Mick watched as Ariston dropped into a plank position and started his push-ups.

He performed them slowly and with perfect form. She’d expected no less from him. He was a hard worker, and he seemed honorable. She was ninety-nine percent sure he was exactly who that tattoo on his arm said he was.

In a way, she was relieved, because it meant she didn’t need to continue worrying that he was secretly still working with the salvage ship crew and this was part of a ruse. But he’d also pointed out a problem, one that she had gotten herself into simply because she hadn’t thought to do some digging. When she had seen the potential to pay off her ship in one mission, she’d jumped on it. Looking back, she should have known better. But what did she do now?

If Ariston was the honorable man she believed him to be, his honor would demand that he report her for illegally landing a ship on this planet. Maybe physically turn her in himself. She well remembered his opening comment that she was his prisoner.

He had hinted that she might win some lenience from the law if she helped him. That seemed a possibility, especially since everything he’d asked for so far was in line with what she wanted—getting her ship fixed and off the planet. If he wanted to throw some idiots in her detainment cells, that was no skin off her nose. Dropping him off at Talon Station in the Kjantal System wasn’t a problem, either. She’d planned to head that way after dropping off her scientists, rather than straight back to Earth. Of course, if she couldn’t drop off her scientists for their months of research, that might add a complication.

As she mulled things over, Mick watched the play of Ariston’s defined muscles as he lowered and rose. He was scant inches from her knee, but she told herself she shouldn’t make any advances toward him. He would probably think she was trying to play him, to make him develop feelings for her so he wouldn’t turn her in or report her to the law. She didn’t want him to think she was manipulative or would do that.

A few minutes ago, she had been on the verge of releasing him from his wager, but then she’d thought about the way the corded muscles of his forearm had felt when she pushed up his sleeve. Her entire body had flushed with tingling heat at the thought of seeing more of him. Touching more of him.

Something she could easily do right now.

If not for her own weird predicament, surely a Star Guardian would be a perfectly legitimate person to date—or grope—while he did push-ups. From what she’d heard, women all over the galaxy flung themselves at the feet of the heroic law enforcers. She was surprised he’d stayed single for as long as he had after his wife passed.

“Are you counting?” Ariston asked.

He hadn’t slowed down, and didn’t now, but he glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. She figured he’d done seventy or eighty by now.

“No,” Mick said. “I assumed someone who could count cards could count push-ups.”

“You could tell I was doing that?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah. I could practically see the calculator buttons in your eyes as you tried to decide if I had cards that could beat yours.”

“Huh, I was doing a shitty job of it. I’m surprised you could tell.”

“Do you usually do better?”

“Yes, when I’m not talking to a beautiful and intriguing woman.”

Her cheeks warmed at the comment, more the idea that she was intriguing than beautiful. She’d had enough compliments on her looks in her life to know she wasn’t a lumpy sack of potatoes, but she couldn’t remember many guys suggesting she was intriguing. Or even particularly bright. She had finished high school, but that was it. Unlike her sister, who had been driven to get a degree while serving in the Navy so she could go on to become a pilot, Mick had hated sitting still in a classroom. She’d always wanted to be outside doing physical things.

“I guess I can’t take you to Vegas then,” she said. “The casinos pay beautiful women to lean their breasts against your shoulder while plying you with free drinks.”

“I’m not sure what Vegas is, but I’ll agree it’s a good thing I get a regular paycheck from my employer and don’t have to rely on my card skills.”

She patted him on the back of his shoulder. “Thanks for the show. You can stop.”

“Very generous of you. Particularly since I’m at ninety-seven.” He paused, turning his head to give her that eyebrow quirk again.

“I wouldn’t want you to cramp up before we have to fight bad guys.”

He did three more push-ups, lifted his chin, and leaned farther forward over his wrists. With careful control, he lifted one leg into the air, then raised the second one, perfectly balanced as he moved into a handstand.

Mick didn’t expect more than that—she was already impressed he’d gone up into that without kicking off the deck. Then he lowered himself, chin almost touching the deck as he did handstand push-ups.

She thought about saying something flippant about extra credit, but she was too busy admiring the display. The push-ups had been nice. These were even better, giving her a clear view of his powerful shoulders and back as he raised and lowered himself. Those meaty thighs weren’t doing anything at the moment, but they were nice too. All of him was.

She stood up, careful not to bump him, and leaned her butt against the table. The new position gave her more of the side view than the back view, and she could see his taut abs and pecs. One wouldn’t want to miss any parts of the show. She blushed a little, realizing his package wasn’t far from eye level when he was at the top of his handstands. He filled out those black briefs most excellently.

She told herself to look away, that a penis was just a penis, and if she should be drooling over anything, it was his musculature, but she couldn’t help noticing he was partially aroused, his cock thrusting at the black material.

He paused at full extension after doing more handstand push-ups than she could count, where he seemed to be debating whether to stop or segue into something else.

“Need a spotter?” Mick asked, stepping closer to face his chest while she rested her hands on the sides of his abs.

Her hands didn’t rest for long. She couldn’t resist the urge to run them up to his hips, then to the outsides of his thighs, tracing those thick muscles. Amazingly, he wasn’t sweaty. Was this just a light warmup for him? She’d heard the Star Guardians had rigid training regimens and kept themselves fit.

“Spotters do make exercise safer,” he said, still studying the deck—he didn’t have much choice, as he would lose his balance if he tucked his chin to look toward her. Even if he did that, all he would see was her legs.

She could openly gawk at him without him knowing she was doing so, though he could probably guess that she was. Her hands trailed down the backs of his thighs to his ass, and she held him for a moment. His penis might have been at half-mast before, but now it tried to burst from its prison, like a rocket on a launchpad.

An image flashed through her mind, of her peeling his underwear down—up—to free him, then nuzzling him. Maybe licking him. Tasting that hot, thick cock. She’d never sucked on someone holding a handstand in front of her, and she wondered if he could hold the position while he came.

He twisted away from her and dropped his feet to the deck.

She tried to tamp down her disappointment, telling herself it was foolish to feel it. They hadn’t even kissed, and she was thinking of sucking his cock?

As he rose to his feet, she struggled to smooth her face and smile, though she was certain the blush heating her cheeks would give away all her naughty thoughts. This wasn’t Kapti, not anymore.

His face was red from the blood that had rushed to his head, and his shoulders, too, seemed huge and powerful, flushed with blood. Heat.

Mick opened her mouth, thinking to compliment him, but he surprised her by stepping forward. His arms wrapped around her as he shifted her back, pressing her against the edge of the table. Then he pressed himself against her.

She was pinned, trapped. Before she could decide if she wanted to object, he kissed her.

Hard, hungry, and demanding, his lips parted hers and his tongue delved inside. At first, she was startled and didn’t respond, but her body caught on before her mind did. Hot pleasure surged through her, plunging toward her groin, and she wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders as she returned his kiss.

His cock, full and erect, jabbed into her stomach. She pulled herself up by his shoulders, wanting it to jab into something lower.

He groaned, his hands roaming her body urgently as he kept her pinned to the table, smothered by his hard form. She sucked on his tongue, then dipped hers into his mouth, tasting him, inhaling his rich masculinity. She pushed her hands up into his short, soft hair, nails digging into his scalp as she enjoyed the sensation of his locks brushing her skin.

Almost overwhelmed by him, Mick completely forgot that they were in the middle of the dining area, that someone could walk through at any time. She forgot she had a private cabin with a bed. All she knew was that her body was throbbing, moisture gathering between her legs in anticipation of him thrusting into her. And she wanted that, wanted it now.

He lifted her slightly, setting her on the table, grabbing her ass, and nudging her legs apart with his own. His cock jammed against her again, this time against her hot core, and she gasped. Even with clothing on, she felt him, hard and ready for her.

She wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him to her. She wanted to remove her clothes, but she was too busy running her hands all over his amazing body and enjoying the way his passionate kisses left her breathless.

His hands came to her top, unbuttoning it and cupping her breasts through her bra. Her nipples hardened for him, reveling in his sweet strokes. His hands were gentler than his mouth. His mouth couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

As much as Mick wanted him to take her right there, not worrying about the future or any possible consequences, a sobering thought trickled into the back of her mind. What if he was thinking about his wife? He hadn’t been looking at her in his handstand, as she stroked his hard body. What if he’d been imagining his wife touching him? Staring at his erect cock? What if that was what had turned him on?

And if it was, did she care? She hadn’t been this turned on for ages. Couldn’t she screw him without it meaning anything? Without caring if it didn’t mean anything to him?

His fingers found her fly, deftly unbuttoning it and tugging down her zipper. Her thoughts scattered like confetti as he slipped his fingers between her legs. Breathless, she threw her head back, gripped his shoulders, and pushed herself into him, her tits tight, her pussy throbbing. He delved into her, and—

Obnoxious beeps came from the cockpit, shattering the haze of her mindless desire. Reminding her of where they were—and that the door to the cockpit was open. If Safin was awake, he could have heard them grunting and gasping and groaning.

Ariston drew back, withdrawing his fingers from her underwear, withdrawing his body heat from hers. His face was still flushed, his eyes burning with intensity, with desire, but he blinked a few times and took a steadying breath. He stepped back, lowering his hands. He looked away but not before she saw a flash of something in his eyes. Regret. No, more than that. He felt he’d almost made a mistake.

Mick swallowed her disappointment, wishing for the first time that she wasn’t good at reading people. She was certain he had been thinking of his dead wife and he’d just realized he’d almost screwed some strange woman instead of her.

“Uh, Captain?” came Safin’s voice from the cockpit.

It had an odd note to it, and Mick winced, certain he had been awake, or had woken at some point, soon enough to hear what had been going on back here.

“What is it?” Mick called, struggling to make her own voice normal as she slid off the table.

Even though she knew she needed to chill, to still her horny nerves, her body wasn’t a light switch that could be turned off and on. She wanted to run back to her cabin and sate herself, even if she had to use her hand in the dark. No, she admitted, eyeing the bare-chested Ariston and his cock, large and hard against the fabric of his underwear. She wanted to jump him and sate herself on him, even if he had been thinking of someone else. Even if he was looking toward the corner, his fingers clenched into fists as he tried to get himself under control.

“They’re talking to each other,” Safin said. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

“Be right there.”

Mick fastened her pants, pulled up her zipper, and jogged to the cockpit, ignoring the discomfort from her lower regions. And turning her back on Ariston. He felt he’d made a mistake. Fine. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him, and she refused to be upset. What was he to her, after all? Some asshole that wanted to arrest her for a mistake.

Realizing her top was open, revealing her stomach and bra, she cursed to herself and paused to button it before bursting in on Safin.

In the cockpit, voices came from the comm, a spattering of them talking over each other.

“…mean, sir?”

“There was a storm.”

“There still is. Sir, can’t you—”

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” responded the captain’s cool voice—she remembered it from the night before. “You get control of that other ship, search it for artifacts, and prep it to bring it into our hold. If it won’t fly again, then prepare to scrap it for all the valuable parts. If you want a ride back up, you’ll get it—and all the artifacts those people have stolen. You should have taken care of them yesterday.”

Smoothing her clothes, Mick stepped into the cockpit. Most of the snow had blown off the forward camera, and she could see the area out in front of the Viper on the view screen. It had stopped snowing and hailing, but wind continued to rail against the hull. The sky had grown lighter, but not much. Clouds blanketed it, hiding the orange sunrise, wherever it was.

“Why is he so certain we’ve been stealing artifacts?” Safin whispered, even though they weren’t transmitting, only listening.

“I have no idea,” Mick said. “Maybe he saw our people out taking samples.”

“What if we can’t take over their ship?” one of the men asked.

“You want a ride off that dust ball, you’ll get the ship and anything they’ve stolen.”

“…Teia said they saw them get a bunch of stuff, sir. What should we do with it if we get it?”

“Bring it aboard. We’ll drop it off with some archaeologists in the Ios System when we swing through to sell the parts from the unfortunately lost-to-misfortune ships we found and salvaged.”

Mick grunted. “Unfortunately. Right.”

“And if you can, bring me that traitorous Ston,” the captain said, distaste dripping from his voice. “I want him dead, but I’d prefer to kill him with my own hand. After I question him to see who the bastard is working for.”

“Gladly, sir.”

“Who the hell is Teia?” Safin whispered. “And what stuff? Our team didn’t find any artifacts or anything valuable, right?” He frowned at her.

“Not that I know of. I was busy fixing the ship, but I didn’t see anyone except Ariston carrying anything back.”

“What was he carrying?”

“Dev. And her soil.”

Mick was aware of Ariston standing in the corridor right outside the cockpit, but she didn’t look at him. She was also aware that he still wore only his underwear, and she didn’t need to be distracted by that right now. If they ended up finding a way onto the salvage ship, she was going to make him go to his cabin and get his clothes. No rides for people who didn’t have a full set of clothing.

“We’ll get them, sir,” a determined voice said over the wind. “Get that shuttle ready. We’ll have everything for you in under an hour.”

“You better.”

The chatter ended, leaving Mick scowling at the comm station. It sounded like she would need to defend her ship. And soon.

How was she supposed to ambush the shuttle being sent down if she was busy repelling a siege?

“Teia is a woman’s name,” Ariston said.

“Thanks for the tip,” Mick snapped, then regretted it. She had enjoyed kissing Ariston—all right, doing a lot more than kissing—and she ought to simply remember that, rather than the look she’d seen in his eyes afterward. But it stung, more than she would have thought it would, that he might have been thinking about the love of his life while being with her.

He gave her a slightly puzzled look, but all he said was, “I saw her out in the ruins with a man from the salvage ship. She was the one to pull up a skull while I watched, and she and her partner may have gotten more skulls during the night. They were somewhat protected in that reservoir.”

“She’s an archaeologist?” Mick asked, not certain how this tied in.

“No, a woman on Eryx’s crew. An opportunist, I would guess. It sounded like she checked the wreckage of the crashed ship, found information about ancient skulls and a gem-like chip embedded in them, and learned that collectors will pay a great deal for them. It’s possible she and her partner got caught by the rest of the men down here, or that the others were suspicious when they were gone all night. Maybe they tried to cover their tracks by saying your people got the skulls. Eryx, for all his flaws, seems to want to protect the ruins from looters. From what I’ve gathered, he’s something of a vigilante. He doesn’t see himself as a criminal.”

An unexpected expression came over Ariston’s face, one she couldn’t pinpoint. Regret? Wistfulness? Ruefulness?

“Apparently,” Ariston said, perhaps seeing her confusion, “Eryx only attacks criminals, or those partaking in criminal actions, then feels justified in taking their ships for salvage.”

“We’re not partaking in anything criminal,” Safin said. “And he had his people attack us.”

“You’re trespassing on a protected planet,” Ariston said before Mick could attempt to explain.

“Er, what?” Safin appeared genuinely surprised.

Mick had a feeling nobody here had a clue that they were breaking Confederation law. Maybe Umbra didn’t even know.

“We’ll worry about it later,” Mick said, lifting a hand to stop Ariston from explaining. “We’ve got a more pressing problem, one that’s going to press soon.”

She flicked her hand over the sensor display to bring it out of sleep mode, then checked on their weapons status. The night before, the Viper’s weapons had been down, but Woodruff had mentioned working on them while she’d been out wrangling those panels into submission.

“We can fire the top Ferango cannons while sitting on the ground,” Mick said. “You can rotate them three-hundred-sixty degrees, like this.” She demonstrated for Safin’s sake.

“Am I your new gunner?”

“You’ll have to be. I’m going to be out there, shooting the crap out of any asshat that tries to get close to the ship. I didn’t do all those repairs just to have my baby blown up again.” Mick looked at Ariston. “If you’re done cavorting through my ship in your underwear, I’d appreciate it if you would put on your armor and help me.”

His jaw tightened, and she sensed that she’d offended him. Which made her feel like an ass.

Whatever he’d been feeling during or after that kiss, it didn’t mean he was a jerk. Just that he’d lost someone he would probably never get over. She had no right to be cold to him because she could never be the person he’d lost.

“Actually, if your man can let me know when the shuttle shows up on the sensors—” Ariston nodded to Safin, “—I’ll prepare to run over and ambush it when it lands. If some of Eryx’s men are busy attacking your ship, that’ll be a good time for it. I can take it over, fly it up to the salvage ship, get your converter, and come back down. Or if there’s a chance I can take over the salvage ship and subdue the crew… I’ll do that. Either way, I’ll make sure you get your part.”

“That sounds like a lot for one person to do,” Mick said. “Can you even fly?”

“If the conditions aren’t too tricky. But I can force the pilot to fly if I need to. I’m not feeling overly warm toward those men after what they’ve done in the last two days.”

“Me, neither.” She grimaced, Dr. Garcia’s specter coming to haunt the back of her mind. Thinking of his death made her feel guilty for worrying about kisses and relationship woes.

Safin experimented with the weapons controls. “What’s the range?” he asked.

“Five kilometers, but you can shoot at an ant on that boulder over there too. And raise the shields as soon as I—the two of us—get out there,” she said, nodding at Ariston.

“I’ll get ready,” Ariston said, turning back into the ship.

“Me too.”

Mick trotted after him. He grabbed his shirt on the way past the table, their cards still scattered across it, and she tried and failed not to think about the kiss, about him being so turned on by her touch that he jammed her against the table without a word, his mouth descending on hers with raw, hungry need.

He turned into the airlock where he’d left his armor to dry. She headed toward her cabin, but hesitated with her hand on the latch.

“Ariston?” she said over her shoulder.

He peered out of the airlock, his chest piece already in hand.

She was horrible at apologies, so she said, “You’re a really good kisser,” and hoped he would understand.

“So are you.”

“But you suck at Kapti.”

He snorted, half smiling. “Thanks for building up my ego before ruthlessly destroying it.”

“Any time.” She gave him an old Marine salute before ducking into her cabin to change.

They didn’t have much time, and she needed to raid her chocolate coffee bean stash before going into battle.