One Kiss in... Miami: Nothing Short of Perfect / Reunited...With Child / Her Innocence, His Conquest

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was too preoccupied looking.” A few snickers greeted her comment.

“I swear, when it comes to creating robotic sensors and actuators St. John is the best on the planet,” an awestruck whisper came from the row in front of her.

“Especially robotics in relationship to autonomous cooperation with humans,” an answering mutter drifted from behind, one equally awestruck.

Interesting. She returned her attention to Justice … and her self-appointed task of looking. She hadn’t a clue what all that meant, but color her impressed if he was considered the best on the entire planet. But at what cost? She studied him more carefully.

His features were harder and more defined than they’d been at eighteen. Okay, nearly eighteen. Seriously, what difference did a few weeks make? His eyes were still that dangerous blaze of tawny gold, just like a jungle cat. His hair stopped a shade shy of ebony, the texture rich and dark. He wore it nearly as long now as he did all those years ago, as though far more weighty matters occupied his mind than something so insignificant as getting a haircut. He’d disdained wearing a suit and settled instead on a black shirt and slacks which seemed to swallow all the light on the stage leaving him shrouded in shadows.

He was Hades escaped from the Underworld and everything feminine within her shivered in response to the threat he posed.

Where had the Justice she remembered gone and who was this creature who’d taken his place? He’d changed in some ineffable way that defied her ability to identify. He’d always possessed a logical nature, governed by exquisite self-control. Before, that control hadn’t been so reserved or icy. There’d been an openness to him that had allowed her to break through his barriers and lose herself in all that made him the remarkable person he’d been. Laughter had come easily to him, delight in their world a natural part of his personality, his attitude as brilliant as the spill of hot, golden sunshine that had encased them that long-ago summer.

Looking at him now, she realized that had all changed. He wasn’t open, but locked up tight. She suspected he rarely laughed. And far from being delighted with the world, he regarded it with a cynical edge that eclipsed that hot, golden sunshine, leaving behind a cold, impenetrable darkness.

What had happened to him? It crushed her to see that he didn’t resemble the character she’d created for her storybooks, the one based on her memories of him. How could she have gotten it so wrong? When she’d imagined what sort of metamorphosis he’d undergo transitioning from youth to adult, she’d never, ever conceived this.

Just then his gaze settled on her and something odd passed between them. Did he recognize her? Did he remember, even after all this time? Not likely, since her appearance had changed so dramatically in the past decade. His eyes gleamed beneath the overhead lights, like tarnished gold, yet lit with the fire of want.

And that’s when Daisy decided. No matter what, before she left here she’d find out what had happened to Justice. She’d take the opportunity, once and for all, to deal with that long-ago past, one she’d never been able to forget. One that she’d used as a measuring stick in every relationship she’d had since their time together. She’d prove to herself that what they’d experienced wasn’t so special since, clearly, he was no longer that amazing person he’d once been.

And then, finally, she’d be able to put him back in the box from which she’d released him … and move on.

He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to deliver a speech he not only didn’t believe in, but one that involved shoveling the most bull he’d ever attempted in his twenty-eight years. He’d been in Miami Beach for less than a day and already he’d reached the conclusion that it was an abysmal waste of his time.

The minute he arrived, he’d checked into his suite, unpacked his bag and then went after the first name on his list. Why waste time, right? Dorothy Salyer stood just a few inches shy of his own six-foot-three-inch frame and seemed quietly attractive. There was no questioning her intelligence. Knowing the requirements Pretorius had incorporated into his program, all the women would be brilliant. But Dorothy—or Dot, as she’d insisted he call her (shudder)—had been even more shy than his uncle and utterly incapable of stringing even a half-dozen words together.

Strike one.

The second woman on the list was neither tall nor attractive and she never shut up, at least not once she found herself in the presence of The. Great. Justice. St. John! She even put the little italic on the John every single frigging time she said his name, which was so often he was tempted to change it then and there. He didn’t know if she hoped to impress with her unending staccato chatter, but she’d definitely succeeded in terrorizing. He barely made it through coffee.

Strike two.

Deciding not to waste any further time, he went after the third woman. She proved to be quite delightful (a pleasant change). Pretty (a plus). Normal (a big plus). Intelligent (of course). He almost offered her the position of apprentice then and there. He probably would have if she hadn’t chosen that moment to mention that she considered herself a city girl at heart, adored the cultural opportunities Chicago provided and couldn’t imagine living anywhere other than the Windy City and—worst of all—she survived on takeout since she couldn’t cook.

Third strike and he was almost ready to call it quits. Or he would have if not for a few salient points.

A. He liked women.

B. He liked sitting and having a quiet, adult conversation with a woman.

C. His uncle, damn him to hell and back, was right. He’d hoarded his knowledge instead of spreading it around. Worse, the level of isolation to which he’d dedicated himself had caused a certain stagnation in his intellectual processes, thus his inability to work.

D. The computer program wasn’t working.

And that damnable E. Nothing had changed since his accident. He still needed … more. Wanted to take a passing shot at normalcy. To have a life. To feel again, even if he wasn’t capable of the sort of depths of emotion romantics ascribed to. To have a family. Children. A legacy.

Which brought him to the woman in the red blouse. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She struck some odd note that resonated deep within him, something that tickled a memory, though he couldn’t quite place it. All he knew for certain was that he wanted her with a gut-wrenching desire he hadn’t experienced in ages. Maybe ever. Which begged a single, urgent question.

Why the hell wasn’t she on the list of candidates?

There must be something wrong with her, something the computer defined as unacceptable. Not her looks. Coltishly slender and fine-boned, she epitomized the type of woman he found most appealing. Even better, she was a blonde, the ruler-straight length streaked with just about every permutation of that color. Her features fell somewhere between elegant and fey, except for her mouth, which he could only describe as sultry. So, if it wasn’t her appearance, why had she been eliminated from consideration?

Not smart enough? She couldn’t be lacking in intelligence, not considering her presence at the symposium. Possibly he had set the intellectual standard a shade on the high side. Perhaps he could lower the bar an IQ point or two if she fell outside the parameters he’d predetermined. He ran through the list he’d given Pretorius again. Physically attractive. Big red check. An engineer. She was here, wasn’t she? Double check. That left logical, kind and someone who could handle isolation and wouldn’t make waves.

Maybe the computer had deduced in its inimitable fashion that she wasn’t logical. Well, hell. He’d be willing to settle for reasonable if she didn’t quite qualify as full-blooded rational. Kind? She looked kind to him. So, let’s make that a check with a question mark. Perhaps the isolation had caused her to be rejected. He mentally flagged that for future reference. If they put their minds to it, they could find a way around that particular problem. Which left someone who didn’t make waves … A nonissue, really. He was a man, wasn’t he? He’d simply subdue any waves she made.

Justice smiled in satisfaction. It looked like he might have just found his apprentice/wife, and without any help from the computer. Just went to show that his intellect was more than a match for Pretorius’s program. And wouldn’t he take great pleasure in rubbing that fact in the old man’s face.

Two

Daisy remained in her seat and waited while the line snaking toward the stage diminished. It would seem that everyone wanted a piece of Justice St. John and she wondered why. What had he done to inspire such effusiveness and excitement in the engineering world? Maybe she’d better research him when she returned home because, clearly, she was missing some vital information about her former lover.

The last individual reluctantly turned away and headed for the exit and in one lithe movement, Justice leaped from the stage and came straight for her. She wasn’t surprised. She’d known from the first moment their eyes had met that he’d pursue her. For now, she’d let him.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

She tilted her head to one side. Interesting. No wasted time. No social niceties. “Hello,” she said and held out her hand. “Daisy Marcellus. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

To her amusement that stopped him dead in his tracks and she could practically see the gears turning. “We’ve met before.”

It wasn’t a question so she didn’t bother treating it like one, though part of her felt a stab of disappointment that her name didn’t elicit more of a reaction. Or any reaction whatsoever. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No.”

Ah, that was the Justice she remembered. Blunt and to the point. “Maybe it’ll come to you over coffee.”

He folded his arms across an impressive expanse of chest. “Why don’t you save us both time and refresh my memory?”

“I don’t think I will. It’s more fun this way.”

“Fun.” He said the word as though it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

She stood, startled to realize he’d picked up several inches in height along the way. When she’d known him, he’d been barely over six feet. He’d packed on at least three more inches in the ensuing years. “Yes, fun. As a noun, an amusement or playful activity. Alternately, the source of merriment. As an adjective, to give pleasure or enjoyment. As an intransitive verb, to play or joke.” She grinned. “The mixed blessings of a photographic memory.”

For some reason the admission allowed him to relax and he even managed a smile. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you for the explanation. I wasn’t familiar with the word.”

“I’m shocked. How about work? Are you familiar with that word?”

He held up a hand before she could launch into a new set of definitions. “Quite familiar.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured.

“Surprise. Something unexpected that causes wonder or astonishment.”

She chuckled, filled with wonder and astonishment at the unexpected sight of his laughing along with her. Impulsively, she caught his hand in hers. “I believe you said something about joining you for a cup of coffee?”

He stared at their linked fingers for a long moment. Then he looked at her. Banked fire stirred in the brilliance of his gaze, a hunger and longing she couldn’t mistake. Warmth filled her, splashing like hot liquid over and through her, sinking deep into her very core where it generated a hunger and longing as powerful as the one reflected in his eyes. From the moment he’d walked into her parents’ home, he’d had the exact same effect on her. At least that much hadn’t changed.

“Coffee would be an excellent start,” he stated.

An excellent start? “And the finish?” she dared to ask.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

And she did. They would end up the same place they had the last time they’d been together.

In bed.

Hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted by other conference attendees, Justice requested the hotel’s café hostess show them to one of the more private tables buried toward the back and surrounded by greenery. It also happened to provide an impressive view across Biscayne Bay toward downtown Miami. The late afternoon rapidly transitioned toward dusk and the lights of the city flickered to life, the glow reflected in the soft blue water.

Daisy slid into the seat opposite Justice and he took the opportunity to study her. She was quite stunning, he acknowledged from a purely analytical standpoint, possessing features that society deemed beautiful. It didn’t seem to matter whether he considered them each individually or took them in combination, they possessed an elegance in the same way he considered a carefully crafted mathematical formula elegant.

Her hair swept back from her brow to fall in a thick, straight line to cup her shoulders. Perhaps her left eyebrow was a tad off center, no more than a millimeter or two, but it only served to draw attention to the unusual green of her eyes, a shade that made him think of spring growth. Even more interesting, he could see every thought and emotion reflected there, her expression as open and ingenuous as a child. It disconcerted him since most female engineers were more guarded, perhaps as a result of working in such a male-dominated field.

He continued his appraisal. Her nose was much as a nose should be, straight and neither too narrow, nor too broad. Her cheekbones arched high, adding to that overall quality of elegance. As for her mouth … There, his gaze lingered. If she deviated from true classic beauty, it might be here. Her mouth was far more lush than elegant, full and a delicate pink. For some odd reason the shape and color made him want to bite it. Well, hell. That wouldn’t do.

He cleared his throat. “So are you going to give me a hint?” he asked.

“I assume you mean you want a hint about where we met before?” Daisy asked, then shook her head in response to her own question. A tantalizing smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. Did she have any idea what that smile did to a man? The urge to bite grew stronger. “Give it time. It’ll come to you.”

“It might not.” He frowned at the menu the hostess handed him and set it aside, unopened. He pushed the scientist in him to the fore, sliding into the reserved, analytical side of his nature with frightening ease. More and more he tended to retreat behind the facade whenever he found himself in an emotionally charged situation. He found it … safer. “I was in an accident six months and three-and-three-quarter days ago. Sometimes I struggle to recall names and certain events from my past.”

She stared, shocked. “Oh, Justice, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“There’s no reason you should since I worked quite hard to keep the general public from finding out.” He hesitated. Maybe he should clarify. Women tended to appreciate that characteristic in a man. “Although it’s caused a few memory issues, it hasn’t affected my intellect, if that’s of concern.”

She caught his hand in hers and squeezed. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s the least of my concerns.”

He realized then that she was a touchy-feely type of woman. Unusual in an engineer, but he could live with it. Live with it? Hell, he could get used to it damn fast. He shrugged. “It’s just one of those things you learn to accept. Sort of like the scars.”

To his utter astonishment, tears pricked her eyes. “Oh, Justice. Scars?” She leaned toward him, speaking in a fierce undertone, her hand tightening on his. “Those don’t matter, either. All they mean is that you’re a survivor.”

Another thought occurred. “We have the option of making love in the dark if you think the scars might have an adverse impact on your libido.”

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you’d changed. But you still have that marvelous sense of humor.”

Did she think he was making a joke? He’d been dead serious. “Does that mean you’re not interested in making love?” Maybe he should have led into the subject more gradually. But it seemed a logical progression, one that sandwiched quite neatly between coffee and asking her to be his apprentice/wife. “There’s no rush. We have sixty-one hours and thirty-four minutes.”

She laughed again, a light, carefree sound that arrowed straight to the icy core of him and thawed it ever so slightly. For the first time in years he felt the budding tendrils of hope. Maybe he wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe winter would end. Maybe Daisy could deliver him into the warming arms of spring.

“I’m very interested in making love to you,” she informed him. Her amusement faded, replaced by a bittersweet longing. “It’s been so long, Justice. I wish I’d thought to look for you sooner.”

“You wouldn’t have found me. Pretorius keeps us well hidden.”

“Pretorius?”

“My uncle. He’s a computer expert, which comes in handy since he helps maintain my anonymity.”

“Huh.” She fixed him with her lovely eyes, giving him her full attention and he realized he liked being the center of her universe. He liked it a lot. “I didn’t realize you had any family. At least, you never mentioned anyone.”

The way she spoke suggested they’d shared a certain level of intimacy. His eyes narrowed. Damn that accident. How could he have possibly forgotten someone like her? “How do I know you?”

She smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a hint. My appearance has changed quite a bit since we last met.”

Aw, hell. Why did women always do that to a man? Normally, he was quite observant. But he rarely felt his observational abilities reached the level expected by women in male-female dynamics, particularly those of a romantic nature. “For instance?”

“My hair.”

“Longer? Shorter?” He hazarded a guess, though guessing didn’t come naturally to him.

She shook her head. “Lighter. It was a lot darker before. But I’ve gone back to my natural coloring.”

Relief flowed over him like a comforting blanket. Okay, that explained it. No doubt the computer program disqualified her based on that minor detail. He’d have to speak to Pretorius about tweaking the parameters. Maybe he’d been a shade too rigid in his requirements.

“I could live with dark hair.” Especially if it meant Daisy agreeing to become his apprentice/wife.

She tilted her head to one side, clearly puzzled by his comment. “Could you?”

Perhaps that sounded a trifle odd. Hadn’t Pretorius warned him about inviting a woman for a cup of coffee in one breath and proposing to her in the next? Time to slow things down. After coffee he’d settle for propositioning her. She’d indicated a level of interest in pursuing that angle of their acquaintance, at least he hoped he’d made a correct interpretation of her interest. And if he were strictly honest with himself, if he didn’t get her into bed soon he might give in to the temptation to bite more than just those lush lips of hers. He suspected such an action would be frowned upon given their current venue.

“Did we meet at a previous engineering conference?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not—”

Their waitress appeared at his elbow and offered them a wide smile. “Good afternoon. My name is Anita and I’ll be your waitress.” She stated the obvious considering that she wore a uniform that clearly identified her occupation and her name tag had “Anita” written in bold black lettering. “Would you care for a drink from the bar?”

“I’ll pass,” Daisy said. “Though I’d love some iced tea, extra lemon please.”

A sense of familiarity swept through Justice. Something about the extra lemon. And then it passed. The sensation happened all too frequently since the accident. Sometimes he couldn’t summon the memory no matter how hard he tried. On other occasions—more and more often to his profound relief—the memory exploded into his mind in full vivid color, as though his brain had forged a new pathway through the neural wetware that held that precious information, avoiding the congestion and confusion left behind by his accident. But not this time. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he found himself square in the middle of a mental traffic jam, unable to maneuver his way to the coordinates that contained that particular node of memory.

He accepted the failure with his usual stoicism and switched his attention to the waitress. “Coffee. Black.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks and to take your order.”

The instant Anita left, Justice returned his attention to Daisy, homing in on her with laser-sharp focus. “Are you ready to give me another hint?”

She waved that aside. “I have a better suggestion. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to in the past few years? After all, you are the best in the business when it comes to creating robotic sensors and actuators.”

They were on more familiar ground now. “Yes, I am.”

“No false modesty, I see,” she commented.

The observation made no sense. “What would be the point?”

He’d never met a woman who enjoyed laughing more than this one. He should find it annoying. Instead, it arrowed straight through him, bringing an unexpected surge of desire. “You crack me up, Justice. Still logical to the end.”

He hesitated. “Is there something wrong with being logical?”

Everything about her seemed to soften, even her voice. “No, of course not. So long as you also remember to feel.”

Feel? He didn’t quite know how to respond to that, a rare occurrence and one that threw him off stride. He reached for Rumi, only to realize he’d left the sphere in his room. It also brought home to him how much he’d come to depend on his creation whenever he found himself in a quandary. And Daisy certainly left him in a quandary.

With most engineers, he knew exactly what to expect and how to speak to them. But not with this woman. Even her name seemed wrong, and yet … Right somehow. She had the same appeal as her namesake, a splash of color that brightened even the plainest, most barren landscape. She made him hesitate along his appointed path, encouraged him to pause in order to admire and while away the hours in ridiculous pursuits rather than the business of … well … business.

But it was more than that. She roused feelings in him he thought long dead, a want that eclipsed everything else. Right now sitting with her, he didn’t give a damn about the conference, or the work he’d been unable to complete for the past year, or asking the necessary questions to ensure he’d found the perfect apprentice/wife. All he cared about was allowing spring to thaw the ice encasing his heart. To heat the blood flowing through his veins. To find the man lost in an endless winter and breathe new meaning into his life.

Daisy could do that for him. If he believed in intuition, he’d have blamed the abrupt, blazing certainty he experienced on that. But since he didn’t, he decided his brain had been subconsciously working the problem and just now reached a rational and inescapable conclusion.

This woman was the answer to his problem.

He didn’t question the newfound knowledge since he’d experienced something similar whenever he came up with a new idea in robotics. He’d learned to trust those moments of sudden enlightenment and proceed to the next step without delay.

She waited patiently for him to speak again, content with the silence. He found that an unusual attribute in a person, regardless of gender. While she waited, she smiled with what he interpreted as contentment and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand. She had pretty hands, he realized, the fingers long and supple. For an instant his brain short-circuited, and not as a result of his accident.

He flashed on an image of how Daisy’s hands would look and feel on his body. Good God, where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t normally the imaginative sort, and yet that one stunning picture caused an unmistakable physiological response, one far beyond his ability to control. No doubt because it had been so long since he’d been with a woman.

Something in his expression must have given him away. Daisy straightened in her chair. “Justice? What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive me. This hasn’t happened since I was a teenager, but perhaps because of my recent isolation, I’m receiving an unusual amount of visually stimulating input which is having an adverse affect on my central nervous system. If you could strive to be a little less visually stimulating, my body will release an appropriate amount of nitric oxide to the corpora cavernosa which should cause my muscles to relax.” Dear God, could he sound any geekier?

Sure enough, she blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re giving me a hard-on.”

The waitress chose that moment to return with their drinks and based on the unusual clumsiness with which she juggled her tray, he had a sneaking suspicion she’d overheard his final comment. Damn.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked, struggling in vain to maintain an impassive expression.

Justice didn’t hesitate, but took the only reasonable course of action. “No. The check, please.”

She handed it over, throwing a cynical look in Daisy’s direction. For some reason that look stirred a fierce, protective instinct in Justice. Odd, since he didn’t believe in instinct. The only explanation was some sort of genetic anomaly that had arbitrarily managed to survive the transition from an earlier, more primitive, intuitive state of man and been somehow included in his genetic coding.

Not that it mattered whether or not Daisy noticed Anita’s reaction. Justice didn’t want anyone looking at Daisy like that, thinking what the waitress was undoubtedly thinking, regardless of its veracity. Not that his soon-to-be-apprentice/wife noticed. She seemed totally oblivious to the byplay, probably because she was busy staring at him with undisguised shock. Maybe he should have been less blunt about his physiological problem.

Struggling to temper his reaction, he took the bill, added in a generous tip and slashed his signature across the ticket without his usual meticulous care. Then he shoved back his chair, relieved to discover that the nitric oxide had done its job.

Daisy’s brows shot upward, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “I gather we’re leaving?”

“Yes. We’re leaving.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

She stood, snagged her carryall and slung the strap over her shoulder all in one fluid motion. The fuchsia of her bag should have clashed with the brilliant red of her blouse. Instead it made him think of the sunset that rapidly turned the Miami sky a similar color. Even the golden wheat shade of her hair seemed to add to the blend, intensifying his reaction to her.

Interesting. Perhaps he should consider researching the response of the human male’s libido to the plumage choices of the female. He didn’t know how he’d combine the results of the study in robotic design, but no doubt something would come to him in time. Until then, the only color he wanted to see was whatever shade Daisy turned when she was naked.

Before they’d progressed more than two feet, an elderly gentleman waylaid them. “Excellent speech, Mr. St. John. I particularly found your insights into future robotics and human interfacing quite fascinating.”

Justice paused, taking the man’s proffered hand. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, we—”

Before he could whisk Daisy away, she spoke up, “He is the best on the planet when it comes to autonomous cooperation with humans.”

“Very astute observation, young lady.” His attention returned to Justice. “I wonder if you’d have time to discuss an idea I had?”

Justice knew what would happen if he didn’t get out of here and fast. It was the same thing that happened whenever engineers got together. They’d spend the entire night talking shop. Any other time, he’d have been happy to do just that. But not now. Not this night. Not when he hoped to spend it getting better acquainted with the woman he intended to transition into his apprentice/wife. Already he noticed surrounding ears and eyes perking up, could picture the gears turning, processors humming to life at the thought of an impromptu robotics discussion. Not a chance in hell.

“I have an appointment in precisely three minutes and forty-two seconds and it will take me exactly three minutes and thirty-three seconds to get there,” he announced in a carrying voice. “If you’ll excuse us?”

“Say no more.” The man stepped hastily aside, as did the others who’d been in the process of approaching.

With the path clear, Justice settled his hand in the small of Daisy’s back and ushered her through the crowd choosing a vector that afforded them the most direct route between their current location and the exit. The instant they stepped from the café, Daisy turned to confront him. She planted a hand square in the center of his chest, halting his forward momentum.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

Had he missed a step somewhere? “I thought you understood that part. Has there been a miscommunication?”

“You could say that. I probably wouldn’t. Say it, I mean. I’d probably say something like, did we get our wires crossed?” She wrinkled her elegant nose. “Although even that sounds entirely too engineeringish.”

Engineeringish? He folded his arms across his chest. “Would you prefer I be more direct?”

“No, you’ve been quite direct enough. I thought you invited me for coffee. What changed?”

He blew out a sigh. “I gather I should have allowed you to finish your iced tea before we proceeded to the next step?”