With glowering faces, the rebel and his friends strode out of camera range, trailed by a battalion of Secret Service men.
Jas flopped backward onto the bed. Her Vash man had just been unceremoniously and undemocratically kicked out of a joint session of Congress. For Pete's sake, he'd been kicked off the planet, too, if she'd heard Lahdo correctly. Her thoughts plunged ahead. The trade commander wanted to exclude him. Why? He apparently was not part of the delegation. She'd assumed all the Vash were, but if he wasn't, it would explain why she hadn't seen him in any of the previously aired interviews. In fact, she'd begun to think she had imagined him.
Without warning, a memory of the rebel's golden eyes evoked a shivery, erotic echo of the way she'd felt when she woke from the dream of him. But she clenched her teeth against the unbidden image; she'd endured too many years of unbidden images, fantasies that were more vivid than life. Common sense told her that this flesh-and-blood man had nothing to do with her dreams. She couldn't fathom why he affected her so profoundly, but maybe somewhere in his world was her answer.
His world.
She sat up, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. She wasn't wealthy, and she wasn't a dignitary. Average citizens like herself would have to wait many years for the chance to travel into space. And even that was only conjecture. She massaged her temples and concentrated. It looked as though her only way into space was though the back door. But short of thumbing a ride on one of the Vash ships, how would she do that?
Thumbing a ride . . .
Yes, she could hitchhike. Her heart sped up as she analyzed the plausibility and risk of such a scheme. It was a rash idea. Insane.
Electrifying.
She lurched off the bed and began to pace. All her life she'd been praised and rewarded for making sound, logical choices. Even her unconventional desire to become a fighter pilot had been driven by a sense of duty to her country. Dependable, do-right Jas. Well, except when it came to her love life, but she was smarter now. Her thoughts circled back to the Vash rebel. He was the key. If she could somehow make it worth his while, he might be willing to take her along. She'd even bet that he didn't play by the rules, as did Lahdo and the others. He was an outcast, or better yet, an outlaw—exactly the kind of individual she needed for her plan. Yep, he was her ticket out of here. And she had one short week to prove it.
Chapter Four
Jas lurched to a sitting position in bed. Her silk robe fell open in a sensual glide to her elbows, exposing her breasts and thighs to the cool, air-conditioned breeze. Still dazed from her dream, she reached for the bedside lamp and rumbled for the switch. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she stared unseeing at the TV she'd forgotten to shut off after watching Lahdo's address. She'd dreamed of the desert again. Only it hadn't been this intense, this real, since the days immediately after the crash. As always, she found herself wandering through the twilight in a barren but lavishly hued landscape. But this time the charismatic Vash rebel was wailing where only the blurred image of a man had been before. When she knelt at his side, he'd splayed one hand on the back of her head and pulled her down to his warm mouth. Every nerve ending in her body throbbed with the echo of their passion-filled embrace. If she hadn't woken, she might have made love with him. A joining that would have meshed our hearts and souls forever.
Jas flung one arm over her eyes as if she stood a chance of smothering the almost poignant yearning that flared inside her. In the weeks following the crash, these dreams had visited her nightly, leaving her with the same futile longing. Little wonder she had been overcome by a sense of destiny, of magic, falling in love at first sight when Capt. Jock Hamilton, armed with roses, wine, and apologetic eyes, came to visit
Jas flopped backward onto the bed. Her Vash man had just been unceremoniously and undemocratically kicked out of a joint session of Congress. For Pete's sake, he'd been kicked off the planet, too, if she'd heard Lahdo correctly. Her thoughts plunged ahead. The trade commander wanted to exclude him. Why? He apparently was not part of the delegation. She'd assumed all the Vash were, but if he wasn't, it would explain why she hadn't seen him in any of the previously aired interviews. In fact, she'd begun to think she had imagined him.
Without warning, a memory of the rebel's golden eyes evoked a shivery, erotic echo of the way she'd felt when she woke from the dream of him. But she clenched her teeth against the unbidden image; she'd endured too many years of unbidden images, fantasies that were more vivid than life. Common sense told her that this flesh-and-blood man had nothing to do with her dreams. She couldn't fathom why he affected her so profoundly, but maybe somewhere in his world was her answer.
His world.
She sat up, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. She wasn't wealthy, and she wasn't a dignitary. Average citizens like herself would have to wait many years for the chance to travel into space. And even that was only conjecture. She massaged her temples and concentrated. It looked as though her only way into space was though the back door. But short of thumbing a ride on one of the Vash ships, how would she do that?
Thumbing a ride . . .
Yes, she could hitchhike. Her heart sped up as she analyzed the plausibility and risk of such a scheme. It was a rash idea. Insane.
Electrifying.
She lurched off the bed and began to pace. All her life she'd been praised and rewarded for making sound, logical choices. Even her unconventional desire to become a fighter pilot had been driven by a sense of duty to her country. Dependable, do-right Jas. Well, except when it came to her love life, but she was smarter now. Her thoughts circled back to the Vash rebel. He was the key. If she could somehow make it worth his while, he might be willing to take her along. She'd even bet that he didn't play by the rules, as did Lahdo and the others. He was an outcast, or better yet, an outlaw—exactly the kind of individual she needed for her plan. Yep, he was her ticket out of here. And she had one short week to prove it.
Chapter Four
Jas lurched to a sitting position in bed. Her silk robe fell open in a sensual glide to her elbows, exposing her breasts and thighs to the cool, air-conditioned breeze. Still dazed from her dream, she reached for the bedside lamp and rumbled for the switch. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she stared unseeing at the TV she'd forgotten to shut off after watching Lahdo's address. She'd dreamed of the desert again. Only it hadn't been this intense, this real, since the days immediately after the crash. As always, she found herself wandering through the twilight in a barren but lavishly hued landscape. But this time the charismatic Vash rebel was wailing where only the blurred image of a man had been before. When she knelt at his side, he'd splayed one hand on the back of her head and pulled her down to his warm mouth. Every nerve ending in her body throbbed with the echo of their passion-filled embrace. If she hadn't woken, she might have made love with him. A joining that would have meshed our hearts and souls forever.
Jas flung one arm over her eyes as if she stood a chance of smothering the almost poignant yearning that flared inside her. In the weeks following the crash, these dreams had visited her nightly, leaving her with the same futile longing. Little wonder she had been overcome by a sense of destiny, of magic, falling in love at first sight when Capt. Jock Hamilton, armed with roses, wine, and apologetic eyes, came to visit
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