8. Clair
CLAIR
They had been underway for less than an hour when Clair decided they had a problem.
Actually, they had several problems, not the least of which was the fact that she and Kaelus were supposed to convince an entire planet full of strangers that they were a happily mated couple when, until recently, they had barely been able to share a laboratory without arguing.
Then there was the Savage Syndrome, the mysterious way the virus seemed to affect the males of Titus Four differently from every other infected population, and the fact that seven women had already died on Glenvarren while they were still sitting safely aboard a long-range shuttle heading toward the possible cure.
All of those things were serious and important, but the problem Clair was thinking about at the moment was considerably more basic…
They didn't know enough about each other to pass as a married couple.
Oh, they knew plenty in a professional sense.
Clair knew that Kaelus was a brilliant Xenopharmacologist who could look at the molecular structure of an unknown compound and start predicting its effects before most scientists had finished reading the initial analysis.
She knew he was obsessively neat, ridiculously territorial about his equipment, and capable of surviving for hours on coffee even though he claimed to dislike the human beverage when she first introduced it to him.
She knew he went to the gym every morning, though she had never actually seen him there, and that he was apparently capable of lifting several times her body weight without so much as breathing hard.
She knew that he growled when he was irritated, which was often, and that the golden color of his eyes became brighter when he was angry or upset.
She knew he smelled like warm spice and something dark and masculine she couldn't name, and that being held against his enormous body did extremely confusing things to her nervous system.
But she had no idea what he ate for breakfast or who his parents were and even if he had any siblings—that was the sort of thing that was going to get them caught.
“What are you doing?” Kaelus asked from the pilot's seat, glancing over at her as Clair pulled a small tablet from her bag and began typing, searching for just the right thing.
“Preparing,” she told him.
“For what?”
“For our marriage.”
Kaelus's fingers froze over the shuttle controls.
Clair bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the look on his face.
“We are not getting married,” he growled.
“Mated, married—whatever you want to call it,” Clair said breezily.
“The point is, we're about to land on a planet and tell everyone we've been together long enough to be a bonded couple.
If anybody asks us basic questions about each other and we give different answers, they're going to know we're lying.”
Kaelus frowned.
“Why would anyone interrogate us about our personal relationship?”
“Because people are nosy,” Clair told him.
“And because apparently these people put a lot of value on mating and marriage.
Commander Sylvan said an unmarried male isn't even respected enough to get access to their scientific research.
You don't think somebody might ask how we met, how long we've been together, or what you like about me?”
He scowled.
“I sincerely hope not.”
“Well, hope isn't a strategy, sugar-booger,” Clair said.
“People on Earth have to do this kind of thing all the time when one person marries somebody from another country and they're trying to prove to the government that the marriage is real.
They get asked all kinds of questions about their spouse to make sure they're not faking the relationship just so one of them can get citizenship or a green card.”
Kaelus turned his head.
“A green card? How does a card that is green help a human move from one country to another? What kind of card is it?”
“Never mind all that.” Clair waved a hand. “The point is, if some Titus Four official asks you what side of the bed I sleep on and you say left while I say right, we're going to look suspicious.”
Kaelus's dark brows pulled together.
“Why would anyone care which side of the bed you sleep on?”
“I don't know, but apparently governments do,” Clair said. “And since we're trying to get access to medical information they don't normally share with outsiders, I don't want to take any chances. So I've made a list.”
Kaelus stared at her.
“A list?”
“Yes.” Clair smiled brightly. “You like lists.”
He frowned.
“I like scientifically useful lists.”
“This is scientifically useful because if we screw up our cover story, we're not getting anywhere near their scientific research,” she pointed out.
He was silent for a moment, then he sighed.
“Very well. Ask your questions.”
Clair grinned and shifted sideways in her seat so she could see him better.
Kaelus continued piloting the shuttle, though according to him, now that they had passed through the fold in space, most of the trip was automated and there wasn't much for him to do until they approached Titus Four.
Still, he kept his eyes fixed determinedly on the navigational display as though it required every bit of his attention.
“All right,” Clair said, looking down at her tablet. “First question is easy. Where did we meet?”
“In the laboratory,” Kaelus said immediately. “Commander Sylvan brought you there and informed me that I was being forced to share my workspace with you.”
Clair frowned.
“Okay, that's factually accurate but not exactly romantic.”
“It is what happened. There was nothing ‘romantic’ about it.”
“Yes, but if somebody asks how we met, you can’t say, ‘Commander Sylvan forced this irritating human woman into my lab against my wishes.’”
He shot her a look.
“I did not say I would call you irritating.”
“You were thinking it,” she accused.
“I frequently think it,” Kaelus admitted.
Clair gave him a hard look.
“See? This is why we need practice.”
Kaelus made a low sound in his throat, but Clair noticed that the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Fine,” he said. “We met when Commander Sylvan assigned you to my laboratory.”
“Better,” Clair said. “Then they'll probably ask what our first impressions were of each other. I'll say I thought you were rude, arrogant, overbearing, and extremely full of yourself.”
Kaelus turned to look at her.
“That is what you intend to tell people who are deciding whether they believe we are mates? I thought we were trying to be romantic.”
“Well, lots of couples don't like each other at first,” Clair pointed out. “It makes a good story—enemies to lovers.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Never mind.” Clair smiled. “What did you think of me when we first met?”
Kaelus looked back at the flight display.
“I thought you were extremely distracting.”
Clair waited but when he said nothing else, she raised her eyebrows.
“That's it? Distracting?”
He nodded.
“Yes. Extremely.”
“Not annoying? Messy? Loud? Human?” she challenged him.
He looked thoughtful.
“All of those things were also true.”
Clair put a hand on her hip.
“Gee, thanks.”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling under his dark red uniform shirt.
“You asked.”
“I did.” Clair tapped her stylus against the tablet. “But what exactly was distracting about me?”
Kaelus's jaw tightened.
“Do we truly need this level of detail?”
“Absolutely,” she said firmly. “We need to be consistent.”
“You are an Elite,” he said finally. “That is distracting, especially when I am trying to work.”
Clair felt a little flutter in her stomach.
“Meaning I’m curvy, right?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
He nodded again.
“Yes. Very curvy.”
“And so you noticed my, er, curviness,” Clair said.
“It would have been impossible not to notice.”
His deep voice had gone slightly rough.
Clair looked down at her tablet. For some reason she suddenly found the screen extremely interesting.
She wanted to explore this topic more, but she was a little shy.
She’d never been with a man who actually liked her curves before.
Not that she was actually with Kaelus, she reminded herself quickly. They were only pretending. But still…
“Okay,” she said at last. “So you thought I was distracting because you thought I was what…attractive?”
He gave a low growl.
“You are extremely aesthetically pleasing.”
Clair burst out laughing.
“Aesthetically pleasing? You make me sound like a building or a landscape. Good Lord, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
“I have literally swept you off your feet—when you were falling,” he pointed out—which shut her up for a second.
Then Clair narrowed her eyes at him.
“Wait—was that a joke?”
He frowned.
“No.”
“It was! Doctor Kaelus made a joke.”
“I did not,” he protested.
Clair was still grinning as she made a note on her tablet.
“Okay, fine—next question. When did we become romantically involved?”
He stared at the viewscreen.
“We did not.”
“Oh, come on…” Clair sighed. “Pretend, remember? We’re supposed to be married. So when did we get together?”
Kaelus's expression became pained.
“You decide. I will adhere to whatever fiction you make up.”
Clair thought about it.
“We should probably say it happened gradually. We were sharing the lab…we got to know each other…you stopped acting like I was contaminating your oxygen supply…” She shrugged. “And eventually we realized we liked each other.”
Kaelus glanced at her.
“Is that what happened?”
The question caught Clair off guard.
“What?”
“You said eventually we realized we liked each other.”
“For the story,” Clair said quickly.
“Oh—of course.”
Something about his tone made her look at him, but his face was unreadable.
“Anyway,” she continued, “the next question is who made the first move.”
Kaelus frowned.
“Why is that relevant?”
“Because couples tell stories about that kind of thing,” Clair explained. “Trust me—it’s relevant to our backstory.”
He sighed.
“Very well. You may say I did.”
Clair raised her eyebrows.