She tossed her blanket aside, got her feet on the floor, and took it all in.
The windows of the cottage were wide open, which allowed for the birdsong and the ocean roar. Jack sat at the small table in the room, a carafe of the delicious-smelling coffee beside two mugs and a large plate covered with an assortment of breakfast rolls.
“Hi, sleepyhead. You better get over here. There are two each of these buns, but some of them are really delicious, and as much as I love you, I’m not sure that extends to leaving one for you.”
“Keep your mitts off my buns, Marine,” Kris said, and raced, or at least staggered to the table. Jack poured a cup of coffee and passed it to her as she sat down.
“Thanks,” Kris said, sipping the hot, bitter liquid. “Coffee beans were in the survival pod?”
“No,” Nelly said, “but one of the crew worshipped the stuff and had a huge supply of his own natural beans. He saved half a dozen of each variety and planted them. It turned out that the Alwans love the stuff, and it was one of the humanity’s first items of exchange. It’s still a prime trade item.”
“That didn’t happen overnight,” Kris said.
“No. Amanda had supper with the Historian last night, who told her it took nearly twenty years to go from the original few trees to enough that they could start selling a product while still planting more trees. And yes, the cacao seeds were part of the survival pod, but getting a chocolate industry going took a whole lot more time. It’s only in the last forty years or so anyone has been able to eat the stuff.”
“What’s the Alwan take on it?” Jack asked.
“They hate it.”
Kris eyed the sticky buns, spotted the singles, and reached for one. Jack gave her a sad look. She tore it in half, shared, and munched hers. “Hey, this is good.”
“You want the other half?”
“No, you can have it. A gentleman deserves some rewards. Okay, Nelly, have we heard anything from Captain Drago?”
“He’s sending down a quarter of the crew. While you did forget to mention to Granny Rita the need for increasing the beer supply, either she remembered how thirsty Sailors can be or Sergeant Bruce reminded her. Initial report is that the town and local resorts are not at risk of being drunk dry. Also, baby girls continue to survive here at a higher proportion to boys, so the population is about forty-nine percent to fifty-one percent. A few religious groups are locking up their girls, but most of the female population are enjoying a chance to meet the crew. There are also no problems with our gals meeting their boys though there were a few heads broken, in a light fashion. It seemed someone started the rumor that female Marines were easy.”
“But it’s not a problem, Skipper,” Sal said from Jack’s neck. “The local keepers of the peace seemed to think the guys got what they deserved, and it doesn’t look like the rumor is being taken seriously anymore.”
“Strange how evidence to the contrary kills a rumor,” Kris said.
“When it’s a good kick to the groin,” Nelly added.
Kris leaned over and gave Jack a kiss. “I like my men gentlemen.” She felt a breeze and realized the whole abbreviated top of her gown had fallen open.
Jack grinned. “And this gentleman likes the view.”
Kris settled back in her chair and adjusted her gown to remove the view. “You’re going to have to work for any more sightseeing, lover boy.”
Jack gave her a sad shrug, with plenty of grin in it. “The rest of the reports are no more informative. They’ve just scratched the surface.”
“Nelly, how’s the dictionary going?”
“Most of our people are talking to humans, but the five Alwans have been helpful. My translation of your talk had a few howlers in it, and I’m correcting those, but only a hundred or so new words have come in.”
“More will. Those howlers, how bad were they?” Kris asked.
“Well, I called the alien ships that attacked us a particular kind of bean the Alwans like to eat. The picture pretty much overpowered my mistranslation, but some of the Alwans who are against action are rubbing it in on those who are for us.”
Kris shrugged. “The pictures speak for themselves. ‘There are none so blind as have eyes but will not see,’ as Father so often said.” Kris considered everything and found it to her liking.
“Nelly, Sal, you monitor the net, keep adding words, and let us know if anything important comes up. Other than that, you will ignore what goes on here today.”
“But Kris, I’ve never had a chance to study at close hand the mating ritual of humans.”
“Nelly, you have an off button, and I know how to use it.”
“You are heartless, mean, and bind the mouth of the ox that grinds the grain.”
“I come by it naturally. I understand Granny Rita is a certified tyrant.”
“Oh, about that, Kris,” Nelly said. “Abby won’t say who told her, but there were mutinies in the early days. Food riots. People stealing supplies. Granny hung a few.”
“Now I begin to understand you, Your Highness,” Jack said with a bow of his head.
“Granny is not all sweetness and light,” Kris said.
“Enough work, young lady. I’m going swimming.”
Jack was up from the table in a flash, grabbed something from his closet, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, he was wearing . . . very little.
He did a muscleman thing, first with his right arm, then with his left, showing Kris that there was practically no back to his suit. Then he grabbed a towel and headed for the beach.
“I’ll follow you in a second,” Kris said, and thoughtfully sipped some more of her coffee. Then she headed over to her closet, rummaged up the tiniest excuse for a suit, and pulled her gown over her head.
Now she remembered why she only bought sexy underwear once. This little bit of nothing didn’t feel all that great between her legs even after she adjusted the strings.
This suit was not meant for a six-foot-tall woman.
The top didn’t cover all that much, but there wasn’t all that much to cover. Still, she had to let it out about as far as it would go. Thinking of as far as she could go got her almost into another fit of giggling, but she held her breath.
Grabbing a towel, she followed Jack to the beach.
There, she laid her towel down next to him. He seemed lost in quiet meditation, or maybe the warm-morning sun was turning him lazy.
She stretched out beside him, found a hand to hold on to, and discovered the morning sun could make her lazy, too.
A while later, Jack said. “You know, you can get a bad sunburn.”
“I didn’t bring any sunscreen.”
“On the porch, where I found the rolls, there was a jar of sunscreen. Hold still while I put some on you.”
Kris let go of Jack’s hand and prepared to hold still.
He started by kissing her neck.
“That’s not putting sunscreen on me.”
“Yes, but I’m shading you so you won’t burn.”
“Anything you say,” was out of Kris’s mouth before she realized it.
Jack began rubbing something cool and moist on her neck. Then he undid the ties of her string top, spread them on the towel beside her, and began to shower kisses on her back before covering it with moist coolness.
Kris purred.
And wondered how far down he’d go. This teeny-weeny bikini left a lot open to the sun . . . and Jack’s roving fingers.
When Jack had finished coating the small of her back, he surprised her.
He switched to her feet.
“Your résumé said nothing about great foot massages,” Kris said.
“Maybe because the personnel forms never ask the really important questions?” Jack said.
“Probably because there’s a law against it.”
“Talk to your dad about that next time you see him.”
Kris considered that idea and chose to stay concentrated in the moment. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to quit that.”