Chapter Thirteen

Dealing with the fallout from the pandemic and a myriad of other crises claimed Krogan's waking hours and then some. Sometimes he slept at the office. When he did go home, the penthouse offered a serene haven from responsibility, stress, and worry.

But never had he been so eager to get home as he was now that his new bride was there.

He found his wife in the kitchen preparing dinner while the service android idled. He stared in disbelief. "Hope?"

"Hi, honey, how was work?" She smiled so sweetly, his heart skipped a beat.

"What are you doing?" Why was she working and not the android? That's why he had an android.

"I'm cooking dinner for us." Two spots of pink color tinted her cheeks. Her eyes were bright…and bleary? What was wrong with her eyes?

He glanced at the robot. "Is Don One malfunctioning? "

"I will run a diagnostic," the android said.

"I'm preparing dinner because I enjoy cooking, especially baking. Don Juan showed me how to operate the appliances and described the different ingredients." She persisted in calling the android by the nickname she'd given it. Sometimes he caught himself thinking of the service bot the same way. "I'm learning what foods are similar to Terra Nova's."

"The diagnostic is complete. All my systems are operating within normal parameters," Don One reported.

Hope removed the apron she was wearing. "Would you finish up for me, Don Juan?" she asked.

"Of course, Hope Bennett," it replied.

"You remember how to do it?"

"Your instructions are stored in my memory banks."

She moved to the chillerator and peered over her shoulder. "I mixed up some cocktails . Would you care for one?"

"What is a cocktail?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off her. A pair of form-fitting pants hugged her shapely thighs and rounded buttocks while a loose-fitting tunic left one shoulder bare. He ogled the exposed skin. A feverish heat suffused him .

"It is an alcoholic drink. It's as close to a mai tai as I could get."

"All right." The concoction would probably taste vile, but, to please her, he'd choke it down.

She removed a pitcher of yellow liquid and filled two fancy glasses he didn't realize he owned. Swaying on her feet, she stumbled, almost spilling the drinks. "Oopsie!" She giggled.

"Are you...inebriated?"

She giggled again. "Maybe a little."

"You'd better let me carry these." He took the glasses. "Why don't we go into the other room until dinner is ready?"

"Lead the way."

"Don Ju- One, let us know when dinner is ready."

"I always do."

"What's in these?" he asked as he carried the drinks to the living room.

"A juice the name of which I can't pronounce and some kind of liquor. It took a bit of sampling to come up with a decent facsimile."

Quite a bit of sampling, he guessed. He chuckled. "That explains it. "

She peered up at him through her lashes, her gaze lingering on his mouth like a caress. "I love your laugh. You should do it more often."

His chest tightened. "I shall endeavor to do so, then." He didn't laugh much. She wasn't the first to say that to him, but she was the first who'd given him something to laugh about.

They settled on the sofa. She kicked off her shoes, pulled her feet up, and angled her body toward him. Her knees touched his thighs. She had dainty feet and cute toes, but he riveted on her bare shoulder, the tunic slipping halfway down her arm.

He handed her a goblet. "Maybe go easy," he suggested, and took a sip of his own.

Not unpleasant. Fruity and sweet, but with a fiery afterburn. If she'd been "sampling," it was no surprise she'd become tipsy. "What did you do today?" he asked.

"I talked to my friend Prudence, let her know I'd arrived and am now a married lady. Then I asked Don Juan to explain how the kitchen appliances worked. With his help, I ordered some ingredients you didn't have, had them delivered, and I got dinner started."

"Meal preparation is Don Ju -One's function."

"Is it not okay for me to cook? "

"No, no. It's fine. I meant, you don't have to."

"Good. Because I enjoy it, and it gives me something to do. I'm not used to being idle. I've been working since I was sixteen."

"Our youth don't get jobs until they are nineteen or twenty," he said, trying not to criticize Terra Nova ways. Sixteen seemed too young to be working. Shouldn't she have been in school?

"I didn't have a choice. I had a stepmother to support." She took a sip of her drink.

He frowned, not understanding. He was about to ask for clarification when she spoke again.

"Would it be all right to go out exploring during the day? I won't go far, just the local area."

"Of course. You feel comfortable using the vaporator by yourself?" Her request pointed out his dereliction as her husband. He should escort her, give her a tour, show her the attractions and historical sights, share what he loved most about his planet. But he couldn't spare the time at this critical juncture. Taking off early twice to get married had put him behind. More behind. He was always behind.

"I feel confident I can return to the penthouse, and as long as I can do that, I figure if I get lost, I can vap to home base and start over. The more practice I have, the better I'll get." She paused. "It's safe, right? For me to travel alone?"

"It's safe. I can give you suggestions of some interesting places," he offered.

"That would be great!" Her smile kindled a curl of warmth in his chest. If she loved his laughter, he loved her smile, the way it lit up her whole face. He took a big gulp of the mai tai.

"How was your day?" She laid her hand on his forearm, her lingering touch delivering a surge of heated sensation.

"Typical. The usual crises," he said. No joke. It was always something, but the day had brought a fresh new predicament to the fore.

After speaking to Vorgol that morning, he'd spent the rest of the day in tense negotiation—via holocall—with an off-planet medical equipment trade partner who'd informed him they were suspending deliveries of medical supplies due to safety concerns over the nano-viral contagion. Despite scientific evidence the nano-virus only affected Caradonians, the trade director expressed concerns his people could become infected. "Until you find a cure and eradicate the disease, we won't be landing on Caradonia," the director had stated, adding that Caradonia wouldn't be permitted to pick up the supplies themselves.

Without the special growth medium the company manufactured, they couldn't develop a cure.

Krogan had brought in his best virologists and epidemiologists who'd presented the data proving the nano-virus posed no danger to off-worlders. Finally, the director—"against his better judgment"—agreed to resume deliveries at triple the previous price, which Krogan realized had been the point of the suspension all along.

After the meeting, he ordered the virology team to begin research and development into a growth medium to eliminate their dependency on an outside supplier for such a critical commodity. He also instructed the Planetary Materiel and Resources Bureau to assess how many other critical items were imported rather than produced on planet. Their health and well-being should not depend on another nation planet's goodwill.

But he had no intention of sharing the worries with Hope. His planet's troubles were his burden to shoulder, not hers. "The vice governor-general who is the acting director of the Cosmic Mates program requested our help," he said instead. "I told him I'd ask you."

"Me? What can I do?"

"Now that we have some brides, he wishes to change the marketing campaign to show couples rather than single men. He would like to include both of us. We'd be featured on the Cosmic Mates HyperSphere site."

Brows drawing together, she took a sip. Then she nodded. "All right," she agreed in a hesitant tone.

"You have reservations? You don't have to do it." Although pictures of the governor-general and his wife would be a great testimonial, they weren't critical. Other men with their brides would suffice.

"No, it's probably a good thing."

"But? What is your concern?"

"If my image and hologram are in marketing materials, there's a good chance I'll be recognized on Terra Nova. The man who was trying to force me to marry him may learn where I am. But it doesn't matter. He can't touch me here."

"No, he can't." Krogan patted her hand in reassurance, and she entwined her fingers with his. His heart fluttered. "Why are you so afraid of him? "

"He's the mayor of Bloomhaven village where I lived. He's been harassing my friends trying to find me. But…if he learns I'm on another planet, maybe he'll stop bothering them. That's a big positive."

What would happen when she left in a year? Wouldn't she have to face the mayor then?

"I'll do it!" she said, with alacrity now. "It will be fun." She drained her goblet.

His was already empty. He depressed a switch on the sofa back. When the table popped up, he set their glasses on it.

"I have another proposal. Vorgol wishes to host a reception for the first group of Cosmic Mates brides and grooms. I must attend. I would very much like you to accompany me. In the interest of full disclosure, you should be aware holograms will be recorded for use in program marketing."

"I'd love to go with you." Her lips parted on another blazing smile, and resistance to her charms collapsed.

He leaned over and kissed her.

For a split second, she stiffened, but then her lips softened and moved against his, and her hand curled around his neck. With a groan, he pulled her against his chest. He teased her lips with his tongue before delving inside. She tasted like the mai tai and something much sweeter, headier, addictive. One kiss stirred his appetite for more.

He was hyperconscious of the sensation of her lips and tongue, her scented breath, her hand stroking his nape. Heat surged into his groin, and his gliteri throbbed. The band across his chest ached.

He stroked her bare shoulder and kissed her again.

"Dinner is ready," Don Juan announced.

Hope jumped, and they broke apart. Her eyes were wide, her lips pink and parted. She looked stunned.

What had gotten into him? The alcohol, no doubt. He felt drunk, his head reeling, his blood hot, his body alive.

It wasn't food he hungered for, but then he remembered she'd cooked the meal. "Let's go eat." He stood up and offered his hand.

She took it with a shy but accepting smile that sent the problems he carried on his shoulders tumbling away, leaving him wanting yet carefree.