve. She could feel reason slipping away. She gazed up at him in awed shock, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. What was going on? That knock had crippled her brain.

  “Oh, baby,” he said, groaning and resting his forehead on hers, “if you tease me by pushing your thighs against me like this,” he looked down, “I can’t promise that I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  She followed his gaze and sucked in her breath. “Oh. Sorry. I... You’re hard... I mean...”

  He laughed softly, but his voice was strained. “I’m turned on. And so are you.”

  He studied her, his eyes sharp and clever. Of course she was. It was a bit hard to deny when you had your pelvis pressed into a man’s private parts and your thigh draped around his ass. She tried to flatten herself further against the wall and turned her head away.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Must be the bump I took to my head.” She looked back at him and whimpered. “Oh God, what’s wrong with me? What did you do to me?”

  He took her face between his hands. “I don’t know, but you did the same thing to me.”

  “I should go. This frightens me.”

  He kissed her forehead. A wave of intolerable want crashed over her.

  “I know, baby. Stay. Let me make it alright.”

  “There’s something wrong with me. The fall, the knock, did something.”

  “Don’t lie about what you feel. You know we both want it. We’ve wanted it since I’ve laid my hands on you in that forest. I can see it in your eyes.” His hand stroked up her thigh, cupping her hip, sending a delicious shiver through her. “I can feel it under my palms.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She paused as another attack weakened her knees. “I can’t,” she whispered.