High Energy (28 page)

happening in Tibet affecting us?"

Stan jumped in, "But Doctor, you are drawing parallels between quantum aspects

and the macroscopic world. As you know, quantum deals with the micro-universe,

and such theory does not necessarily apply outside the parameters of this

microcosm."

Tyber decided to play devil's advocate. "Don't they? We're talking about the

spiritual realm here, Stan—which is presumably neither micro- nor macroscopic.

What quantum aspects would apply, do you suppose?"

"None. You see, that is the very point, Tyber. It is a different realm;

therefore, these aspects cannot apply. Contemporary physics does not prove,

disprove, agree, or disagree with a mystical belief system."

"I'm inclined to disagree. If laws apply throughout the universe and the

spiritual realm is inclusive of this universe, such laws must apply. Otherwise,

you could argue that there is a breakdown in the belief system and the laws are

useless."

"No. Scientific theory has nothing to do with a spiritual worldview.

Spiritualists examine the universe directly, while we physicists examine the

universe through the abstraction known as mathematica—which is just the language

of the reality, not the reality itself."

"Interesting switch, Stan," Tyber complimented him, then set about to negate the

viewpoint. "So now science is abstraction and religion is reality? Isn't that

contrary to Planck's—"

Gregor interrupted the two men, who had lost the rest of the room and were

oblivious to it. "Physicists love to engage in these esoteric discussions. I

think they're trying to fool us into thinking they're open-minded."

Everyone laughed, relieved that someone had stepped in to stop them.

Whew. Zanita took a breath of air. Madmen across the water.

Mills wondered if Greg was subtly insulting his brother's conventionality.

"I was in Nepal once." Gregor took a sip of his coffee.

Cody bragged from the floor, "Greg met with the Dolly Parton." His lower lip was

rimmed in chocolate, his upper in milk.

"The Dalai Lama," his father corrected.

"Wonderful!" LaLeche's tone conveyed that he somehow had a hand in it. "You went

on an inner quest."

Gregor's green eyes glittered jovially. "You might say that."

Cody licked his fork while enlightening everyone. "A chick he knows took him

there. She told him they had all kinds of kinky ways of doing it. Right, Greg?"

Mills and Zanita looked at each other.

Stan, as usual, turned red.

Tyber burst out laughing.

"C'mere, Spike." Greg wrapped Cody in a bear embrace, teasingly covering his

son's mouth with his hand. Cody squirmed and giggled behind his palm.

Greg's dancing green eyes met Tyber's over his son's head.

There was a silent meeting of the minds; in that instant the beginning of a

friendship was forged between the two men.

Then, for a reason he couldn't name, Greg's focus shifted to Mills.

Mills was lifting her coffee cup to her lips. At the sight of two pairs of

identically glittering green eyes focusing on her, she froze. A chill skittered

down her back. Someone's walking on my grave. She mentally shook herself,

intentionally breaking the moment by sipping from her cup.

Gregor released Cody and stood up. "Thanks for the hospitality, but we really

gotta run. If you want some help with that bike, Tyber, give me a call. I'm good

at bringing things to life. I have a lot of background experience." He was

speaking to Tyber, but his focus was on Mills.

Mills pointedly ignored his look and his double-entendres. While the son was

adorable, she wanted nothing to do with the errant father. Even if his hair

curled ever so slightly over his collar and he had the greenest eyes she had

ever seen.

Cody said good night to everybody very sweetly. After saying good night to

Mills, he beamed up at Greg while jerking his thumb in her direction and raising

his eyebrows up and down a la Groucho.

Out in the hallway, Gregor helped Cody put on his jacket. Glancing back one more

time at Mills, he put his hands on his son's shoulders. Leaning down, he

whispered into the little ear, "Stacked."

They left the house trying to whistle a song together.

"Do you think Auntie is safe in the same wing as LaLeche?"

Tyber watched Zanita remove her robe from under heavy-lidded eyes. "The question

is: Is LaLeche safe from Auntie?" Zanita stuck her tongue out at him.

He grinned, closing his eyes. "Are you ever getting into bed tonight?"

She had washed her hair, dried her hair, took a bath, redried her hair,

slathered on lotion, made faces at herself in the mirror to see if she had

developed any new lines since this morning, and sprayed perfume on. Through all

of this, Tyber waited patiently.

"In a minute…"

"Are you expecting company this evening?"

Her head whipped around. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way you're primping yourself, I don't know who you're expecting, but

it sure as hell isn't me. I'm already right here in bed. See? All by myself." He

yawned loudly.

"I'm thinking. I always walk around doing stuff when I'm thinking."

"You mean you can walk and think at the same time? Baby, I'm impressed."

Zanita made a running tackle for the bed.

She dived on top of him, laughing when he rolled across the bed with her.

"This is why I have to put guests in another wing, my Zanita. You are a savage

in the bedroom."

"Don't you want to know what I was thinking?"

He lowered his head to hers.

"No."

"I was wondering if this was all worth it."

He stilled. His voice became very quiet. "What do you mean?"

"I don't see how we are going to trip him up. You went to all this trouble and—"

Tyber released the breath he was holding. She had almost given him a heart

attack. "We don't have to trip him up, baby. I thought you understood that—we

just need to observe him, talk to him, draw him out. Like any problem, it'll

solve itself when least expected. Trust me, there'll be something that will stay

in our minds—"

"You know, you scare me when you talk like that."

Tyber let out a bark of laughter. He lowered his head to her again.

"I wanted to thank you for taking care of the stuff I should have; it was very

nice of you, Doc."

"Then thank me." His lips were a hairsbreadth from hers.

"Are you very upset about your motorcycle?"

He retreated, looking down at her with a frown. "Are you purposely trying to

kill my mood?"

"Auntie's awfully sorry about it; she feels terrible."

"She hides her grief well. Forget the motorcycle—it's one of those things in

life that can be repaired."

Her lower lip pouted. "You haven't forgotten it."

He caught her pouting lip between his teeth and gently suckled on it. "Make me

forget it…." He settled against her, embracing her gently.

"Tyber?"

"What?" he roared.

"I just think you should talk to Auntie."

"What is it, Zanita, are you just not in the mood tonight?"

"Whatever are you talking about?" She pushed against his broad shoulders. "Have

you lost your mind? We're talking about you apologizing to Auntie—"

"What?" he roared for the second time in as many minutes.

Zanita totally ignored his outraged expression. "She feels so terrible about the

bike; I thought if you apologized to her for leaving it in the middle of the

road, she might realize it wasn't her fault and feel better."

"First of all, the Harley was not in the middle of the road it was parked in the

driveway. My driveway. Second, it was her fault. She came barreling down the

drive going at least fifty miles an hour. Third, I don't want her feeling better

about it, but you don't have to worry because the woman forgot about the

incident before her car door slammed shut. And lastly, I am not—I repeat, I am

not going to apologize to her."

Tears filled her violet eyes. "Do you mean it?"

Tyber's shoulders sagged. He sighed. It was the tears that did him in. Zanita

was obviously the one who felt bad about it. His lady was very tender-hearted.

"All right, I'll apologize to her."

"Thank you, Tyber. I knew you would, once you thought it over."

He rubbed his nose against hers, "Are you sucker-punching me?"

"I don't know… what do I have to do?" She smiled seductively at him.

Tyber grinned. "It's very kinky."

"Kinky as in Nepal kinky?"

Tyber chuckled, remembering Greg's expression over his son's head. "I don't

know; I've never been to Nepal. But I sure as hell am putting it on my travel

wish list."

Zanita ran the sole of her foot down the inside of his leg. "What else is on

your wish list?"

"This." His mouth fastened on the curve of her shoulder as his hands reached

underneath her to cup her buttocks.

"And this." His bare leg wedged between hers, rubbing against the cleft between

her legs. She was already moist for him. He groaned.

"Your skin's getting hot." She stroked his back.

"Heat's a motion of expansion." He replaced his leg with his hard member,

running it along the outside of the wet crevice.

"I do declare."

"But it's not a uniform expansion throughout the body…."

"No?"

"Uh-uh." He took her nipple into his damp mouth, laving the bud with tender

care. "In the smaller parts of it." He blew against her breast.

She sucked in her breath. "I see."

"The body requires a motion alternative." He entered her swiftly, causing her to

moan against him. "Perpetually quivering." He withdrew to thrust deep within her

again. "Striving…"

She gasped. "Tyber, what are you talking about?"

"I don't know." He gave up all pretense of the physics lesson, clutching her

tightly to him. His hot mouth fastened on hers. He plundered her sweet mouth,

mirroring his erotic movements below.

Yes, he was expanding with the heat.

Sometimes demonstration was the finer art of teaching.

Chapter Thirteen

« ^ »

Zanita gazed out of the upstairs bedroom window, trying to focus on the two

figures walking slowly across the far acreage of Tyber's land, near where it

bordered the woods.

Even from this distance, she could discern Tyber's tall form, his distinctive

stride: one part smooth, hip-rolling gait, three parts conquering presence. The

shorter man gesturing expansively at his side would be LaLeche.

After lunch, Tyber had decided to take LaLeche on a personally escorted,

carefully edited tour of his property. He wanted to see if LaLeche would be

relaxed enough to inadvertently drop his guard in some way.

When he had approached Zanita with the idea, she shrugged her shoulders,

thinking, what could it hurt? So far, to her way of thinking, the

self-proclaimed psychic had been annoyingly in "character" and as far as she

could tell, had revealed nothing to either of them of any import.

Zanita had sensed that Tyber hadn't felt completely comfortable opening his

entire home to LaLeche. Right from the beginning she knew that Tyber was a very

private man—his personal life was just that. She had a strong feeling that

invitations to his walled domain were carefully given.

So what happens to the poor man once he hooks up with her?

He had an invasion force in his house, his sanctuary. It had to go against his

grain, yet he was being the most gracious of hosts. A nagging question surfaced.

Is Tyber doing all this just for me?

Zanita knew she could gloss over the implications of such a gesture by telling

herself that he was just as involved as she was in the investigation. She could

even try to make herself believe he hadn't minded his life being turned upside

down this weekend, but she would be lying to herself.

The simple truth was, Tyber was doing this for her sake alone.

The flowers. The gracious, sumptuous meals. The dress slacks. Auntie.

It was all for her.

Was the Captain proclaiming himself?

She bit her lip. If so, what should she do? How should she handle this? Somehow

the word handle and Tyber didn't go together in the same sentence.

While she watched, a gust of wind lifted a long strand of Tyber's gold-streaked

chestnut hair. Zanita sighed. He really was the most stunning man. She leaned

her elbows on the windowsill, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, her

thoughts brooding on her partner cum lover.

In her past, the only real relationship she had had was with Steve. The

experimental disaster with Rick she dismissed as a momentary insanity.

The truth was, she had never experienced anything like what she had with Tyber.

Aside from his wonderful kookiness and heady individuality, when Tyber made

love, he put his whole self into the act. His entire being became present tense.

Reactive. Proactive. He was there.

Zanita dropped her forehead against the windowpane, rubbing her heated skin

against the cool glass. She had warned him about this, repeatedly. Told him

straight out she was not getting involved in any relationships. Had he paid any

attention to her?

No.

He had gone about his merry way—buying her little gifts, taking her out for

dinners, watching over her like a mother hen when she was sick, and physically