Chapter 20

B RITTANY HAD NEVER REALIZED HOW EROTIC A MAN could be in tight jeans until she saw Dalden in the pair that had been made especially for him. Or maybe it was just him. Actually, it probably was just him, because the sight of him when he came out of the dressing room, with the long-sleeved white cotton shirt tucked into those dark blue jeans was such a turn-on that she almost dragged him back into the dressing room.

Of course, helping him to look normal didn't help to keep eyes off of him. His amazing height and size couldn't be disguised. But at least he didn't look like a rock star now, though Brittany cracked up when the seamstress who'd supplied the new clothes hadn't wanted payment for them, but had blushingly asked for a picture of Dalden instead. She figured if he wasn't a celebrity now, he would be one day, and she wanted proof that she'd sewn for him.

Night was approaching by the time they left the mall. Her first day working for Dalden had been pretty successful. Even though Jorran hadn't been found yet, three of his people had been rounded up and sent off to Martha for interrogation. With night just around the corner, her job was over for the day. And as much as she hated the thought of losing his company even for a little while, she supposed she ought to offer to get him back to his own lodgings.

So as she was driving out of the mall parking lot, she remarked, "I know you said you couldn't get to your hotel yesterday for some reason, but you implied you could today. Shall I drop you off?"

"My place is now with you."

She spared him a glance. "You want to sleep on my couch again?"

He smiled at her. "What we sleep on may be of your choosing."

The chair and laying there in his arms all night again flashed through her mind and brought on a blush, even though he was probably using the "we" in a singular sense, rather than meaning him and her together.

But if he was going to spend the night again, she'd have to feed him, and she really didn't feel like a trip to the grocery with him in tow. Besides, she could just picture shopping carts banging into each other in the aisles, cans and boxes spilling all over the place, if he walked into the local food store.

With quite a few hours before bedtime ahead of them, and since they didn't have to get up as early to morrow as she was accustomed to, she suggested, "Want to go out to dinner? Catch a movie? Go dancing maybe?" Then she grinned. "You know, a date?"

"Dancing?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Why are you looking like that's another new word to you?"

Martha, quiet since they'd left City Hall, decided to explain, "There's no equivalent for it on Sha-Ka'an. It's a form of exercise that requires music, but music hasn't been embraced yet by the Sha-Ka'ani."

"No television, no music, but he's familiar with computers. Do you realize how bizarre that is?"

"Do you realize how diverse this world is in cultures?" Martha shot back.

Brittany sighed, allowing the point. "All right, dinner first, then we'll play it by ear. And since we're not exactly dressed for fine dining, how about a pizza? Or two." She chuckled, giving him another glance. "Or three."

"What is—?"

"Food! Just plain old Amer—well, it's an Italian dish, but I hear we've Americanized it so much, the original tastes nothing like what we serve up here. And there's a nice little parlor on the next block."

The pizza parlor was surprisingly crowded for that early in the evening, or for anytime, actually, considering it offered delivery service, which most people took advantage of. The crowd consisted of a children's soccer team celebrating a victory with a lot of the parents in tow. Which meant service was slow and they ended up being there for a couple of hours, rather than in and quickly out as was usually the case.

Dalden flipped out over the pizza, which made the wait well worth it. But then Martha got interested in the ingredients for making it, which resulted in a long and detailed discussion, because she didn't just want to know the shopping list required, she wanted to know the process for making the ingredients from scratch. Raised on a farm, Brittany was able to answer most of her questions.

And then there were the interruptions, which she was getting used to by now. Dalden got asked for his autograph again, and two men stopped by wanting to know what team he played for. Brittany was amused that she wasn't the only one who immediately assumed he would be a basketball player. And she didn't know how it happened, but she came back from the bathroom at one point to find the entire soccer team piled up on his shoulders for a group picture with the "giant."

He seemed to be enjoying himself, and three large pizzas later, it was actually late enough to hit Seaview's one nightclub. Ordinarily she wouldn't have considered going dancing on a weeknight but since Dalden had no experience of dancing at all, she wanted to find out if it was something else he might enjoy.

The weekend would have been a better time for it, when the nightclub was hopping, but she had a feeling he'd be gone by the time the weekend rolled in again. They had made a lot of progress today, and Jorran's people had as well, supposedly, so the wanna-be mayor could well make his appearance tomorrow. Then Dalden would take control of him with that rod as easily as he had his lackeys, and he'd have no further reason to stick around. Task done, he'd be going home—and Brittany refused to think of how much she was going to miss him.

She'd foolishly let herself get too attached too quickly. She still barely knew anything about him, yet even that didn't matter. It was going to be heartbreak, big-time.

She'd already been assured that she wouldn't be opposed to his factions, which left nothing else that she could think of that she might find objectionable about him. Martha seemed to think otherwise, that their cultural differences couldn't be bridged. But what did culture have to do with feelings, especially when her every instinct was telling her that he was the man of her dreams, her ideal mate? Even the fact that he might be younger than her had no relevance. Nothing mattered compared to the emotions he stirred in her.

So tonight was for fun, and for memories. But the thin crowd in the club was daunting. Only four other couples were there, and only one of them seemed inclined to dance. And contrary to Tom's snide remark today, Brittany wasn't an exhibitionist. So it took three and a half drinks before she was ready to get out on that nearly empty dance floor.

Dalden was fascinated with the place. The lighting was old-style disco, the music was typically blaring, and the one couple who pretty much stayed out on the floor were giving him a decent how-to demonstration. Martha continued to call it exercise, and an obsolete form of it banned in many places. Brittany would have asked for a definition of "banned" if she wouldn't have had to shout it, because their "banned" had to be something other than "not allowed."

"Are you ready to try it?" she finally asked him.

"I will try anything with you, kerima ."

She was just tipsy enough to be really moved by how sweet that answer was. She gave him her hand, and led him out on the floor. A fast song was playing, not a hopping beat, but a steady tempo that could accommodate just about any style. She danced the way she'd learned to in high school, a bit on the sexy side, but the only way she was familiar with. He seemed to be swinging some kind of invisible weapon himself, his movements precise, and she almost laughed when she realized he wasn't dancing, he was doing exactly what Martha had called it, exercising. They were still having fun, and his eyes, which he never took off of her, said he was enjoying watching her dance more than anything else.

And then the music segued into a slow song, the first one played since they'd arrived. Dalden hadn't seen slow dancing yet; she had to show him how. He took the closeness a step further, though, and within moments, he was kissing her instead. And that quickly was she taken out of place and time, just like that afternoon, everything around her fading to nothing. All that was left was the man and his touch, consuming her.

"Martha, please!"

Brittany seemed to hear it from a distance, his voice. She didn't know what he was asking for, but it didn't stop what he was doing for more than a second. She was still being kissed, still being held so closely she could feel all of him. There was a tingling that had nothing to do with the drinks she'd consumed. And then there was softness under her, and a very big man above her, and it simply didn't dawn on her yet that she was in a bed with him, or to wonder how she got there.