Sunlight Moonlight

"He's so different, Mom. I don't know how to explain it. I mean, I know he's from a foreign country, but sometimes it seems like he's from another planet."



"I think that imagination of yours must be working overtime again," Dolores St. John said indulgently.



"That's not it," Lainey insisted, shifting the receiver to her other ear. "Mom, he said he'd never been in a Volkswagen before."



"Well, I'm sure there must be some countries that aren't as motorized as we are."



"Maybe..."



"Are you going to see him again?"



"Yes. Tonight."



"Do you think that's wise? I mean, you really don't know anything about him. And he lives all alone in that old house that isn't even his."



"I know, I know. But there's something about him, Mom. Sometimes he seems so lost. I don't know. I just know I have to see him again."



"You will be careful, won't you?" Dolores asked, even though she knew she was wasting her time. Lainey was Lainey. "How's your book coming?"



"Slow."



Dolores made a low sound of sympathy. "By the way, have you heard any more about that meteor?''



"No."



"Funny, they can't find any trace of it."



"Probably burned up in the atmosphere," Lainey replied. "It was scary, though. I saw it flash across the sky, and it was just like one, of those old science fiction movies." Lainey shivered. "It was bound to happen, the way the government keeps sending rockets into space. Sooner or later, one of them was bound to come back down."



"I guess so. Well, have a good time with your young man. And be careful."



"I'll be careful," Lainey replied. "I love you, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow."



Lainey stared at the phone after she had hung up. Her mother was right. She should be careful.



She told herself that as she took a long, hot bubble bath.



As she carefully applied her lipstick and mascara.



As she pulled on a pair of slinky black pants and a turquoise sweater.



As she spritzed herself with perfume.



Feeling like a teenager going out on her first date, she grabbed her purse and her keys and practically ran out of the house.



She was going to see him again.



He was waiting for her at the front door. All day, he'd been counting the minutes until he would see her again. He had tried to repair the intergalactic transmitter from his spacecraft so he could communicate with his sister ship, but he hadn't been able to concentrate on the task at hand.



He had tried to remember everything he had ever learned about theUnited States , its people, their habits and language, their universal gestures; he had tried to keep himself busy by reading the local newspapers and magazines in hopes of absorbing the most commonly used words and terms of her language, but to no avail.



All he could think of was the way she had felt in his arms, the warmth of her skin, the silky texture of her hair. Never in all his years had he experienced anything like holding Lainey St. John in his arms.



And now she was here, looking more beautiful than he remembered. Her brown eyes were glowing; her skin was radiant and warm. The clothes she wore accented every feminine curve, and his body reacted instantly.



Micah had learned to govern his primal urges years ago, but his hard-won self-control shattered each time he saw her. An unfamiliar heat exploded in his groin and radiated to every part of his body.



He wanted her. Wanted her with every fiber of his being, every beat of his heart.



He took a step backward so she could enter the house. For a moment, he stood in the shadows of the entry hall, taking slow, deep breaths, until he was again in control of his wayward thoughts and emotions, and then he followed her into the parlor.



"What shall we do tonight?" Lainey asked, turning around to face him. Her heart quickened at his nearness. He made her feel beautiful, desirable, and very, very female.



"Do?"



"You know, go bowling, take in a movie, go for a walk down by the beach."



Micah hesitated, baffled by her suggestions, and then he shook his head. "Perhaps you should decide."



"Have you eaten?"



"Eaten? No."



"Well, if it's okay with you, I'd like to go to dinner, and then a show."



"Whatever you wish," Micah replied, and knew he would do anything she asked just to be with her.



Lainey smiled up at him. He was wearing a pair of snug black jeans and a blue cable-knit sweater. She took a deep breath, thinking he should be on the cover of GQ. "Are you ready?"



"Yes."



He followed her out of the house, admiring the graceful way she moved, the sway of feminine hips.



Opening the door, he slid into the car, feeling cramped, as always, in such a small space. He watched carefully as she put the key in the ignition and started the engine.



After a moment's indecision, Lainey decided to go to dinner at Luigi's, which was one of her favorite restaurants. She couldn't help but notice that every woman in the place turned to stare at Micah as they made their way to their table. She glanced over her shoulder at Micah, but he seemed completely unaware of the attention he was getting.



Lainey ordered spaghetti with marinara sauce, and when Micah couldn't make up his mind, she ordered the same for him, and then, as an afterthought, ordered a bottle of dry red wine.



Micah glanced around the restaurant, surprised to see men and women sitting together, eating together. A young man and woman sat side by side, openly holding hands. An elderly couple sat at a nearby table. They didn't talk much, but they smiled at each other while they ate.



He couldn't help staring at the man and woman in the next booth. The woman held a curly-haired baby on her lap, bouncing it up and down, laughing and cooing to it while the man looked on, smiling proudly, happily.



"So, what kind of work do you do?" Lainey asked.



Micah was so mesmerized by the sight of the woman with the child that it took a moment for him to realize Lainey had spoken. He quickly probed her mind to see what she'd asked him before replying, "I'm a navigator."



"Like on an airplane?"



"Yes."



Lainey frowned. "Let me get this straight. Your country has planes but no cars?"



"I didn't say we had no cars, only that they were different from yours."



"Oh." She studied him covertly while the waitress poured the wine. The light blue sweater he wore emphasized the blue of his eyes and complemented his long blond hair. He was so beautiful, sometimes just looking at him took her breath away.



She felt her face grow hot when she realized she was staring at him, and that he was very much aware of it.



Picking up her glass, she took a drink, hoping he would attribute the blush in her cheeks to the wine.



Micah grinned. He had little experience with females, but he recognized admiration when he saw it. The rosy color in Lainey's cheeks heightened under his knowing gaze.



Taking pity on her, he picked up his glass and took a sip. It had a pleasant taste, reminding him of some of the fruit he'd eaten here on earth.



"Why are you staying at the old Grayson place?" Lainey asked, hoping to hide her embarrassment at being caught staring. "I mean, I think you'd be more comfortable in a hotel."



"The house suits my purposes."



"Oh? And what might those be?"



"I wanted a place where I could be alone," Micah replied, but that was only part of the truth.



"Don't tell me you're a hermit."



"A hermit?"



"A recluse. Someone who doesn't like to be around people."



Micah frowned. He'd never thought of himself in those terms, but he supposed he was a loner. He spent very little time around people, preferring the quiet of space and the solitude of his ship to crowded compounds and noisy gatherings.



"By that definition, I suppose I am a hermit," he admitted with a wry smile.



"Maybe I should go and leave you alone then?"



"No," he said quickly. "Don't go."



"I was only kidding." Lainey shook her head when she saw he didn't understand. "Making a joke. Never mind. I didn't mean it."



"I'm glad."



Just two simple words, yet they went straight to her heart and lodged there.



"What kind of work do you do?'' Micah asked, assuming that, like all the females he knew, Lainey was also employed.



"I write mystery novels."



"Books?"



Lainey nodded. "Maybe you've read one."



"I don't think so, but I would like to, very much."



"I'll bring one next time... I mean..." She felt her cheeks grow hot. She didn't want him to think she was taking anything for granted. "If we see each other again..."



"When," he said, his gaze intent upon her face. "When we see each other again."



"Have you heard from your friend?"



"Not yet."



"I'm glad. I mean, I'm sure you're anxious to get back home, but..." She took a deep breath. "I'll miss you."



"Will you?" He leaned forward, wanting to tell her how much she had come to mean to him, but the waitress arrived with their dinner then, and the moment was gone.



Lainey talked about the book she was working on while they ate, and he learned that the reason she'd gone to the house in the first place was to take photographs. She was very enthusiastic about what she did, and he thought it charming that she cared so much, that it gave her such pleasure. How long had it been since he'd taken any real pleasure in his work, in anything?



After dinner, they went to a movie. It was a unique experience, to sit inside a darkened building and watch a story unfold before his eyes. It was primitive, yet entertaining, and for a few moments, he lost himself in the story of a man and a woman overcoming tremendous odds to make a life together.



When the lights came on again, he noticed tears in Lainey's eyes.



"Why do you weep?" he asked curiously.



"Because it was so sad. And so happy."



"But it was not real."



"I know, but I just can't help it. When I go to the movies, I lose myself in the story until it isn't happening to someone else, it's happening to me. Good books affect me that way, too."



"You have a very sensitive soul, Lainey St. John."



"Thank you."



He was quiet on the ride home. Time and again, she slid a glance in his direction, admiring the masculine beauty of his profile, the width of his shoulders.



When she parked the car in the driveway, she wondered if he would kiss her and tried to tell herself she wasn't disappointed when he got out of the car.



"Do you want to come inside?" he asked.



It wasn't a good idea, Lainey thought. It was late. She was feeling blue, and vulnerable. And he was much too attractive. "Maybe for a little while."



She followed him up the steps and into the house. In minutes, he had a fire going in the hearth. Warming her hands, Lainey thought how odd it was to be in a house without gas and electricity. Of course, since the house was supposed to be vacant, he couldn't very well have the utilities turned on. Still, she wondered what he did for food, how he bathed and washed his clothes. Walking to town seemed out of the question, considering the distance.



She felt an odd shiver of anticipation when he came to stand beside her. From the corner of her eye, she studied his profile. It was sharp and strong, totally masculine, with no trace of softness. It was, she thought, quite the most compelling face she had ever seen.



He was studying her, too, and it made her decidedly uncomfortable. After all, what did she really know about this man? For the first time, it occurred to her that he might be hiding from someone, maybe the police. Why else would he be holed up in this old house? Oh, Lord, her mother always said she was too trusting. Just because Micah was tall and handsome didn't mean he wasn't capable of murder and mayhem.



Suddenly, her imagination running rampant, she visualized him raping her, strangling her, burying her body in the backyard.



She made a big production of looking at her watch. "It's later than I thought. Maybe I should go."



Sensing her sudden apprehension, he backed away from her, hoping the distance between them would ease her mind. "I will not hurt you, Lainey St. John."



"What?"



"I will not hurt you."



Lainey stared into his silver-blue eyes, eyes that reflected a deep sadness, and wondered how he'd known what she was thinking.



"I..." She forced a smile. "I know, but it's late, and I..."



She was going to leave, and he would be alone again. He held out his hand, palm up, in entreaty. "Stay. Please."



As quickly as they'd appeared, her doubts and fears seemed to vanish. "What is it?" she asked, concerned by the odd expression on his face. "What's wrong?"



"I want..." He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and she saw them tighten into fists.



"What do you want?"



"I want very much to hold you."



"You do?"



"I don't wish to offend you, but..."



Lainey's heart skipped a beat as she gazed up at him. The light from the fire played over his face. Never, she thought, never in all her life had she seen such longing, such melancholy, reflected in a man's eyes. "All right."



"You're sure you won't mind?"



"I won't mind," Lainey assured him. Indeed, she had been wishing he would touch her all night.



Feeling as though he were walking through the quicksands of Orizzon, Micah crossed the short distance between them, then gently enfolded Lainey in his arms.



The minute he touched her, Lainey experienced the same sense of peace, of belonging, that had suffused her when she first entered the Grayson house. With a sigh, she pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.



He held her close for a moment, and when he would have released her, she wrapped her arms around him. "Don't go."



"I don't want to... to..."



"To what?"



He muttered something in a foreign language, something Lainey thought sounded very much like a curse.



"You don't want to what?" she asked again.



Micah swore under his breath. It was frustrating sometimes, not knowing exactly what word he was looking for. "I don't want you to think the wrong thing."



Lainey smiled up at him. "Are you afraid I'll think you're trying to take advantage of me?''



"I... guess so."



"Oh, Micah, you're so naive. I've been wanting you to hold me all night."



He looked surprised. "Have you?"



Lainey nodded. "I know it's crazy, but I..." She felt a wave of heat wash into her cheeks. "I'm very attracted to you."



His mouth turned up at the corners as the meaning of her words became clear. "I am... attracted to you, too."



Attracted was putting it mildly, he mused. Never before had he held a woman in his arms, or felt the hot stirring of passion as strongly as he did now. But then, there were many emotions he had never truly felt until he came here, to this place. This woman.



He wondered again if his people were still looking for him, or if they had given him up for dead. He had never been truly happy at home and yet, it had been home, as different from this place as sunlight from moonlight.



Answering some deep primal urge, he lowered his head and brushed his lips across her hair. Such wondrous hair. Long and soft and curly. And dark. So dark. So different from his own. So different from that of any woman he had ever known.



He drew her closer, molding her body to his, marveling at the riot of sensations her nearness aroused within him. His breathing grew erratic; his groin fell full and heavy. He was besieged with a violent urge to mate, a desire so strong that it frightened him, just as it would surely frighten her if she became aware of it.



Closing his eyes, Micah commanded his body to relax, commanded his mind to think of something else, something other than the smooth, soft flesh and feminine contours pressing so seductively against him.



Abruptly, he lowered his arms to his sides and took a step backward.



Lainey glanced up at him, felt her heart skip a beat when she saw the raw hunger that blazed in the depths of his silver-blue eyes.



"You should go now," Micah said tersely.



"Yes," Lainey replied, "I think you're right."



She didn't take time to say good-bye, simply grabbed her handbag and headed for the door. Her hand was on the latch when his voice reached out to her.



"Will you come back?"



Just say no. Wasn't that what addicts were taught to say?



Ignore the faint hint of pleading in his tone, the barely suppressed need.



Just say no. Before he becomes a habit you can't break.



"Tomorrow night." She didn't turn around, afraid that if she looked at him again, she would throw herself into his arms. "I'll bring some candles."



Her words filled him with a deep and all-encompassing sense of relief.



He hadn't frightened her away. He would see her again.