His Virtual Bride (3 page)

"What's that?" Keely demanded.

"A Herma-Frodie Disguise Device," the droid explained. "One that specifically prohibits Mr. Geoff here from stealing the queen's face. Again."

"Jove-blasted hermaphrodite," Geoff muttered, wondering how in the universe Kendra's holographic pals had gotten to Jupiter, let alone designed a masking device.

Chapter Two

Geoff expected Keely to cross-examine him mercilessly. To his surprise the only question she asked was "Where to?" And that didn't come until they'd cleared Jupiter's armaments showroom and hovered at the edge of its wormhole.

"You heard Paris." Geoff raked his fingers through his hair. "We're going to Saturnalia."

"We could take a little detour," Keely suggested, looking hopeful. "Spend a day or two with Pushin. Find ourselves some new snitches and use them to find
Le Roi
."

"I doubt Pushin's palace would be safe for us. Paris gave us orders to proceed directly to Saturn and environs."

"Damn! I had my mouth all set for Pushin's
pomme frits."
She sounded so much like the pompous former ambassador to Earth that Geoff had to laugh.

Sobering, he said, "I know why I'm reluctant to visit Saturnalia, but why are you?"

As if the question caught her completely off-guard, Keely blinked. "Dunno. Don't know that I
am
reluctant."

"I know you are."

"Oh yeah?" Her chin jutted out.

"Yeah. You wouldn't disobey Paris if your life depended on it."

"Would you?"

He chuckled. "Only if I thought I could get away with it."

"A huge
if.
" She sighed. "Take us to Saturn," she told her ship. Looking at Geoff, she asked, "Saturn, huh? What dive have you chosen this time?"

"Not Saturn exactly. We're going to one of its rings." Geoff huffed out a sigh of his own, then named the glitziest, most expensive resort in the entire galaxy.

Keely whistled before she looked down at her plain black flight suit. "I don't have anything to wear. And--thanks to a thieving, nameless snake--I can't afford to buy anything suitable."

"You can charge what you need to Paris. Or…" Geoff stroked his mustache and out waited her.

"Or?" she challenged, slanting him an
I know what you're thinking
look coupled with an
I ain't buying it
one.

"You could just don your new jewelry. Nobody'd care what you were wearing."

One red-gold eyebrow quirked upward. "Or I could go shopping--on
your
nickel."

"Sounds like a plan," Geoff agreed, wondering how Keely knew about old-Earth money.

* * * *

Keely closed her gaping mouth with a click and wondered what had gotten into cheapskate Geoff. He'd stolen her information and her reward, by the Goddess! Now he was willing to pay for a whole new wardrobe?

"Saturn," Geoff explained, as Keely waited for permission to land her
No-Name
spacecraft, "is second in population to any other planet in the galaxy. Its rings are considered
the
vacation spot for most wealthy humanoids. The string of islands around the inner ring is called Saturnalia. We'll be setting down near The Embassy."

Keely grunted and muttered, "I still don't know why Paris sent us here. We should be looking for
Le Roi
in seedier places--ones like you frequent. He's more likely to hide out on Io than in Earth's embassy. And I thought only Jupiter had rings."

Geoff didn't bother to correct her misconception about The Embassy or about Jupiter's rings, but went on in a tour guide voice. "Thanks to human ingenuity, the weather is temperate and humid."

"Which means we're going to sweat like pigs."

Geoff grinned. "Unless we go native."

Keely quirked a brow. "I'm sure I can find something to wear. Resorts usually have a bunch of fancy boutiques with lots of fancy, pricey clothes. And you're paying," she reminded him.

Geoff grunted and listened to the controller's voice instruct Keely where to land her
No-Name
.

"Bet the mooring fees will eat up most of your half of our reward, Geoff," she sniped, following him down the gangway and into a blast of humid air. "Jonathan Jacob Jones, it's hot!"

"Perfect for swimming." A tall, dark haired, dark eyed, dark skinned young woman smiled an added greeting. "If you will follow me, I'll show you to your transport."

Keely poked Geoff's ribs, whispering, "Ask her how much she'll take for her skirt and top. I'm roasting."

"Are you staying at The Reef?"

"And I want her sandals, too." Keely added, wondering how the woman managed to walk in such high heels.

"We're at The Embassy."

Keely didn't know what to make of the woman's assessing look. But she and Geoff followed their escort along a wide pier. To their right, fifty or more couples waited to board several yachts. To their left, a small speedboat awaited. The driver smiled up at them, then reached up to help Keely down. Small gold letters said this small vessel belonged to The Embassy.

"This is nice," she said. "Reminds me of
No-Name
."

"Yeah," Geoff groused, "nice and small."

"Mister, missus like fast trip or scenic tour?"

"Scenic." Keely suddenly wanted to avoid staying anywhere with Geoff--especially without someone from Paris' staff around to chaperone.

"Fast," Geoff countered in his flight commander's voice. "The missus finds the heat unbearable."

"Then the breeze will cool her." With that, their driver started the boat's engine.

Since she'd done nothing, but complain about the weather, Keely couldn't argue with speed. She sat, holding her case to her chest. After casting off, Geoff settled in the stern beside their driver and folded his arms over his chest.

Like a quarter horse, the little craft surged forward. Feeling her stomach lurch, Keely laughed. This was almost as much fun as taking the
No-Name
through a wormhole. And the breeze did cool her.

She glanced at Geoff. He, too, seemed to enjoy the reckless speed, the sun on his face, the breeze riffling his hair. He smiled at her, genuine warmth in his eyes. Her heart fluttered, making her feel like a schoolgirl experiencing her first infatuation. Hoping her foolish heart wasn't in her eyes, Keely looked toward the nearing horizon.

On the crest of a mountain rose an ancient castle, its tall walls gleaming in the sunlight. Brilliant copper slates on the rooftops made her eyes hurt.

Their driver reduced the boat's speed and her prow settled. Moments later she bumped against the pier. "Enjoy your stay," he offered as Geoff sprang out, his pack slung over his shoulder.

He reached for her case, but Keely held on tight. With a growl, Geoff picked her up, case and all, and set her on the dock.

Turning away, she groaned and pulled at the neckline of her flight suit. Without the breeze, her skin felt sticky. She eyed the steep flight of stairs before her. Jutting her chin, she started up.

Geoff passed her, his long legs carrying him easily up the steps. When Keely finally reached the top, she found him relaxing against a narrow gate, his entire body in blessed shade.

Jove blast him
! He could have taken her case!

Can't have it both ways, Keely girl
.
Either you're an independent woman or a wimp.
She hated playing helpless, but there were times when she wished she could. This was one of them.

"We're in a private bungalow on the beach."

"We need to check in," she protested, trying to regain her breath. She'd thought she was in pretty good shape, but the stairs had had nearly destroyed every muscle in her legs. Her thighs were still complaining when Geoff took off across the stone terrace.

"I've already checked us in," Geoff called over his shoulder before he disappeared.

Reaching the spot where he'd vanished, Keely looked down. And down and down and down. A set of stairs descended through a tunnel of trees that seemed ominous to her. But the branches might provide relief from the heat and humidity. At least she hoped they would. Seeking shade, she descended. When she reached the bottom of the endless stairs, she spotted her partner.

"Welcome to Saturnalia," Geoff greeted, sweeping his arm over the wide expanse of sand and water. Light waves kissed the shore, then rolled away like merry maidens flirting with their sand-bound lovers.

Awed by the breathtaking scenery, Keely said, "You must be rich, rich, rich."

"I do all right."

 When the door to the bungalow opened--seemingly of its own accord--Geoff quickly retrieved his personal blaster from his ankle holster.

Keely shot him an impatient look--one that said,
Are you paranoid or just crazy?
and peered around the door. Calling out, "Hello the house," she sauntered inside. "Nobody here except you, Chicken," she added, casting him another disparaging look.

"I'll just look around anyway.
Le Roi
is nuts. I wouldn't put it passed him to have planted traps in here."

Planting her hands on her hips, Keely glared up at him. "If there are any traps, you should look closer to home."

"Closer? Like where?"

"At your precious queen Paris. After all, she sent us here."

Geoff ignored her. Striding across the enormous living room, he opened the single interior door. "Bedroom," he announced before going in. Returning few minutes later, he grinned at Keely. "You're gonna love the bathroom."

Keely went on her own reconnaissance. When she came back she pulled the cushions off the couch. "There's just one problem." She flung throw pillows and cushions in the general direction of the couch as if she intended to return them to their proper places.

"What's that?" Geoff went to the freestanding bar in one corner. "Hey! Saturnalian brandy."

"Duh. We're on Saturn. Sorta," she amended before Geoff corrected her. He just grinned. "The problem is there is only one bedroom. And only one bed."

"So? That bed's big enough to hold a dozen of you plus four of me."

Keely threw a pillow at him. "If I didn't know Paris has the hots for you…"

Geoffs placed the brandy bottle and two snifters on the bar. "Kiki--I can't get used to calling her Paris."

"Which is by way of saying you've known her a long time." Plopping on a chair, Keely pulled off her boots and wiggled her toes.

"A couple of years. We met when her grandfather was Mars' ambassador to Earth."

"This carpet's so thick I think I may never wear shoes again."

"A circuitous way of asking if Paris and I ever hit the sheets."

Keely frowned. "Spare me the details. If you said you'd had a torrid affair, I wouldn't believe you."

Holding up a bottle of what looked like orange juice, Geoff asked, "Why not?"

Shrugging, Keely replied, "Dunno. Probably woman's intuition."

"Meaning you don't have a clue."

"Meaning she looks at you like a woman who's never tasted chocolate and
you
are the first bite she wants."

Geoff chuckled. "What about you? Do you like chocolate?"

"Don't know." She blinked and looked away. "I still don't understand why Paris sent us here. If her great-uncle is running away… I'd pick a less conspicuous place to hide. And if she truly wants to help you find your spaceship, why send us off to search for
Le Roi
at all?"

"I guess Paris thinks
Le Roi
may know where
The Honey
is."

"Why would he know? Unless… Maybe she thinks he stole your ship."

Stepping into Keely's line of sight, Geoff held out a glass. "Have some juice before we go for a swim."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a redhead. Redheads burn."

"Guess you didn't notice the tube of the sunscreen in the bathroom."

"Guess you forgot I don't have a swimsuit. Or much of anything else to wear--except this flight suit. Which stinks."

"Doesn't."

Keely sprang to her feet. "I knew you'd cheap your way out of buying me something to wear." Starting for the door to outside, she glared over her shoulder. "Bet your precious Paris will take a pound of your flesh when she gets the bill for my clothes."

"I think you're confusing your Shakespeare," he countered, stopping her in her tracks.

"I wasn't even thinking of Shakespeare."

"I know."

"Then why bring him up?"

"Just imagining you in one of those tunics you'll find in the bedroom closet."

* * * *

"What has
The Merchant of Venice
got to do with--? Oh, I get it. Portia."

"Shylock," Geoff countered, stretching as he stood. "We have dinner reservations for nineteen hundred hours. Then we'll cruise the casino for a few hours. See if we can spot our missing despot."

Eyeing him warily, Keely circled around to the bar. "You'd think a place this fancy would have cafftea."

"Most resorts that have casinos don't. They want you gambling."

"Then why…why Paris?"

"Huh?" Geoff peered at her as she poured a glass of something yellowish and thick.

"Shakespeare's plays--four of them--have characters named Paris. None of them is a woman. So why would the Queen of Mars choose Paris for her name?"

I'm more interested in how you know how many plays have characters named Paris
, Geoff thought. "I guess she wanted to honor her French ancestors."

"Hmm. You'd think she'd choose something more feminine. Like Marie or Jeanne. Or…Coco. After all, your queen is establishing Mars as a fashion center to rival--"

"Paris," Geoff interrupted. "Ki--she'd enjoy the irony in that. And she's not
my
queen."

"Guess it's kind of hard--er difficult--being a queen's unacknowledged consort."

Feeling his anger flare, Geoff gritted his teeth. Keely seemed to delight in provoking him. He, on the other hand, fought against showing how deeply she burrowed under his skin.

"If you're not gonna shower," he growled, "I am."

Keely scampered toward the bedroom, snatching up her boots on the way. "I hope whoever saved you from buying me something to wear included shoes. Or those tunics you mentioned are long enough to cover my feet."

"Coming up on eighteen hundred hours, Shrimp." He unfastened the top fastener on his flight suit.

For a long moment Keely stood perfectly still, her eyes going a stormy gray–green. The tip of her tongue peeked out, then disappeared. Geoff's cock hardened, a clear picture of Keely's tongue playing over and under and all around it popping into his mind. And she just stood there. Waiting. Daring him to make the first move. He unfastened the next fastener and exposed more of this chest.