Sunlight Moonlight

Lainey's mother phoned the next morning. It was an awkward conversation. Lainey was angry with herself for feeling guilty about Micah, and angry with her mother for making her feel that way. To her credit, Dolores didn't ask if Micah was living there, perhaps because she didn't want to know the answer. Lainey was on the verge of tears when she hung up.



"Is something wrong?" Micah asked.



"Not really. I guess my mother's disappointed in me."



Micah lifted one brow in question. "Disappointed?"



Lainey shrugged. "She doesn't approve of your being here."



Micah clenched his hands into tight fists as a fierce ache welled in his chest. "Do you want me to go?"



"No! No."



"Are you sure, Lainey? I don't want to cause trouble between you and your parents."



"I'm sure."



The next few days passed uneventfully. Micah slid effortlessly into Lainey's life, making it richer and more rewarding by his mere presence alone.



She would have preferred to spend every moment in his arms, but she had a contract to fulfill and so she forced herself to spend each morning at the computer. Writing had been her only joy in life since her divorce, but now Micah was there, and there were times when it was practically impossible for her to concentrate on her novel because she was so busy daydreaming about Micah, so eager to be in his arms again.



Sometimes it was embarrassing, but she couldn't keep her hands off him. He had asked her if she would mind if he remained in his natural form, explaining that it took a considerable amount of concentrated energy to maintain the shape of an earthling, and she had assured him that she didn't mind at all. The slight differences in his anatomy didn't repel her in the least; she had quickly grown accustomed to the faint blue glow that emanated from his skin. Like a teenager with her first big crush, her every thought was for Micah. She looked at him, and she wanted to touch him. She touched him, and a touch wasn't enough. She filled her eyes with the sight of him, loving the way he walked, the way he carried himself. He moved with catlike grace, agile, unconsciously sensual.



Gradually, they fell into a routine. After a leisurely breakfast, Lainey went into her office and wrote until noon. She took an hour off for lunch, went back to work until five, and then spent the rest of the evening with Micah.



Micah spent his days learning everything he could about Lainey's civilization. He read the newspaper every day, perused numerous books and magazines, watched countless hours of TV. He remembered everything he read, everything he saw, everything he heard.



Sometimes, in the evening, they went out. Lainey took Micah shopping, buying him a couple pairs ofLevis , some T-shirts, a couple of sport shirts, shoes and socks. She tried to buy him some underwear, but he adamantly refused to wear it.



Weekends were the best. They spent a day at the L.A. Zoo, with Micah comparing Earth's animals to those of Xanthia. They spent two days touring theMuseumofNatural History . Micah was fascinated by the skeletons of Tyrannosaurus Rex and Triceratops, by the great whales, the wooly mammoths, the three-toed sloths and saber-toothed tigers.



They went to a baseball game and pigged out on popcorn and Junior Mints. They went to the movies often.



She taught him to play tennis, took him bowling, taught him how to dance.



Micah found it pointless but amusing to volley a tennis ball.



Bowling was more to his liking, and after a few lines, he bowled a perfect game.



"You've done this before," Lainey had accused him, but Micah had just grinned at her and explained that he had merely applied a Xanthian scientific principle to put the ball where he wanted it to go.



But it was dancing Micah loved best of all because it gave him an excuse to hold Lainey in his arms, to feel her body pressed close to his, to breathe in the flowery scent that was hers alone. No matter how many times he held her, kissed her he still found it difficult to believe that she desired him, that she enjoyed his company. Her easy laughter never failed to delight him. She was such a rare creature, filled with a love for life that had somehow been lost on Xanthia.



Lainey couldn't help noticing that, no matter where they went, women turned to stare at Micah. In the form he assumed, his resemblance to her favorite cover hunk was uncanny, and she often overheard women whispering, wondering if he was who they thought he was.



The days seemed to fly by. Lainey had always liked to cook, but now cooking became an adventure. Micah didn't care for meat - Xanthians, she learned, were vegetarians. He loved spaghetti. He loved grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. He developed a taste for coffee heavily laced with cream and sugar. He loved anything chocolate; his favorite breakfast was a big bowl of Cocoa Puffs and a cup of hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream.



"You'll soon be as fat as a pig," Lainey had muttered one morning, but he had only laughed and said Xanthians never got fat.



They spent a couple of evenings with her parents because Dolores and Ralph had expressed a desire to get to know Micah better. At first, Lainey had been uncomfortable, knowing that her parents disapproved of her having a live-in companion.



One evening, when Micah had been busy in another part of the house, Lainey had asked her parents to please try and understand.



"I never meant for this to happen," she explained. "But I love him so much, and he's so good to me."



Ralph and Dolores had exchanged sheepish glances.



"We're sorry, Lainey," Dolores had said sincerely. "We didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I keep forgetting that times have changed."



"Just be careful," Ralph had said, giving Lainey an affectionate squeeze. "We love you, and we can't help worrying."



"We just want you to be happy," Dolores added.



"I know," Lainey had said, loving them the more for caring, for understanding.



The strain had eased between Lainey and her parents after that, and she and Micah had spent several pleasant evenings with her folks, either at home watching TV, or going out to dinner and a movie.



After two weeks, it seemed as though Micah had always been a part of her life; after three weeks, she wondered how she'd ever lived without him; after a month, Lainey knew she was hopelessly in love.



With a flourish, Lainey typed "The End" on the last page of her manuscript. At last, it was finished!



She sat back in her chair, grinning broadly. She'd written furiously for the last month, anxious to finish her book so she could spend all her time with Micah, and now it was done.



And it was good.



She backed up her work on a floppy disk, turned off the computer and went into the kitchen. Tomorrow, she would send a copy of the manuscript to her editor.



Tonight, it was time to celebrate.



She was reaching for the bottle of champagne she'd bought for just this occasion when she felt Micah's arms steal around her waist.



"You are done early today," he murmured, his breath warm against the side of her neck. "Is something wrong?"



"No." She leaned back against him, everything else forgotten as his hands teased their way up to cup her breasts. She stared at his fingers, so long and brown, at the thin layer of webbing between his thumb and forefinger, at the faint blue glow of his skin, and thought he had the most beautiful hands she had ever seen. "The book's done. It's time to celebrate, just the two of us."



"Lainey..." He bent forward and pressed his cheek to hers. How had he ever thought his life complete before now? He had spent years traveling through space, seeking, searching for some-thing to add color and light to his life and he had found it in the heart of the woman enfolded in his arms.



He whispered her name, his body coming to life, swelling, surging with desire, with the need to hold her, to be a part of her. To make her a part of him. He would never forget the first time they made love, never forget the sense of wonder, the feeling of humility, that had washed over him when Lainey had allowed him to hold her, to touch her, to learn what it meant to be a part of another being. There were no words in his language to describe what he felt when they made love, no words to express the depth of emotion that filled his soul. No words to tell her how grateful he was for the precious gifts she had given him - the gifts of her love, her trust.



He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the flowery, feminine scent. If he were deaf and blind, he thought, he would be able to find Lainey by her scent alone.



She turned in his arms, her mouth seeking his. Heat suffused him as she pressed against him. Her breasts were warm against his chest, her hands eager as they roamed across his back, slid over his buttocks, caressed his thighs. His breath quickened and he groaned low in his throat as her tongue teased his lips.



"Micah..."



He looked down at her, his body trembling with desire, and still he waited, waited for her silent nod that said it was all right for him to take her. She often kidded him about that, but even though they had made love every night for the past three weeks, and often during the day, he still waited for her to tell him it was all right.



"Why do I have to give you my permission every time?" she had asked him one night. "You must know I want you as much as you want me.''



And he did know. He had learned to recognize the smoky look in her eyes that meant she wanted him, but her loving was too precious, too great a gift, to ever take for granted.



A faint smile curved Lainey's lips as she gazed up at him, and then she nodded.



It was the signal he had been waiting for. With a muffled cry of exultation, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed they shared.



They undressed each other, exchanging kisses that grew more and more ardent as each piece of clothing fell away. Lainey's heart swelled with love as they fell back on the pillows, locked in each other's arms.



"You were going to celebrate," Micah murmured as his hands caressed her.



"I am," Lainey replied, a soft smile curving her lips. "This is just what I had in mind."



"Are you sure?" His tongue laved her neck, swirled inside her ear.



She could hardly speak for the tremors of excitement that rippled through her. "Quite sure."



"Lainey..."



"Hmmm?" Her hands measured the width of his shoulders, then feathered across his chest.



He lifted himself on his elbows so he could see her face. Her eyes were dark with passion, her lips slightly parted.



"Lainey, I think I love you."



"Micah!"



"Is it all right?"



"Oh, Micah." She wrapped her arms around him, tears stinging her eyes. "I love you, too."



"You do?" He looked so surprised, she had to laugh.



"I do," she said. "Come, let me show you how much..."



Later, he held her in his arms while she slept, unable to believe that such a delightful creature could love him, amazed at how possessive he felt toward her now that he had declared his love and received hers in return.



Lying there, he knew he would never go home again. It seemed a small price to pay for the privilege of loving Lainey St. John. She had whispered her love for him before she fell asleep, had begged him to stay with her. It was what he wanted more than anything, to stay there with Lainey, to be a part of her life. It would not be easy. He would never be able to be himself anywhere except in the privacy of Lainey's house. He would never again see his home or travel the vast reaches of space, and yet he couldn't be sorry.



Tomorrow, he would destroy the transmitter and what was left of his spacecraft, thereby making it virtually impossible for anyone from Xanthia to trace his whereabouts should they still be searching for him.



With a sigh, he drew her closer, feeling as though he were holding the wealth of the universe within the circle of his arms.



Lainey shook her head emphatically. "No way, Jose."



Micah frowned. No way, Jose? It was an odd phrase, but there was no time to inquire as to its relevancy now.



"I'm going," he said firmly. "Alone."



Lainey shook her head again. "I'm not letting you go up there without me, and that's all there is to it."



Micah sighed. At times, she could be a most stubborn, exasperating creature. "Very well, Lainey, you can go with me. But you must promise to wait for me in your car."



"All right."



Ten minutes later they were on their way. Lainey glanced up at the sky as she drove toward the Grayson place. It was the dark of the moon and the night was as black as ten feet down.



"Are you sure you'll be able to find it?" she asked dubiously.



Micah nodded. "I'll find it."



Lainey parked the car about a quarter of a mile away from the mansion. Switching off the ignition and the lights, she turned toward Micah.



"How long will you be gone?"



"No more than an hour."



"You'll be careful?"



Micah nodded. He gazed at her a moment, then leaned across the seat and kissed her quickly. "Remember your promise," he admonished.



"I remember. Hurry."



Heart pounding, she watched Micah get out of the car. He took a few steps, then paused to glance over his shoulder, his gaze meeting hers.



Lainey had the sudden, disconcerting feeling that he was imprinting her image on his mind in case he never saw her again.



With a start, she leaned across the seat to roll down the window, intending to call him back, but by the time she got the window down, he had disappeared into the brush along the side of the road.



Micah moved stealthily through the darkness, pausing occasionally to check his bearings against the stars. His ship had crashed in a shallow hollow between two hills behind the mansion. The night seemed unnaturally silent, as if all the nocturnal creatures were holding their breath.



It took twenty minutes to reach the place where he had buried what was left of his spacecraft, and another ten minutes to uncover it.



Assuming his own form, he concentrated on the ship's remains, focusing his thoughts and his energy on obliterating the twisted wreckage that had once been the fastest ship in the Xanthian fleet.



He felt the heat, the inherent power, rise up within him, his body quivering as he sought to maintain the high level of energy required to reduce the pile of rubble to ashes. He knew a moment of regret as he destroyed all that was left of the sleek craft that had been his home in space for the last six years.



Projecting the amount of force needed to disintegrate the ship's debris drained his strength, and for a moment he stood there with his head bowed, his whole body trembling with fatigue.



He was walking toward the hill that led to the road where Lainey was waiting when he heard a faint rustling in the darkness off to his left. Pausing, he cocked his head to one side, listening, but all was still once more.



With a shake of his head, he started walking again. He hadn't gone far when a brilliant light illuminated the area. For a moment, he thought Pergith had found him, and then he heard a voice shout, "Take him!"



Micah spun on his heel, a soft oath escaping his lips as a sharp pain exploded in his chest.



With a grunt, he reeled backward, then sank to his knees as an overpowering numbness swept through him.



Breathing heavily, he stared up at the three men who surrounded him, and then he pitched headlong into a void as black and silent as the far reaches of space.



He'd been gone more than an hour. Fidgeting nervously, Lainey stared out the window, wondering for the tenth time in as many minutes what was keeping him.



Too jittery to sit in the car any longer, she got out and started walking up the road toward the mansion.



She heard the faint sound of voices as she neared the entrance to the Grayson place. Male voices. Excited voices.



Hiding behind a tall juniper, she peered down the driveway. A black van was parked alongside the house. The sweep of a flashlight made her dart backward. The voices were louder now. Two men dressed in black jumpsuits materialized from behind the house. A third followed.



He was carrying Micah over his shoulder.



One of the men opened the back door of the van and the other two dumped Micah's body inside, then jumped in and closed the doors; the third man climbed into the cab and started the engine.



Mind racing, Lainey ran back to her car, slid behind the wheel, and ducked down. A short time later, she heard the black van go by.



Feeling as though she were living one of her own mystery novels, she switched on the ignition and went in pursuit of the van, careful to stay well behind them.



They had Micah. The thought pounded in her brain, even as she wondered who "they" were, what they wanted him for, what they intended to do to him.



There had been no emblems or insignia of any kind on the van to signify if the men who had taken Micah belonged to a government organization. Were they from the Air Force? The Central Intelligence Agency? SETI? How had they known Micah survived the crash? That he would show up at the Grayson place tonight?



She scolded herself for letting him return to the mansion, for not realizing that some fanatical scientist with nothing better to do might still be in the area, waiting around in hopes that the alien, if he had indeed survived, might return to what was left of his ship.



She blamed Micah, too. Surely he had realized how dangerous it would be to return to his ship?



Micah. He could read her mind. She could read his. She concentrated on his face, willing him to hear her, needing his assurance that he was unhurt.



Please, she thought.Please hear me. Please answer me .



But there was only silence and an increasing sense of dread, an overwhelming fear that they had killed him and were taking his body to some secret laboratory to dissect and study.



Her imagination, always vivid and overly active, quickly went into overdrive, and she visualized a team of doctors and scientists standing around Micah's remains, examining the webbing on his hands, coldly removing his internal organs, measuring the size of his brain, testing his blood.



No! The denial screamed inside her head. He could not be dead.



Please, please, don't let him be dead. Quiet tears trickled down her cheeks as the unspoken prayer repeated itself in her mind.



She was so lost in thought, so steeped in despair, that she almost ran into the back of the van as it made a slow turn into a narrow driveway.



Coming to herself, she leaned on the horn as if she were an angry motorist, flipped the bird to the driver of the van, then sped on by. Careening around the next corner, she went about half a block, parked the car and killed the engine, then sat huddled in the seat, shivering.



"Please," she whispered, "I'll be so good, just don't let him be dead."