Chapter One
"Shit!" Cathy lunged, reaching out to catch her flying
phone. It bounced off her fingertips, connected with the toe
of her work boot and shattered against the only freakin'
rock on an otherwise grass–covered path.
"Great, just great." She set her toolkit down, bent over and
picked up the pieces. "Another phone bites the dust." Cathy
stuffed the parts into her pants pocket.
"Don't say anything." She craned her neck to glare up at the
shiny, silver, nine–foot–tall model of a UFO.
"As you're certainly not one to judge, ruining any chances I
ever had of making Moonbeam my hometown."
"Why?" she continued her one–sided conversation.
"Because you're clearly as non–operational as my phone
now is, that's why. I also doubt the dead tree rings are a
result of alien landings, so once I prove the o–rings
are either naturally occurring or a hoax and I file my
sure–to–be–newsworthy report with the
Ministry of Natural Resources, your friendly Moonbeamers
won't be so friendly toward me." She sighed.
"And I'll be run out of yet another small town." Her
shoulders slumped. "Sometimes I feel like I'm the alien."
An uncomfortable silence stretched. She was alone. Officer
Danielle, her contact, hadn't yet arrived and it was too
early in the day for tourists. It was only her and
Moonbeam's most famous landmark.
"I meant no offense with the fake comment." Cathy patted the
side of the flying saucer. A high–pitched ringing
sound reverberated inside the fiberglass shell and a screw
dropped from the panel.
"And I didn't do that." Half expecting the whole alien craft
to come tumbling down around her, she stepped away from the
spacecraft and glanced furtively to her left and to her
right. No humans or aliens were nearby. She expelled the
breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, looked around
her once more and bent to pick the screw up.
It had rolled next to a cheerful yellow dandelion poking
defiantly through the cracked concrete base. "I also didn't
break the base. It was here when I arrived. When people
accuse me, and for some reason they always do, I expect you
to vouch for me." She shook a finger in mock warning at the
weed.
"The herbaceous plant has not yet mastered human speech," a
deep voice observed.
"Eh?" Cathy straightened quickly, cracking her head on the
underbelly of the spaceship. Instead of stars, like normal
people would see after a concussive smack, Cathy conjured up
a hot man with eyes that could rival the Northern Lights for
their brilliance. The iridescent blues and greens pulled her
in, making her step toward the stranger for a better look.
Unable to focus on anything but him, she tripped over the
cracked concrete and fell, tumbling headfirst into his arms,
her momentum propelling him backward. They landed with a
thump on the ground, his big body cushioning her fall.
The stranger gulped a big mouthful of the crisp, northern
air, his flannel–covered chest heaving against her
cheek, and he matter–of–factly flipped her over
in his lap. Cathy raised her chin. Their gazes met and held.
"Whoa," she whispered, wincing at the pain ricocheting
inside her skull. He was good–looking, his chiseled
tanned face topped with disheveled black hair and dominated
by those unnatural ever–changing eyes.
While Cathy stared into his irises, transfixed by the swirl
of green and blue, the stranger ran his hands over her body.
He examined her thoroughly, brushing the back of her aching
head and dulling her pain before he trailed his fingertips
along her neck and across her shoulders, the soothing heat
radiating from his palms sending sparks of awareness
shooting across her skin.
He skimmed his fingertips over her breasts, his caress
tightening her nipples into taut, aching peaks. "Whoa," she
repeated. Warmth flooded her cheeks as he cupped her ass,
squeezing her flesh. Moisture seeped from her pussy, her
arousal flavoring the morning breeze.
Cathy knew she should stop him, but her flimsy reservations
melted under the stranger's magical, healing touch. She
stretched out her legs, allowing him to slide his palms
along her thighs, his fingers roaming dangerously close to
the source of her heat.
"I have fixed your damage, my Catherine." The man's accent
was thick and foreign, his bone–jarring rumble causing
her toes to curl in her steel–toed work boots.
"Thank you." Cathy sat across his legs, fitting against him
as though she belonged there, cradled in his arms, and she
breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent. He smelled like
freshly cut grass and rich, dark earth, the aromas pulling
at her already battered control. "How do you know my name?"
"This is a small town, druzka." His perfect lips quirked
upward. "Everyone knows your name." His big arms wrapped
around her waist and he pressed her back into the solidity
of his body and the long, thick ridge in his faded blue jeans.
She shifted, rubbing her leg against the denim, and the
ridge began to vibrate. Oh my God. Stifling a moan, Cathy
squeezed her thighs together. "Your phone is ringing."
His forehead furrowed with thought lines. "I have not
acquired a phone. Is it a requirement for human courtship?"
The ridge continued to pulsate, massaging her leg. Cathy
looked into his unusual eyes. "Then what is—"
Firm, hungry lips covered hers before she could finish her
question and all her interest in the answer evaporated.
Hot damn.
The man kissed as intensely as he touched, his surge toward
her forceful and demanding, driving her head back. He didn't
allow her escape, holding her face in his large palms,
securing her, his tongue probing at the seam of her mouth.
Cathy resisted his passionate assault for two long
heartbeats before she released a wonder–filled sigh of
submission, opening up to him.