Chapter 10

Luke checked the wall chrono for the hundredth time and shook his head impatiently. Women always took forever to get ready for anything. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Mara for over an hour. The only evidence that she was in her bedroom were the muffled curses that filtered through the thin door. He had ceased asking her if she was almost ready a half an hour ago when the only response he got was an enraged shriek. So he sat down on a plush couch to wait.

Closing his eyes, he took the few free moments to attempt to find the Force again. He had tried several times since though out the day, but to no avail. The Force had receded to the back of his mind, and only a fainting buzzing could get through the barrier was blocking it. It was almost torture to be able to feel his abilities just below the surface, but unable to touch them. He sighed dejectedly, giving up for the time being, and opened his eyes.

Their excursions during the day had been as fruitless. Guru had taken them on an extensive tour of the house and the grounds. He had assured their every comfort during their stay, which unfortunately involved one or several men waiting on them and providing no opportunity to slip away for some investigating.

After dinner, they returned to they're rooms and immediately began a search with a body heat detector for any eavesdroppers. They found no one, and a last thorough search of the rooms convinced them they had found all of the listening devices.

The suite of rooms Guru had given them lacked no luxury. The furniture was made of the finest wood and fabrics from a dozen different worlds. He even provided them with a variety of fruit and nuts in a woven basket set on a small table in front of the couch. Even though he had eaten a large dinner, Luke's stomach growled as he noticed the fruit. So he reached for a date and absentmindedly popped it into his mouth.

He checked the wall chrono again. Only ten minutes had passed. He no longer heard the telltale rustlings of fabric from the other room, so he dared another inquiry. "You almost ready?"

"I'm not going," Mara called out from behind the closed door.

"Hey, it can't possibly be as bad as mine," he replied looking down at his floral print shirt and grimacing.

"You wanna bet? What am I, a smuggler or a cocktail drink?" She jerked the bedroom door open and marched into the living area. "I'm going have to use nearly all of my make-up just to keep up my disguise.

Luke's eyes bugged out of his head at the amount of pale flesh before him. He had just tossed a date into the air to catch with his mouth when he noticed her in the doorway. The fruit hit him in the face breaking him out of his sudden immobility.

"How can you eat those things?" she asked noting the half-empty fruit basket with obvious distaste.

He didn't even hear her. He felt his breathing falter, and he stood quickly using every calming technique he knew to keep his voice from cracking. A Jedi knows not passion, Yoda had said so many years ago. Well, Yoda never met Mara Jade.

What did cover her body nearly blinded him with flashy colors of red, yellow and green. Guru had graciously sent them appropriate clothing for his little party that night, and if the style was any indication, it was sure to be a doozy. Her halter top, trimmed with artificially dyed feathers, left little to the imagination, plunging low to exhibit a daring amount of cleavage, more cleavage than he ever remembered her having, and cut high to expose her flat stomach. Her skirt was a long piece of floral material also trimmed with feathers at the bottom and wrapped in a sarong that tied into a knot on one hip revealing almost all of one long, curvy leg and most of the other. Her hair had been pulled back and adorned with big, white flowers.

Suddenly, Luke collapsed on the floor moaning. "My eyes, my eyes! I'm blind!" He knew he was playing a dangerous game, teasing Mara like that, but he just couldn't resist taking a few pokes at the peacock in front of him.

Mara placed her hands on her blinding hips and pierced him with a look of pure venom. Finally, he couldn't hold it in any longer, and he clutched at his sides and howled in laughter.

"Are you quite finished?" she spat.

"Remind me to compliment Guru on his impeccable taste in evening wear," he replied getting his mirth under control.

"I didn't think Jedi Masters went for the showgirl look. You don't look so hot either, flower boy," she growled.

He looked down at his own white linen pants and bright floral tunic and shrugged. "I can't look half as ridiculous as you!"

In the blink of an eye, Luke found himself staring down the barrel of a hold-out blaster. He wasn't sure which would be more deadly, the condensed energy beam from the blaster, or the green eyes on the other end that were spitting fire at him. He regarded her for a second wondering if she really would pull the trigger. No, she wouldn't, he decided. But it wasn't wise to push her too far, so he stepped back and with a cocky grin added, "I don't even want to know where you hid that."

That seemed to break the tension, because she rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. She walked over to the mirror and, setting her blaster on the vanity, began systematically yanking all of the feathers from her top. She appraised her work with little satisfaction. Then she bent over to do the same to the feathers on her skirt. Any desire to laugh abruptly disappeared, and Luke had to fight to control other desires that seemed to pop up out of no where. He had always thought she had a nice figure, though the flightsuits she often wore did not exactly give her an aura of femininity. The costume she wore that night showed off curves he hadn't even realized she had. His gaze drifted of its own volition over the soft rise of her rump.

He tried to shake the thoughts from his head. He couldn't think about Mara in that way. They were friends. It had taken so long for her to even get to a point where she could trust herself to have a blaster and be in the same room with him. And more than that, he was still in love with another woman, wasn't he? Only two things could come from allowing himself to indulge in thoughts of Mara: heartache or personal injury, or both. Neither possibility was very appealing.

"Stop staring, Skywalker," she said coldly, "or I really will blind you." He blushed fiercely and wondered how she knew he was admiring her without turning around or using the Force.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, hoping he sounded calm.

She humphed in response, grabbed a green jar from the vanity table and turned to face him. "Look at my face."

Confused, he did what he was told and looked directly into her eyes.

"Not my eyes, my face," she corrected. She pointed to her temples and cheeks that were colored green and yellow then speckled in black. "Do you think you can do that on my back?"

"I'm not a painter, but I guess I can try."

"Do, or do not, Skywalker, because I can't reach, and I think that it would certainly blow our cover if I go to the party half human, half Annoo-dat."

Luke gingerly picked up the jar not quite sure what he was supposed to do with it. "Do I need a brush or something?"

"No, the green is a cream," she replied. "You apply it with your hands."

He heard her voice catch and noticed she reddened slightly under her face paint. He nodded feeling her discomfort acutely, though she tried to play it cool. She presented her back to him and closed her eyes to the image reflected in the mirror. He knew Mara was not a touchy-feely kind of woman unless she was kicking somebody's butt. The fact that she had even brought herself to ask for his help both amazed and touched him.

He dipped his fingers into the paint and spread it across her shoulder blades. He could feel the tension in her muscles and the prickly goosebumps that appeared as the cool pigment touched heated skin. A memory came to him of the morning after she freed him from his nightmare. He had relieved her sore neck with just the softest touch of the Force. At that moment, he missed the Force more than ever.

The paint spread easily over her skin, but soon Luke encountered a problem. The two straps keeping her scanty top from giving way to gravity severely inhibited his artistry. He cleared his throat softly before bringing the matter up with Mara. She seemed to sense his hesitation, and guessed at what the problem was. Her fingers fumbled a bit when she untied straps and modestly held the material across her chest as he continued his work.

Several minutes passed, and the silence was thickening. Luke struggled to control dormant emotions that decided to awaken at that inopportune moment. Her skin was soft under his touch, but it was not entirely smooth. In several places, his fingers grazed sensitive tissue where old scars had healed over leaving only trace evidence of dangerous past encounters. Instead of being turned off by these imperfections, they only seemed to intrigue him more. He wanted to ask a dozen questions about how she got them and where. He kept quiet, feeling that it was probably something she would rather not discuss.

The first color was finished, and Mara handed him a jar of yellow paint and a brush. "See how there are only traces of yellow here." She pointed to her forehead and cheeks. "The yellow is really just to accent the green. You won't need very much."

He nodded in understanding. What a way to learn how to paint, he thought almost giddily. He streaked the brush across her green back creating intricate patterns of green. "Raise your arm," he commanded softly. She complied, and he tried not to notice the gentle swell of her partly exposed breast. As soon as the brush touched her side, she jerked violently. Luke snapped his head up. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No."

His brow furrowed in confusion. He could've sworn she was fighting a smile. Shaking his head, he went back to work. But again, as soon as the brush touched her, she jerked. This time she nearly got a yellow streak across her abdomen. He would've been annoyed if he hadn't been sure he heard a small squeak of a laugh. This time, when he brought the brush to bear again, he kept a steady eye on her face. Sure enough, she was fighting with every ounce of strength she possessed to keep from laughing. Luke didn't think it was possible. The hard, cold, steely Master Trader standing in front of him was ticklish!

He couldn't help himself. It was just too tempting to pass up. With a devilish grin plastered across his face, he swiggled the brush across her side. She couldn't hold back any longer, and laughter burst forth from her.

"Stop that!" she gasped dancing away from him.

Crouching into a ridiculous imitation of a predator, he began stalking her with his paintbrush posed to strike. She backed away and held up her hands pleading.

"No, go away! You'll smudge the paint, idiot!" She leaped over the couch trying to put as many obstacles as possible between her and the crazed lunatic chasing her. Her mobility was severely hampered by the fact that she had to keep one arm securely over her bosom lest she lose what precarious grip she still had on her dignity.

Luke had no such hindrances. He agilely leaped the couch and ran after her. She made a mad dash for the bedroom door, but he got there first and blocked her way. "Oh, come on, Mara," he taunted. "I haven't finished painting you yet."

"Oh, that's okay," she countered, "I think I can finish it from here."

"But you can't just stop an artist in the middle of his masterpiece." He made a lunge for her, and she yelped as she quickly backed out of reach.

"Skywalker, if you get paint on his skirt, I will take up my pledge again and kill you!"

"I thought you didn't like that skirt anyway."

"Well, it's all I have to wear to the party. So go finish getting ready, you psycho!"

His grin was playfully feral. "I am ready." He lunged at her again, this time catching one arm and holding her while swirled the brush on her skin, careful not to smudge the work he had already done. She squealed and squirmed trying not to laugh and failing miserably. Luke didn't know who was laughing harder, her or him.

In an attempt to free herself, Mara jerked hard away from him. His grasp was too firm, and the force of the jerk caused her to lose her hold on her top. Gravity caught the material and pulled it fluttering to the ground. For a split second, they both froze. Mara looked horrified. Luke stood motionless as his cheeks burned bright red in the face of her breasts. Suddenly, all fun and games were over. He let her go and turned his back to give her some smidgen of privacy. She said nothing, but grabbed her things and disappeared into the bedroom to finish her make-up.

She emerged several minutes later perfectly disguised and acting as if nothing had happened. She strode to the vanity mirror and made some last minute adjustments to her attire. Frowning, she pulled and tugged on her skirt in several different ways, but it still would not lay correctly.

"You alright?" he ventured to ask.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's just that - a few minutes ago -"

"Get over it, Skywalker," she interrupted. "How many times have we dressed each other's wounds. You didn't see anything you haven't seen before, so don't make such a big deal over it."

Luke opened his mouth to make a retort, but snapped it shut before he could utter it. It was obviously bothering her more than she was letting on, but if she wanted to blow it off, he'd let her - for now. He made a mental note to talk to her at a later date about bottling up her emotions.

She was still bent over fiddling with something on her skirt. He couldn't see what that could be, as all of the feathers were now strewn about the floor at her feet. With a frustrated growl, she jerked a holster from somewhere in the depths of her skirt.

"This is never going to work," she muttered. "I'll end up walking like I'm still in diapers."

"Can't find an inconspicuous place for your blaster?" Luke inquired.

"Whatever gave you that idea, brainiac?" she replied sarcastically.

He sighed. "Look, if you promise to be nice to me tonight, I'll show you where you can put it." At her sharp look, he added, "You know what I mean! Now is it a deal?"

"Are you saying I'm not nice to you?" she asked in seeming innocence. He gave her a knowing look. "Oh, all right, you big baby. I'll be so sithin' sweet, your teeth will ache."

That last comment didn't sound too promising, but he figured he'd take what he could get. He took the holster from her grasp, held her arm out and began tying the leather straps around her bicep.

"Oh, no, that's not conspicuous," she mumbled, but she refrained from making any more nasty comments at his warning look.

Then he carefully extracted several flowers from her hair, careful not to pull any strands from their place in the process. He wove them intricately around the holster leaving a hidden opening between the petals for easy access. When he was finished, the blaster slipped into the holster and vanished among the petals. He stepped back to admire his little floral arrangement. Attractive, but deadly, he thought. Kind of like its owner.

Mara seemed to like his work. She even smiled. Her entire face seemed to soften with that expression. For a split second, all the hard lines that came from a lifetime of near slavery and mercenary killing seemed to melt away. He felt himself smile back, his heart suddenly feeling lighter with the acknowledgment that she was pleased. He wasn't sure when her moods had begun to affect him, but as long as they weren't fighting, he wasn't going to question it.

She turned and picked up her lightsabre from the table.

"There's no way I'm going to be able to hide this," she declared.

"I'll hold on to it," Luke said as he plucked it from her hand. He slid the handle into the pocket opposite where he had hidden his. "Ready?"

Mara nodded and turned toward the door. He jumped ahead of her to open it for her, then placing his hand at the small of her back, guided her through. She threw him a quizzical look, but said nothing.