Wanting Forever

Part 6

Trace stood in the hallway of the Northspace Grand Hotel, looking at the door of the room he knew Effone was assigned to—he'd been walking behind her when they were excused from the meeting room. As it turned out, they were on the same floor, his room a few doors past hers.

He fidgeted with the silver watch on his wrist as he tried to talk himself into knocking. She was intelligent. He liked intelligent. Good looks were fine—it was her comparatively huge copper-brown eyes that drew him in the first place—but a woman who could hold her own in a political discussion and then turn around and talk engine specifications without missing a beat? That was truly sexy.

A full five minutes passed before he finally forced himself to knock on her door. Five minutes of stepping up to the door and then stepping back and pacing up the hallway. Five minutes of leaning against the opposite wall rubbing his hands together while trying to figure out what he was going to say. Five minutes of second-guessing.

No one ever believed that women made him uneasy. It wasn't that they regularly rejected him, but being left at the altar had really thrown his confidence. He'd been young, dumb, and newly graduated from SCION Academy. His dedication to his job and, at the time, the high level of danger, was what made her walk out. His involvement in anti-piracy operations in his early career with SCION had taken a lot away from him.

In the fourteen years since the altar incident, Trace dated. Of course, work often got in the way, but when the ship was back in the SCION yards, he rarely hurt for company. The difference here was that Effone was about ten leagues ahead of most women he'd picked up. She wasn't afraid of her intelligence, and Trace was attracted to that.

When he finally cracked his neck one way and then the other, he stepped up to the door, fist raised to knock. Before he could make a move forward, the door opened. A surprised Effone Pacifica visibly jumped when she saw him standing in the hallway.

"How can I help you?" she asked, eyeing his fist, which was still up in the air.

As she opened the door, she had pulled a pencil from her hair that had been keeping it up behind her head. The tumble of the waves over her shoulders almost made Trace's eyes cross, and he barely noticed her well-fitted denims and sleek grey sweater under the black wool pea coat she wore. He also tried not to notice that her height, about five-eight, would make it easy to tuck her head under his chin when he held her close. Noticing things like that would mean he was getting too far ahead of himself.

"Hi. Trace Fortis. Captain of the SCION ship Alexandria." He dropped his hand and offered it to her in greeting. This was not starting off the way he planned. Not that he had a plan.

She shook his hand tentatively, giving him a cautious sideways glance. "I saw that this morning on your name plate, but for review, I'm Effone Pacifica, Captain of the ASPECT ship Chronocon." Despite the wariness in her eyes, a slight smile betrayed her sense of humor and her amusement at his discomfiture. But then she abruptly straightened, dropping his hand. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"What?" The feeling of being completely out of control of the situation was foreign and uncomfortable, like an acupuncture treatment gone horribly wrong—which had only happened one time, so he wasn't well acquainted with the feeling. The whole being-left-at-the-altar incident notwithstanding.

"I swear, I recognize you, but I don't know why," she continued.

Trace fidgeted with his watch, rotating it around his wrist. If he knew her, he thought he'd remember. Her hair would be hard to forget. "Are you interested in dinner? I thought we could get to know each other better before tomorrow. Maybe we can figure out where we've met?"

"I was just running out to grab a sandwich and a beer to bring back." She moved to the side slightly so he could see past her. She gestured into her room toward the computer on her desk. "I have a load of reports and crew evaluations I'm hoping to finish before we're done."

"I'm offering the best fried fish in the city along with great local beer. And decent company. But no work at all unless you bring it up." Trace didn't want to give up too easily. He also didn't want to sound desperate. And he'd seen the slightest change in her eyes when he mentioned the fish. Mental note: She likes fried fish. Or beer. Or both.

She was going to say something, but she clicked her teeth together and tugged on the ends of her teal scarf. She gave him the side-eye again. "The company is decent, you say?"

"I think it would be, but I'm biased," he offered with a hopeful smile.

She chewed on her lip briefly. "I should really get these reports done..." She looked at him and then back into her room. Just as he was about to have a crisis of ego—convincing a woman to have dinner with him had never taken this long—she looked back to him and flipped the lights off. "I have two weeks, right? They'll get done."

Trace turned and started down the hallway, and Effone fell into step beside him. "You need someone to do them for you," he said.

"Oh, I have someone, but Anda is on vacation. I had to force the issue. We almost came to blows over that data stick before I delivered her to the train station."

"That's a new one, fighting over who gets to do the reports. Has ASPECT discovered how to make paperwork fun?" Even Trace grimaced at how...flat that sounded. He was trying too hard. Or he was nervous. Nervous would be new.

Effone laughed lightly and gave a shake of her head. "No, not at all. My first officer swears I work too much. My reasoning is that I'm getting paid to be here whereas she's getting paid to vacation. That's why it's called 'paid vacation,' right?"

Trace nodded and smiled. "Sounds logical to me." He knew that if the last two minutes of conversation were any kind of indicator they were going to get along just fine.