Stud (9 page)

She wondered if it was possible to find others and discuss it with them. After all, if there was a Zetithian Birth Registry, then there might be a mothers’ group too—and if there wasn’t, she might start one herself. As it was, she would have loved to share her experiences with others—and she was fairly certain it would have to be with women who had the pleasure of the company of a Zetithian rather than that of mere humans. Though she was certain there were exceptions, women like her mother, for example, would have no similar frame of reference; it would be like comparing vrelnots to purring kittens.

On the other hand, Natasha might be a good confidant. Her husband was a Mordrial, and their ability to read minds and control the elements probably made them remarkable lovers. Nat had certainly seemed to be happy in her marriage, though sexual matters had never been mentioned—perhaps because Lucy, being a virgin, had no comparable experiences.

Not having heard from her friend for several months hadn’t concerned her overly; Nat was undoubtedly enmeshed in her own life and had little in common with the pitfalls of Lucy’s sad existence. But, thanks to Tarq’s arrival, things were different now and she and Nat would have even more to discuss once her babies were born. Natasha had put off having children until their farm was more established, but had hinted that she might be nearing a point where it would become practical.

Even so, not wanting her father to know where she’d gone—at least, not until she’d found work and her own place—made her reluctant to contact Nat. The more obscure the trail, the better, she decided, and if she took Nat and her husband Traldeck by surprise, they would either welcome her into their home or at least aid her in finding one of her own, and there would be no inkling of where she had gone.

Yalka was simply the nearest town, after all—she might have made her way to the spaceport city of Noklar instead, though it was on the other side of the mountains and would require a circuitous route to reach it safely. She could even call herself by a different name—she had every intention of giving her children Tarq’s surname—though the idea that she might change her own by marrying never occurred to her.

The simple truth was that she had no intention of sharing her children with anyone. She’d heard enough tales of stepfathers and boyfriends abusing the children of their women’s previous liaisons that she didn’t want to risk it. Her father’s treatment of his own daughter was warning enough.

As her family left the table, Lucy gathered up the dirty dishes, realizing that she had completely tuned out their conversation, which was a blessing in itself and made the task of cleaning up after them quite enjoyable as opposed to the usual drudgery. She would have to make a point of thanking Tarq for this unexpected side effect of the time they’d spent together, and she barely acknowledged her father’s brusque “Don’t be late to work” admonition.

Work?
“Yeah, right,” she muttered when she had the kitchen to herself. “Most people who work actually get paid.” Lucy had her tips, of course, but they didn’t amount to much—though the tip Tarq had given her had been huge. She still wasn’t sure why he’d done it—it was, after all, a ridiculous amount of money to tip a waitress—and the subject had never come up when they were together. If she’d had other customers who were as generous she probably would have left town a long time ago, with the result that their paths might never have crossed. Not having a life of her own was bad enough, but never meeting Tarq? Now
that
would have been a tragedy.

Chapter 6

Her family might not have noticed Lucy’s newfound serenity, but Jublansk spotted it in short order. “You seem to be enjoying yourself today,” she remarked as she threw a batch of dough onto her board.

Noting the emphasis on the “joy,” Lucy stopped short, nearly spilling the contents of her tray. Was it
that
obvious what she’d been up to? She may have
felt
like she was glowing, but surely it didn’t
show…
“It’s… a beautiful day.” Reba hadn’t bought it either, but Lucy couldn’t think of anything else.

“Uh-huh.” The dry skepticism in her tone spoke volumes, but Lucy ignored it. She would have loved to confide in Jublansk, but also knew that the fewer people who knew of it, the better.

Nodding toward the door with her tusk, Jublansk added, “Don’t suppose it could have anything to do with who just sat down at table ten, now, could it?”

Her tray bobbled dangerously, but Lucy managed to avert the disaster somehow. Drawing attention to Tarq or her reaction to him would be far more disastrous than spilled soda. “Hadn’t noticed him,” was Lucy’s perfectly honest reply.

True, she hadn’t seen him yet, but when she looked out at the tables, there he sat, studying the menu in all his stunning blond glory—hair that she knew adorned more than just his head. The light dusting of golden fur on his butt was the stuff of fantasy, and the nest of curls in his groin rivaled the beauty of his mane. Just realizing that she knew this from firsthand experience sent liquid fire racing to her core.

“Uh-huh,” Jublansk said again. “
Sure
you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, look who’s talking,” Lucy retorted, thankful that Jublansk couldn’t smell the scent of her desire the way Tarq could.

Jublansk grinned. “He’s not sitting at one of
my
tables, is he?”

“No, but he could just as easily have been Neris’s customer.”

A sly sidelong glance and a flick of her brow was Jublansk’s only retort.

Shaking her head to hide her smile, Lucy delivered the drinks, somehow managing to maintain her composure enough to avoid dumping them in the lap of a surly Herpatronian. The ape-like humanoids always made her nervous—and this one was nastier than most—but her new serenity served her well, enabling her to deflect his taunts with genuine grace.

A grace which deserted her the moment she approached Tarq’s table. The mere sight of him was enough to have her tripping over her own feet. His killer smile nearly knocked her down. Giving herself a quick mental shake, she recovered quickly, whispering, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Really? Why not?”

He looked so innocent, she wanted to smack him, but two could play that game. “Do you know what you want?”

She kept her expression neutral and her voice gave nothing away, but Tarq obviously wasn’t fooled. His glowing eyes began to smolder with undisguised interest, and Lucy could have sworn he was purring, albeit very softly. She didn’t have to see the boner in his jeans to know he was picking up her scent.

Nodding, he opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy cut him off. “And don’t say you want a full order of
me
,” she whispered. “Someone might hear you.” With the lunch crowd creating their usual din, this was unlikely, but it could also mean the difference between success and failure—a chance she didn’t want to take.

“I do, of course,” he said with a sultry smirk, “but I’ll have the fish instead—broiled this time.”

“Anything else?”

He shifted in his chair as though trying to draw attention to the fact that a specific part of him was extremely uncomfortable. “Surprise me.”

“I’d like to,” she muttered, tapping his order into the notepad with more vigor than necessary.

“I look forward to it.”

Unable to stop herself, she finally met his gaze and let out a giggle. “You’re gonna get me in
so
much trouble…”

“That’s my plan.” Moistening his lower lip with a sensuous swipe of his tongue, he then captured it with a fang, leaving her no doubts as to what he wanted to do with her.

“Damn, you’re good,” she whispered under her breath.

“And I taste good, too.”

“Oh, hush up,” she admonished him but went back to the kitchen with a smile on her face. At that point, she didn’t care whether Jublansk saw it or not.

Which, of course, she did. Deciding to meet adversity head-on, Lucy took the offensive. “Wow! That is one incredibly sexy man!” she exclaimed when Jublansk glanced up as she came back to get Tarq’s drink. “I don’t know how anyone could resist him.”

Jublansk nodded her agreement. “I don’t know why anyone would want to try.” She went on kneading her dough with a nonchalance that seemed a little too studied to be natural. “You haven’t, have you?”

“What? Tried to resist him? I haven’t needed to so far.” Which was perfectly true. Resistance would have been futile anyway, but a moment’s reflection proved that she had, in fact, exercised incredible self-control just moments before when she stifled the urge to kiss him or, at the very least run her fingers through his hair.

“I dunno… a nice young woman like you and a man like that…” Jublansk let her sentence trail off with a shrug.

“Now, let me get this straight,” Lucy began, planting her fists on her hips. “Two days ago you were warning me to stay away from him—at least, I think that’s what you meant.”

Jublansk looked up in surprise. “Did I say that?” Giving the dough a punch, she added, “I must’ve been out of my mind.”

“So what are you telling me to do?”

“I’m not telling you to do anything, Lucy. I just think it’s about time you did something for yourself—something nice.”

Lucy didn’t know what to make of that. Was Jublansk telling her to do exactly what she
was
doing, or did she mean something else?

“I mean, it’s not like anyone around here is gonna do it for you.”

Meaning her family, of course, and, more specifically, her father. Lucy knew this to be true, and though she’d already taken the first step, she also knew there was more to it than the joy of sleeping with a Zetithian. She had to conceive.

Tarq simply refused to spend another day as he had the previous one, particularly since there was a perfectly valid reason for him to have lunch at Lucy’s restaurant—and dinner too, if he liked. Waroun had recommended it, and with only two other cafés in the entire village, there weren’t a lot of choices anyway. Tarq had eaten meals at each of them and concluded that the food wasn’t anywhere near as good, therefore returning to this place was what any sensible tourist would have done, whether he was fucking the waitress on the sly or not.

Although the waitresses at the other cafés had flirted with him blatantly, he simply wasn’t interested in carrying it any further. One had hinted that she might call him, but he had an idea it was purely for the sex rather than for breeding purposes. He tended to avoid that sort on principle. Besides, he was already working with a client, though he hated to think of Lucy that coldly, and within the confines of that relationship, he was monogamous.

These fine moral distinctions would have been laughed at by some, but Tarq had his own set of rules. He only serviced one woman at a time, doing his best to make her feel special and unique, and then, once conception was confirmed, he moved on to the next. He wasn’t finished with Lucy, so the others would simply have to wait their turn.

Perhaps it was the clandestine nature of their relationship that made him want to be with her in public. He’d never had to be so secretive before. In fact, many of his clients had even invited him to stay in their homes until they conceived, but there was no chance of that happening this time, and Tarq had been perfectly miserable without her.

He could, in theory, spend the entire day sitting right where he was. It might seem a bit odd, but as long as he ordered a drink now and then, no one would kick him out. Of course, if he never left, he couldn’t very well leave large tips for Lucy, which he fully intended to do.

For some inexplicable reason Tarq felt a deep-seated need to give something to Lucy, to provide for her in some way. And while there were many things Tarq didn’t have, money wasn’t one of them. The fact that Lucy had so little support might have been the stimulus, and if giving her huge tips meant that she could better provide for her children, he saw nothing wrong with it. He wasn’t paying her for sex—hell, most women wanted to pay
him
—but there was something about Lucy that made him want to give her things. Perhaps that was what he should do with the day—go shopping and buy her something. But what?

Jewelry? The fact that she wasn’t wearing any didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t like it. Her only accessory was the clip that held her hair twisted up in that funny, floppy style. Clothes? Men weren’t supposed to give clothing to casual female acquaintances, though she wasn’t precisely casual. Perfume he rejected outright. In his opinion, it was unnecessary, aside from the fact that it tended to make him feel queasy. Candy or flowers were common romantic gestures in most cultures, of course, but—

This train of thought halted abruptly as Tarq realized that he’d never gone out and bought anything for a lady before. Ever. The novelty of it should have given him a clue that Lucy was affecting him strangely, but deep down, he already knew that.

He told himself it was only because of her situation: the way her father treated her, the way she had to work so hard, both at the restaurant and at home. Tarq could be as stealthy as any Zetithian; he’d watched through the windows and had some idea of how things worked in Lucy’s household—or rather, how
Lucy
worked—and on top of all that, he would be leaving her with not one but three children. She was an oddity among his clients; most were well-equipped to handle triplets—both in terms of money and the ability to house and care for them—but the more he saw of Lucy and her family, the more convinced he became that he was doing her a disservice. Her family wouldn’t lift a finger or spend a single credit to help her.