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Chapter 18
I had not felt nervous until I stood before his door, the dull grey metal of the wall paneling mocking me in its ugly simplicity. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other while working up the courage to push the door chime, heels clicking lightly on the floor. Silently I berated myself for my display of childishness, struggling to control the torrent of emotion which bombarded me at the most inopportune times. It was wholly unlike me to be so captivated by a handsome face, by soft eyes and sensuous lips. By firm hands, hot on my body.
I wrenched my thoughts away from the pull of desire and jammed my finger into the control panel. A light flickered and I imagined I heard a soft chime sound within Guy's quarters. I waited impatiently, waves of nervous energy pounding in my ears, my heart-beat thundering loudly beneath my breast. I worried, twisting my fingers in the hem of my dress, the silken fabric tantalizingly cool against my skin. My belly fluttered as I heard movement behind the door and I bit my lip in anticipation. I could do this.
An easy smile and soft, grey eyes greeted me. Warmth drifted into the grimy hall from his apartment, a fresh spice on the air that hinted of familiarity – of home. The door slid fully open and Guy moved aside to let me in, gesturing broadly in welcome as he did so. My eyes never left his and we stood for a time in the entryway, the silly grin plastered upon my face mirroring his.
I started as a loud hiss followed by a pop caught my attention. Guy's brows shot up in surprise and he moved swiftly to the kitchen, inviting me to make myself at home almost as an afterthought. I pursed my lips in thought, once more re-aligning my wits, and put my surroundings to memory.
Various antiquities adorned the room, displayed in sturdy casings lit brightly from within. I was able to place a few and hid a smile when I recognized one in particular. A batarian fertility statue was brazenly fixed to the wall just off the entryway, illuminated with a backlight as if to emphasize the already curvaceous form. Guy certainly seemed to have interesting tastes.
His living quarters were larger than mine, enriched by simple, yet elegant details and finished with clean lines. A vid screen dominated the far wall, the current program a recreation of a planetside dusk. The lights were set low and the manufactured sun's glow bathed the plush furniture in a rich, golden hue. I stepped down from the entryway and sank into the nearest chair, the velvety richness of the fabric hugging my skin. Needless to say I was impressed, but a budding wariness stirred within.
I recognized no Prothean relics of which Guy claimed to be so fond.
Mindful of the knife strapped to my thigh, I adjusted my dress and turned to observe Guy's culinary expertise. While I had no doubt some men would find the idea of an armed woman enticing, I had no intent to test Guy's tastes as of yet. As much as I wanted to, I was not quite ready to tread those waters. I would need to demonstrate far greater control than I had, and Nya was far more coy than I by far. I had created her as such, and her persona would serve my purposes.
Steam rose from the dishes and drifted lazily into the air, hovering over Guy's head. The fresh scent of herbs were quickly warmed by the heat of the stove and their perfume tickled my senses,. The sizzling of the frying pan set my mouth to watering, and I could only guess as to its contents. Guy spied my curious gaze and shot me a delicious smile. I would know soon enough what he had planned, but he intended to draw out my anticipation.
I realized I wanted him to.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" He asked, the heat of the kitchen coloring his face with a delightful flush.
I nodded slowly, my eyes once more fixed on his. "I would."
His smile widened ever so slightly even as his eyes flickered with hunger. I stood, smoothing my dress as I moved into the kitchen, plucking a bottle from his selection above the cooler. He nodded at my choice and passed me a bottle opener. Our fingers met briefly and nervous energy once more electrified my senses at his slight touch. My loss of poise only served to mangle my attempt to pop the cork, breaking it instead. I swore, a guttural hiss under my breath, only to freeze as his touch was once more upon me.
Firm hands were hot upon my skin as his fingers gripped my bare shoulders. I could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered teasingly into my ear.
"Quite a bartender you are, my dear Nya."
My thoughts were a-jumble and words failed to form on my tongue. I relaxed slightly and leaned into him, the press of his body ever so close to my own. His hand snaked down my arm as he reached for the wine on the table.
"A perfectly palatable chardonnay." His warm breath tickled my neck and sent shivers racing down my spine. Desire hung in the air, thick as the steam, and I fought for control as he continued his game. "Whatever shall we do?"
On impulse I turned around, a wicked grin with which to greet him. Slowly I raised my arm, reaching toward the cabinet just behind him. I felt the heat of his body as the curve of my arm brushed his neck, the press of my breast separated from him by only thin layers of fabric. Hunger once more flickered in his eyes as I stood on my toes, reaching ever so tantalizingly behind him.
Glasses clinked lightly against the other as I plucked them from the shelf. Once again I moved deliberately, my skin barely brushing against his as I placed the glasses on the table before us. "We drink," I answered mischievously.
His gaze flicked to the glasses and back to me, eyes still simmering with hunger. "Very well."
Never before had I heard two words so heavily laden with heated lust. I was almost undone. My only saving grace was the cool metal of the bottle opener in my palm, the irritation of the broken cork reconnecting me to my senses. I would not be bested by this man, much less a bottle of wine.
I went to work digging the damnable cork out of the bottle's neck, annoyed with myself for such a blunder. I only hoped Guy found my show of ineptitude endearing, but as I turned to find his eyes once more upon me, I knew the bottle of wine was the furthest thing from his mind.
I poured two glasses and set his beside the stove, wary of the hot cookware. The pans hissed and popped, filling the room with a tantalizing aroma. Guy moved with the practiced ease of a man well acquainted with the culinary arts. I took a seat at the table and watched him work, his movements precise and charmingly animated. He seemed to enjoy this particular pastime and I found it an attractive quality. I could respect those who took pride in their passions.
Steam billowed from the saucepan as he emptied the excess water into the sink, the scent of herbs suffusing the air. He immediately moved to transfer a pan to a cool burner, the dish sizzling loudly as he uncovered it. I watched, mesmerized by the grace of his movements, the ease with which he appeared to juggle a dozen tasks at once. I sipped on my wine and indulged in the view.
Within moments he had readied our plates and set them on the table, an expression of genuine amusement accentuating his features. My eyes traced a line down his cleanly shaven jaw, smooth skin awash with the scent of steam and musk. His collar lay open, hinting at a muscled chest beneath, and I bit my lip to stem the tide of desire building within.
His smile broadened as he took his seat opposite me, aware that my hunger was not entirely related to the delicious meal before me. I smiled shyly, remembering my purpose and struggled to maintain some semblance of control.
My attention suitably redirected, I almost cried with joy at the sight before me. Not only had Guy done the impossible by importing Earthborn chicken, but he had somehow managed to obtain fresh produce with which to make the divine sauce decorating my plate. I couldn't help but grin like an idiot in surprised delight.
"I assume you're a fan of chicken parmesan?"
He needn't ask as my answer was writ plain on my face. While fare on Omega varied from barely palatable to deliciously decadent, no restaurant I knew of could afford to import meat born and raised on Earth. It was a novelty that only the exceedingly wealthy could afford or the exceedingly cunning could purloin. Of course in my experience, the two were often one and the same.
I had to stop myself from diving into the meal, warning bells blaring in my skull. Instinct instructed me to wait, unsure about the safety of my food. It would be a crime to despoil such a feast, but I had no intention of taking the chance that Guy was unaware of my true identity and purpose. I sipped my wine and I twirled the noodles on my fork, waiting for him to take the first bite.
"Hot," I stated almost sheepishly. He seemed satisfied with my answer, his curious glance turning once more to desire. I admit I enjoyed the heat in his grey eyes.
I watched as Guy enjoyed his meal before I too took part in his treat. Flavor seared my tongue; rich, and full, and heady. I savored my first bite, relished the simplicity of such modest activity with almost childlike glee. It had seemed forever since last I felt wonder and I was loathe to end the sensation. Taste, warm with a hint of sweetness, tantalized my tongue and I dabbed at the bit of juice that managed to trickle from my lips. A soft moan of pleasure escaped me and I glanced up at Guy in the hope that he hadn't heard.
From the look upon his face, it mattered not at all to him that I might have embarrassed myself, so intent on my meal was I. Desire seemed to spill from him in waves, the ebb and flow of the tension between us growing ever more potent. For the briefest of moments I believed he would overturn the table and take me that very moment, but alas, he did not.
I knew he felt as I did as I recognized the obvious lust in his gaze, and I simultaneously welcomed and cursed his restraint. Clipped attempts at conversation dominated the air between us, doing nothing to stem the tide of longing. In the absence of action we instead substituted our craving with food, and while delicious and filling, my hunger remained unsatisfied.
"So how did you end up bartending on Omega of all places?" His voice quavered slightly, hunger lingering in his eyes.
"Well," I drawled, twirling the last of the noodles around my fork. "It was purely by misfortune."
Aria and I had worked out the details early on. She provided me with a basic cover story and I had modified it for a more comfortable fit. It was a formula we had used many times before, but recent events being as they were, a few more alterations than usual were needed. Offworld events occasionally had a longer reach than intended.
A single dark eyebrow rose ever so slightly, a hint of a teasing grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Do tell."
I sipped on my wine, now warmed to room temperature from my unhurried pace. "I had only been here about a month before we met – the victim of circumstance as it were."
"Oh?"
I nodded, choosing my words carefully. "I had a contract on Illium as a consultant. Experience with trade contracts is in high demand and those individuals - like me - who are familiar with cutting through red tape, are useful to have on staff."
"You are a trade consultant?" He took a sip of his wine as he pushed his plate away, curious grin hidden behind his glass.
Once more I nodded. "I was – worked out of Sol System and became very familiar with the ins and outs of the bureaucracy. I learned very quickly who to deal with and how to deal with them." I smiled mischievously and was rewarded with another hungry glance.
"I take it 'free dinners' and 'company incentives' are still the norm?"
I swallowed my last sip of wine and watched with delight as Guy swiftly refilled my glass. I found the reversal of roles oddly humorous. "It was, although outright bribes are still frowned upon."
Guy nodded in thought, his eyes never leaving mine. "In business, subtlety is always key."
"Subtlety has its uses." I smiled and dropped my eyes shyly, playing up my false persona, but wondering if we were even still on topic.
A guttural sound filled the air as Guy cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "So how did you end up here?"
"My contract fell through." I shrugged and feigned frustrated resignation. "After the disaster at Dantius Towers, no other company on Illium would even think to hire me because of my connection with them. And because the Dantius Corporation had arranged payment for my transportation to Illium, I got dumped on Omega when the captain found out he wasn't going to get reimbursed for his expenses."
Guy inclined his head as he frowned slightly, contemplating the dwindling amount of wine in his glass. "No accounting for chivalry, then?"
"No." I attempted to match his frown with one of my own. "I took the job bartending to cover my expenses and make enough to get off this station."
He looked up in surprise at the last. "Surely you had enough credit to book a shuttle back to Sol?"
I shook my head, eyes still glued to my glass and pretended ire. "Human credit means nothing here. The money I had with me I spent when I arrived, securing lodging, food, work…" I let my voice trail off as if lost in thought and snuck a glance at the man sitting before me. He did not appear to suspect any untruth.
"I'm sure there's demand for someone of your skills on Omega."
I swallowed the harsh laugh that threatened to spill from my lips, covering my ill humor with wine. "I know of no legitimate business on this station that would benefit from my expertise. Nor do I wish to walk into certain death."
Again he raised his eyebrow and studied me curiously, the lines of his forehead crinkling adorably. "'Certain death?'"
"Omega's exports are controlled by criminal or mercenary elements and are considered highly illegal in the Sol System. No administrator in his right mind would be caught shipping anything associated with Omega, much less the Terminus." I shrugged again. "It wasn't just this station they avoided ties to, it was the entire system. At times, I felt as if I had to pull teeth in order to get a single item past customs – a legitimate item.
"No, my experience in Sol does me no good here. I prefer to stay alive and out of sight of the criminal element."
He laughed then, a rich, husky sound. "And so you work in a bar owned by the most notorious person in the Terminus?"
I dropped my eyes to the empty plate before me in my best imitation of chagrin. I nodded slowly as if contemplating his words. "It's a job that garners little attention."
He said nothing and when next I raised my eyes, Guy was moving across the floor to the cooler. Curious, I arched my neck awkwardly to observe him. He rifled through the small compartments, shuffling condiments and frozen foodstuffs this way and that. It was when the muscles in my neck started to ache that Guy finally stood, a frozen, unrecognizable container in his hand.
Vapors rolled off the small box, the frozen chill of the contents mixing with the heat of the kitchen. I watched as Guy pulled out two bowls and popped open the container, scooping out the contents. To this day I still marvel at the memory and the sheer pleasure that followed.
"Here," he smiled as he took my plate and replaced it with one of the bowls. He handed me a small bottle filled with a thick, brownish ooze and then returned to his seat opposite me. "What, you don't like real caramel on your ice cream?"
It took me a moment to register his words. I recognized the frozen dessert in front of me, and I had tasted caramel before, but neither experience had been what I would consider pleasant. Forcing a smile and drizzling the ooze on my ice cream, I complied. Once more I was rewarded with another of Guy's delicious smiles, and nervous energy rushed forth with renewed vigor.
I passed the caramel to Guy and waited once again for him to take the first bite. He seemed not to notice my hesitation for which I was grateful, but unwilling to risk my cover, I tried his dessert. Given that my last encounter with ice cream was on par with the torturous force-feeding of varren dung, I was reluctant try again. Synthesized attempts at human food by non-humans tended to be unhealthy. However, Guy had demonstrated fine taste and culinary talent, so I could only hope that his taste in dessert was equally delectable as before.
I was not disappointed.
Flavor again danced on my tongue followed by a flood of sweet decadence. Guy had warmed the caramel and the blend of soft heat and sharp cold was intoxicating. I would have felt a fool for so forgetting myself over food, but in that single moment, I cared not. Memories of our shared dessert surfaced in my mind, and I opened my eyes to find Guy watching me with satisfaction. I should have known that food could generate such pleasure and such desire, same as anything attractive, and this was a lesson I found myself intent on learning quite thoroughly.
"Here, you've got something…" Guy's eyes flickered with heat as he learned over the table, a single finger barely brushing the corner of my lips. He smiled and sank back into his seat, licking the stray bit of caramel from off his fingertip.
An unexpected shiver of delight sent a jolt of heat down my spine, pooling ever so exquisitely in my core. A warm flush crept up my face and I dropped my eyes once more to my plate. I heard the rasp of the chair legs against the metal flooring as Guy stood abruptly, his hands gently cupping my jaw, pulling me up to him. He pressed sweet lips to mine and in that instant, my world melted away.