Ultimate Warriors (33 page)

     
She
loved him?

     
"No,"
said Clark. "Not until you say that again."

     
"Let
me go."

     
"No."
He grinned. "Not that part.
The other thing.
About how you love me."

     
"Clark..."

     
"Because
I love you, too, you know."

     
She
blinked up at him. "You do?"

     
"Yeah,"
he said softly, gathering her into his arms. She fit just right. A reckless,
joyful feeling crept over him. "Marry me, Blossom."

     
"What?!"
She tried to twist out of his arms, but
he didn’t let her. "Are you nuts? You’re kidding, right? You can’t
possibly want to get married. Marriage means car payments, kids, a mortgage,
life insurance..."

     
"And
sex," Clark said. "Don’t forget the sex.
Lots of
it.
Night and day.
In every
room in the house.
Even the closets.
In every
position you can think of."

     
She
blushed. "Oh. Well. When you put it like that, I don’t know what to
say."

     
"Say
yes."

     
Blossom
looked into his eyes and laughed.
"All right.
Yes."

     
"Great,"
Clark said, taking off his glasses. He set them on the desk next to his laptop
and reached for her.

     
"Hey,"
she said. "What are you doing?"

     
"This,"
he said, and kissed her.

The End

By

Michelle
M. Pillow

©
copyright
August 2004, Michelle M. Pillow

     
His
touch burned into her skin like liquid fire, as he clutched her arms in what
must have been desperation and panic. It was more memory than any grown woman
should have of her father. Everything she had been was lost in that moment of
betrayal--a violation worse than death because it could never end, could never
be escaped.

     
The
father gave her life, but the scientist took it back. She had been sixteen, in
the prime of her youth. He killed her that day. Her father--genius, patriot,
madman,
scientist
--had been given no choice and in
turn didn’t give her one. He was dying. It was her or the enemy. And so he
chose the impossible. He chose the death of his child in exchange for the birth
of a new elite superhero.

     
That is
why Silk could never hate her killer.

     
Quinlan
St. James gasped as coffee spilled over her dark designer pantsuit. Blinking,
she glared after the hoverboarders who trailed by, laughing rudely at her.
Their boards glided noiselessly over the uneven sidewalks of Pierson Park,
carrying the spike-haired lads to their next victim.

     
She
clutched her newspaper under her arm as she leaned over to pick up the cup and
throw it in the trash. She didn’t mind the kids, not really. They were just
being young and obnoxious. She should have been watching for them, but her mind
was clouded with other things. Brushing the brown droplets off her suit with
the back of her hand, she sighed. The suit was stained, but it wasn’t like she
needed to be anywhere that it would matter.

     
Quinlan
turned around and headed straight back to the quaint little sidewalk coffee
vendor. The man behind the counter wiped his hands on his twenty-first century
green apron and automatically handed her another cup. As she made a move to
reach for her card, but he smiled and waved her away. Quinlan nodded at him and
walked back over to her customary bench beneath the shade of a tall oak tree.

     
She took
a small sip before setting the cup down. Coffee was better in the old district.
They still ground it by hand and brewed it in refurbished coffee machines.
Flipping to the science section of the New Pierson City Times, her face fell as
she saw her father’s cheery expression staring at her. Quietly, she scanned the
feature article on him.

     
Ten
years after his unexplained death, Dr. William St. James, renowned genetic
engineer, will be inducted into the Scientific Achievement Hall of Fame this
weekend. Dr. St. James spent the last two decades of his life fighting the war
against genetic diseases ... work that is the foundation of modern genetic
study....

     
Quinlan
narrowed her gray-green eyes, refusing to cry about things she could not
change. She looked silently up at the bright blue sky. Clouds peeked down from
behind the tree limbs and the dark skyscrapers of the oldest section of the
city. Nearby, the motor of a 1950 Chevy Fastback revved as it gave tourist
rides around the historical section of the park.

     
Quinlan
frowned. The newspaper wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.
Sighing, she turned back to the article anyway.

     
The
official induction will be held at the St. James Estate in East Bend this
Friday. It is the first time since Dr. St. James’ death that the home will be
opened to guests. Dr. St. James’ daughter, Quinlan St. James, owns the estate,
a renovated castle from England.... Miss St. James is ... a reclusive
billionaire. An invitation only cocktail party will follow the official
induction, where some of the scientist’s papers will be on display for the
first time, along with some of his earlier inventions. All items are being
donated to the Genetic Science Museum.

     
Even now
caterers and decorators invaded her home. It was the whole reason she’d come
into the city. The giant photograph the museum had sent over of her father had
been staring down at her for days, bringing up a myriad of emotions she didn’t
want to feel.

     
Quinlan’s
eyes skimmed the rest of the article before carefully folding it up. It didn’t
even come close to describing the full truth of her father’s work--the strange
late night visitors they’d had while she was growing up, the coded messages he
received at all hours. She didn’t care. Let the public have their fairy tale
version.

     
Grabbing
her coffee, she stood and walked over to the trashcan. William St. James’ face
stared up at her from the paper she held, smiling in a crooked way she still
remembered. She didn’t smile back. Hesitating slightly, she threw the article
away.

* * * *

     
Nikandros
Grant pulled his hands from the pockets of his blue jeans as he pushed off an
old fashioned light post. He liked the historical park. It reminded him of a
simpler time in human evolution--before technology advanced so far that even
walking across a city or stopping to flip a light switch became unnecessary.

     
Trailing
over the uneven cement path, he followed the slender beauty he was watching.
She stood, walking over to a trashcan as she finished her paper. Looking down
at the small leather wallet in his hands, he smiled. The hoverboarders had been
a perfect distraction. Although, when Miss St. James had dropped her coffee and
went to retrieve a new one, he’d been worried she’d discover it was missing.

     
Passing
the trash, he glanced over to the side. He saw the article she’d been reading
neatly folded on the top of the pile. His old friend’s face smiled up from the
black and white photograph. Nikandros let loose a quick, humorless chuckle at
William’s 2-D expression. Silently, he nodded at the photo. William had been a
good man.

     
Quinlan
hardly looked as he had imagined her when he first found out about her plan to
make William’s personal documents public. She didn’t take after her father at
all. William had been a squat, short man with a sunny smile and laughing blue
eyes hidden beneath spectacles. His daughter was a tall, slender woman with a
serious face and wide gray-green eyes that pierced silently as she studied
everything around her.

     
His gaze
automatically strayed to her hips and thighs. Wicked thoughts danced in his
head and he wanted to groan his sudden wave of sexual frustration to the world.
Nikandros grinned in his wickedness. He was a man after all and it was his
assignment to ‘watch’ her. She was beautiful, which would make his job of
seducing her all the more pleasurable--and all the more dangerous.

     
After
studying her case file, it was determined that a new love interest is just what
a woman like her might need. Seduction was always a dangerous game and
Nikandros knew he would have to be careful and not get too involved. It
wouldn’t be hard. He had never gotten too involved before. Besides, he had to
find out exactly where her sympathies lay. He only hoped William would forgive
him for anything he had to do.

     
Quinlan
was a recluse that kept to
herself
. She didn’t have a
job, as she was independently wealthy, thanks to her inheritance. She didn’t
have any close friends, no serious boyfriends or known lovers. She didn’t own a
pleasure droid like most rich women. She didn’t go to sex clubs or belong to
sexual consent groups. Although, he had been able to uncover the fact that she
did have a subscription to some pretty risqué magazine-discs. It at least
proved that she wasn’t completely made of ice.

     
With an
inward groan, he watched the flexing muscles of her backside. His hand
twitched. With a figure like that, it would be a sin for her not to use her
body to its full potential.

     
Quinlan
took a corner, rounding slowly away from the park to a more private section of
the historic district. She seemed more intent at staring at her coffee cup than
looking around at the shrubbery landscape. Taking the opportunity to approach,
Nikandros began to jog after her.

     
"Miss!"
he called lightly. "Miss, wait! I believe you dropped this."

     
Quinlan
blinked at the sound, but kept walking. She was lost in thoughts of the past
and the speech she would have to give to her father’s old colleagues. Some of
the old men had been hounding her for weeks, ever since the announcement that
she was donating a large portion of her father’s work to the museum. It seemed
they all wanted a piece of it first.

     
It
wasn’t her idea to get rid of the boxes of old stuff. When Henry Thompson, the
museum’s head coordinator, first contacted her with the news of her father’s
induction, she thought it a very fitting place for his life’s work to go.
Besides, with the added publicity of her father’s career and death, old
skeletons would come out of the closet to play.

     
Feeling a
hand on her arm, she jolted in surprise.

     
"Miss,"
Nikandros said, smiling brightly for her.

     
Quinlan
turned at the sound, blinking to see who’d stopped her. Her wide eyes moved up
to a face. She was startled to see such a handsome man trying to get her
attention. For a moment, she stood, just staring at him. His teeth were white
and straight, hidden beneath the most gorgeous mouth she’d ever seen.

     
His body
was in fine shape, if the strength of his hand was any indication. His eyes
were dark, almost black in their solid piercing depths, framed by the slashing
of his masculine eyebrows. His dark brown hair was a perfect match to his
steady gaze, combed back into a short easy style that fit well with the blue
jeans and T-shirt he wore. He smiled at her, but she could feel there was more
to him than that heart-stopping look.

     
Quinlan
shivered. She could feel a potent heat coming from him and it disturbed her.
Glancing down at where he touched her arm, she watched him slowly draw his hand
away.

     
"Miss?"
Nikandros said, wondering at her
distrustful look. Did she suspect him? Her eyes traveled gradually over him and
he felt his body begin to stir at the feminine interest. Quinlan blinked.
Nikandros’ grin widened in masculine invitation and he added, "Your wallet."

     
Quinlan
looked at his offered hand, frowning. Feeling her pocket, she did indeed find
her wallet to be missing.

     
"Ah,
thanks, Mr. ah...?" she inquired, taking it from him. She clutched the
thin wallet in her hand, taking pains to put it into her breast pocket for
safer keeping. She must really be distracted today.