Species (32 page)

Slipping back into the lobby, Sil left the dark-haired man and his two male companions behind with the solitary Dr. Fitch. The redhead had gone into the ladies’ room across the lobby and Sil headed that way, smiling to herself at the ridiculous thought that entered her head.

Of all places, it seemed she was destined to always take care of the competition in the washroom.

“H
i, guys,” Press said. Between the fuckup at the bar and Laura storming off, he felt like an ass all the way around. “Mind if I join you?”

“That’s a dumb question and you know it.” Stephen waved at one of the empty chairs. “Don’t sit on anyone’s lap while you’re at it—although that
does
sound like more fun.” He grinned at his own humor.

Without warning, Dan reached over and patted Press’s hand, as if he were comforting a young boy. “Don’t worry, Press. She still likes you, I’m sure. I wish somebody would like me
half
that much. That would really be something.” Press felt his face redden and was saved by the arrival of the waiter with drinks for Stephen and Dan. “What do you call this?” Dan asked, dubiously eyeing the extra-tall glass in front of him.

Stephen beamed at him. “You wanted iced tea, I ordered you the next better thing. Try it—it’s a Long Island Iced Tea.”

“Has it got any tea in it?” Dan held up the frosted glass and shook it, as if he could see the liquid through the glazed exterior. “I was going to ask for decaffeinated so I wouldn’t have trouble sleeping.”

Press and Stephen both chuckled. “Trust me,” Stephen assured Dan, “you won’t be worrying about sleep after one of those.”

Dan shot him a final look over the rim of the glass and took a long sip through the double straw, then another. “Hey!” he said in surprise. “This tastes
great!”

Press started to question the wisdom of drinking it too fast, then realized he was too late; the whole blasted glass was already empty.

T
his rest room was bigger and cleaner, a lot fancier than the one back at the nightclub. Pastel floral wallpaper covered the bottom half of the outer sitting-room area, stopping at a white-painted Victorian chair rail that ran along three of the four walls. A settee and several chairs were scattered around the small room, while above the chair rail was a narrow ledge built to hold purses, toiletries and ashtrays. The fourth wall was covered in bamboo-textured paper and divided by the two doors, one leading into the sitting room from the lobby and the other leading into the toilet area from the sitting room. The three walls above the ledge were solid mirrors, and it was at the middle one of these that the redhead stood. Unnoticed in the doorway, Sil watched as the woman—her rival—sprayed herself lightly from a small bottle of cologne, then plucked a tissue from a nearby box and blotted carefully at the corners of her eyes.

Stepping nonchalantly next to the woman, Sil inhaled. The perfume the redhead had sprayed on herself was unnaturally sweet, but light and inoffensive. It masked the clean, more natural scent of her body and Sil wondered suddenly if spraying yourself with something like this made you seem more attractive to a potential mate.

“I—may I help you?”

She was standing too close to the redhead and had inadvertently made her uncomfortable. Sil took a step back. “Your fragrance,” she said, thinking quickly, “it smells so lovely. May I try some?”

“Sure.” The woman bent her head and dug into her pocketbook. “Just a sec, I just dropped it in—here you go.” She held out the tiny bottle and Sil took it from her palm. “It’s Shalimar. Cologne, not perfume, so it won’t be too strong. You can be generous.”

Sil had no idea what all that meant but she aimed the nozzle at her neck as she had seen the redhead do and gave it two short pushes. Sweet scent swirled around her, settling on her skin and clothes, coating the insides of her nostrils. Sil handed the bottle back to the woman and watched as she dropped it into her purse. “Does it work?” Sil asked. “On your boyfriend?”

The red-headed woman’s eyes slid away from Sil’s face and found her own reflection. Staring at herself, the woman’s gaze seemed suddenly remote, and when she spoke, her voice was clipped. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Sil didn’t believe her and didn’t bother answering. Instead, she closed the distance between her and the redhead. Lips pulling back, she reached for her adversary, feeling the ends of her fingers start to contort—

Behind her, the door to the rest room flew open hard enough to bang against the wall behind it. Sil made a garbled sound into her hands that she hoped resembled a cough and twisted past the redhead as the woman picked up her handbag and moved away from the mirror. Sil remembered seeing the three women who entered the rest room at a table near the dance floor earlier in the Grand Avenue Bar. Laughing, two of them flopped onto chairs in the sitting area while the third one ducked into a stall in the other room. Gritting her teeth, Sil saw her chance to eliminate the redhead slip away . . . for now.

L
eaving Press to sit at the table with a morose look on his face, Stephen wound his way through the light crowd and went to the bar for a couple more drinks for him and Dan. When Stephen had left the table, Press’s Grolsch still sat untouched, condensation dribbling down its side. Glancing back to see Press staring at—
through
—his beer bottle, he decided Press was taking the whole thing with Laura way too seriously. Granted, the woman was lovely and intelligent . . . brave and composed, too, considering some of the things they’d seen over the last few days. But in a couple of hours she would head back to her home in the Simi Valley and Press would be flying back to the East Coast. What had Press hoped for, anyway? Stephen had been involved in a number of long-distance romances in his college days, none of which had worked out and several of which had turned out to be a royal pain in the ass. With the width of a country to separate them, the enchantment was doomed to dwindle rapidly.

Stephen paid the bartender, picked up another two Long Island Iced Teas, and started back to where Dan was watching him from the table. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, he saw the prettiest woman besides Laura he’d seen all evening. Tall, with shapely legs showing beneath a floral, earth-toned blouse and miniskirt, she had short black hair and crystalline blue eyes that met his gaze without flinching and didn’t look away. Aggressive women did not intimidate him—in fact, he preferred a lady friend to be confident and more than a little assertive . . . especially in certain areas. Brashly he held up the frosted Long Island Iced Tea in a gesture of invitation. When her eye contact broke and she disappeared into the crowd, he dismissed it with a muttered, “Oh well, her loss.”

At the table, Press had finally started working on his beer and Dan reached eagerly for the glass Stephen offered. “Yum,” he said as he sucked a generous amount through the straw. “I like these!”

“Better be careful how fast you drink ’em,” Press warned. “They can go to your head pretty quick.”

“Like Laura?” Stephen quipped. “Hey—there she is. Maybe you can talk her into rejoining us.”

Press followed the nod of Stephen’s head to where Laura was standing uncertainly in the doorway. With a contrite expression, he signaled her, trying to get her to join them. She looked undecided, then she shook her head and made a motion with her hand that told them she was going to bed. With a final wave of her fingers, she headed out of the bar.

Stephen watched as Press’s mouth went into an “I screwed up” downward twist and the other man picked up his beer bottle and drained it. “What was all that commotion at the bar?” he asked after Press was finished swallowing.

Press picked the bottle up again and turned it thoughtfully, then began to pick at the label. “A . . . mistake,” he eventually answered. “I thought the woman was Sil.”

“Sil?” Stephen looked surprised. “I thought we were past that business. I mean, the creature’s dead and we’re all heading home tomorrow morning, right?”

“Sure,” Press said agreeably. “The lady just looked so much like her from the back that I freaked a little, that’s all. Everybody makes mistakes.”

Stephen started to say something about how that could be dangerous in Press’s line of work, then decided that would be pretty tactless. “And Laura got upset?” he asked instead.

Pressed nodded. “I guess I freaked her out, too.” He looked around for the waiter. “Maybe I’ll get another Grolsch.”

“Are you going to take it with you?” Dan asked, startling both Stephen and Press. The empath had thankfully stopped guzzling his drink at about the midpoint of the glass.

Press glanced quizzically at Stephen and the professor shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Am I . . . going somewhere?” Press squinted at Dan, but he looked steadily back, unruffled.

“Laura’s room, of course.”

“Of course,” Press repeated.

“Well,” Dan said, “she might be off to bed, but she still wants to see you.”

Press deliberated over this for a moment, then pushed the empty bottle aside with finality and stood. He gave his jacket a quick check to make sure he looked presentable. “Hell’s bells,” he said with a small smile. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

S
il waited until the door to the elevator was halfway closed, then waved her hand through the opening, trying to trigger the laser switch that would reopen it. The dark-haired man was inside and she got a glimpse of him pressing the door open button while she stepped in. “Thanks,” she said.

He nodded, then tapped 9. “What floor?”

She hesitated, then went for a higher number. “Ten, please.” He didn’t say anything else as the floors began to click past and she could feel the desperation building inside her. What now? This was the mate she’d sought so desperately, but he would also kill her if he knew who she was. Emotions warred inside her—desire, anxiety, and most of all, fear. The man standing only three feet away had all the qualities she wanted for her offspring, but he was as unreachable as if he were on the other side of the world.

Something—a rough spot on the oiled cable, perhaps—made the elevator vibrate slightly, sparking an idea in her mind for conversation. “I’d hate to be in one of these things during an earthquake, wouldn’t you?”