Heart of Stone (15 page)

She reached out to touch his sleeve and
then drew her icing-covered hand back quickly. "Oh, sorry. I'm all
messy." She waggled her pale blue and gold iced fingers. "Um—Stone,
I'm so glad to see you, but … everything is fine here. I chose to
work here in the galley with Chef Rolle. I'm practicing my
skills."

"What skills?" Baffled, he took his
warning gaze off of the stout man to face her.

She huffed a small laugh, her cheeks
flushing. "We didn't—um, have time to share my career plans, did
we? I'm a pastry chef. I even went to culinary school on Earth
II."

He cocked his head, eyeing the ranks of
fancy pastries arrayed on the work table. Each was adorned with
pale blue bows and rosettes of pale gold, the kind of froofrah
women enjoyed. She'd been decorating pastries.

"You made those?"

She nodded proudly. "We're hosting a
wedding lunch in one of the banquet rooms. The mayor potentate's
daughter, you know."

Oh, he knew. He'd been invited, but
declined, citing pressing business. He hated weddings, and
everything to do with them. Lot of sentimental foolishness—or so
he'd always considered. As his gaze rose to her pretty face again,
he thought just possibly he might … reconsider.

"Everyone's almost through with their
meal, so we need to serve the dessert," Rose went on.

"If that's quite all right with you,
Mr. Masterson," said Chef Rolle, his voice heavy with irony. When
Stone glared at him, the man smirked.

Stone felt something he hadn't
experienced in a very long time: embarrassed to the toes of his
custom-made boots. Quark, he'd barreled in here to save Rose from
galley slavery and found her happily at work, albeit with a grouchy
boss.

Then the whole situation really fell
into a black hole as a familiar face popped up behind the chef's
shoulder. The news anchor who'd been at the sat-com installation,
surrounded by all her cameras, her eyes wide with glee.

"Hello there," Llu Llu
gushed, waving at Stone. "Yes, indeed, Frontierans, the romance
just keeps flowing like icing from a pastry chef's tube." She
tittered into one of the cameras. "Isn't it thrilling? We've just
popped into the Yolovana Inn's galley to get a look at the final
course before it's served, and we find Adamant's foremost eligible
bachelor, Stone Masterson, the sat-com quazillionaire, intent on
rescuing his—dare we say it—
lady
love
from drudgery."

Rose let out a small squeak of
distress. Heat burned its way up Stone's chest, until it enveloped
his face. Even the tips of his ears burned.

He, who sent home his mistresses if
they began to whine for a permanent place in his bed, and who was
exquisitely careful never to get involved with any local women
because they might expect more, was behaving like a … a suitor. In
front of planet-wide news cameras. Hell, with him in the holo-vid,
they'd probably take it galaxy-wide.

His control of his world, and
everything in it, had just been blown to stardust. He couldn't
force Rose to take him. Wasn't even sure he could negotiate her
into it, in light of her new plans.

"Sorry," she breathed, turning her back
to the cameras. "Llu Llu's doing a local color series on New Haven.
You know, quaint little frontier town, home of the sat-com king, et
cetera. She was in here earlier. I didn't think she'd come
back."

Humiliation churned sickly in his gut.
Only one way out of this—the same way he'd come in—boldly. He took
a deep, slow breath and turned to Rose, ignoring the news anchor,
her cameras, and the chefs and servers watching avidly.

Rose looked up at him, her green eyes
grave, even sad. "Don't worry, Stone. I know you're not here
to—to—"

"No, I'm the one who's sorry, lass. I'd
no business barging in here and disturbing you at work. Very pretty
work, I might add. Your, uh, pastries are lovely."

She blinked, surprised. "You like
them?"

He nodded. His stomach settled as his
plan became clear. There was a way out of every sticky situation—at
least if you were a pirate by nature.

"I do," he told her. "I'd like to taste
one."

"Oh." She grasped one from the table,
and held it out to him. He leaned forward and opened his mouth,
gazing into her eyes. "Oh," she said again, in a very different
tone.

With the eyes of Frontiera on them, she
fed him a bite of her confection. He chewed and swallowed. It was
tender, flaky and melted on his tongue. "Mm," he approved.
"Delicious."

She blushed. "Thank you."

"One more taste," he murmured. But when
she lifted the pastry, he shook his head. "That's not the
confection I've been craving, lass."

"Ohh," she breathed, her face going
soft as she stepped forward into his arms. The pastry fell to floor
beside them with a soft splat of cream filling.

He slid his arms around her waist and
pulled her close, bending his head to kiss her, long and well. The
sound of cheering around them faded as he sank into the sweet
welcome of her kiss.

When he lifted his head, her eyes were
sparkling like the sun shining through the boughs of a tarma-pine
tree.

He looked over her head at her boss.
"You've enough pastries to serve your guests." It was not a
question.

The man nodded grandly, although he was
still smirking.

"Good," Stone said. "Then you won't
mind if I take your pastry chef."

Rose primmed her mouth up, narrowing
her eyes at him. Quark, even in this ugly smock and hat she was the
prettiest woman on the planet.

"Stone, I'm working," she informed him.
"I cannot just leave—oh!"

Her lofty words ended in another
squeak, this one of shock as he simply bent, caught her about the
hips and laid her carefully her over his shoulder. Then he
straightened, turned and carried her out of the place, past the
grinning chefs, servers, barflies and the family, their collective
mouths open in astonishment. Probably because they were getting a
world-class view of her lovely ass. He yanked at the short smock,
glaring at the father as he carried her past. The man looked
hastily away.

Rose started wriggling as he bore her
down the icy steps to his hovie.

"Hold still, woman," he snapped. "Or
you'll have us both on our asses in the snow. And yours will be the
one on the bottom, I'll see to that." He'd break his own neck if
necessary to keep her from touching the cold ice and snow, but she
didn't need to know that—yet.

He put her into the passenger seat,
ignoring her scowl, her batting hands and the kick she tried to
give him as he hit the button to shoot the seatbelt around
her.

"Stone," she protested. "You can't just
barrel in and take me whenever you feel like it, you–you pirate. I
need that job. "

"You don't need it any longer." He
swung into the seat beside her and put the hovie in drive. They
shot forward, around an incoming hover taxi and a large overland
transport. "Now we're going to my place, where we can have some
privacy."

"I do so need it, because I'm saving to
start my own business, and furthermore, I have nothing to say to
you." She crossed her arms and stared out the other
window.

He pushed the heat controls on her side
to full blast and yanked the fur rug out of the back to drape over
her bare legs.

"Your own business? Something with
pastries, I hope. I'd like more of those."

She snorted delicately.

"Not talking? Fine, then you'll have
nothing to do but listen to me." They lifted up over the edge of
town, and the frozen river. "I've some rules to set in place and
you'll follow them, or I'll know the reason why."

"We'll see about that, Stone
Masterson."

"Yes, we will, and plenty more," he
assured her. "I'm not having you get into any more
situations."

She pulled the fur up over herself and
said no more as they sailed up the steep mountainside. Probably
plotting how she was going to subdue him this time. He didn't know
whether to laugh or curse.

Stone maneuvered the hovie into the
hangar and then went around to help her out, draping the fur around
her shoulders. With her head high, her expression full of haughty
disdain, she looked like a young queen, albeit in an ugly crown.
Well, she would be queen—but only of his kingdom.

In the house, he led the way to the
hearth, where a fire crackled. Then he turned to her, his chest
unaccountably tight. He moved his jaw, wondering why his collar
felt too tight.

"All right," he said. "Here it is.
Since the moment we met—not counting the year I lusted after
you—you've devilled me. I can't do my work, I can't sleep, I
haven't eaten. I thought I was rid of you, but no, even when you're
not around, you're in my head. So we'll give it a go. But it will
be under my rules, do you understand? You'll learn self-defense,
and you'll practice every damn day. Firearms, close combat,
security systems; you'll learn them all. I've enemies and they'd
think nothing of using you to get to me."

She blinked, looking bewildered. "Give
what a go?"

He glared down at her. "What the hell
do you think? We'll be wed."

His guest let the fur robe fall from
her shoulders as if her fingers had suddenly lost their grip. She
gazed up at him, her eyes wide, her soft mouth open in
wonder.

But then her lips twitched, and he was
astonished and offended to see merriment twinkle in her brown eyes.
She gave a tiny giggle and then another, clapping her icing-stained
hands over her mouth to stifle them as he glowered, his cheeks hot.
Embarrassment burned in his middle for the second time that day,
along with an emotion so unfamiliar he'd forgotten it:
uncertainty.

"And what, may I ask, is so amusing?"
he demanded.

"Stone Masterson," she managed,
controlling her mirth with an obvious effort. "I—I thought you such
a silver-tongued devil the night we met. But apparently that was
just to get me into bed. Th-this was the most unromantic proposal
of marriage I've ever heard."

He moved closer, looming over her. "Oh,
was it now? Well, hell, I may as well keep it up, then. I'm not
feeling very 'romantic' just now."

She
would
stay—he would cover her with
kisses and fuck her until all she could do was scream his name.
Then he'd start all over again, until she saw that he was her man,
the only man for her.

He picked her up again, although this
time he swung her up before him, cradled in his arms, as he started
for his bedroom.

"Um—what
are
you feeling?" She wrapped an arm
about his neck and touched his face gently with her other hand. Her
fingers were soft on his skin, albeit a bit sticky. He wanted them
everywhere.

"Dynastic." He smiled ferociously at
the feminine alarm that filled her lovely eyes.

When he set her down beside his bed,
however, she reached up to cup his face in those soft hands.
"Stone, can't we just practice for a while? And save the dynasty
for later?"

He smiled slowly. "Oh, we'll practice,
all right, love. You won't believe some of the things I'm going to
teach you."

She looked intrigued. "We'll have to
practice a lot, won't we?"

"Every spare moment," he
agreed.

Then he raised an eyebrow at her toque.
"Can we have that off you now, though? It's not really the most
flattering headgear. I can't see your hair."

Her eyes widened in horror
as she lifted her hands to the toque. "Ohh," she moaned. "I forgot
I had it on. Oh, I look awful. And we were
on holo-vid
—and you're so handsome in
your business suit—and I should be looking my best, not all sweaty
and covered in icing and flour."

She shoved at him, and he stepped back,
laughing as she scuttled toward his bath, yanking at her clothing.
He found the toque on the floor just inside the bathroom and the
smock outside the shower-dry enclosure, her panties and bra
nearby.

With keen anticipation, he unfastened
his own suit, and let it fall to the floor with her things. They
looked right, somehow, mingled on the stone floor.

Rose was already under the spray of hot
water, her long hair streaming down her back. He stepped up behind
her and wrapped his arms around her, bending his own head under the
spray to nuzzle her throat. His cock was as hard as cerametal,
jerking in paroxysms of need and lust against the small of her
back.

"I'm dirty," she said
breathlessly.

"I know," he agreed, his fingers
already cupping her mound. "That's one of my favorite things about
you."

She gasped as he thrust one finger
deftly inside her. Ah, there was that soft, hot center he needed to
be inside.

"You're the one with the dirty mind,"
she accused, but he noticed she didn't try to get away, just hung
on to his arm and wiggled her round bottom against him as he played
with her. He looked over her shoulder, cupping her sweet bare
breast in his other hand. Her nipple speared his palm like a hard
berry, one he was going to nibble.