Gerard's Beauty (10 page)

“What made you certain he wasn’t simply a raving lunatic?” Gerard asked, genuinely intrigued. This woman was so different from what he’d known, gorgeous yes... but stimulating as well.

Her smile was brilliant as she bounced up again and ran back down her hall. She came back seconds later with a large leather bound book in her hands. Gerard’s heart flipped when she opened the book and handed it to him. She pointed to a spot on the page. “Read this.” She fairly vibrated with enthusiasm.

He glanced at the black smudges, nodded as if he had a clue what it said, and closed it. “Yes.”

“Yes! That’s it. That’s all you have to say about that? It’s amazing, it’s true, and my Daddy knew it all along. The Fermi paradox, space is so vast... surely we’re not the only ones to exist in it. Out there, beyond time and matter were other civilizations, peoples.” She pointed to him. “You.” She clapped her hands and he had the sudden sick feeling that she viewed him more as a bug beneath a viewing glass than a man all of a sudden. “Riddle me this, Gerard. Did you happen to travel here through a worm hole?”

He lifted a brow. The woman was insane, he was still stuck on the Fermi-whats-it paradox thingy, and she was talking wormholes... and what the hell was that anyway? A giant worm eating holes in air? Why the devil would that make her so excited? He brushed his fingers through his hair. “I’ve not a clue. Danika swished her wand, and I was yanked through.”

She laughed. “Was there a tunnel?” Her brown eyes glittered. She’d the fevered look of a wolf snapping in for its kill. “Did it shimmer? Swirl? Glow?”

Gods she was gorgeous, skin all flushed and dewy pink. If he could somehow mute her voice, he could stare at her all day. But she was giving him a massive ache in the back of his skull. Gerard squeezed his brow.

“It was blue. What are you saying,
mademoiselle
?” he grumped.

She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Suddenly memories of another woman-- just as lovely as this one-- intruded in his mind. Belle had wielded her sharp wit and keen brain better than any blade. More than once he’d suffered the knowledge that she’d thought him beneath her. Heat stoked the glowing embers in his gut to an incendiary level and his nostrils flared as his fingers clenched.

“There’s life in other planets, dimensions... whatever!” She clapped her hands and laughed, a full throaty sound so sexy and alluring he couldn’t help but lean in to her, even while still fueled with anger. Her brown eyes sparkled, and then she cradled her face in her hands, and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh my gosh, I did it again, didn’t I?”

“What?” he grumbled, scooting back on the seat, trying to maintain some distance between them.

She grabbed his wrist. “Oh, Gerard, I’m sorry. Trisha gets on me all the time about how rude I come off sometimes. I’m sorry, I... I just, jeez. How lame. I love science and science fiction and all the weird stuff girls shouldn’t like, which is why I work in a library, and I hope you don’t think I was talking down to you. I swear I wasn’t. I just get wicked excited.”

Not once in all the years he’d known Belle, had she ever apologized for making him feel intellectually inferior. Had Betty truly not meant to offend him? Was her enthusiasm for a subject he found mind numbingly boring, truly that exciting to her?

Betty flicked her hands. “Look, truce okay? Let’s start over here. You’re stuck with me for a month. Let’s try to make it pleasant.” She stuck her hand out. “Hi, my name is Betty Hart. What’s your name?”

Her smile was pure innocence, and his heart tripped when he took her hand. The woman was nuts, and yet she excited him on a level he’d never known before.

“Gerard Caron,” he said. “Good to meet you,
folle
.” Her skin was so soft, he didn’t want to let go. The feel of her small hand in his large one, the way she looked at him with a mixture of awe and shyness-- he wanted to see her like this always.

“I guess I am kind of crazy.” A good natured laugh spilled from her.

Something strange happened in the center of Gerard’s chest. A tickling flutter of weirdness he’d never felt before, mainly because he’d only ever looked at women with one desire in mind. He couldn’t do that with her, it made her different. But he wasn’t sure yet how.

“There’s something I’m dying to know,” she continued, and he noticed she seemed as content to hang onto his hand as he was to hang onto hers. He thumbed her knuckles.

“What?”

“Danika told me about Kingdom.”

He nodded.

“How it’s a realm full of immortals of legend. What we here on Earth call fairy tales.”

Gerard let go of her hand and squirmed, knowing where this line of questioning was headed. “So why have you never heard of me?” He pierced her with his steely eyed gaze. “Is that what you’re wondering?”

Her lips stretched into a crooked smile as she nodded.

He sighed, and placed his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. Again she touched him, her fingers grazed his jaw and he jerked.

“You don’t have to tell me now,” she said softly, “not if you’re not ready.”

He shook his head. “If I tell you, you’ll not believe. None do.”

“Try me.”

She’d told him that once before, he hadn’t trusted her then. Still wasn’t sure he could now. The soft glow of lamplight washed across the top of her head, highlighting the natural gold in her hair. It made her appear almost angelic. Gerard glanced down at the beige carpet.

“She was the youngest of three. Daughter of a merchant. Stories would have you believe she was all that was kindness and grace. The girl was a
demone
. Breathtakingly beautiful with her soft brown eyes and chestnut colored hair.” He looked at her. “You look a little like her. Although I think I prefer the black of your hair to hers.”

Betty’s lips twitched.

He sighed. “I was young, and a fool. I fell hard, and did anything she asked of me. Kill the neighbor’s dog for digging up her sister’s garden.” He clenched his fist, staring at his knuckles. “Hit the town drunk for daring to look at her wrong.” Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, the hated memories pressing in on him like a wall closing in.

“Are you talking about Belle, Gerard?” Betty’s soft voice was a gentle caress. “As in Beauty and the Beast?”

He nodded.

“Wow. But, there was never any mention of a Frenchman in the original book, and the one in the movie...” She grimaced, letting her sentence die off.

“Wasn’t me. That,” he pointed to the empty case sitting next to her television, “is the perverted version Galeta pandered about. My name is Gerard. I never tried to kill the Beast, he was an idiot that deserved that cold blooded, money hungry
chienne
. The Beast detested my love for her, when it came time to pen our story to tale he had coin enough to sway Galeta’s black heart. Wasn’t hard, she hated me enough as it was.” He laughed, a bitter, scornful sound. “I can never escape the witch, no matter how hard I try. Did you know she’s the fairy of the arts as well?”

Betty shook her head.

He snorted. “The bitch has ruined me. I’m forever a joke in Kingdom. Congratulations, Betty Hart, you’re stuck with me.”

“But, I don’t understand--”

“What is there to understand?” he snapped.

“I just want to know you better--”

He stood, uncaring that the blanket dropped, that she got a good eye full, let her. Her eyes widened, and she glanced quickly away. Gerard was tired of talking about it. “Don’t. Where am I to sleep?”

“Gerard, please understand...”

“
Non
.” He sliced the air with his hand. “If you’d rather, I’ll find accommodations elsewhere.”

Betty’s smile was sad, soft. She pointed down the hall. “Take the guest room. It’s always made up for Briley whenever he wants to have a surprise sleepover.”

The tip of Gerard’s tongue danced in his mouth, words like--
I’m sorry, it’s not you
, settled like a heavy weight. Turning on his heels, he strode down the hall, breathing hard from words left unsaid.

Chapter 9

Betty shouldn’t have pushed him. She’d seen his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring... classic flight or fight response to something unpleasant. And why she continued to goad him into telling all was beyond her.

She put the car in park and grabbed the ShopMart bags from off the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind her. The night was still, the maples surrounding her town house towered like hulking shadows. Past two in the morning, she was probably the only idiot still up at this time of night.

Not afraid of the dark, but slightly creeped out by being so alone in the dead of night, she jogged to her door and ran inside. The moment she stepped into her darkened hall her heart rate slowed to normal.

The plastic bags crinkled loudly through the quiet of the night. Her tea cup shaped wall clock tick-tocked. Its metrical rhythm only helped to increase the intensity of her already frazzled nerves.

She leaned against the door, glancing at the hall, knowing he slept in her house. Tonight had been a revelation. She still didn’t know Gerard, but she wanted to. They were stuck together for a long time. Ignoring him was no longer an option, besides, she’d done a pretty lousy job of that anyway. Kissing him, letting him kiss her back, imagining his lean naked body pressed tight to hers... heat zipped down her spine and she clamped down on a moan.

Trisha would die, and that thought made her smile. Never in her life had Betty imagined she’d find herself in this situation. Harboring an alien from some alternate dimension, a hot, sexy one at that. Martian ManHunter had been her first crush growing up, though she’d always assumed her alien would have green skin and oblong shaped eyes. As an adult the green skinned freaks had long since lost their appeal.

But Gerard looked so human-- so purely masculine-- that had she not experienced the fairies and magic herself, she’d have thought him as mortal as her.

She rubbed sweaty palms on her legs, the sound of the bags disturbed the peace of night and she cringed. Betty had driven for hours, vacillating between running to Trisha’s-- kicking whatever piece of man meat out of her house and dishing all-- or keeping Gerard’s secret to herself.

Of all the people in the world Gerard could have met, she doubted many would be as accepting of what he was. Betty had been primed from the moment she could talk, to believe in life beyond Earth. But even her brother, raised by the same parents in the same house, rejected any and all notion of aliens.

She sighed and grabbed the pendant that had ceased feeling like a weight. It pulsed against her skin like the warmth of a sun’s ray. The lights swirled in and on each other like a wave tumbling onto shore. Betty straightened her shoulders and headed to his room.

She didn’t bother to knock, knowing if he said to go away she do it. Instead, she opened it. A slice of moonlight cut across his body like a silver blade, highlighting the flat, corded muscles of his stomach. Betty swallowed and licked her lips.

“
Cherie
?” his deep voice brushed the night like a master painter’s stroke. Her lashes fluttered.

Betty gripped the bags tighter, knuckles flexing tight as she held on to the bags like a life line. With quiet resolve, she pushed away from the door, she’d come this far, she wasn’t going to wimp out now.

“You’re awake?” Duh, of course he was. Betty frowned, wishing for a do over, a smoother more sexy entrance. One she’d imagine Trisha doing.

He sat up, the white sheet dropped even lower, and though she’d glimpsed his bit of male flesh already, it still made her dizzy and slightly breathless. The man was gorgeous. Gorgeous, and in her house. Two words not normally synonymous in her life.

“Betty,” his smooth whiskey voice made her stomach churn, “is something amiss?”

His hair was mussed, the whiskers on his cheek more pronounced than this morning, and jeez… could her heart beat any harder? She dropped the bags on the floor.

“I bought you some clothes. Nothing fancy. Just some jeans, you looked like a size 32... so I got 34’s just in case and a pack of large ribbed shirts. There’s some...” she blushed, thankful it was so dark, “underwear. I didn’t know your size so I guessed. So um, yeah... goodnight, then.” 

Her hair snapped like a band behind her head as she turned sharply on her heels.

“Betty.”

She stopped, spine rigid, breathless. “Gerard?”

“I’m not happy about what’s happened.”

Betty turned back around, concern for him easing her fears immediately. “Is it me?”

He shook his head.

“If I could take it off.” She yanked on the necklace that she’d tried on the drive to divest herself of, only to learn it wouldn’t come off.

“I can’t sleep,” he grumbled. “Slept better last night on that damn table. I just keep thinking.”

Betty took a step, and then another and another, before she knew it, she stood by the edge of his bed. With the lights turned off and nothing but moonshine to see him by, he looked vulnerable-- no less sexy, but much more approachable.