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Authors: Dara Joy

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light of the full moon. True, the blanket covered them, but what if Blooey

should decide to take a midnight stroll in the backyard?

More worrisome, she had never hopped into bed so fast with anyone in her life.

She had known Steve for two years before taking the plunge, and Rick—even with

that aberration, she had been dating him for several months. What was she to

make of this? How was she supposed to behave? They weren't involved, yet she had

been more intimate with Tyber than she had been with anyone in her life. He had

seen her totally out of control.

She massaged the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. No, he had

caused her to become totally out of control.

Tyber took command like a regular blood-and-guts general.

The man was dangerous. Positively lethal. Who knew what responses he could coax

from her when she least expected it? She had absolutely no intentions of

becoming involved again. At least not for the next millennium.

Tyber rolled off her, reaching down for his jeans. Suddenly shy, Zanita wrapped

the blanket around her as she searched for her clothes. As soon as she had

dressed, she tried to think of a graceful way to make a quick getaway. She

needed some time to dwell on her wanton behavior. Looking and drooling was one

thing. Touching and groping quite another.

"Look, Tyber, I'd better be going now. Thank you for inviting me, and good luck

in your research—"

Tyber watched her knowingly as he pulled his jeans over his lean hips and zipped

them up. She wasn't even looking at him when she spoke! He placed himself

directly in front of her, removing that option.

"Oh, no you don't, Ms. Masterson. How many times do I have to tell you I won't

let you run away? We just shared something, and I'm not just talking about the

sex." He ran a hand through his hair as a vision of them entwined in a

passionate embrace played in his mind. "Though it was incredible, wasn't it?"

Her chin came up defiantly. "I'm not running away. I'm leaving. There is a

difference."

"No. You're not."

She sighed. "Tyber, I don't know what—this was." Her hand indicated the now

vacant chaise with its rumpled blanket. "I don't know how I'm supposed to act in

a situation like this—stop right where you are!" He had started to move closer

to her. The last thing she needed right now was him befuddling her with his

touch.

"Zanita…"

She would have to elaborate, so he would get the picture. For a genius, he could

be awfully thick-headed. Surely he should have been able to figure out that a

woman of her advanced years would have had enough encounters with his sex to

swear off men entirely!

"I've had one and a half relationships in my life and—"

Tyber didn't hear the rest of her words; he was still stuck on the first part of

her statement. "A half of a relationship? What the hell is that?"

She flushed. "I don't wish to discuss it."

He was looking at her as if she were some odd specimen he had just discovered

under his microscope. Make that telescope, she amended. "And you can take that

look off your face right now!"

"What look?" He still was viewing her strangely.

"You know what look! I am no different than anybody else—there is no need for

you to peer at me like that."

He took a deep breath. "Zanita, you are so far removed from any other person I

have ever met that the comparison defies description. Believe me, sweetheart,

putting your name and the norm together is a contradiction in terms."

"And who are you to judge?" She tapped her foot, swinging her arm in an arc to

encompass his bizarre home. "Need I say more?"

He narrowed his eyes. "So I'm eccentric."

"Eccentric!" She scoffed. "You, Tyberius Augustus Evans"—her index finger poked

his chest—"are a kook!"

Tyber's mouth lifted at the corners. "A kook?" He placed his hands over his

heart. "Zany, you wound me."

"That's Zani with an i."

A dimple popped into his cheek, and she was locked into a spontaneous embrace.

"However can you tell?" he whispered laughingly while nuzzling her hair.

She looked up at him with a wounded expression. "It's the way you say it. I just

know." His fingers idly toyed with the tiny curls at the base of her neck while

he observed her earnest little face. He felt his heart jump.

"Zanita, I adore you." His lips pressed warmly against her forehead. "Stay with

me tonight."

Stay with him? He adored her? She gazed at him in shock. Did that mean he wanted

them to have a relationship or… Another horrible thought occurred to her.

"Tyber, you—did you use protection? You have to be so careful these days and—"

Her hands covered her face. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

"Don't worry about it, baby; I took care of it."

Before she could think of an appropriate response to that, Tyber lifted her in

his arms and carried her into the house. He didn't put her down until she was

gently deposited in the center of his bed.

Which happened to be a giant oyster shell.

Zanita blinked up at him, nonplussed at his presumption. No other man of her

acquaintance would have dreamed of acting so assertively. Then again, no other

man of her acquaintance could have brought her so completely to satisfaction.

Nonetheless, she was not about to let the man haul her around without her

express consent. In triplicate.

She glared up at him. "Excuse me, I must have missed something. When did we leap

back two centuries?" Tyber looked up at the ceiling as if he were seriously

thinking about her question.

"Can't do that. At least according to Einstein. However, a wormhole—"

"Stop that doublespeak right now! You didn't even give me a chance to answer

you!"

Tyber shrugged. "It was not a question."

"Tyber!"

He grinned down at her. "Technically speaking," he amended to sooth her ruffled

feathers.

She threw him a pointed look and sat up. It appeared that she was in the middle

of another one of Tyber's flights of fancy. Three walls were floor-to-ceiling

aquariums. The fourth wall contained two doors which presumably led to a

bathroom and dressing room.

"I'll admit the aquariums are relaxing, but an oyster shell bed?" Her eyes

traveled above her, where the top half of the open shell loomed over her head.

There were recessed colored lights embedded in it.

Tyber picked up a control box on a driftwood table beside the bed. He pressed a

button and the lights dimmed romantically.

"What if you want to read in bed?" she asked sarcastically, still miffed at his

overbearing behavior. Men! Boil them in oil! He pressed another button, and two

bright reading lights came on, spotlighting her. "Now I feel like the Little

Mermaid."

He snapped the reading lights off, leaving the soft pastel lights on. "You do

look like a little pearl in there." She stuck her tongue out at him. He wagged

his finger at her. "Obviously not a cultured pearl."

"People who live in glass aquariums shouldn't throw insults. You have a

television in your bedroom. Talk about cultured…"

"Which reminds me, we missed The Curse Of The Mummy's Finger. I wonder how we

could have forgotten?" He gave her a very male look.

"I wonder." She couldn't help it; her mouth curved in response. He was such an

incredibly sexy man. And very sweet.

Despite his godawful arrogance.

To be fair, she supposed that just being Tyberius Augustus Evans came with an

arrogance factor. There was no one quite like him. The world knew it. And he

probably knew it. She really did want to stay with him a little longer. So what

could one night hurt?

Tyber sat on the edge of the bed. "Does that alluring little smile mean you are

going to spend the night with me?"

"Is that a question?" He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Yes, Zanita mine, that is a question. Please stay; I want you to. How's that

for humility?"

"I don't know. Somehow the Uriah Heap routine doesn't suit you. And, yes; I'll

stay, but just for this one night. I've given up men."

Tyber raised an eyebrow. "You mean as in, I've given up red meat?"

"Something like that."

"Dare I enquire why?" She tugged her hand away.

"No, you may not."

"I see. So tonight you're going off the wagon, so to speak? I don't know that I

like being compared to a behavioral slump." He walked his fingers up her arm.

"Be serious, Tyber. There's no insult intended. Consider it more like an…

aberration."

"An aberration." He stared at her stonily.

"You're not upset, are you?"

"Of course not. I've always aspired to be someone's aberration. Now I'm yours.

My life is complete." He flopped down sideways across the bed.

"Don't take it personally."

"So now I'm not even an individual aberration? I'm not even special, am I? I'm

just an average run-of-the-mill aberration." He rolled toward her, grabbing both

her hands in one of his. Her eyes widened.

"What are you going to do?" He loomed over her.

"I'm going to demonstrate something to you. This"—pushing up her shirt, he ran

his fingers lightly across her belly— "is an ordinary aberration. While this"—he

suddenly began ticking her midriff mercilessly—"is a special aberration." She

began giggling mindlessly. "Now, would you care to rephrase your assessment of

me?"

"Stop, Tyber, please!" He lifted his hand to let it hover menacingly a few

inches above her belly button.

"I'm waiting." He flexed his fingers threateningly.

"Okay, you are a special aberration. There, satisfied?"

His lips brushed her stomach. "Not yet," he said against her skin. "But it's a

start." Her hands were released as he sat back up on the bed.

"Do you know what's on TV even as we speak?" He had the expression of a man who

had a bag full of diamonds behind him.

"No, what?" She asked eagerly, sitting up also.

"Invasion of the Prehistoric Space Vampires." He raised and lowered his brows

several times.

"No!" Zanita gasped. Tyber nodded with a glint in his eye. "My favorite movie!"

He retrieved the remote on the nightstand, snapping on the tube. A vampire in a

silver spacesuit was chasing a caveman across the San Fernando Valley. "It just

started. Stay right where you are; I'll be right back with something decadently

rich. Let me know what I missed."

Zanita leaned back against the pillows, already absorbed in the movie, while

Tyber headed off to ransack the kitchen.

He returned a few minutes later, holding a large serving tray. His bare foot

pushed the door open, then closed it behind him. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing too much—the head vampire spaceman just spotted the cavegirl taking a

bath by the stream and saved her from getting eaten by the sabre-toothed poodle.

What is all that?" Tyber placed the tray on the nightstand and hopped on the bed

beside her.

"This is Blooey's famous Toll House Pie." He handed her an enormous piece

smothered in ice cream with a glass of milk.

"Is this cookie-dough ice cream?" He nodded. "This is sinful." She tasted a

piece of the pie. "Oh, God, Tyber, this is better than sex."

The fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Watch it. You've already given me one

complex tonight."

She licked some fudge off the corner of her fork. "I didn't mean sex with you,

of course."

"I hope that's not the chocolate speaking."

"No, really, sex with you is much more delicious," she said impishly.

He turned to look at her, suddenly gone serious. "Zanita, do you—"

"Shh! The movie's coming back on."

They watched the movie companionably, making humorous comments about the

implausible script and horrid acting. When the psychic shaman of the cavemen

came on, they both started laughing.

During the commercial, Tyber turned to her. "That shaman reminds me—didn't you

say you were doing a story about psychic healers?"

"Uh-huh. That's how I ended up in your class. You were right; I am a lousy

speller."

A trait I am very grateful for. "What type of a story are you doing?" He crossed

his hands behind his head, leaning back against the pillows.

"It's an investigative piece." She told him about Xavier LaLeche and poor Mrs.

Haverhill.

"The Patriot Sun sent you on a story like this?"

She squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, not exactly. I'm sort of doing this on my

own."

"Really. Are you an investigative reporter?"

"Um, sort of…"

"Sort of?"

"This is my first investigative piece, but I know—"

"I've heard that type of work can be dangerous."

"That's what Mills said, but I think she's overreacting."

"Who's Mills?"

"My best friend. The trouble is, my editor, Hank, only gives me fluff to cover.

I want, need to do something… more. I'm determined to do this story—not just for

the paper. I knew Mrs. Haverhill. She was a nice old woman who didn't deserve to

be conned like that."

"Why not complain to the head honcho about your assignments?"

"Hank is the head honcho. Believe me, he would never send me out on anything

that was even remotely hazardous."

Good for Hank, Tyber thought. Although he was curious why. "Why not?"

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