“Swimming? You want to go to swimming?” Caitlyn eyed the Olympic-sized pool.
After lunch, Arak had attended to his business while Omacia introduced her around and let her type on the virtual keyboard. Upon his return, he’d whisked her to a rooftop garden. In the center of it was a swimming pool.
“I come here every afternoon. Swimming relaxes me. Do you not know how to swim? I can teach you,” he said.
She pictured them splashing in the water, him supporting her, his hands on her near-naked body. “I can swim,” she said quickly.
“Excellent.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“Not a problem.” He pointed to a cabana. “In the women’s changing room, you will find new swimsuits you may use.” He stretched, and his shirt drew taut across his muscled chest. She would see him without his clothes, well, most of them. Her stomach fluttered, and her mouth went dry. Why did he have this effect on her? No man she’d ever dated had affected her this way.
Or studied her the way he did. Sometimes he eyed her like a hungry jungle cat contemplating his next meal. His interest complicated the situation enough without her body’s inappropriate response to his presence. She had a job to do. Once she had the incriminating evidence she needed, she would expose the Krinar for the world to see. So far, everything she’d learned had been interesting, but nothing that would wake up her fellow humans and get them to see the truth.
Arak smiled lazily, and a fluttery ache swept over her.
Remember what he is. What his people have done. They took our planet. Who knows what else they have planned? They were sneaky and manipulative. Arak and Omacia had been careful to show her the positive projects and technologies—or at least the nonthreatening ones.
“You can’t go swimming,” Mike hissed into the earpiece.
On that, she and her producer were in agreement. Going into the pool would require removing the transceiver and the pendant. If something important occurred, it wouldn’t get recorded. “My hair will get wet,” she told Arak.
“Inside the cabana is a hair-drying facility. You’ll get to see and use some of our technology.” He folded his arms and cocked his head. “Or perhaps you’re saying you don’t want to go swimming with me.”
“Finally, he gets it.” Sarcasm filtered through the transceiver. “He’s pretty dense.”
Arak’s—okay she would admit it, now—sexy mouth tightened, and she pressed her lips together, too. Mike did not know when to shut up. Arak was one of the most intelligent men she’d ever met.
Unexpectedly irked, she said, “That’s not it at all. I had some concerns, but you’ve addressed them, and I would like to swim.” Arak had mentioned swimming relaxed him, and if he let his guard down, he might incriminate himself. She’d remove the pendant for swimming, but she would keep the earpiece. She could paddle in the shallow end, keeping her head out of the water.
“Wonderful. I’ll meet you out here in ten minutes. Will that give you enough time to change? You’ll find everything you need inside.”
“Perfect. See you in ten minutes.” She headed for the cabana.
“Have you lost your mind? You’ll have to take off the recording devices. What if he reveals another plot?” Mike yammered.
The door dissolved, and she entered. Inside, the lighting—which seemed to have no direct source, was optimal without being harsh. The cabana reminded her of a spa, with private, curtained changing cubicles, storage lockers, showers, and a room she didn’t recognize that must be the drying facility Arak had mentioned.
Alone, at last. “Mike.” She gritted her teeth. “If you don’t stop telling me how to do my job, I’m going to remove the earpiece.”
Her producer stopped talking and started sulking. At least, he was quiet.
Against one wall were cubbies filled with bright fabrics. She shook one out. The silken cloth was the most beautiful shade of turquoise she’d ever seen, but the scarf-like suit had no shape or style. It would hang on her like a sack. She couldn’t swim in that. She rifled through the others, but while they came in different colors, the style and sizes were the same.
One size fits all might work for a scarf or a shawl, but it didn’t come close to cutting it for a swimsuit. She dangled the turquoise one on her finger. She would have to tell Arak she’d changed her mind.
Mike snickered. “Not gonna work for you, huh?”
That was the last straw.
Caitlyn unhooked the pendant, marched over to one of the benches, and placed it camera lens down.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to try on the suit.” If it came close to working, she would wear it. She could sit on the edge while Arak swam. “One more word out of you, and I’ll remove the earpiece, too. So, if you want to hear the conversation, you’d better keep quiet.”
She’d be reprimanded by Viral News for speaking to her producer so disrespectfully, but, right now, she didn’t care. She stomped into one of the changing cubicles and yanked the curtain closed. Nobody had been at the pool, but that didn’t mean other employees wouldn’t show up. She had no desire to parade her imperfect body around the perfect Krinar women.
She slipped out of her clothes and then stepped into the swimsuit and pulled it up. The fabric began to conform to her body. The suit seemed almost alive as it shaped and molded itself to her curves. She ripped the curtain aside and ran to peer at a mirror she’d noticed on the wall. She stared in disbelief at the transformation. It had to be the most perfect fit ever.
“Oh my god.” The suit was a dream. There was no bra in it, but it supported her breasts perfectly, showing a hint of cleavage, while nipping at least a couple of inches off her waist and flattening her stomach. She spun around and peered over her shoulder at the back. The suit dipped low and hugged her ass. She pivoted to study the front again. Even her chubby thighs looked slimmer.
If this was an example of Krinar technology, she wanted stock in the swimsuit company. Women would kill for a bathing suit like this.
“What’s happening?” Mike yelled into her ear. His good behavior had lasted all of about five minutes.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she said, partly out of pique and partly out of modesty. No way was she going to describe herself in a swimsuit to her male producer. Her ten minutes were about up, so she folded her clothes and stowed them in a locker then remembered the pendant.
She turned to grab it—only to see it sink into the bench as if the latter were water. The pendant vanished! In disbelief, she ran her hands over the planking. Constructed of some plastic-vinyl-rubbery mystery substance, the bench was solid. She thumped on it in frustration. How could the necklace have disappeared? She peered underneath and at the floor all around. “Crap! What am I going to do now?”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” After the fuss over his running monologue, how could she admit she’d lost the camera? Well, she hadn’t lost it, the bench had eaten it, but she’d be held responsible.
Maybe she only thought she’d placed it there. She peered into the dressing cubicle and then searched her locker, shaking out her clothes. Nope. Could the bench have absorbed the pendant? She grabbed a folded towel from a cubby, set it on the plank, and stepped back to watch. Nothing. The bench showed no interest in the towel.
I’m losing my mind.
Not to mention time. More than ten minutes had passed. She could figure out what to do later. She needed to meet Arak.
“There you are,” he said when she emerged. He wore black swim trunks and nothing else. Her mouth dried at the sight of so much bronze skin and taut, well-defined muscles. Broad in shoulder, trim in waist, and gifted with drool-worthy six-pack abs, his body would turn any woman’s head. Light hair dusted his thighs, but his rock-hard chest was pure, smooth perfection. Her borrowed one-piece had done wonders for her, but he didn’t require a miracle suit to enhance his physique.
“I was about to check on you. Everything okay?” he asked.
“Uh…um…” The man had no right to look so lickable. Focus, focus. She pointed at the cabana. “I lost my necklace. I set it on a bench, and now it’s gone.”
“Maybe it fell onto the floor?”
“No, it disappeared into the bench itself. The necklace vanished.” She planted her hands on her hips, waiting to see what he would say. If doors dissolved and reformed, benches could engulf camera necklaces.
“You lost the video camera!” Mike shouted.
Caitlyn winced.
“You mean your grandmother’s?” Arak’s eyes narrowed.
Grandmother? She frowned, and then remembered the story she’d concocted. Oh yeah, family heirloom. “Yes, that one.” She tried to look sad. Other than losing video, the pendant itself meant nothing.
“How the hell did you lose the pendant?” Mike demanded.
“I’ll replace the necklace, of course. I can’t replace the sentimental value, and I’m deeply sorry. Articles created by nanotechnology are intelligent materials. It’s unusual for absorption to occur with an article like jewelry—usually that only happens with foreign electronics.”
“How the hell are we supposed to video, now?” Mike jabbered.
Caitlyn grimaced. If she’d known what would happen, she might have set the earpiece on the bench as well.
“I’m very sorry. I wish it could be recovered, but once it’s absorbed, the molecules are reorganized,” Arak said.
“So what you’re saying is my necklace is probably a food tray by now,” she quipped.
“This isn’t funny.” Mike snapped.
“Something like that.” Arak chuckled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. Your grandmother’s necklace is irreplaceable.” He looked so contrite, she almost felt bad for lying.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I still have my memories, and the pendant itself wasn’t expensive.”
“It sure the fuck was,” Mike bit out. “Do you have any idea how much those microcameras cost?”
If he didn’t lower his voice, Arak would hear him. Why couldn’t he be quiet?
“Ready to go for a dip?” Arak asked.
“Sounds good.” She padded toward the shallows.
“You said you can swim, right?” He moved closer to her.
“Yes. I swam for my high school team.”
“Good.” He scooped her up in his arms and charged toward the deep end.